Kabhi main, kabhi tum, kabhi yeh, kabhi voh

You'll Always Be My Home: Part 5

Every day since Sharjeena had said she would come to him, Mustafa lived in a state of constant anticipation. Time slowed to a crawl. Every minute stretched into an eternity as he watched his phone, willing it to light up with her name. The promise of her return hung in the air like a fragile thread, and he clung to it with everything he had.

He threw himself into preparing for her arrival. This was his chance, his only chance, and he had to make it right. The apartment, once a hollow, lifeless space, became his project of redemption. He got it deep-cleaned, every corner scrubbed and polished until it felt fresh again. The sheets and curtains were replaced with soft, neutral tones—nothing too loud, he knew she didn't like that. He added small touches here and there, flowers on the dining table, new cushions on the couch, small scented candles that reminded him of her.

The apartment had been rented for her and their baby, a place of comfort and joy. But as she had left without ever stepping here, it had become nothing more than a shelter. He lived on the bare minimum, avoiding anything that reminded him of what he had lost. His life had been stripped down to basic survival, but now, with her promise to return, a flicker of hope had reignited. He couldn't fail this time.

He rearranged the closet space, clearing out his things to make room for hers. He bought new kitchenware, stocked the pantry with things she liked—tea, biscuits, the chocolate brand she always reached for when she needed a pick-me-up. He remembered how she never used to drink coffee, but now that she did, and black at that, he bought a sleek coffee machine just for her, hoping it would bring her a small comfort.

Every detail mattered. Every effort felt like a step toward redemption.

But with every passing hour, his fear grew. The thought that she might change her mind gnawed at him incessantly. He hadn't called or texted her all week, terrified of overwhelming her, of pushing her further away. But the silence was unbearable. He lived in limbo, his heart wavering between hope and despair. What if she decides it's not worth it? What if she never comes?

By the time the week neared its end, Mustafa was a mess of nerves. He barely slept, pacing the apartment, rearranging and rechecking everything as if perfection could somehow secure her return. The weight of doubt sat heavy on his chest, and he couldn't shake the sinking feeling that he had already lost her again.

That evening, he sat on the couch, staring at the phone lying silent on the coffee table. The apartment was ready, but he wasn't. His heart ached with longing and dread. He glanced toward the bedroom but couldn't bring himself to sleep there—not without her. He was contemplating spending the night on the couch when his phone vibrated.

He froze. For a moment, he didn't dare to reach for it. What if it wasn't her? What if it was? Slowly, he picked it up, his breath catching in his throat as he saw her name. The message was simple:

"I'll come tomorrow."

His chest heaved as he exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding. Life surged back into his body. He reclined back on the couch, pressing the phone to his chest, his heart pounding with relief. She's coming. She's really coming.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the message sink in. Tomorrow. She would be here tomorrow. And for the first time in months, a small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

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Sharjeena had spent the week tangled in a web of conflicting emotions. One moment, she was convinced she had made a mistake agreeing to Mustafa's plea, doubting her own judgment, and fearing the possibility of reopening wounds she had spent months trying to heal. But then, as if on cue, the memory of Mustafa's tear-streaked face and broken voice would flood her mind, melting her resolve. She had never seen him so vulnerable, so completely undone. Each time she thought of him, her defenses wavered, and the desire to pack her bags and run to him grew stronger.