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Imaan was on the fourth floor, dusting the shelves in an old, forgotten room. Emad's words from yesterday still lingered in her mind, though she didn't want to talk about them. Her thoughts drifted back to the early days of their marriage. He had always treated her kindly, and she wondered-had he loved her from the beginning? But then, dark memories surfaced. As a teenager, hadn't he been cruel? Wasn't he the one they'd called the "killer"?
She wiped dust from a cupboard, sending a cloud into the air. It stung her eyes, and she stumbled back, coughing. "Astagfirullah, this dust!" she muttered, brushing her face and dress. As her vision cleared, her gaze landed on a dusty notebook and file. Intrigued, she cleaned them off and found a childhood photo of Emad. Opening the file, she froze. It was a case file about an incident from Emad's past. Her heart pounded.
The file revealed the shocking truth: as a child, Emad had been blamed for the accidental death of a boy during playtime. Afterward, he had been sent to jail, and upon release, had moved abroad. Could this be why he'd become so closed off? His parents had died when he was young, leaving him alone.
As she looked through the file, a diary fell out. She dusted it off and opened it to a dated entry:
"January"
"I saw Yahya kill his friend while we were playing. I tried to stop their fight, but Yahya made a terrible mistake-he accidentally killed the boy. Everyone knew the truth, but my uncle forced me to take the blame. He said it would ruin Yahya's family if he went to jail, while I had no mother or father to protect my name. I had no choice but to obey. I was just a weak child, with no power to refuse."
Imaan's eyes widened as she read these words. This was the truth. She immediately stood up, her mind racing. How could Uncle do that to him?
"February"
"I used to watch Imaan from a distance. Maybe liking someone at that age was normal, but I didn't have the courage to even ask her to play with me. When she saw that I'd 'killed' the boy, she believed it was true. I wanted to explain, but I was forced to stay silent and follow my uncle's orders."
Imaan pressed her lips together, stepping back as the weight of the truth sank in. I assumed everything on my own, never once asking Emad about his side. She slipped the diary into her pocket and walked back to their room, feeling both shock and regret. How could they do this to him-an orphaned child, forced to spend his teenage years in jail for something he didn't do?
Imaan pondered deeply. Which uncle was Emad talking about-her father or Yahya's father? She needed to find out, and she decided she'd discuss it with her family.
Lost in thought, she entered the room and found Emad asleep in a chair, his laptop resting on his lap. His face looked so peaceful, softer than she'd ever seen it. She walked over and knelt beside him, gently bringing her thumb to his cheek, brushing softly. How much has he suffered? she thought to herself.
As she watched him, he suddenly opened his eyes and looked up, startled. He sat up, pulling back slightly. "What are you doing?" he asked, his tone a bit guarded.
"N-nothing," Imaan replied, quickly looking down, her cheeks flushing.
Emad's expression grew distant, his posture stiffening. "You can go now," he said, his tone dismissive.
Trying to keep the conversation going, Imaan asked, "Umm... Emad, are you going somewhere today?"
He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. She knew he was still hurt, maybe even angry, over what had happened yesterday-her rejection of his proposal. It must have been painful for him, loving her that much and feeling pushed away.
"Maybe it's better if we keep some distance," Emad said quietly. He was afraid of getting closer, worried that his feelings for her might deepen beyond control. He didn't want to risk the pain of vulnerability.
Imaan's voice softened as she asked, "Didn't you say that even if this is a forced marriage, I'm still your responsibility?"
"Yes, because Emad never runs away from his responsibilities," came a cheerful voice from behind them. It was Hina, smiling as she placed a cup of tea in front of Emad. "Here's your tea. You asked for it, and I made it."
Imaan felt a small pang of jealousy watching Hina's effortless ease around him. "Emad, why didn't you call me? I could have made it for you," she said, feeling a bit protective. After all, she was his wife, and she wanted to be the one he relied on.
"I'll treat you like a responsibility, Imaan. That'll be better for both of us," Emad said, picking up his tea and returning his focus to his work.
"But-" Imaan started, but Hina cut in, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe Emad needs some alone time," she said, her tone sharp.
Imaan sensed Hina's intentions-to keep her and Emad apart. "I understand," she replied, then turned to leave as Hina gave a smug smile, watching her go.
Later, Imaan stepped out of the shower, wearing a loose black Pakistani suit, her hair still damp as she dried it. How could I not see it before? she thought, her mind racing. He's loved me since we were teens, and I never even tried to understand him. What can I do now to bring him closer?
Imaan's eyes stayed fixed on Emad as he worked, the sunlight streaming through the flowing curtains and highlighting his features. She couldn't help but smile, watching him quietly as he sipped his tea. Noticing her gaze, Emad was so startled he nearly spat out his tea, coughing as he tried to regain his composure.
"W-what happened?" Imaan asked, her eyes widening as she quickly moved closer to him.
Emad stood up, looking at her with surprise. "W-why are you staring at me like that?" he asked, still flustered.
"Can't I look at my own husband?" she replied with a soft smile, holding his gaze.
He touched her forehead, pretending to check for a fever. "Are you feeling alright? You're acting... different," he said, noticing the unusual warmth in her gaze and gentle tone.
She chuckled, gently removing his hand from her forehead. "I'm alright, Emad. Perfectly fine, Alhamdulillah."
"I... I just realized maybe I'm in..." Imaan hesitated, ready to confess, but Emad's gaze interrupted her.
"You don't have to force yourself to show me you love me," he replied, his tone colder than she expected, yet he moved a bit closer.
"And it would be better not to force each other into something we don't want," he added, his voice tinged with a detachment that broke her heart. Imaan had been trying to understand her feelings for him, recognizing the way he had treated her differently, but her fear held her back from fully embracing those emotions.
Before she could respond, Emad turned away. He was just trying to protect himself, needing comfort rather than the pressure of forcing someone to love him.
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