The weight of silence

"I need to make wudu," Iman said, her voice caught somewhere between hesitation and need.

"I'll come with you," Ruaid stood up and walked beside her. She looked at him, momentarily speechless.

"There are a lot of people in the restaurant washroom, Iman. Maybe wait a little," he said after checking inside. But just then, Iman noticed an outdoor tap. "I'll just make wudu here," she decided.

"Okay," he nodded.

He stood directly in front of her, shielding her from the view of people passing by. When Iman reached to wipe over her head, she had to remove her scarf. She glanced at Ruaid—he had turned his back toward her respectfully.

"He knows I don't uncover my head in front of others... Ya Allah, what kind of man is he?" she thought. Tonight was definitely full of surprises.

"There's a prayer area ahead. All the women are praying there. You can go while I pray too," Ruaid said softly.

When Iman finished and came out, she saw him walking out of the mosque—tall, dark, and undeniably handsome. Perhaps for the first time, she really saw him.

"Ya Allah, forgive me. I don't know what's happening to me."

"I think the roads are clear now. Shall we leave?" Ruaid asked.

"Yes, I'd prefer to go home now. Thanks," she replied.

"Ruaid... can I ask you something?" She couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Sure, please," he said.

"Why do you not look into my eyes when we talk, but then suddenly look away?"

He chuckled. "Because your eyes are so bright... so luminous, anyone could get lost in them."

"That's strange. No one's ever said that to me," Iman said, clearly surprised.

"No one can see you that way... except me," he said, then turned and walked toward his car, leaving her speechless.

"And one more thing," he turned back suddenly. "I'll follow you home. Please don't mind."

"Why?" Iman asked, confused.

"I'll just be restless wondering if you got home safely."

"This man is mad. Completely mad. I'm going to ask Ayesha why she hasn't had her cousin treated yet," she muttered as she got into her car.

Even after reaching home, sleep didn't come easily. His words kept echoing in her heart and mind.

Later after one week, the three of them—Ahmer, Ayesha, and Iman—went out to dinner to celebrate a big project win for their company. They had just finished eating when someone greeted them from behind.

"Hey Ruaid! Come join us," Ayesha offered warmly.

"No, I was just leaving. Saw you guys and thought I'd say hello," he replied.

"Wow, we're really lucky today. We even got a glimpse of Madam Iman," came a voice from behind—one that froze them all.

"You! How dare you even utter Iman's name with your filthy tongue!" Ahmer shouted.

"I just came to see if your sister had moved on after I rejected her. But clearly, she's still stuck in the same place. Guess no one wants a goody-goody like her. Who would marry a woman with so much baggage?" he sneered.

"You—" Ahmer lunged at him, grabbing his collar. Ayesha and Ruaid rushed to hold him back.

"Say one more word about Iman, and next time we'll see you at the police station," Ruaid warned him sternly.

In the midst of the chaos, Ruaid's eyes found Iman. She was sitting quietly, her head lowered, a glass in her hand. The man took a step toward Ahmer again, but suddenly, a glass shattered.

Ruaid turned, horrified—Iman's hand was covered in blood. She had gripped the glass so tightly it had broken in her palm. The entire restaurant had already been watching the scene; now, everyone turned toward their table.

"Ahmer! Take Iman to the hospital!" Ruaid yelled.

The three of them rushed to her. Ayesha tried to stop the bleeding with a napkin, but it wouldn't stop. They found a nearby clinic and took her there. While Ayesha stayed with Iman as they stitched her wound, Ruaid paced outside, shaken by the wildness he had seen in Iman's eyes.

When the nurse brought Iman out, Ahmer and Ruaid rushed to her side.

"Iman, are you okay?" Ruaid asked.

She didn't respond.

"She's been given a painkiller. Try to help her rest and give her this medicine," the nurse said, handing Ahmer the prescription.

"I'll drive you to the restaurant ," Ruaid offered when they realized their cars were still at the restaurant.

At the restaurant, Ahmer realized he didn't have the keys. "I'll go check inside. Ayesha, come with me. Ruaid, if you don't mind, I'll be back in five."

He nodded and turned to Iman. "Are you okay?"

She was unusually silent.

"He was right," she suddenly said, her voice distant, "I'm still standing where he left me."

Ruaid looked at her. Tears streamed down her face.

"Not because I loved him. He was just stubborn and I was helpless. Since I could remember, his name was always tied to mine. He was my uncle's son. We were engaged before I even understood what it meant."

She paused, her eyes lost.

"My mother once told me, 'Between a non-mahram man and woman, there is always Shaytan. He pushes you to do what is forbidden.'"

Ruaid's mind echoed with a memory:

He forgot to breathe.

"He would try to touch me, insist on taking me out with his friends. I would keep saying no, over and over. But he didn't care. I was exhausted from refusing him."

Then she whispered, "Eventually, Baba sent me to Germany to study. I was so excited. But Shazil objected. He didn't want his fiancée going abroad. Baba refused to give in. He told him, 'Iman is still my daughter. I'll decide for her life.'"

She paused, breathing heavily.

"Shazil barely spoke to me during those six months. I thought once I returned, I could fix everything. But the day I came back..." Her voice broke. "He married my cousin."

She fell silent, drained. Ruaid handed her a water bottle, and she accepted it. He had no words. None that could soothe this kind of pain.

Then, Ayesha and Ahmer returned from inside.

That drive home was the hardest of Ruaid's life. Iman's words echoed in his mind. When he reached home, he went straight to his room. He couldn't breathe.

"Bhai, bring me back ice cream..."

"Bhai, I got the highest marks today..."

"Ruaid, bring my daughter back..."

"Between a non-mahram man and woman, there is Shaytan..."

Voices swirled in his head. He held his head in his hands. Cold sweat poured from his forehead.

His mother, waking for Tahajjud, saw his light still on and entered. She screamed when she saw him collapsed on the floor.

"Ruaid!" Her cry brought his father rushing in.