Whispers of Love

Chapter 1

Roshni's POV:

The soft light of dawn filters through my curtains as I wake up at 5:30 AM, the call to Fajr prayer still echoing in my mind. It's a sacred time, one where I feel a deep connection to something greater. After praying, I move through my morning routine, each step a familiar ritual that grounds me. By the time I glance at the clock again, it's around 8 AM. I dress in a light pink anarkali suit that flows gracefully with my movements, accessorizing with delicate silver earrings that catch the morning light.

I make my way downstairs, the aroma of spices and freshly cooked food wafting through the house. My Ammi, Aliya, has prepared a breakfast that feels like a warm hug: fluffy parathas, fragrant chai, and an array of fruits. My brother, Asad, and father, Amir, return from the Masjid, their faces reflecting the tranquility of the morning prayers. We gather around the table, laughter and conversation filling the air, a beautiful start to the day. As we finish, I can't help but feel a sense of belonging.

After breakfast, I head to my sanctuary—my café bookstore, Whispers of Love. It's a cozy nook filled with the smell of coffee and the rustle of pages. Asad and Amir depart for their offices, and I immerse myself in my work. I spend the morning meticulously arranging books by genre, each title a world waiting to be explored. Once everything is in place, I move to the kitchen to prepare steaming cups of tea and coffee for our patrons, the comforting rhythm of my routine soothing my mind.

Later, I settle into my writing space, surrounded by scribbled notes and half-finished chapters. The words flow and tumble out, my thoughts dancing across the page. Frustration builds as I crumple papers and toss them aside, but the thrill of creation drives me forward. Just as I finish a particularly difficult chapter, a voice bursts through my concentration: "Roshniii!"

My heart leaps at the sound of my best friend, Ezzeh, who bursts in as if she's just run a marathon, her cheeks flushed and eyes wide with excitement.

"What happened? You look like you're about to miss a train!" I tease, half-laughing.

"Behen, give me a moment to catch my breath!" she gasps, her laughter infectious.

Once she's composed, she beams at me and announces, "Your book has been published! And guess what?!"

I feel a rush of joy at the news of my second book, but her last line leaves me in suspense. "What?" I prompt.

"After the success of your first book, the publishers want to turn it into a movie!" she exclaims, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

In that moment, disbelief washes over me. My heart races; all those sleepless nights spent pouring my soul into my writing are finally paying off. It feels like a dream come true. We celebrate, laughter and joy echoing through the café as I share the news with my customers, even offering them discounts in the spirit of my success. My phone buzzes with messages from readers on Instagram, each congratulatory note filling me with warmth. Only Ezzeh knows about my secret life as an author, and I treasure our collaboration—her insights have often helped shape my stories.

After a whirlwind of emotions, I drop Ezzeh at her home and make my way back. I'm exhausted but elated, and as I sink into the plush couch in the living room, a wave of gratitude washes over me.

My mother appears with a glass of water, her presence comforting. "How was your day, dear?" she asks, her voice gentle and melodic.

"Hectic but joyful, thanks to Ezzeh," I reply softly.

"What's for dinner?" I inquire, my stomach growling at the thought.

"First, go freshen up. We'll eat together," she insists, her tone leaving no room for argument.