Shattered Dreams

Chapter 2

Safiya's pov:

"Your touch blurred my vision
It's your world and I'm just in it"

I sat at the breakfast table with my parents, lost in my thoughts. A quiet murmur escaped my lips, "I still have no idea, no matter how I look at it, although I have seen it." My mother, serving breakfast, overheard and inquired, "What have you seen?"

Confused, I asked, "Pardon?"

"Where were you lost?" she probed, and I was stirring the spoon in my plate.

I diverted the conversation, asking my mother about their marriage. "Ammi, how did your and Abbu's marriage happen?"

Surprised, she echoed, "Marriage?" I hummed in response, and she explained, "It was just a simple wedding. His father asked for my hand in marriage, and I agreed."

My father, with a smirk, interjected, "Simple wedding?"

Stuttering a bit, my mother defended, "Yeah, it was."

Amused, my father looked at me, teasing my mother, "Safiya, it was a very simple wedding where a girl proposed to me two times in her childhood, got rejected both times."

My mother, a bit angered, placed the culinary on the table and continued my father's sentence, "And that girl moved on from him. But the guy's family liked this decent girl and proposed the marriage and this time, the boy didn't reject his parents."

Teasingly and lovingly, my father responded to my mother, "It must be his good deeds that he didn't and now is sitting here having breakfast with that same girl. I really feel lucky to have you in my life, my zohja."

Amidst the laughter, my mother's eyes twinkled with a mixture of bashfulness and affection. She looked at my father, her smile a silent acknowledgement of the journey they had shared.

The morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow on our breakfast table. The playful banter between my parents continued, creating an atmosphere of lightness and joy.

As the conversation shifted, my father, with a mischievous glint in his eye, remarked, "Well, Safiya, when are you going to propose to someone?"

I nearly choked on my food, caught off guard by his question. "Abbu, I'm not planning to propose to anyone," I replied, trying to hide my embarrassment.

My mother, sensing my discomfort, intervened with a reassuring smile. "Let her take her time, dear. Love has its own way of finding us., Btw if you do try writing a letter"

On my way to the office, following my mother's advice, I mustered the courage to send Fahad a confession message on Instagram. The anticipation weighed on me as I reached the workplace, encountering Khushi near the gate. Excitement bubbling within me, I shared the news, "Guess what? I sent him my confession message."

Khushi's surprise was palpable as she exclaimed, "Are you serious? That's great news! Did you explain your feelings properly?" Doubt crept in, and I confessed, "Yes, but why do I feel I will not get a reply?" A cloud of uncertainty settled, casting a slight shadow on my excitement.

Khushi reassured me, "Boss is a busy person. Wait for him. I hope he replies." We traversed the hallway toward our desks, our conversation echoing in the corporate ambience. However, fate had other plans, and just as I navigated the space, caught up in the ebb and flow of the corporate world, when disaster struck – my four-inch heel, a precarious ally in the world of polished floors, snapped without warning. Suddenly, I found myself teetering on the edge of an impending fall, my leg threatening to give way beneath me.