echoes of defiance (Rewriting)

chapter 6

After what felt like forever, he finally cut through the thick silence. "Are you there?"

"Yeah," I replied, though my voice was quiet, my mind suddenly uneasy. It felt like he was up to something. Zain—someone who had disliked me since the very first moment I gained any sense of awareness in this life. Not once had he ever done anything remotely kind. He was either ignoring me or acting like he was above everyone else, always so smug and detached. And now, he says he’s noticed me? What does "notice" even mean to him?

"Farhana..." his voice was lower now, almost as if it was coming from somewhere deep in his throat.

“I... I need to go,” I stammered, my voice trembling despite my effort to hold it together.

“Okay,” he said, pausing for a moment longer than usual, as if weighing his words. “Good night.”

I stared at my phone for a few seconds before turning it off completely. His words kept circling in my head. *What does notice mean to him?* Or maybe... maybe I was reading too much into this. Because if I was being honest with myself, I had never *not* noticed him either. Zain was the first person I noticed whenever I entered a room, though I never let my eyes linger on him for long.

*Sighing*, I muttered to myself, "Oho shiya sani... koma me yake nufi," trying to make sense of it all. I recited *Suratul Mulk* to calm my racing mind, finished my du’as, and went to bed. Tomorrow, I’d get back to reality, sort the clothes I had picked up from the dry cleaners the other day, and carry on as if nothing had happened.

---

The next day felt ordinary. I ate leftovers from the fridge, tidied up, prayed, and took a shower. By 2 PM, I decided to binge-watch a K-drama on Netflix, an easy distraction. I tossed some popcorn into the microwave and settled into the comfort of my sofa.

After a few episodes, it was time for Asr. I got up, prayed, and then sat down with my Qur’an to recite. The quietness in the apartment was soothing until there was an unexpected knock on the door. *Who could that be?*

Frowning, I threw on my jilbab over my casual home wear and went to answer it.

It was Zain.

My breath caught for a moment. His expression was unreadable, his usual mask of arrogance firmly in place. Not even a hint of a smile softened his sharp features.

“Where’s your phone?” he asked without preamble, his tone demanding. His usual snobbish attitude was on full display, and his cold eyes made me uncomfortable.

“Why do you care?” I muttered under my breath, not in the mood for this.

“It’s inside,” I said louder, annoyance creeping into my voice.

He shot me a look, his jaw clenching slightly. “Why on earth did you turn it off the whole day? Everyone’s been trying to reach you. Didn’t you think of the people back home before cutting yourself off like that?”

His voice was hard to explain—there was something underlying it that felt... different. Concern, maybe? No, that couldn't be right.

I had genuinely forgotten to turn my phone back on. Back home, it was normal for me to switch it off for days at a time, and no one ever made a big deal about it.

“I forgot,” I mumbled, looking anywhere but at him, avoiding the weight of his gaze.

“You could have just rejected me bluntly, Farhana,” he said, his voice a mix of frustration and something else I couldn’t quite place. “Why did you have to make everyone worry?”

“I don’t understand what you mean,” I responded, feeling cornered, and turned to walk back inside.

But before I could take another step, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back, close—too close. My heart skipped a beat, and I froze as a jolt of electricity shot through me.

“Ki rantse you don’t understand or have an idea what I mean,” he demanded, his voice low, almost a whisper. The intensity in his eyes pinned me in place. He wasn’t letting me go this time.

I looked down, my pulse racing uncontrollably. His grip on my wrist wasn’t tight, but the closeness between us—barely inches apart—felt suffocating. Yet, at the same time, it wasn’t unpleasant.

“I like you, Hana. I’ve always liked you,” he confessed softly, his voice piercing straight through the walls I had built around myself.

His words echoed in my mind, knocking the air from my lungs. *He likes me?* What am I supposed to say to that? No one had ever said those words to me before, and here we were, closer than I had ever been to anyone.

*What do I say?* I could barely think. My mind was a mess of emotions, my heart hammering in my chest. Zain... liked me?

“Okay,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

His expression shifted from one of tension to a soft smile—so subtle and rare, it made my breath hitch again. He chuckled, clearly amused. “Okay?”

I flushed, completely embarrassed, and looked down at the floor, my face burning. “Right now... wallahi, I don’t know what to say,” I admitted, the nervous laugh slipping through my lips.

His eyes softened further. “No pressure, Hana,” he said gently, releasing my hand. “I can wait.”

I smiled shyly, glancing up at him. His smile deepened, his usual coldness nowhere to be seen in this moment. He was... different, and the change was unsettling but somehow comforting.

“Now,” he added, his tone turning playful, “turn on your phone before Usman kills my battery worrying about you.”

I nodded, still feeling a little dazed. “Okay,” I said again, fumbling for my phone.

“Bye,” he said with a lingering look before turning on his heel and heading towards the elevator.

As the door clicked shut behind him, I stood there for a moment, feeling like the ground beneath me had shifted.