3.Tying the knot

Days passed. In just a few days, she completed reading the entire English translation of the Quran. And the Quran had transformed her completely. She, who used to carelessly drape her scarf, now embraced it. She started praying Namaz with Bibi. Zahran had gifted her a smart phone. She researched extensively on Islam on the internet. Every question lingering in her mind was gradually answered. She learned that a Muslim is someone who submits entirely to the will of God. Allah is one and there is no one like Him. He sent numerous prophets to guide humanity, and this chain concluded with the last Prophet, Hazrat Muhammad (peace be upon him). The Quran, revealed to him, would be the guide for humans and jinn until the Day of Judgment, along with the teachings of the Prophet (peace be upon him). This world is nothing but a test. Those who do good will enter paradise for eternal life, and those who choose the path of sin will be cast into the eternal fire of hell.

She wasn't sure if she had been Muslim before, but she decided to embrace Islam. She grasped the concept of Tawheed. Tahira recited the Kalma she found on the internet:

"Ash-hadu Ann Laa Ilaaha Ill-Allah" (I bear witness that there is no true god but Allah) "Wa ash-hadu anna Muhammadun Abduhu wa Rasooluhu" (And I bear witness that Muhammad is His servant and messenger).

And she became a Muslim.

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Zahran returned from Dhaka, burdened by worries. The uncertainty of his future in the UK gnawed at him, as did the weight of financial constraints. His father, a successful businessman, owned restaurants, a shopping mall in the UK, and numerous resorts in Sylhet. As his father's sole heir, Zahran was destined to inherit it all.

Yet, his father's pleas for Zahran to return and manage the family business fell on deaf ears. Zahran was reluctant to leave Sylhet. As he approached his villa, his eyes caught sight of someone tending to the garden.

Completely veiled, the figure poured water onto the plants, lost in their work, unaware of Zahran's presence. Bibi, seeing Zahran, beamed with joy. They exchanged greetings.

"Bibi," Zahran inquired, "who is in the garden?"

"Ah, that's Tahira madam," Bibi replied, a smile gracing her lips. "Allah has guided her. She's changed completely, even started wearing the veil. Such a lovely girl, she is."

Zahran was taken aback. He had forgotten about Tahira entirely, and seeing her now, transformed, filled him with both surprise and a strange sense of happiness.

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Tahira stood in the kitchen, acutely aware of Zahran's presence in the villa. The mere thought of his sent her heart a racing. She yearned to catch a glimpse of him, to exchange a word, she held back. What right did she have to approach him?

With a sigh, she focused on the task at hand. On the stove, a pot of water simmered, soon bubbling to a boil. She added fresh tea leaves, then milk and sugar, crafting a steaming cup of tea. Handing it to Bibi, she spoke softly, "Please give this to Zahran."

Bibi took the cup and swiftly made her way to the study, where Zahran sat immersed in work. As she entered and offered the tea, the fragrant aroma broke his concentration and instantly lifted his spirits.

"Did you make this tea?" he inquired, taking a grateful sip. The warmth spread through him, soothing his stress.

"No, madam did," Bibi replied with a smile.

Zahran closed his eyes, savoring the rich flavor.

"It's excellent," Zahran declared. "Please convey my thanks to her."

Back in the kitchen, Tahira quietly assisted Bibi. Though initially unfamiliar with household chores, she learned quickly under Bibi's patient guidance. Each task mastered brought a quiet smile to Tahira's lips, a sense of accomplishment blooming within her.

Bibi returned with an empty cup, her eyes twinkling. "Tahira, Baba loved the tea you made! He couldn't stop praising you, my dear. He said he was truly grateful."

Tahira remained silent, her cheeks flushed with a rosy tint, a silent acknowledgement of the warmth igniting within her.

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Rebeca sat on the bed, massaging lotion into her hands as Raihan scrolled through Facebook next to her. Their son lay peacefully asleep in the crib nearby.

"Dear," Rebeca began, breaking the silence, "have you learned anything about Tahira yet?"

Raihan looked up, his brow furrowed. "Yes. The photo of a missing person has been matched to hers, confirming her identity. The hotel manager filed a missing person report when she didn't arrive to check out on her scheduled date." he explained, his voice serious. "A constable informed me on my way back. I've sent an officer there, and hopefully, I'll have more information by tomorrow."

Rebeca nodded, a sigh escaping her lips. "That's good news. She's such a sweet girl. It's heartbreaking what happened to her, losing her memory like that."

"Indeed," Raihan agreed, his gaze softening. "The poor girl will finally be able to return home."

Rebeca paused; her eyes thoughtful. "I have a feeling she comes from a wealthy family."

"Possible," Raihan mused, recalling the luxurious hotel Tahira had been staying at. "The place wasn't cheap."

"Yes, and the way she speaks and carries herself...there's an air of refinement about her. Masha Allah, she seems quite religious too. What are Zahran's thoughts on her?"

Raihan hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. "He doesn't say much. He just wants her to go back home as soon as possible. But..."

"But what?" Rebeca pressed, sensing his unspoken words.

Raihan met her gaze, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "Today, when I mentioned that we'd know more about Tahira by tomorrow and she might be able to return home, his voice sounded...sad."

Rebeca raised an eyebrow, a hint of intrigue in her eyes. "Could Zahran have developed feelings for her?"

Raihan shrugged, unsure himself. "It's possible. Or maybe I'm just imagining things."

"I can't speak for Zahran," Rebeca countered, "but Tahira seems quite fond of him. It's hard to miss the way her eyes light up and her cheeks flush whenever his name is mentioned. They would make a beautiful couple, wouldn't they?"

Raihan smiled faintly, his heart warming at the thought. "We should be patient, dear. First, let's see if she has any prior commitments. Her memory is still unclear. Who knows if she was already in a relationship before all this?"

Rebeca shook her head, her eyes full of certainty. "No, I don't think so. She exudes an innocence that wouldn't allow for such things."

Raihan chuckled, his hand reaching out to touch hers. "Dear, appearances can be deceiving."

Rebeca leaned in; her voice laced with playful admonishment. "Being a police officer, you always view everyone with suspicion," she said, playfully tapping his arm.

Raihan chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Maybe," he conceded, his smile warm. "Zahran says the same."

Rebeca rolled her eyes playfully. "Having so much suspicion around the clock can't be good for your health, you know."

Raihan's grin widened. "You're right, my love. I'll try to be more careful from now on." He reached over, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Now, shall we retire for the night?"

Rebeca smiled, her eyelids drooping sleepily. "Yes, please," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

—---------

"Her name is Fatiha Ayat. She's just 21 years old, a young lady from the UK and the only beloved daughter of her late parents," Raihan explained, filling two teacups with aromatic brew. "Tragically, she lost them in a dreadful accident. Left with some property in Sylhet, she planned to sell it and settle permanently in the UK. However, fate took a cruel turn when certain relatives seized her father's land, claiming it as their own."

He paused; his gaze fixed on the swirling steam above his cup. "Some even allege these relatives went so far as to attempt harm against her. Surprisingly, none bothered to file a missing complaint, entangled in their own motives."

Zahran, intrigued, took a sip from his tea. "How did you come to know all this?"

"The hotel where she was staying raised an alarm when she didn't check out. Upon investigation, everything, including her passport and visa, was found neatly placed in her room. I then visited her relatives' house for inquiries, only to be met with denial and disassociation. A sympathetic servant, however, slipped me a discreet letter as I left, inviting me to a clandestine meeting."

Raihan took a thoughtful breath. "There, with her husband by her side, she unfolded Fatiha's harrowing tale. The incident that led to her disappearance originated from a confrontation with these relatives. I suspect they might have made an attempt on her life."

Zahran leaned back, a wave of sympathy washing over him. "Poor girl, she has faced so much at such tender age."

"That's the grim reality," Raihan agreed. "Now, what do you plan to do?"

Zahran frowned.

"What do you mean? What can I do?"

"You can't keep her with you forever."

"So, what should I do? Throw her out? Drop her off at her relatives' and let them harm her again?"

Raihan chuckled. "No, of course not. But there must be a more permanent solution, one that offers her the security and protection she desperately needs."

He leaned forward, his eyes locked on Zahran's. "Have you considered...marriage?"

Zahran's eyes widened in surprise, his heart skipping a beat. "Marriage?" he stammered, his cheeks flushing with a warmth he couldn't quite explain.

"Don't act so naive," Raihan chuckled, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I've observed the concern in your eyes, the protectiveness that surrounds her like a shield. You care for her deeply, Zahran, and I believe she feels the same way."

Zahran felt a warmth spread through him. "She's quite young," he reasoned, yet a smile played on his lips.

"It's legal," Raihan pointed out. "And Rebecca mentioned that Fatiha holds you in high regard."

Zahran's smile widened. "I thought she was afraid of me."

"Rebecca's version of the story suggests otherwise," Raihan said with a wink.

"She must be exaggerating. After all, I rarely met Fatiha. I haven't had any direct conversation with her; we communicate through Bibi."

"Just get married now and spare poor Bibi. She must be distressed by now. So, shall I start preparing for the wedding?"

"Let her say yes first."

—-------

He entered the room, his brow furrowing slightly at the empty bed. No adornments adorned the room, his allergy ensuring the absence of flowers. His gaze landed on her, standing before the dressing table, a vision in red silk. She had discarded her long stole onto the sofa and was struggling with the pins holding a second to her blouse. "You've come," she said, turning around, "Help me with this, please?"

Raihan had arranged their wedding, a small affair attended only by close friends and relatives in Bangladesh. Zahran's family, residing in the UK, couldn't attend on such short notice. He had insisted on a swift ceremony, promising a grand celebration in the UK to inform everyone.

He was extremely possessive about Fatiha. He made sure no man could see his beautiful wife.

After Fatiha regained conscious, Zahran allowed Raihan to meet with her only for two times and the sole reason was for the investigation. After that, no man had seen Fatiha.

Zahran looked at her, his eyes filled with love and desire. However, he knew that Fatiha was very naive. Perhaps she didn't even comprehend the intricacies of such moments. With no mother to guide her through these matters and her memory abandoning her, she was navigating uncharted territory.

Zahran's gaze softened as he approached Fatiha, his hands reaching for the pins on her dress.

"This dress feels heavy," Fatiha admitted, a hint of laughter in her voice.

"I apologize," Zahran replied, his eyes meeting hers. "I didn't realize."

"No need," she said, her cheeks flushing, "it's beautiful."

As he leaned closer, his touch sending a shiver down her spine, Fatiha could feel her heart racing. Butterflies erupted in her stomach, their wings brushing against her ribs.

Zahran paused, sensing the change in her. "Is something wrong?" he asked, his voice a low rumble against her hair.

Zahran's hand dipped to her waist, drawing her closer. Fatiha faltered, her cheeks blooming a rosy hue as she lowered her gaze and buried her face in his chest.

"Shy?" Zahran murmured, his voice a low rumble against her hair. He gently lifted her chin with his index finger, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Tell me, why are you shy?"

Fatiha's heart hammered against her ribs, the butterflies in her stomach taking flight. "I don't know," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

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