2.Did she move on?

Hamza sat at the restaurant table, his mind heavy with thoughts as the buzz of conversation around him faded into the background. Across from him, Sara scrolled through the menu casually. Her brother, Omar, sat beside her, busy tapping away on his phone, occasionally glancing up at the two of them. The presence of Omar was reassuring, adding a layer of propriety to the gathering."Come on, Hamza. Why do you look like the world just ended?" Sara asked. She shut the menu and leaned slightly forward, resting her hands on the table. "Look, I know things didn't work out with Sana, but maybe this is Allah's way of giving you a fresh start."Hamza gave her a half-hearted nod but kept his gaze down. His chest felt tight like someone had placed a weight on his heart. This was supposed to feel liberating, but instead, it felt suffocating.Omar glanced up from his phone. "Yes, She's right, man. It's hard, I get it. But life moves on. Just gotta trust in Allah's plan, you know?" he offered sincerely.Hamza appreciated the attempt, but his thoughts were scattered. His soul felt restless as if something was fundamentally out of place. He'd convinced himself that parting ways with Sana was for the best, yet he felt worse instead of better.The waiter arrived and placed the plates on the table. Hamza shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glancing at the food as if it didn't belong in front of him. Sara eyed the seafood dish with a raised brow."Seafood?" she asked with a small frown. "Hamza, you know I am allergic to seafood."Hamza blinked, caught off guard. "Oh... Sana liked seafood," he murmured before he could stop himself.A silence fell between them like a curtain. Sara exchanged a glance with Omar, who wisely remained quiet, sensing the tension building beneath Hamza's words.Hamza exhaled slowly, guilt clawing at him. Why did he still feel tethered to the past? Sara was kind and supportive—everything he thought he wanted. But every time he tried to move forward, memories of Sana dragged him back.Omar leaned forward slightly, breaking the awkward silence. "Hey, man. let's order something else. I heard the kebabs of this restaurant is delicious. "Hamza nodded absently, his mind far from the conversation at hand. He looked at Sara, and for the first time, she felt like a stranger—a kind stranger, but a stranger nonetheless.His heart was a storm of conflicting emotions—guilt for wanting to move on, sadness for what was lost, and a strange sense of unease that gnawed at him like an unanswered prayer."I think we should call it a night," Hamza said quietly, avoiding their eyes. "I am not feeling well.""Hmm," Sara made a noise. She didn't say anything her face had darkened.When they were leaving Omar gave Hamza a light pat on the back. "Take care, man. Everything will work out. Just pray for guidance. Allah will guide you to the best."Hamza gave a weak smile, though his heart remained heavy. As they stood to leave, he whispered under his breath, "Ya Allah, guide me to what pleases You."----------Hamza stepped into the silent, desolate house. It felt lifeless now, like a forgotten place haunted by memories rather than people. The servants had been given leave, leaving the house stripped of its usual rhythm. He didn't bother turning on the lights. The only sound was the dull echo of his heavy footsteps as he moved through the empty space, a ghost walking through what once was home.He made his way to the glass doors that led out to the garden and slid one open. The rain was pouring heavily, sheets of water drumming against the ground. He extended his hand, letting the cool droplets spill over his fingers, and for a moment, he just stood there, frozen in time, as a memory drifted into his mind—a memory so vivid, it felt like stepping into the past.It had been like this once before, years ago, in the early days of their marriage. He'd been in the library, poring over some office files, engrossed in work, when Saana had suddenly burst into the room."Hamza, hurry up! Come, quickly!"He'd looked up, startled, worry immediately flashing across his face. "What's going on, Saana? Is everything alright?""Just come, you'll see!" she'd said, practically dragging him by the hand before he could protest."Okay, okay, I'm coming, but can you at least tell me what's happening?" he'd asked, confused but following her.She didn't answer, only pulling him faster. Moments later, they were outside, in the garden, under the open sky—and Hamza stopped short, shocked. The rain was coming down in torrents."Saana! What are you doing? It's pouring!" he'd shouted over the noise of the rain, but it was too late. In an instant, they were both drenched, soaked to the bone."It's raining! Let's get soaked!" she'd exclaimed, laughing, her face glowing with excitement.He could only shake his head, exasperated but smiling. "You're telling me this now? After we're already completely soaked?"She had grinned mischievously, her hair plastered to her cheeks. "Exactly! Because if I'd told you before, you'd never have agreed.""You're impossible," he'd said, his voice softening as he looked at her, his frustration melting into amusement. "What if we get sick, huh?""Nothing's going to happen, Hamza," she'd replied, her arms spread wide, twirling in the rain. "Just enjoy it! Trust me, one day, you'll miss this."He had watched her spin, the rain falling around her like tiny diamonds. She looked so free, so alive. And he'd smiled—really smiled."Why would I miss this?" he'd asked, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her close. "You'll always be with me. So in every rain, we'll get drenched together."Then, before she could say anything, he'd lifted her off the ground, spinning her around. She'd gasped, then burst into laughter, her giggles mixing with the sound of the rain until it was impossible to tell which was louder—the storm or their joy.Now, standing in the same garden, Mazhar let the rain drench him once again. But this time, it wasn't the rain that made him feel soaked through—it was the weight of the emptiness, the memories that clung to him like shadows.He closed his eyes, and a tear slipped down his cheek, blending seamlessly with the rain as if the downpour could somehow wash away the years of distance between them. It felt almost cruel, how the rain washed away everything on the surface but left the ache inside untouched."Why did we stop drenching ourselves in the rain, Saana?" he whispered, his voice lost in the downpour.---Elsewhere, Saana sat alone, the house quiet around her. The children had long since fallen asleep. She stood by the window, watching the rain come down in thick sheets, blurring the world outside. Something stirred in her, a pull she couldn't resist. She rose slowly and stepped out onto the veranda, letting the rain soak her skin, the coldness biting through her clothes.A smile crept across her lips, but it was fragile, like the last flicker of a dying candle. She tilted her head back, letting the rain pour over her face, eyes closed, as if it could cleanse her of the sadness that weighed on her heart.The memory of that day in the garden came flooding back, uninvited, but she welcomed it. For a brief moment, she could hear her own laughter again, mingled with Hamza's. She could feel his arms lifting her, spinning her around as the world spun with them, and for a moment—just a moment—everything had felt perfect.A single tear escaped her eye, unnoticed at first, blending with the rain on her face. But then, the weight of it all crashed down, and before she could stop it, she burst into sobs. The rain masked her tears, but it couldn't hide the sound of her breaking heart.She whispered to herself, "Why did we ever stop, Hamza?"And just like that, two hearts—miles apart—ached for the same thing, longing to return to the place where love once felt simple, and the rain was just rain.---------Saana sat in the garden with Bibi, a cup of cold coffee cradled in her hands. Safia, Harun, and Hafsa were playing nearby, their laughter occasionally drifting over. Hamin and Samia had gone for a walk, leaving the two women in quiet conversation.Saana stared off into the distance, her thoughts far away, her gaze fixed on a single spot. She couldn't remember the last time she and Hamza had sat together, sipping coffee, talking like they used to. A tightness formed in her throat at the memory, and she took another sip of the lukewarm coffee, trying to swallow the pain along with it.Bibi sat beside her, peeling and cutting apples in neat slices, occasionally glancing over at Saana, a deep sigh escaping her lips.Finally, Bibi couldn't hold it in any longer. "Saana, why did you do this to yourself?" she asked, her voice brimming with frustration. "Why didn't you fight harder for your marriage? Hamza's lost his mind, but you could've shown patience. You could've stood firm, fought for your relationship. Why did you let it go like this?"Saana smiled faintly, but her eyes were heavy with sadness. "Bibi, you don't understand. It's not about fighting someone to keep them. It's about knowing when to step back, when to let go—for the sake of Allah and for peace in your own heart."Bibi opened her mouth to say more, but Saana continued, her voice soft, reflective."Do you know, Bibi, when I first met Hamza, I didn't like him at all?" Saana's smile deepened as a memory surfaced. "He was my senior in college, always showing up at odd times—outside my classroom, by the cafeteria, at the bus stop, even near the staircase. Everywhere I went, it felt like he was following me."Bibi listened, her knife pausing mid-slice, intrigued by the unexpected story."At first, I thought it was just a coincidence," Saana said, shaking her head with a small laugh. "But then my friends started teasing me, saying I had a secret admirer. That's when I realized he wasn't just showing up by chance."Her smile turned mischievous, as if she were momentarily reliving those days. "And oh, I was so angry. I was focused on my studies and didn't have time for silly things like love or relationships. Plus, I didn't want to involve myself in anything haram."Saana leaned back in her chair, her fingers wrapped tightly around the coffee mug. Her voice grew softer, more intimate. "One day, I was walking to the bus stop with a friend, and of course, there he was, following us. My friend noticed him and started teasing me again, saying he'd probably confess his love any minute."Bibi chuckled, her eyes lighting up at the story."I couldn't take it anymore. I turned around and stormed straight up to him," Saana said, her smile widening as the memory unfolded. "There he was, standing there, hands in his pockets, pretending not to notice me. But his face—it gave him away. His cheeks were so red, Bibi, like a tomato. I couldn't believe it! Have you ever seen a man blush like that?"Bibi laughed heartily, shaking her head. "No, I don't think I have!""I crossed my arms and glared at him," Saana said, her voice playful now. "I told him, 'Fear Allah! Why are you following me everywhere? Don't you have any shame? If I see you near me again, I'll go straight to the principal!' And then I just walked away, didn't even wait for his response. I thought my threat wouldn't work, but the next day, he disappeared. I didn't see him at all."Saana paused, her smile softening. "At first, I was relieved. I thought I could finally focus on my studies again. But then something strange happened."Bibi raised an eyebrow, curious. "What happened?"Saana glanced down at her cup, her fingers tracing the rim. "One day, I had to stay late to finish a lab assignment. It was dark by the time I left, and all my friends had gone home. I was walking alone to the bus stop, and with every step, I felt this growing fear. There were rumors about girls being harassed at night, and I kept praying nothing would happen to me."Her voice lowered as if the memory still stirred something deep within her. "Then, I heard footsteps behind me. My heart stopped. I turned around and saw a man, mid-thirties, scruffy, bearded—he didn't look friendly at all. I quickened my pace, and he did too. I thought, 'This is it. I'm done for.'"Bibi's hand went to her mouth, eyes wide. "Allah!!"Saana smiled slightly, a tear slipping down her cheek. "And then, out of nowhere, Hamza appeared. He walked up to me as if it was the most casual thing in the world and said, 'Hey, Saana, why are you walking alone? Let's go together. Rashed and the others are waiting for us at the bus stop.'"She laughed softly, shaking her head. "He saved me that night without making a big deal out of it. We walked together, him a few steps behind, and when we reached the bus stop, I mumbled a small thank you. He didn't say anything, just blushed again, his face turning red like before."Bibi smiled, warmth spreading in her chest."After that day, my eyes would unconsciously search for him. I didn't know why, but I'd always find him nearby, acting like he wasn't paying attention, pretending he was just passing by."Samia and Hamin had returned from their walk by now, quietly standing behind their mother, listening to the story in rapt attention."One day," Saana continued, "it was pouring rain, and I had to walk alone to the bus stop."Her voice grew quieter, as if sharing a secret. "For some reason, just before reaching the bus stop, I turned around one last time. And there he was, standing under a tree, soaked from head to toe."Saana smiled, a touch of tenderness in her eyes. "He thought the tree would hide him, but his bag gave him away. He stood there, shivering in the rain, watching over me from a distance.""Oh my," Bibi whispered, smiling.Saana shook her head. "I couldn't understand why he kept doing this. I never smiled at him, never encouraged him. But seeing him standing there, drenched and stubborn, stirred something in me."Her hands played with the cup as she recalled the moment. "I walked over to him, and without a word, I held my umbrella over his head."Samia gasped. "You did?""Yes," Saana said, chuckling. "He looked so embarrassed, like he couldn't believe I was actually standing there, holding an umbrella over him. He didn't say a word, just lowered his gaze, as if he was ashamed."She paused, her voice softening again. "And I told him, 'What you're doing is haram, Hamza. Following me around like this, thinking it's love—it's not the right way. Fear Allah. Love before marriage is a trap of Shaytan.'"Bibi and Samia sat in silence, both hanging on her every word."I turned to leave, thinking that was the end of it. But then," she said with a laugh, "Hamza blurted out, 'Will you marry me?'"Samia's jaw dropped. "What? He really said that?""Yes!" Saana laughed, brushing a tear away. "I thought I misheard him. But when I looked at his face, I could tell he was serious."She continued, her voice thick with nostalgia. "He told me, 'I'll be leaving for the USA next month. If you say yes, I'll send my parents to your house. But if you say no, I'll leave you alone and never bother you again.'"Bibi's eyes widened. "What did you say?"Saana smiled, her voice gentle. "I told him, 'If your parents can convince mine, then yes, I'll marry you.'"Samia clapped her hands, her eyes sparkling. "That means you did like him, Mama!"Saana laughed, running her fingers through Samia's hair. "Maybe I did, but I didn't know it yet. I was still too shy to admit it."Hamin stood quietly beside them, fidgeting with his hands, his emotions clearly more complicated than Samia's enthusiasm."And do you know what I did next?" Saana asked, her voice turning playful again. "I ran! I was so embarrassed I just ran to the bus without lookingback!"Samia laughed, her eyes wide with joy. "What did Baba do?""I don't know," Saana said, smiling. "I didn't look back to see. But two weeks later, when I went home, Hamza showed up at my house—with his parents."Bibi shook her head, chuckling. "He was determined, wasn't he?""Yes," Saana said softly. "He was."Samia asked, genuinely curious "How did he convince his parents? You both were so young back then."Saana smiled warmly. "I don't know how he managed it, but somehow, his parents convinced mine. And before he left for the USA, we got our nikah done."She finally stopped. Saana was still smiling as she relived those memories, a brief escape into the past.Samia watched her mother closely. She wrapped her arms around Saana and leaned against her shoulder."Mama, then what happened? Why is he acting like this? You and Baba never argued like this before. You've always treated each other with so much respect. What changed, Mama? What happened to Baba?" Samia's voice trembled as she spoke.Before Saana could answer, Bibi interjected, her tone grave. "I think someone has done something to Hamza," she said cautiously. "There's no other explanation. It could be sihr... black magic." She leaned in, as though whispering a secret she had kept for too long. "There's a peer I know who performs ruqya. He can break the spell, Samu."Samia's eyes widened, her voice a mix of desperation and hope. "Really, Bibi? Can the ruqya help Baba? Will it bring him back to us?"Saana let out a deep sigh, her hands trembling as she wiped away the tears that had suddenly welled up. "No, no one cast a spell on him, Samia. No one cast any spell on anyone. It was my mistake. I took your father for granted. You guys don't know anything. It was all my fault...."--------Hamza wandered aimlessly through the park, the night air cool against his skin. He had gone back home earlier, but the house felt suffocating—too empty, too cold, like a graveyard filled with echoes of a life he no longer recognized. He hadn't lasted more than an hour before slipping out. Now, he shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his pants, walking quietly, his phone turned off. He didn't want to talk to anyone.Especially not Sara.As he walked, his thoughts drifted back to the early days of his marriage with Saana, when they would come to this very park almost every evening. It had been their routine—a sacred time just for the two of them. They'd stroll along the pathways, talking about everything and nothing, watching the sunset fade into twilight. He tried to remember when that routine had changed, when life had pulled them in different directions. When had they stopped walking side by side?When did we become strangers to each other? he thought, the question gnawing at him. When did I stop feeling close to her? He had once believed that his love for Saana had faded over time, that they had simply drifted apart. But now, alone in the park, the weight of that assumption felt like a lie. If his love had faded, then why was he still thinking about her? Why was she still the only person he couldn't get out of his mind?The guilt pressed down on him, thick and suffocating. He remembered how, after the children were born, Saana had become consumed with being a mother. She was always tending to the kids—feeding them, helping with homework, organizing their lives. He had wanted more of her time, more of her attention, but he never dared to ask. He felt like he didn't have the right to demand it.She was already doing so much. And so, he had kept silent, watching from the sidelines as Saana grew more distant. She was always surrounded by the children, always busy with them. There were times he suggested they go out, just the two of them, for dinner or a quiet evening, but she would always bring the kids along. Then, she would spend the whole evening cooking their food, feeding them, wiping their mouths, making sure they were comfortable, while he sat across the table, eating quietly, watching her pour all her love and energy into their children.He loved his kids—how could he not? But over time, he began to resent them too. They had taken Saana away from him in ways he could never express. He had felt more alone than he'd ever admitted, even to himself.A year ago, that loneliness had reached a breaking point. He was on the verge of a deep depression, sinking under the weight of it all—his distant marriage, the financial strain, the sense of invisibility in his own home. And then, Sara had come into his life. In her, he had found something he hadn't felt in years—attention, warmth, someone who saw him again. In some strange way, he had seen traces of Saana in Sara. She reminded him of who Saana used to be—the woman who had once smiled at him, who had once cared.He hadn't expected it to turn into something more. He hadn't meant for it to turn into something more. When she sent him a marriage proposal, he thought she could remove his loneliness and take Sana's place. But ,he was wrong.But now, sitting on this park bench, watching families walk by—couples, parents with their children, groups of friends—he was struck by the emptiness surrounding him. He had thought being with Sara would fill that emptiness, that it would somehow make him whole again. But it hadn't. If anything, it had only made him feel more hollow.He had everything he thought he wanted—a woman who gave him attention, who made him feel wanted—but he missed Saana more than he could bear. He missed the way she used to smile at him from across the room. He missed the way she fussed over him, even if it had annoyed him at the time. He missed the quiet moments, the routine of their life, the warmth of their home when it was filled with laughter and noise.He missed his children, too. But he was certain they didn't miss him. Especially not Samia and Hamin. They were old enough to understand the betrayal, old enough to feel the sting of his absence. He wasn't sure if they would ever forgive him.Hamza's chest tightened with regret as he stared into the distance. In this park, surrounded by life and love, he realized that he was the only one sitting alone. No one beside him, no hand to hold, no voices to share the silence with.He had chosen this, he realized, this path of loneliness. He had pushed Saana away, and in doing so, he had pushed away everything that mattered. Now, as he sat there, the weight of his choices felt heavier than ever.The truth was, he didn't want Sara. He never had. He had wanted Saana all along. And now, he didn't know if it was too late to say so. Too late to go back to what they once were. Too late to ask for forgiveness.Because, for the first time in his life, Hamza realized what scared him most: the thought that Saana might have already moved on from him, just as he had once tried to move on from her.