Forever His

Chapter 99: Maryam's Corner

Mahnoor's POV:

A few years later...

I can't believe I'm standing here.
Three years of endless nights, caffeine-fueled mornings, and moments where I thought I wouldn't make it — and now... my dream is right in front of me, dressed in warm wooden shelves, soft lighting, and the faint smell of freshly printed books.

The sign above the entrance gleams in the sunlight: Maryam's Corner — named after the little girl who unknowingly became my biggest reason to keep going and the woman who was the reason I was here today.

It all started with an online store, me packing orders by hand in the living room while Maryam napped in her crib beside me. I can still remember the first sale — a stranger from halfway across the country who ordered two books and a bookmark. I remember how my hands shook with excitement, how I packaged it with wrapping paper I bought from the local shop, and wrote a thank-you note that took me fifteen minutes to word perfectly.

From there, it grew. But growth meant sacrifice. I worked after midnight, after Maryam fell asleep, while Shahmeer watched over her so I could focus. I'd wake up with a sore back from sleeping at my desk, my eyes burning from staring at spreadsheets. Some days I felt like giving up. Orders would be late, suppliers would mess up, my website would crash — and I'd think, Why am I even doing this?

But then, Shahmeer would walk in with tea and that quiet look of certainty in his eyes. "Because it's your dream," he'd remind me. "And you don't quit on dreams."

I see flashes of those nights now, in the quiet moments before this ribbon cutting. Shahmeer holding Maryam in one arm while helping me pack boxes with the other. Him rubbing my shoulders when I cried over a lost shipment. Him driving me across the city to meet a supplier who'd bailed on me, just so I wouldn't give up on that week's batch of orders.

And then came the turning point.
The online store wasn't just surviving anymore — it was thriving. Influencers reviewed it, authors reached out, customers kept coming back. And with every step forward, the vision of this — a physical bookstore — became clearer in my mind. I started designing it in my head before I even had the money to make it real.

And now here I am, in a street buzzing with people, cameras flashing, journalists murmuring. Inside, my family is here. Shahmeer, standing tall in a tailored suit, watching me like I've hung the moon. Maryam, now old enough to run around with Sameer, squealing with laughter as they play hide-and-seek around Kiran, who's trying her best to "tame" them. Ayesha and Farjaad are off to the side, chatting with some of my staff, both looking just as proud as I feel. Meerab and her husband were chatting to the customers who were standing in line waiting for the shop to open and handing out food since people had been camping overnight and waiting for ages.

Someone hands me the ceremonial ribbon-cutting scissors — heavy, golden, sharp. My heart races. This is it.

I glance over at Shahmeer, who's been my anchor through everything, and hold the scissors out to him.
"Cut it with me," I say softly.

He shakes his head with a small smile, stepping closer. His voice is low, just for me. "No, Mahnoor. You did this. Every inch of this place is because of you. I'm just the lucky guy who got to watch you do it."

My throat tightens instantly. I remember all the moments when I felt like I couldn't go on, and the way his words would always bring me back.

I turn back to the ribbon. The red silk flutters in the breeze, waiting for me. I take a deep breath, raise the scissors, and with one clean snip — it's done. The ribbon falls, the crowd cheers, and the doors to my dream swing open.

I did it.
I really, truly did it.

The moment the ribbon falls, people stream inside, and my heart feels like it's glowing. I follow slowly, taking it all in — the rows and rows of books lined perfectly on the wooden shelves I handpicked, the warm golden lighting that makes every corner feel like home, the faint smell of coffee drifting down from the café on the third floor.

Then I see her.
A woman in a pale blue cardigan, holding a tote bag patterned with little daisies, standing by the front table stacked with my books. She looks up, sees me, and her eyes widen.

"You're... Mahnoor Jafri?" she says, almost breathless.

I nod, still smiling, and she laughs softly. "You probably won't remember me, but I placed your first order from your online store. Two books and a bookmark. You sent me a handwritten note."

My breath catches. Her. The stranger who unknowingly gave me the push I needed to keep going.
"Oh my God," I whisper. "Of course I remember that order — it was the first time I realised this dream could actually work. Can I hug you?"

She smiles. "Of course!" she says, and she rushes to hug me tightly and I hug her back. She pulls back, holding up a copy of my latest novel. "I've been following your journey ever since. I came here today just to buy this in person."

I can't stop the tears in my eyes. I sign her copy right there, adding a new note beneath my signature: From my first customer to my forever inspiration — thank you.

Around me, the store is alive. Kids are sprawled on beanbags in the children's section, flipping through picture books. A young couple is in the poetry aisle, laughing softly over a shared page. I see stacks of my own books — the novels I poured myself into — leaving in people's hands alongside classics, biographies, and fantasy epics.

Shahmeer comes up beside me, Maryam in his arms. She's pointing toward the staircase that winds up to the third floor. "Mama, café!" she insists.

I laugh and take her hand as we make our way up. The café is even better than I imagined — sunlight flooding through tall windows, plants hanging from the ceiling, the smell of fresh pastries and espresso. It's packed already, every table buzzing with conversations, laptops open, books splayed beside coffee cups.

We find a corner table. Maryam insists on a chocolate muffin twice the size of her hand, while Shahmeer orders my usual tea without asking — two spoons of sugar, just like always. I look around at the scene, my bookstore's heartbeat in full rhythm, and I feel it wash over me.

This... this is everything I dreamed of and more.
I did it. And for the first time in years, I can breathe knowing I made it happen — all of it.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE

Heyyyy!

Guys, I'm not even joking I don't want to write the last chapter at all. I can't do it but like I want to, but I don't, but I do. I DON'T KNOW! OKAY?!

(I will be writing Chapter 100 of course, just my keyboard will probably stop working with how tear soaked it is)

Anyways, keep scrolling/swiping and keep reading!

Love you ALWAYS!

And I hate to say this but...I'll see you in the last chapter.

Byeeee