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A thunderstorm rumbled across the sky as rain pelted against our car, the sound of heavy drops echoing through the metal frame. The windshield wipers struggled to keep up with the downpour, creating rhythmic swipes that barely cleared the view ahead.
Inside, the tension was as thick as the storm outside. I could feel the weight of unspoken words pressing against the silence, threatening to break through at any moment. The air was damp with unresolved emotions, much like the dark clouds that loomed above us.
Each drop of rain mirrored the turmoil in my heart-a relentless torrent of uncertainty, heartache, rage, and fear. Would the storm outside pass sooner than the one brewing between us?
I glanced at Sobia, sitting beside me like a statue. An hour had passed since we sat in this car, and not a single word had left her lips. Unlike other brides, she hadn't shed a single tear during her bidai. No hugs, no lingering farewells. She didn't even glance back at her family, not once acknowledging the loved ones she was leaving behind.
The silence between us was suffocating, a stark contrast to the usual celebratory atmosphere of a wedding. The world outside was drenched in rain, but inside, it was as if we were trapped in a bubble of emptiness, void of emotions, words, and warmth.
I wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension. But the words were lodged in my throat, tangled with all the questions and doubts that had been gnawing at me since the Nikkah. Why had she been so distant? Was it regret? Resentment? Or something else entirely?
As the car rolled on, her eyes remained fixed on the window, her face a mask of unreadable calm. I could feel the weight of her silence pressing down on me, making the space between us feel like a vast chasm.
Was this really how it would be? A life together built on silence and distance?
Finally, I mustered the courage to speak. But before I could get the words out, the car came to a halt. The driver turned back and said, "We've reached the house."
I looked beside me, expecting to see Sobia, but her seat was empty, the door on her side already open. She was walking towards the house without a word, her figure barely visible in the dim light.
I stepped out of the car, the rain instantly soaking through my clothes. "You can leave, Faraz," I said to the driver, who nodded, shut the car door, and disappeared into the night.
Left alone in the eerie silence, I began pacing back and forth in front of the house. The chill of the rain wasn't the only thing causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. My mind kept replaying the events of the day, trying to make sense of the coldness in Sobia's eyes, the way she distanced herself from everything and everyone.
