Epiphany

20:

- Mustafa -

"What do you mean you want to postpone the engagement?" Saad asked as he sat down in front of me in my office. I nodded, "Listen Saad, I'm not saying no to the wedding, I'm just asking for some time." I said again.

He looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "Mustafa, this is about us, okay? Everyone expects a lot from us. " "I'm aware." I ran a hand over my face, my patience thin. "But it's not the right time."

"Not the right—what does that even mean?" Saad scoffed, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms. "Then when? The news of your engagement is everywhere. People are wondering when you and Naya are going to be tying the knot." His voice raising.

I stared at him blankly. "I'm not concerned about what people are asking, Saad. I'm trying to handle things responsibly." Saad's expression softened, though I could tell he was still frustrated. "Is this about the Expo? About the game? Work?" he asked. 

Then he went silent, looking straight at me, "Is there someone else?"

Saad's question hung in the air like a weight, heavy, and suffocating. My jaw tensed. "No," I said sharply, perhaps too quickly. "Don't start imagining things, Saad. There's no one else."

He didn't look convinced. "Then why are you acting like this? You're not yourself."

I didn't respond. What could I say? That I felt like I was being dragged into something I wasn't ready for? That everything, Naya, the engagement, the responsibilities was crowding my thoughts more than it should?

Saad sighed and stood, shaking his head. "Fine, Mustafa. Take your time. But remember, you can't keep postponing forever."

When he left, I leaned back in my chair, the silence of the office pressing down on me

Later that afternoon, I was heading back from a meeting when I caught sight of Hadia near the conference room. She was standing at the corner, clutching her tablet to her chest as she spoke with a few developers. 

Her voice was soft but firm, and the small frown between her brows told me she was focused. I don't know why I stopped. I could've just walked by.

"Hadia," I called, breaking the conversation. She turned quickly, blinking in surprise. "Yes, Mr. Mustafa?"

For some reason, the "Mr." didn't sit right with me anymore.

"Are you free for a moment?" I asked. "Uh..." She glanced at the developers, then back at me. "Sure." I stepped aside, waiting for her to follow me down the hallway. Once we were out of earshot, I spoke. "How are you doing after the Expo?"

Her eyes darted to me, guarded. "I'm fine." I stopped walking, turning to face her. "Fine?"

She shrugged. "What do you want me to say? That it was awful? That it still bothers me?" I studied her carefully. The Hadia I knew was tough, fiercely independent. But her words betrayed her. "You don't have to pretend with me," I said quietly.

She looked away, her grip tightening on her tablet. "It's nothing I can't handle. I've worked in retail and restaurants before. " She said, like it wasn't a big deal. "You shouldn't have had to handle it at all," I replied, my voice sharper than I intended.

Her eyes flickered back to me in surprise. For a moment, we just stared at each other, the unspoken tension lingering between us.

Finally, she cleared her throat. "If that's all, I need to get back to work." "Right," I said, stepping back. "Carry on."

She gave me a small nod and walked away, her shoulders squared. But I noticed the way her steps hesitated ever so slightly, as though she was still carrying the weight of everything that had happened.