My Divine being🌹

The end....

Malaak stirred awake, the muffled but unmistakable sounds of communication filtering through the walls. She sat up, her heart beating faster. Confused, she pushed the blanket aside and slipped on her slippers, heading toward the door. Just as she reached for the handle, it flew open, and Buraak stormed in.

"Malaak!" he said, shutting the door behind him. His expression was unreadable, somewhere between excitement and concern. He stepped closer and gently held her shoulders. "Go back and change into something nice. There's a surprise waiting for you."

Malaak frowned, her eyes narrowing. "Buraak, I'm tired of surprises," she said softly, her voice carrying years of weariness. "I'm just waiting for the day Allah will end my misery. I don't want surprises anymore. I just want peace."

Her words were like a dagger to Buraak's heart. His lips trembled, and before she could react, he pulled her into a tight hug. He held her as if letting go would shatter her fragile frame into pieces.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry for being a loser of a brother. For not being able to save you when you needed me the most." His tears wet her veil, and he clung to her, unable to stop the storm of emotions.

Malaak's own tears fell freely, and she buried her face in his chest. They cried together, their shared pain filling the silence of the room. When the tears subsided, Buraak managed a weak smile. "But you're here now," he said, brushing his hand over her head. "And I promise, no matter what, I'll always be with you. Your not-so-perfect brother won't leave your side again."

Malaak chuckled through her tears, wiping her cheeks. "I don't need a perfect brother. I just need you, even if you're annoying half the time."

"That's the spirit," Buraak teased, lightly nudging her. "Now hurry up. I'll wait outside. And no complaining about the dress, alright?"

After an hour, Malaak emerged, her black veil gracefully draped over her head. Her scars were still visible—a long one slashing across her left eye and smaller ones marring her cheeks—but she carried them like badges of survival. Buraak gave her an approving nod, but Malaak could see the sadness flicker in his eyes.

As they stepped into the garden, Malaak froze. White lilies and roses adorned every corner, their sweet scent mingling with the crisp morning air. Delicate decorations hung from the trees, and a cake sat on a table at the center. It was perfect.

Her gaze softened as memories flooded her mind. She thought of the day when her life had felt complete, the day she was supposed to marry Hammad. Fate, however, had other plans. She blinked back the memories, forcing herself to stay grounded in the present.

And then she saw him.

Hammad stepped out from behind the decorations, his dark eyes locking with hers. He looked thinner, paler, and more somber than she remembered. His hands trembled slightly as he approached her, and she turned instinctively, as if searching for an escape. But there was no one behind her, no place to hide.

When Hammad finally stood before her, he inhaled deeply, his gaze flickering to her scars before settling on her eyes.

"Malaak," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. "I..."

Hammad's voice faltered as he stood before her, the weight of everything unsaid crushing him. He looked at her—truly looked at her. The scars on her face, the tiredness in her eyes, and yet, the unyielding strength she carried in her posture. She wasn't the same woman he remembered, but then again, neither was he the same man.

Malaak's lips parted as if to speak, but the words were trapped in her throat. His presence brought an avalanche of emotions—memories of their shared laughter, their whispered dreams, and the painful void his absence had left.