Jaan-e-Azlan❤

30

Azlan had quietly gotten up, intended to check on his Dada, as he did often, making sure the elder was feeling well. With careful steps, he made his way down the hall toward Dada’s room, his mind still wrapped around the soft warmth of Mantasha beside him.

But as he approached the slightly ajar door, a sound stopped him in his tracks. Laughter. Gentle, warm, unmistakable laughter, and the soft murmur of his Dada speaking to someone—his wife, dadi. He froze, ears straining, curiosity mixing with a strange flutter of emotion.

“…and that’s why it had to happen this way,” Dada’s voice carried softly but clearly. “I knew no one else would speak up, and you know how this family is. No one would act, though they all wanted it. But I… I had to make sure it happened for their happiness.”

Azlan’s heart skipped a beat, a mix of surprise and confusion washing over him. He leaned against the wall, listening quietly.

“It was always their hearts I observed,” Dada continued, voice gentle but firm. “I’ve watched him—Azlan—since he was a boy. How he admired her, how he cared for Mantasha quietly, steadily, without showiness. And Mantasha… oh, my dear, careful little one, so sensitive, so thoughtful. She needs someone steady, someone who truly understands her. I’ve seen how comfortable she is with him, how she trusts him without question. I knew she would be happy with him, that she would bloom with him by her side.”

Azlan’s chest tightened. He hadn’t expected this. His grandfather had known, had seen what even he sometimes struggled to put into words: his love, his admiration, his quiet, unspoken desire to be her protector and confidant.

“Everyone loves her,” Dada continued, his tone softening with affection. “She is our favorite, yes, but not spoiled. She’s thoughtful, kind, and careful, always weighing everything, thinking deeply. That’s why it had to be the way it was. I had to ensure she would be happy, truly happy. And for that… I arranged it. I fell ill, spoke of my will, created the circumstances for them to unite in nikah. Not because I wanted control, but because I knew what their hearts truly sought.”

Azlan felt a strange warmth, a mix of awe and gratitude. He had always respected Dada, but this—this quiet orchestration, this deep understanding of human hearts—was beyond anything he had imagined.

He pressed his hand gently against the doorframe, thinking of Mantasha again. The realization struck him fully: this nikah, this bond, had been arranged not out of obligation or family pressure, but out of love—for her happiness, for him, for both of them.

Dada’s voice softened even further. “I knew no one would say it aloud… the family might have agreed silently, but no one dared act. I had to. I observed, I waited, and I guided. And now… they are together, as it should be. She is with the right person. He… he is the right person for her.”

Azlan’s lips curved into a soft, reflective smile. His eyes glimmered as he processed it all. The meticulous care, the quiet wisdom, the love that had led to this moment—it all settled in his chest. Although he felt betrayed but it felt like a sweet betrayed, one he was happy about.

He stepped back slightly, not wanting to intrude, but his gaze lingered on the door, imagining Dada and dadi smiling softly at the memory of their clever plan. Azlaan felt a swelling gratitude—not just for their guidance, but for the trust placed in him, for the acknowledgement that Mantasha’s happiness was now in his hands.

The room was silent again, save for the soft morning light spilling in, and Azlaan quietly turned away, returning to his own

That night, the house was quieter than usual. The faint hum of the ceiling fan blended with the rustling of leaves outside. Azlaan sat at his desk, papers scattered across the polished wood surface, his laptop glowing faint blue against his tired face. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, tie loose, and his brows knitted together in deep concentration. Every so often, he’d pinch the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily, as if the weight of the entire world rested on his shoulders.