Chapter 6 Trying to Be Her

The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the ceiling fan. The evening light had faded, leaving a soft golden hue in the corners of the room. Hannah lay on the bed with her head gently resting in Mother's lap. Mother softly ran her fingers through Hannah's hair, slow and comforting. Hannah's eyes were half-closed, soaking in the peace of the moment.

Just then, the door creaked open.

Safira stepped in, her hands full of small bottles, jars, and a neatly folded face towel balanced on top. Her eyes lit up as she saw them.

"Oh good! I'm glad I found you both here," she said brightly, walking in with a little bounce in her step.

Mother looked up, raising an eyebrow slightly. 

"What's that in your hands, Safira?" she asked, half-curious, half-suspicious.

Safira placed the items carefully on the bed and grinned. 

"Skincare!" she said proudly, holding up a jar. "We young ladies should pay attention to skincare. That's how we'll stay young forever, right?"

Hannah let out a small sleepy laugh, eyes still closed. 

"You and your ideas..." she murmured with a smile.

Mother chuckled softly, gently tapping Hannah's cheek. 

"She's not wrong. A little self-care never hurt anyone."

Safira sat beside them, opening the containers and lining them up like a little display.

The soft scent of aloe, rose, and honey filled the air.

White Bungalow:

It was a calm night. The white bungalow stood silently under the moonlight, its garden glowing faintly where the night-blooming jasmine swayed gently in the breeze. The soft scent lingered in the air.

Haris, dressed in a clean white thobe, stepped out of the house. The long robe fluttered slightly with his movement. His face was calm, but his eyes held a tired quietness. His manager stood near the sleek black Rolls Royce , door open, waiting.

Haroon followed him outside, his tone low and hesitant. 

"Bhai… you could've stayed a little longer."

Haris turned slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. 

"I'll come again. To meet Ammi…"

He paused for a second. 

"…And to take all those clothes you've been collecting like a storage unit," he added lightly, the sarcasm slipping through.

Haroon let out a small, silent laugh through his nose and nodded. 

"Hmm… okay."

Then, stepping a little closer, his voice dropped. 

"Actually, our talk wasn't finished. I wanted to say something."

He looked around, keeping his voice low. 

"Maybe we'll talk next time… somewhere outside."

Haris gave a slow nod in reply. Nothing more. Just a quiet understanding in his eyes.

He turned towards the door, where his stepmother stood under the porch light, her hands folded, watching him quietly.

"Ammi, I'm leaving now," Haris said softly. 

"If you ever need anything… just tell me." 

Then, glancing toward the garden where the jasmine bloomed, he added gently, 

"And thank you… for that."

She followed his gaze to the flowers but said nothing. Only a quiet smile appeared on her face.

Haris stepped forward, held her hand respectfully, and kissed it—simple, sincere.

Then he walked away and slid into the car. The Rolls Royce moved silently into the night, its headlights washing over the driveway before disappearing down the road.

Inside Hannah's Bedroom: 

 All three—Hannah, Safira, and Mother—lay on the bed with cooling eye pads on, their faces covered in light skincare masks. It was one of those peaceful nights when everything slowed down.

Hannah adjusted her eye pads and broke the silence with a curious smile.

"Safira, I was thinking of ordering something for the eyes. Good you already got these eye pads," she said, her voice relaxed.

Safira shifted slightly, a giggle in her tone.

"No, I didn't order them. Api sent them from Faisalabad," she replied, her tone casual but cheerful.

Hannah clapped her hands lightly, eyes sparkling.

"That's amazing, Mama!"

Mother, lying in the middle, touched the sides of her eye pads gently.

"How long are we supposed to keep these on? I hope they don't get too tight," she asked, concerned.

Hannah peeked over and said softly, "Mama, it's already been ten minutes. You should go wash your face now."

Mother sat up slowly, patting her cheeks.

"Alright, girls, you both get up too. Go wash your faces."

As they got up one by one and took turns in the bathroom, Safira returned with a glow of excitement on her face.

"We have two pieces of good news in the family now!" she announced.

Mother looked at her through the mirror, curious.

"What are they?"

Safira grinned, holding up her fingers.

"First, Mama's interview is going to be on national TV. And second, her paintings are being displayed at the university!"

Safira turned to Hannah, her tone suddenly thoughtful.

"You love painting too, just like Mama. I really hope one day your artwork also gets the same love and respect."

Mother walked back to the bed, her face glowing more than before—not just from the skincare, but pride. She sat beside Hannah and gently touched her hair.

"I always wished at least one of my daughters would be like me. And Hannah, you fulfilled that dream. You're just like my reflection."

Hannah smiled, but inside, her heart fluttered with pressure. She didn't say anything out loud, but her thoughts whispered gently:

"I'm always trying to be like you, Mother… but I'm not as capable as you."