Hello my beautiful readers

Here is the third chapter

Enjoy!

SIFNA POV

After hearing Ammi's sharp words, I hurried out of the house. I didn't want to make her angrier than she already was. If I lingered too long, I knew she would stop me from going to school altogether. As I walked through the familiar streets, the morning sun casting a soft glow over everything, I tried to shake off the worry gnawing at me. School was my escape, but I couldn't bear the thought of leaving on a sour note with Ammi.

Suddenly, my steps slowed as I noticed an old woman sitting on the side of the road, her frail body trembling as she wept. My heart clenched at the sight, and I quickly approached her. "Aunty, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" I asked gently, kneeling beside her.

Her tear-streaked face lifted, and her voice trembled as she spoke, "The ambulance broke down... my son... he's badly injured. He's lost so much blood, but no one-no one is willing to help us."

Without a second thought, I reached out and gently wiped her tears, feeling her pain seep into my own heart. How could people just walk by? Forgetting all about school and the ticking clock that threatened to make me late, I stood up and began pleading for help from passersby. But one by one, they ignored me, brushing past as if this woman's grief was invisible.

Frustration built up inside me, but I refused to let it overwhelm me. I closed my eyes, lifting my hands slightly as I whispered, "Ya ALLAH , please... please help this woman . Her pain is unbearable, and her son's life is at stake. Forgive me Allah for whatever i am going to do"

With renewed determination, I stepped into the street, right in front of a car that was speeding down the road. The screech of tires echoed around me as the car came to a halt, inches away. My heart raced, but I stood firm, rushing to the driver's side and knocking on the window.

The glass slowly rolled down, revealing a man behind the wheel. Without even taking a moment to focus on his face, I poured out my plea. "PLEASE HELP ME! This woman's son is gravely injured and no one else will stop!"

The driver frowned and barked at me, "We don't have time for this nonsense! Get out of the way."

His harsh words stung, but I took a deep breath, refusing to lose my composure. THE PROPHET S.A.W SAID, "DO NOT BECOME ANGRY AND FURIOUS" I reminded myself. Calmly, I replied, "I understand you're in a hurry, but this is a matter of life and death. Please, just take a moment to help."

Before the driver could respond, a voice from the backseat interrupted. "Stop. We'll help."

The man in the back, whom I hadn't noticed before, leaned forward, his eyes meeting mine briefly before turning to the driver. He was calm, but there was an air of authority in his voice that silenced any further argument. Reluctantly, the driver nodded, and I quickly motioned for the old woman to come forward. With great care, she and her injured son were helped into the car.

I stepped back, my heart swelling with relief and gratitude. Turning to the man in the backseat, I offered a soft, heartfelt thank you. "May Allah reward you for your kindness. You've helped a person in need."

He nodded once, before the car sped off toward the hospital.

As they disappeared down the road, I took a deep breath and whispered another prayer of thanks, knowing that Allah had heard my dua and send someone to help the old lady.As I hurriedly rushed to school after helping the old lady cross the street, a warm sense of peace washed over me. There was a contentment in my heart, knowing that even a small act of kindness could bring blessings. Alhamdulillah, I whispered to myself, grateful for the opportunity to help. But as I approached the school gate, I felt panic rise within me-I knew I was late. My mind raced, imagining the stern face of the guard uncle, his imposing figure standing like a fortress I had no hope of breaching.

Sure enough, there he was, arms crossed in front of his chest, eyebrows raised in silent expectation. I braced myself for the scolding that was sure to come. But instead, the guard uncle's expression softened. "Sifna beta, why are you late today?" His voice held no anger, only gentle concern. "Since it's your first time, I'll let it pass."

I sighed in relief, smiling gratefully. "Thank you, Uncle." But before moving on, I quietly murmured, "Alhamdulillah, Allah is most Merciful." He nodded and opened the gate, letting me in.

There, waiting by the entrance, were my two best friends, Abeeha and Sidra. The moment they saw me, they rushed over, pulling me into a bone-crushing hug as though they hadn't seen me in years. "Girls, let me breathe first!" I laughed, gently pushing them back. "We just met on Saturday, and here you are hugging me like it's been decades!"

They both grinned, their eyes filled with affection. "You know, Sifu," Abeeha said with a wink, "we just can't go too long without you. You're like the soul of our little group." Sidra nodded in agreement, her arm still linked with mine.

As we walked into the school together, our laughter echoing down the hallways, there was a quiet moment of peace. But soon, my stomach growled, reminding me of the fact I hadn't eaten anything since morning. "Do you girls have anything to eat?" I asked sheepishly. "I didn't get a chance to have breakfast, and now I'm really hungry."

Abeeha turned to me, concern flashing in her eyes. "Sifna," she said softly, "did your mother punish you again? You always come to school without eating... why do you put up with this? You deserve so much better, yaar."

I smiled, but it was a soft, sad kind of smile. "She's my mother," I began, my voice gentle, almost reverent. "Allah has commanded us to honor our parents, no matter how they treat us. It's a test, Abeeha. A test of patience and faith. So what if she scolds me? A mother's heart is tender. I believe that, inshaAllah, one day she will soften, and her heart will be filled with love for me." There was a certainty in my words that only trust in Allah could bring.

Abeeha sighed, shaking her head. "I don't understand it, Sifna, but I respect you so much for it."

"Still," Sidra chimed in, her voice quiet but firm, "you need to take care of yourself too, Sifu. You can't keep going like this."

I laughed lightly, trying to lift the mood. "Right now, all I need is food!" I teased. "Is there anything in your bags?"

Without hesitation, Sidra reached into her backpack and pulled out a neatly wrapped sandwich. She handed it to me with a smile. "Here, eat this. Take your time, and we'll go to class together after."

My heart swelled with gratitude, not just for the food but for the beautiful friends Allah had blessed me with. I took the sandwich, but before I unwrapped it, I paused, closing my eyes and whispering a prayer of thankfulness. "Alhamdulillah, ya Allah. You have provided for me in ways I cannot count. All praise is due to You, for even in my trials, You send ease."

I opened the sandwich with trembling hands, feeling the love Sidra had put into preparing it. Taking a small bite, I savored not just the taste but the mercy of Allah that surrounded me in that moment. I looked at Sidra, my heart full. "May Allah reward you, Sidra. You've helped me more than you know."

Sidra smiled back, humbled by my words. "It's nothing, Sifna. We're sisters for Allah's sake, and in helping you, I feel closer to Him too."

As we continued walking through the school grounds, our arms linked, we talked about our lessons, our hopes, and our faith. We knew that life would bring its challenges, but with our trust in Allah and the support of one another, we would always find strength. The world felt lighter, wrapped in the warmth of friendship and the endless mercy of Allah. Indeed, as the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said, "The believers, in their mutual kindness, compassion, and sympathy, are just like one body. When one of the limbs suffers, the whole body responds to it with wakefulness and fever."

And in that moment, walking side by side, we knew the truth of those words.

On the other side.

HAMAD POV

As I stepped into the mansion, I could hear the familiar hum of morning chatter coming from the dining room. The voices were light, mingled with bursts of laughter, creating a warmth that filled the air. I made my way straight there, my footsteps measured, steady. But as I entered, the room quieted, and all eyes turned toward me. The laughter died down, the conversations halted, but it wasn’t out of fear—not entirely. Yes, my younger siblings were cautious around me, a little intimidated, but that was natural. I loved them all, and they knew that. It was just that my presence had a way of commanding attention, of shifting the atmosphere, even without a word.

I took a moment to glance around, taking in the familiar faces of my family. My mother (Sabrina Malik)sat at one of the dining chair the table, her eyes soft yet stern. She was the first to break the silence.

“You know, Hamad, we set a rule about breakfast together as a family,” she said, her tone firm but gentle. “And you’re late. Why?”

I managed a small smile, one that I hoped would ease the tension. “I’m sorry, Maa. I just got caught up with something,” I replied, trying to keep my voice light, almost apologetic.

Before my mother could respond, my father( Arsalaan Malik)spoke up, his voice cutting through the quiet like a sharp edge. “Didn’t I make it clear that everyone should be present at breakfast, no matter how busy they are?” His eyes were on me, unyielding, waiting for a response that I wasn’t sure I had. I didn’t argue. Instead, I simply nodded and moved to take my seat at the head of the dining table, the weight of his words settling over me. It was a subtle reminder of the discipline he expected, of the rules that governed our family life. I glanced around the table, noting every face present, yet one was missing.Abeeha, my cousin sister, wasn’t there. I figured she must have already left for school. She was the diligent one, always punctual, and I could almost picture her rushing out the door, backpack slung over her shoulder, eager to start her day. As I settled into my chair, the conversations slowly picked up again, this time more relaxed, the earlier tension melting away. My mother started talking about her plans for the day, my father joined in with his usual dry humor, and my younger siblings began to share stories, their voices animated and bright. It was these small moments—the laughter, the teasing, the shared warmth—that made me feel grounded, reminded me that no matter how chaotic life got, this was home. Yes i am merciless heartless for other but only my family know my true self. Breakfast started as it always did, with the gentle clinking of cutlery and the low murmur of voices filling the dining room. The aroma of freshly brewed tea mingled with the scent of warm parathas, creating a comforting sense of routine. But then, my mother’s words pierced through the usual morning chatter, causing a knot to form in my stomach. She brought up my marriage—something I’d been trying not to think about, a reality I hadn’t fully accepted.

I was engaged to a girl named Inaya Khan, a decision that had been forced upon me. It wasn’t my choice; it was a situation orchestrated by my mother, and she’d left little room for negotiation. The only time I’d met Inaya was on our engagement day, and after that, there had been silence—no calls, no messages, nothing. I hadn’t reached out because, deep down, I still couldn’t come to terms with it. But when my mother had insisted that I agree, she’d made it clear that if I refused, she would never speak to me again. And I loved her too much to let that happen. So, I had said yes.

I was lost in thought, trying to avoid the weight of the conversation, when my mother’s voice snapped me back to reality. “Are you even listening to me? You’re getting married in one month, and that’s final. No excuses.”

I felt a rush of surprise and resistance surge through me as I set my fork down. “But Maa, why so soon?” I tried to keep my tone steady, though I knew my voice betrayed my unease. Before I could say more, my father cut in, his tone firm and unyielding.

“Soon? Are you serious? It’s been six months since your engagement. No more delays. I’m calling Inaya’s father today, and we’ll set the wedding date.” His words left no room for argument, a finality that echoed through the room.

I felt the walls closing in on me, but I didn’t have the energy to fight back. I sighed, trying to swallow the rising frustration, and resumed eating, even as a knot tightened in my chest. Just as I was about to take another bite, my younger brother and cousins—Aaban, Daamin, and Hadi—broke into excited chatter, their faces lighting up with glee.

“That means we don’t have much time! We have to shop and plan everything!” they said, their voices buzzing with excitement. It was the kind of enthusiasm that only made me feel more trapped, and before I knew it, I snapped. “Quiet, all three of you. Your cards are blocked for two weeks,” I said, my tone sharp, eyes narrowing in warning.

Aaban immediately started to whine, which only irritated me further. “Three weeks,” I added, my voice firmer this time.

“But that’s not fair!” Daamin protested, but I had no patience for complaints. “Four weeks,” I said, coldly, my tone brooking no opposition.

Hadi, ever the sensible one, whispered to the others, “Just keep quiet, or he’ll add more weeks.”

Their faces fell, and for a moment, I almost felt guilty, but then my aunt, Chachi Sara, chimed in, her tone calm yet firm. “They’re right, Hamad. We do have very little time.”

I exhaled sharply, trying to rein in my irritation. “Do whatever you want,” I said dismissively, before turning to my mother. “Maa, I’m leaving for the office.”

I stood up and left the dining room, the continued chatter about the wedding trailing behind me. Even as I walked through the mansion, their excited voices followed, buzzing around like an unwelcome reminder. I stepped outside, and the cool morning air hit my face, offering a brief respite from the suffocating weight of expectations.

I climbed into the car, instructing the driver to take me to the office. As I leaned back against the seat, I couldn’t escape the looming reality of the marriage. No matter how far I went, it was always there, hovering at the edge of my thoughts, a constant, unyielding presence. And I wasn’t sure how much longer I could pretend it didn’t bother me.

Do vote and comment

Follow me on instagram for new updates and spoilers

Nainiwrites2