Hearts Entwined: The Story of Ibrahim, Nasrah, and Hafiz

Chapter 5+16: The Unseen Battle (Continued)

The Unseen Battle (Continued)

Hafiz

The following days slipped by in a haze of routine. Hafiz threw himself deeper into his work, attending meetings and managing projects with the kind of single-minded focus that had become his trademark. Yet, beneath the surface, his father's words lingered, gnawing at him in the quiet moments when he was alone.

He began to notice the things he had once ignored: the empty house late at night, the silence that greeted him in the mornings, the hollow ache that accompanied him to bed and rose with him at dawn. It wasn't as if these things were new, but they felt sharper now, like a wound he had grown accustomed to that was suddenly raw again.

One evening, after a long day at the office, Hafiz found himself wandering into his father's study. The room was dimly lit, the rich scent of leather and old books filling the air. He glanced at the framed photographs on the wall-images of his parents in their youth, of him and Zainab as children, smiling and carefree. There were pictures of company events, of awards and accolades that marked the milestones of his career.

But one photograph caught his eye, tucked away in the corner of the desk. It was a candid shot of his family at a beach vacation years ago, before everything had become so complicated. Zainab was laughing, his mother's arm around her shoulders, while his father stood beside them, his hand resting on Hafiz's shoulder. Hafiz himself was smiling-a genuine, unguarded expression that felt almost alien now.

He picked up the frame, tracing the edges with his fingers. It felt like a lifetime ago, a different version of himself that he could barely recognize.

"Do you miss it?"

The voice startled him, and he turned to see Zainab standing in the doorway, her expression soft but curious. She had been getting better, slowly regaining the spark that had dimmed during her difficult period. But there was still a shadow in her eyes, a fragility that made Hafiz's heart ache.

"Miss what?" he asked, setting the photo back down.

"Being happy," she said simply, stepping into the room. "Like you were in that picture."

Hafiz sighed, leaning against the desk. "I'm happy, Zainab. I have everything I need."

She gave him a knowing look. "You're lying. You're just good at pretending."

He opened his mouth to argue, but the words died on his lips. She was right, and they both knew it. He had become an expert at hiding his pain, at presenting the image of the perfect son, the perfect brother. But it was just that-an image. A facade.

Zainab moved closer, her gaze searching his. "You've done so much for us, Hafiz. You've been there for me, for Mama and Baba, even when you were hurting. But what about you? Don't you think you deserve more?"

"It's not that simple," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I can't just forget everything that happened. I can't-"

"I'm not asking you to forget," she interrupted gently. "I'm asking you to let yourself feel again. To let yourself want something more."

Hafiz looked away, his throat tight. "It's too late for that."

"It's never too late," she insisted, her tone fierce. "You're not as broken as you think you are. You just need to stop hiding behind your responsibilities."

He shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "You make it sound so easy."

"It's not," she admitted. "It's terrifying. But you're stronger than you realize, Hafiz. You've faced so much, and you've come through it all. You can do this too."