Kabhi main, kabhi tum, kabhi yeh, kabhi voh

Part 15: Sharjeena

Mustafa finished his shower and dressed, his mind still racing. As he moved through his morning routine, he felt the exhaustion weigh heavily on him—the kind that didn't come from lack of sleep alone but from months of tension and strain. Yet, amidst the fatigue, Sharjeena's presence and her words lingered, warming a part of him he had almost forgotten. Her promise to spend the day together had lit a small but undeniable spark of hope within him, as if they were finally reaching for the bridge they both needed.

As he sat down to breakfast, Mustafa found himself nervously glancing toward Sharjeena, aware of the words they had yet to say, the wounds they needed to address. Though a part of him was deeply anxious about the conversation awaiting them, another part longed for it. He wanted to open up, to make her understand everything he had been feeling—but the thought also brought a wave of self-doubt. Communication had always been a struggle for him, an area where he felt inadequate. He had often brushed it off, telling people he wasn't as educated or eloquent, wasn't the kind of man who could easily put his heart into words. What if, despite his efforts, she couldn't see what he was trying to say?

As he tried to push his nerves aside, he thought about Rameen. She had been a guest in his home since yesterday, yet he hadn't truly spoken to her. He knew that his quietness might have seemed rude, especially since she was Sharjeena's little sister and had come with such bright energy. But there was also an unease within him—he didn't want to hear any mention of yesterday's dinner, didn't want to hear Rehan's name spoken, didn't want the sharp twist of jealousy and hurt to surface again. Just the thought of Rameen mentioning Rehan made his chest tighten.

Lost in thought, he looked up to see Sharjeena watching him, her eyes gentle yet perceptive. She must have sensed some of the tension in his posture, because she reached across the table and placed her hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. The touch grounded him, and he managed a small, grateful smile.

"Tayyar ho?" she asked softly, the warmth in her voice making him feel a little more at ease. He nodded, squeezing her hand back, trying to convey a silent message—one of hope, of willingness to bridge the distance that had grown between them.

"Haan, tayyar hoon," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with a quiet determination. He hoped that, somehow, they could find their way back to each other.

As they climbed into the cab, Mustafa glanced over at Sharjeena. She was looking at her phone, but he knew she'd sensed how uneasy he felt. She'd told her family they wouldn't be able to stay long, understanding that he might not feel up for any extended visits or conversations with anyone right now. He felt a surge of gratitude toward her, an unspoken connection renewed by her quiet empathy.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice almost swallowed by the sound of the cab's engine. She looked up and gave him a small, reassuring smile, her eyes warm with understanding. In that moment, he felt as though she had seen right into his heart, recognizing what he needed even without his saying it aloud.

When they reached her parents' home, he saw her mom and dad waiting outside, waving as they approached. Mustafa felt a slight apprehension, but he pushed it down, reminding himself to stay in the moment. He didn't want any lingering doubts or fears to ruin this day with Sharjeena.

After Sharjeena hugged her parents, Mustafa greeted them, feeling a bit lighter than he'd expected. But just as he was about to speak, her mother gently brought up last night's dinner, mentioning how much they had missed him there and how Sharjeena had called to invite him but he'd been busy. Her words softened his heart, and the memory of Sharjeena's missed call and text floated back to him. It was a reminder that she had thought of him, that she had wanted him to be part of her celebration—even if it hadn't worked out.