My Quiet Wife

Chapter 17: Breaking the Silence

Jahanara freshened up and stepped out of the bathroom to find that Ammi had sent lunch for her and Sufiyaan. The aroma filled the room, and the table was set neatly, but her heart was racing. Sufiyaan was seated on the sofa, waiting, a calm patience on his face that somehow made her more nervous.

"Come, sit with me," he said, gesturing to the spot beside him. His voice was steady, inviting, and Jahanara, with hesitant steps, walked over and sat down—but she left a considerable distance between them. Sufiyaan couldn't help but chuckle at her shy wariness. "I don't bite, you know," he teased, adding under his breath, "Not always." She didn't hear the last part, and he quickly looked away, almost embarrassed by his own slip.

He began preparing a plate, and Jahanara, thinking he was serving himself, sat back, patiently waiting her turn. She was accustomed to taking care of herself, especially in these small ways. But as he finished, he handed her the plate with an unexpected gentleness.

"Here, this is for you," he said, holding it out to her.

Caught off guard, she started to shake her head. "No, I'll make my own," she insisted softly.

Sufiyaan's expression grew firm, his voice carrying a quiet command. "Take it," he said, holding her gaze.

Something in his tone made her stop, and she took the plate from him without another word. They began eating in silence, the only sound the soft clink of their utensils. She couldn't remember the last time someone had served her a meal; it was both comforting and unsettling.

After a few moments, Sufiyaan broke the silence, his voice gentler now. "Tell me about yourself," he said, his gaze intent on her, as if he genuinely wanted to understand her.

Jahanara's fork stilled mid-air, her pulse quickening. The question caught her completely off guard. No one had ever asked her that before, and she felt a strange mix of fear and emptiness. She looked down, her voice small. "There's... there's really nothing to tell."

Sufiyaan studied her for a moment, and then, sensing her discomfort, nodded. "Alright then. How about I tell you about myself instead?" he offered.

She nodded silently, curious yet guarded.

Sufiyaan leaned back, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "I have a business in the U.S.," he began, his voice steady. "I came back here for a few years because there's a project that means a lot to me." He paused, his eyes drifting as if searching through memories. "There are things from my past that... well, they haunt me sometimes." He glanced at her, his voice softening. "But I think, maybe, with time, you'll help me heal."

A pang of disbelief washed over Jahanara. She thought to herself, How could I—a broken person myself—heal anyone?

Sufiyaan seemed to sense her doubts but didn't press. He continued, his tone gentle. "My relationship with my parents is... complicated. My father has always been a strong figure, the kind of man who demands excellence without compromise. I respected him for that, but it was... hard, growing up under such expectations."

He paused, choosing his words carefully. "My mother, on the other hand, is my source of calm. She's been my anchor, but even she has had to fight her own battles within this family."

Jahanara listened, captivated by this side of him she hadn't seen before. There was a rawness in his voice, a hint of vulnerability that he rarely allowed anyone to see. She could sense that these memories were precious to him, a part of himself he rarely shared.

Taking a deep breath, he looked at her with a softened gaze. "Sometimes, cookie, I think that maybe I need someone who can remind me of what really matters. Someone who can teach me patience... forgiveness."