When Laughter Meets Longing

The day passed as usual, with Fiza immersed in her project at NeuraTech. She barely left her desk, only getting up three times—twice to perform her Zuhur and Asar prayers, and once for a quick coffee break. She made significant progress on her task, but there was an undercurrent of exhaustion building in her. Still, she pressed on.

Friday arrived, and with it, a visit from Ibrahim. He had come to check on the progress of her work, his calm, commanding presence filling the room as soon as he stepped in. Fiza looked up from her screen and stood up to greet him, offering him a polite but professional smile.

"Miss Alvi," Ibrahim said, his voice carrying a note of approval. "How's the project coming along?"

Fiza nodded, confident in her progress. "It's moving ahead well. The initial framework for anomaly detection is almost ready for testing. I'm on track to integrate it with the final model by Monday."

Ibrahim studied her for a moment, his gaze softening. "You're doing great. Keep it up. We'll need this to be perfect when it's deployed."

Her expression remained calm, though a faint smile tugged at her lips at his praise. "Thank you, Ibrahim. I'll make sure everything is ready."

After a few more words of encouragement, Ibrahim nodded and left the office. "Enjoy your weekend, Miss Alvi. Rest up. Monday's going to be busy."

"Thank you," she replied, watching him leave, her mind already returning to her work.

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Saturday arrived, and Fiza woke early to perform her Fajr prayer, reciting the Quran with quiet devotion. Afterward, she went back to sleep, resting until 10 a.m. when the sounds of the household stirred her awake.

She shuffled downstairs in her comfortable house clothes, ready to spend the day with her family. As she entered the living room, she sat down on the couch and leaned her head onto her father, Hafeez's shoulder. He was taking a break from his company, enjoying some rare downtime with his family. He stroked her hair lovingly, and Fiza smiled up at him, feeling the warmth of his affection.

Shazia, busy in the kitchen, called out, "Today, we're going to Zayan's house. Do you want to come?"

Fiza's face lit up, and she eagerly jumped up from her seat. "Sure! Why not?" she exclaimed, her excitement palpable.

Seeing her reaction, Shazia's smile faltered slightly, her eyes welling up with tears. Memories of a lost child flooded her heart, but she quickly wiped away her tears, not wanting to worry her family.

Aqsa, noticing Fiza's enthusiasm, leaned in with a mischievous grin. "You're playing against Ibrahim in cricket today. Think you can win?"

Fiza chuckled, a playful glint in her eyes. "I think I can take him down. You, on the other hand... better start practicing."

Aqsa rolled her eyes, smirking. "I'm more focused on the match with Zeyan, actually. I'll take care of him before I join you for cricket."

Fiza raised an eyebrow. "A boxing match with Zeyan? This will be interesting."

Aqsa winked. "I've got this."

Fiza hit Aqsa lightly on the head and whispered, "Make sure you win. I wouldn't want to be the one who has to deal with your defeat."

Aqsa smirked. "Don't worry about me. I'm going to crush him."

As Fiza went to the kitchen to grab an apple, she could hear the teasing banter between Aqsa and Uzma who just arrived with her husband *Ahmed*. Fiza shook her head with a small smile and got ready for the day ahead.

She quickly changed into a long black frock, paired with her usual black hijab and sneakers. Aqsa, noticing her attire, scoffed, "Black again?"

Fiza shot her a look. "What's the problem with black?"

Aqsa raised her hands in mock defense. "Nothing, nothing! I just thought you might want to change it up a bit."

Fiza stuck her tongue out at her sister before quickly running out the door to her car, a sleek black Mercedes.

Aqsa, never one to back down, followed her with a grin. "I'm coming, but I'll be the one to win the match today."

The family piled into their cars, with Fiza driving alone, as her parents insisted she drive herself—after all, they said, she drove like a rocket.

The drive to Zayan's house was filled with chatter and laughter, and as they arrived, they were greeted warmly by Zayan's mother, Aliya Baig. She ushered them into the farmhouse, where the day would unfold in the company of loved ones.

Fiza arrived first, taking a seat by the front door as she waited for the others. Her parents and Uzma's family arrived shortly after, and the day's activities began. The mothers started preparing meals in the kitchen, while the fathers—Mr. Alvi and Mr. Baig—got to work chopping wood. Zayan and Ahmed set up the cricket field, preparing for the match against the girls.

The afternoon was filled with laughter and competition, with Fiza joining her sisters in the match. Even little Ziniya, Uzma's daughter, got in on the fun, chasing after the ball and making everyone laugh.

But as the day wore on, there was a palpable sadness that lingered in the air. Fiza, sitting quietly on the porch, looked up at the sky. Her mind wandered to someone she could not forget. A long tear slipped down her cheek as she whispered, "My dear Allah, please keep him in your protection."

Aqsa, noticing her sister's distant gaze, walked over and sat beside her. "You know, Fiza, everyone here is like those people trying to look happy for their loved ones. Whenever I look at Mom and Dad, I can see the sadness in their eyes. I just want them to be free of that pain."

Fiza turned to Aqsa, her eyes filled with determination. "I promise you, Aqsa, I will make those who hurt our family suffer twice as much as they made us suffer."

Uzma, hearing her sisters' words, joined them and gave them both a tight hug. The three of them sat together in silence, comforted by each other's presence, though the pain of their shared loss remained.

Meanwhile, Hafeez and Shazia exchanged a sad but reassuring glance, trying to offer their daughters a sense of peace. Zayan, Ahmed, Mr. Baig, and Aliya Baig all did their best to comfort them, knowing that in time, the healing would come—but for now, the memories of someone lost weighed heavy on their hearts.

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