Love blossomed

Days passed like this.

Zahran had gone to work. After Zahran left, Fatiha went back to upstairs. When she came down, she was surprised to see a new face greeted her, replacing the familiar one of Maya.

"Ma'am," the young woman began with a smile, "I'm Lara, your new housemaid. Maya had to leave for personal reasons, so I'm here to look after you now."

Fatiha's initial surprise quickly gave way to intrigue. Over the next few days, Lara's presence became a welcome addition to the household. Her efficiency was undeniable, her movements precise and practiced.

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Fatiha had met Zahran's parents and his relatives, and they were in absolute awe of her. Even Zahran was impressed with how she conducted herself with everyone, especially when his family was not that practicing. He was skeptical if Fatiha, with her tender age, could adjust herself. However, she completely won everyone's hearts through kindness, love, and respect. Although some of the relatives had tried to demoralize her because she was wearing the veil and adamant not to free mix with male relatives, she remained steadfast and paid no attention to their bitter words or taunting.

From old to young, everyone loved and admired her.

As they returned to their mansion, Zahran couldn't help but marvel at her. "You were incredible," he admitted, walking beside her. "I didn't expect you to handle them all so effortlessly."

Fatiha grinned, her eyes sparkling. "Did you see how fluent I was in Bangla?"

Zahran chuckled. "Yes, you're a quick learner. You spoke like a native."

"It was wonderful, having a family," she chirped, her voice tinged with newfound joy. "A completely different experience."

Suddenly, her smile faltered. A shadow crossed her face, dimming her cheer. Zahran noticed the shift instantly.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked, concern lacing his voice. He squeezed her hand, seeking to understand the sudden change in her mood.

"No, I don't think so. But whoever it is was really close to my heart," she replied, her voice barely a murmur.

Zahran furrowed his brows. Fatiha didn't realize unintentionally what she blurted. She was just sharing her feelings. "Someone who was really close to me in the past. Maybe a friend," she thought. She didn't want to mention any other possibilities.

Zahran sighed and cupped her face, gently forcing her to meet his gaze. "Look at me," he said softly. "If someone was truly close to you, they would have come for you by now. Their absence means they weren't as sincere as you thought. Forget them. Focus on what you have here, on us." he said and placed a kiss on her forehead.

Fatiha closed her eyes and smiled.

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As Zahran and Fatiha entered their mansion, their eyes fell upon a single joker card lying conspicuously in the middle of the hallway. It seemed deliberately placed to ensure immediate notice upon their arrival.

Fatiha's curiosity sparked. "What's this?" she asked, her voice tinged with surprise. Approaching the card, she picked it up, a flicker of recognition crossing her face. "Isn't this the same joker card from your study in Sylhet? What is it doing here?"

Zahran remained silent, his face betraying no emotion. He reached for the card in Fatiha's hand, taking it from her grasp. With a sudden motion, he crumpled the card in his hand, the action swift and deliberate.

Fatiha's brow furrowed. A sense of unease settled in the pit of her stomach. Something was wrong. Something had happened.

"Zahran," she began, her voice hesitant, "is everything alright?"

Zahran's response was clipped. "You go to your room. I'll be there shortly."

Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving Fatiha alone in the echoing hallway. A lone card lay crumpled at her feet, a silent testament to the rising tension that hung heavy in the air.

-----

The morning light streamed through the windows, illuminating the crumpled joker card lying on the floor. Lara, busy cleaning the main hall, noticed it first. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she carefully picked it up, smoothing out the creases.

"What's this doing here?" she muttered to herself, attracting Fatiha's attention as she descended the stairs.

"What's wrong, Lara?" Fatiha inquired, a hint of curiosity in her voice. She couldn't help but be intrigued by the strange behavior everyone exhibited when confronted with the card.

"Ma'am, this card resembles the famous card that Joker leaves before he steals something. But I can't understand what's this doing here since Joker is already..."

"Already what?" Fatiha sounded impatient.

"Already dead. For many days, this news was the headline of every news channel, newspaper, and social media."

"Why?"

Lara's voice dropped to a hushed whisper. "In a shockingly short period, Joker managed to steal priceless and irreplaceable artifacts from museums and zoos around the world, leaving no trace but this very card. His identity remained a complete mystery."

Fatiha leaned closer, her eyes wide with fascination. "How did he die?"

"The news reports claim he crossed paths with the wrong people - the mafia. Stealing a priceless diamond from the kingpin's mansion proved to be his undoing. The mafia hunted him down, showing no mercy. His body was found in a brutal state, unrecognizable beyond identification."

"But then how did the police confirm his identity?"

"Authorities discovered everything within his hidden lair: the stolen jewels and money, blueprints of museums and zoos, costumes, and makeup - everything needed for his elaborate schemes."

Fatiha's initial curiosity transformed into a deep sense of unease. "Then why is this card in my house?"

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Fatiha spent the rest of the day scouring the internet, devouring every available piece of information about the notorious Joker. She learned about his audacious heists, the elaborate schemes, and the daring escapes. Some lauded him as a genius, while others condemned him as a ruthless criminal, a coward, and a menace to society.

Among the numerous articles, one caught her attention, its title a stark contrast to the others: "How Joker Destroyed Many Lives." It recounted the devastating consequences of his actions, not just on the victims of his thefts, but also on those wrongly accused of his crimes.

One story in particular resonated with Fatiha. A security guard, wrongly accused of aiding the Joker, lost his job and was ostracized by society despite his innocence. Driven to despair by poverty and the weight of false accusations, he took his own life, along with his entire family, including his 5-month-old twins and his pregnant wife.

Fatiha reread the article, each word a searing reminder of the pain and suffering caused by the Joker's actions. A deep ache filled her heart for each victim, their lives shattered by the thief's selfishness.

When Zahran arrived home, he was surprised by Fatiha's absence. Her usual warm welcome and cheerful smile were missing. He inquired with one of the maids, who informed him that Fatiha had been confined to her room all day, refusing even lunch.

A worried frown etched itself onto Zahran's face. He rushed upstairs and entered their bedroom, expecting to find her asleep. Instead, he found her leaning against the headboard, her arm covering her eyes.

"What happened, love? Are you not feeling well?" his voice filled with concern.

He sat beside her and gently removed her arm, revealing red, swollen eyes brimming with tears.

"What is it, sweetheart? Why are you crying?" he asked, his voice softer now, filled with love.

Fatiha, comforted by his gentle words, buried her face in his chest and sobbed uncontrollably. "Why do people commit crimes?" she asked between sobs, her voice barely a whisper.

Zahran felt a pang of guilt as her question hung in the air. His smile faltered, a dark cloud passing over his face. He held her close, stroking her hair with a comforting hand.

"Because they forget that for all their actions, they will be held accountable," he said quietly. "Accountable to the One Who Never Forgets, Who Hears All and Sees All, Who is closer to us than our jugular veins."

Fatiha listened to his words, finding solace in his faith. As she cried, he continued, lost in his own thoughts. "They forget that when the hour is established, they will have no place to escape." He let out a deep sigh and added, "Don't cry, my love. And why are you asking this?"

"Joker," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Zahran's eyes widened as her words reached his ears. He instantly became alert, his demeanor changing in a flash.

"Yes, what about him?" he asked cautiously.

"Lara told me about him. I was curious, so I looked him up online. I learned about the lives he ruined, the people who lost their jobs, the ones wrongly accused of his crimes. One family even committed suicide."

Fatiha poured out her heart, sharing everything she had learned. Zahran listened intently, a heavy silence settling in the room.

"He's dead," he finally said, his voice a low murmur.

"I hope he died a brutal death," Fatiha choked out.

Zahran shook his head. "Don't curse him, Tahira. Maybe he had a change of heart before his death. Who knows?"

"Those people never change," she insisted.

"No, Tahira. People can change, especially when Allah Ta Ala guides them," he countered gently.

Fatiha fell silent, his words resonating within her. She knew he was right.

"I heard you didn't eat lunch," Zahran said, changing the subject.

"I wasn't hungry," she replied, her voice still raw. "I felt unwell since morning."

Zahran's brow furrowed. "Unwell? Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's nothing serious," she insisted.

"We're still going to the doctor," Zahran declared, his voice firm. "I don't want to take any chances with your health."

Though hesitant, Fatiha agreed. Little did they know, the doctor's visit would bring them both unexpected and overwhelming joy. The news of a new life blossoming within Fatiha filled their hearts with a love and happiness that surpassed anything they had known before.

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