The Unwanted Marriage

Chapter 39

Amina's POV

After 3 Year's

How fast the time flew. It's been three years, three long years of us being apart. It feels like a lifetime and just yesterday all at once. I don't know what he's doing, where he is, if he's even happy. But my own life? It's a different story. So much has changed since the divorce, it's hard to even recognize the person I was back then. Sometimes, in the quietest moments, I feel this sharp pang of doubt, wondering if I made a mistake or not. I don't even understand my own feelings anymore, a confusing swirl of regret and a strange kind of peace. I separated from him because I put my self-respect above everything, above the confusing mess of what I thought was love. And in these three years, there hasn't been a single moment, not one, where he wasn't there in my thoughts, a constant hum in the back of my mind, even in my prayers.

After that day, that terrible, final day, he never tried to contact me. Not once. Everyone was utterly shocked by our decision. My father, he was sad, so incredibly sad, but somehow, I managed to make him understand, and he accepted it. Bhai and Bhabhi, they tried their best to talk sense into me, to keep the marriage intact, but eventually, even they had to accept it. I never told them the exact reason, the truth, because I couldn't bear to make him look bad in their eyes. His mom and Layla, they were heartbroken too. But Layla later told me that he had told them everything. I was so utterly shocked, a jolt going through me – why would he tell them? His mom, she was furious with him, so mad she didn't talk to him for a whole month. And through all these three years, Layla and his mom, they've still been in my life. We video call once a month, just normal chats, catching up on life. I miss them so bad, a deep ache in my chest.

I remember after the divorce, I just... lost hope in everything. The thought of studying further felt pointless, like walking through a fog. I was in a dark place, depressed for a whole year. But with my family's unwavering, relentless support, their quiet strength, I somehow, managed to complete my MS degree. And now, I'm a cardiac surgeon. It still feels surreal sometimes. I made sure to complete all my studies in India, because the thought of going back to that place, the one where it all crumbled, was unbearable.

My thoughts, a swirling vortex of memories and anxieties, were abruptly broken by the melodic call of the Fajr azan. I was standing on the balcony, lost in the pre-dawn quiet. It was drizzling softly, the air cool and crisp, a beautiful, quite windy morning. I went inside, the familiar ritual a comfort, and prayed Namaz. After that, I meditated for a few minutes, just trying to clear my mind, before finally taking a shower, letting the warm water wash over me, hoping it would wash away some of the lingering unease.

Today, the day had finally arrived: Layla was coming to India! She's getting married to Saad this month, and honestly, I'm so incredibly happy for her. She's been on cloud nine, absolutely glowing. They're having the wedding in Bengaluru, India, all because of Saad's mother's wish. And Layla, she's over the moon because she gets to have a proper desi-style wedding. It's a cultural thing, I know, not Islamic, and I'm not against it at all. I respect it. But for me, personally, a Nikah done in the Sunnah way is what I've always preferred. I don't like fancy, elaborate things; just simple and according to Sunnah. But Layla's happy, truly happy, and that's all that matters to me.

I have to head to Bengaluru this week itself, as all the functions are starting from next week. And as much as my heart swells with joy at the thought of seeing Layla and his mom, a cold knot of dread tightens in my stomach at the same time. Because, obviously, he will be there too. And I don't know if I'm ready for that.

I quickly got ready for the hospital. Then, I headed downstairs to my father's room. I knocked softly on his door.

"Yes?" he called out, his voice heavy.