𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 ✓

-15-

"What's going on here?" I asked no one in particular as I stepped into the house after a long, tiring day at the shop.

The sight that greeted me was puzzling: my mother was busy examining some expensive fabrics along with Aunt Najma, who runs a boutique specializing in wedding dresses.

I couldn't help but wonder why Aunt Najma was here. After all, I had already made it clear to Naaz that I was ending our friendship and calling off the engagement and wedding plans.

The memories of that painful night, just a week ago, still weighed heavily on my mind. I wasn't happy with what I had done that night. Despite my love and longing for Naaz, I felt compelled to take that drastic step. She left me no choice.

When I confessed my feelings to her, she had asked for time to sort out her own emotions. She never explicitly reciprocated my feelings and insisted on maintaining our friendship while focusing on her studies and career. I accepted her decision, though it broke my heart. I understood that she didn't owe me her love just because I loved her.

But what hurt me deeply was her subsequent behavior—the gradual distance she placed between us, the ignored texts and calls, and the dwindling time we spent together. It felt as though she was cutting me out of her life, perhaps unintentionally, or maybe intentionally. I couldn't say for certain.

Then came her father's proposal for our engagement. I found myself torn between supporting Naaz's wishes—to focus on her studies and career without the added commitment of a relationship—and the fear of losing her altogether.

I learned through my cousin Imran that another man, Shafiq, had recently proposed to her outside the coaching center where she taught Imran. I couldn't shake off the sense of protectiveness I felt towards Naaz, especially after learning that one of her male students had acted inappropriately towards her. Imran didn't divulge the details, but Naaz had reportedly dealt with the situation firmly, imposing consequences on the student.

The fear of losing Naaz prompted me to agree to the engagement. It wasn't about forcing her to reciprocate my feelings or demanding her love in return. It was merely a commitment, a promise of exclusivity and support as she pursued her dreams.

Yet, my resolve wavered that night when Naaz visited my house, pleading once again for me to call off the engagement. Her reasons remained unchanged—her desire to focus solely on her studies and career. There was no mention of her feelings for me, which only added to my frustration.

What did she think of me? Did she believe that my commitment to her would hinder her ambitions? Did she assume I would stifle her aspirations? Her narrow perception of me angered me deeply. It felt as though she was being selfish, considering only her own aspirations without regard for my feelings.