𖥻﹕𝖥𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖮𝗇𝖾𝗌﹒ຯ - Chapter 16: Chapter 16

Unspoken Wounds
It was late evening when Sufiyah's phone buzzed for a video call from Rashid; Ayaan was the one to pick it up. They greeted each other when soon Sufiyah joined in bed beside Ayaan. They chatted for a while, and then—
Rashid yawned, flopping back on his couch. "So, what's the next move? We've let them mope around the house long enough. It's like watching two emotionally constipated statues trying not to look at each other. That fool still loves her but won't admit it, for he is afraid of getting hurt again."
Sufiyah smirked. "Then, we need a trigger. A space outside that suffocating house. Somewhere they can breathe. Somewhere their guards will drop."
Ayaan leaned closer to the camera. "You mean like a picnic?"
"Yes! A classic setup." Rashid grinned. "Family, nature, no escape routes."
"We'll need to make it look casual, though," Ayaan said. "If they suspect anything, Fahmid will lock himself in his emotional fortress, and Afreen will turn into a polite ice cube."
Sufiyah nodded in agreement. "Let's get their parents on board too. They'll like the idea of everyone getting some fresh air."
"Perfect," Rashid clapped his hands. "Now here's the fun part-we pair them up for everything."
Ayaan chuckled. "We'll assign Afreen onion-chopping duty-she'll panic, and guess who'll swoop in?"
Sufiyah grinned wickedly. "And we'll make her taste-test spices. You know her tongue is a drama queen."
Rashid laughed. "Let's see if Mr. Stone Heart can stay cold when she's struggling in front of him."
They paused for a moment, and the laughter dimmed just a bit.
"He still loves her," Sufiyah said softly. "And she... she's punishing herself every day. She's living under his roof as if it's a sentence. She didn't have to. But she did."
"He sees that too," Ayaan whispered. "He just doesn't know what to do with the pain."
Rashid leaned forward again. "Then let's help them find their way back. Even if it's one awkward picnic moment at a time." With that, after a few more plans to convince the elders, they hung up and went to sleep.
The next morning, after Afreen and Fahmid both left for their respective university and office, Rashid, Sufiyah, and Ayaan arrived at the Bilal residence under the guise of a casual visit. Hamza was sipping tea in the garden, reading the newspaper, while Sabrina was arranging potted plants along the walkway. They brought Ashraf and Yasmin with them too, who were looking confused.
The young trio gathered them together before speaking. "Aunt, Uncle," Rashid greeted with his usual charm. "We were thinking-it's been a while since we all spent time together as a family, and the weather's been so nice lately..."
Yasmin looked up, interested. "Hmm, what are you suggesting?"
"A picnic," Sufiyah jumped in with a disarming smile. "A day out somewhere quiet. We all need a break. It'll be relaxing for everyone. Maybe even healing."
Hamza lowered his newspaper. "You mean... everyone? Even Fahmid and Afreen?"
"Especially them," Rashid said calmly. "They've been through a lot. It's not about forcing anything—it's about letting them breathe outside these four walls."
Sabrina sighed, her gaze drifting toward Afreen's room. "She's not the same girl she was before. She barely smiles. Maybe some fresh air will help."
Ashraf nodded after a pause. "Alright. Let's do it. But don't make it obvious. Fahmid will catch on quickly."
Ayaan smirked. "We've got it covered, Uncle."
The picnic was scheduled for the following Friday. Fahmid showed reluctance initially, but Sufiyah had her charms to lure her cousin. Rashid and Ayaan easily coaxed Afreen using 'them being her brother' card.
Soon the Friday came, and a small countryside spot was chosen-quiet, surrounded by tall trees, and with a soft river flowing nearby. Checkered picnic cloths were laid out, and folding tables were set under the shade. Kids from nearby picnic groups ran around, elders chatted, and the younger group busied themselves with arranging food.
Afreen, in a soft blue floral outfit with a matching hijab, kept her distance, helping quietly but avoiding Fahmid's direction. He was in a simple black shirt with matching pants, sleeves rolled up, directing where to place the coolers and drinks-keeping things efficient, detached, and professional.
"Afreen," Sufiyah called sweetly, "can you chop these onions for the salad and other cooking?"
Afreen stiffened. She blinked a few times, trying to smile. "I... onions sting my eyes badly—"
"Oh, come on, you'll be fine," Sufiyah said, handing over the cutting board with a mischievous smile.
"You have been handling Bilal's kitchen for the past 3 years with Aunt Sabrina. You can't be bad with onions!" Rashid chimed in, knowing full well it was her weak spot. Ayaan caught Fahmid's glance from the corner of his eye.
Within seconds, as Afreen blinked furiously with teary eyes, knife trembling in her hands, a firm hand reached over and gently took the board away.
"I'll do it," Fahmid muttered, grabbing the knife from her other hand before she could even realize what happened. Afreen looked up, startled. Before she could speak, he had already begun chopping smoothly, cleanly, in silence. "You'll ruin the seasoning with your crying."
The comment was cold. Flat. But his movements were swift and practiced. Protective in disguise. Afreen looked down, biting her inner cheek. While everyone around exchanged quiet smirks.
Later, when they were checking the spice level of the curry, Sufiyah deliberately handed Afreen a spoon. "Afi, just tell me if it's too salty or too spicy, okay?"
Afreen reached out, hesitant. The familiar unease was evident in her eyes. Her hand paused mid-air, and her nose twitched—tiny signs that did not go unnoticed by someone who always had paid attention to every little detail about her.
Before the spoon could even reach her, Fahmid snatched it from Sufiyah's hand with a casual flick.
"Yeah, let's not turn her into a fire-breathing dragon," he muttered, giving the curry a taste himself. He did not wait for a reaction. He just added a pinch of sugar, gave the pot a stir, and turned away.
"Not everyone's built to survive *¹⁸deshi spice," he threw over his shoulder. "Try again with someone who won't combust."
The room went still for a second—Afreen blinked, caught somewhere between embarrassment and disbelief. Sufiyah raised an eyebrow. Ayaan coughed, badly masking a laugh. Rashid gave an approving nod like a proud parent watching his kid almost admit feelings.
No one said anything. But everyone knew. Behind the trays and baskets, the trio exchanged secret high-fives and smug grins. Because no matter how cold his words sounded, actions always told the real story.
Under a wide tree, the lunch was laid out beautifully. Stainless steel containers filled with biryani, kebabs, mixed vegetables, and homemade raita steamed invitingly in the midday sun. The family sat on mats in small circles, passing plates and laughing between mouthfuls.
Fahmid sat at one end of a mat, beside Rashid and Ayaan. Across, Afreen settled quietly near Sufiyah and her mother. The air was light, but the trio had plans to stir the still waters.
"So," Rashid began casually, biting into a kebab, "Uncle, Aunt... Have you both thought about finally making things official between these two?" His eyes flicked between Afreen and Fahmid. Afreen stiffened, her eyes dropping to her plate. Fahmid's jaw tensed.
"Oh, you mean marriage?" Ayaan chimed in with mock innocence. "It's high time, don't you think? They've been through thick and thin. Might as well seal it now. For everyone's peace."
Yasmin smiled awkwardly, her eyes soft. "We've been praying for that."
But Fahmid's fork clinked against his steel plate. "I'm sick of this," he snapped. His voice was calm, too calm. But his expression was dark. "All of you-constantly trying to tie us back together like we're toys you can just fix with glue."
"Fahmid-" Sabrina began gently.
"No." He raised a hand. "You all talk about what she did or didn't do. But no one talks about how she let me go without even trying to fight for us. I never forced her... I always put her before me. And she just gave up like I didn't matter. And you all think this is a joke?" he muttered, not looking at anyone. "Planning games like kids? Like our lives are chess pieces for you to move around?"
Rashid blinked. "No one's joking-"
"Then stop interfering," Fahmid snapped, voice rising. "I'm tired. Tired of your endless pushing, tired of being expected to smile and play along as if nothing happened."
Everyone quieted. He turned toward Afreen then—his voice harsh, but his eyes... wounded. "She let me go. She let us go without even fighting for it. And now, just because we're living under the same roof, you all want to pretend we're fine? That it's all okay?"
Afreen's hand froze around her glass of water. Her lips trembled, but she said nothing, trying her best to control her emotions.
"So, stop pushing me. I don't want this. I don't want a woman who gave up on us," he said quietly but sternly; his voice was filled with unsaid emotions. "I don't want a life where I'm always questioning if she'll walk away again."
He stood up, tossing his napkin aside. "I'm done with lunch."
Everyone watched as he walked away-his fists clenched, breathing hard-stopping only when he reached the far end of the picnic field and slumped under a quiet tree by the lake, where he sat down with his back to them. Afreen stared at his unfinished plate for a long moment before slowly rising and walking in the opposite direction, seeking her own quiet shade under a neem tree, wiping away silent tears with her hijab's loose end.
Fahmid sat with one knee up, elbow resting on it, gaze lost in the distance. The sound of children playing, laughter, and clinking cutlery faded around him as his thoughts spiraled into chaos. Footsteps crunched on dry grass.
Ayaan plopped down beside him, silent for a moment, letting the wind and silence speak first. Then he exhaled softly. "I have always heard from Afi that you were one of the calmest people. Yet a storm in disguise," he murmured. "But today, you didn't just bring thunder. You brought down the whole sky."
Fahmid did not respond. "I know you're angry," Ayaan continued. "And you have every right to be. But do you really think you were the only one hurting?"
Fahmid's jaw clenched. "She let go."
"She let go because she thought it was the right thing. Because she hated herself for being the cause of tarnishing her father's reputation. She did what any daughter would do at that time." Fahmid glanced sideways.
"You think she didn't suffer?" Ayaan asked gently. "That she didn't feel her own heart ripping apart every time she looked at your empty chair at the breakfast table? That she didn't cry herself to sleep holding your hoodie like a lifeline?"
He paused. "Do you know she kept wearing your hoodie whenever she missed you? Slept in it. Curled into it like a shield. Even in scorching heat, she wore it just because she was missing you badly."
Fahmid's breath caught. "She fasted every Monday and Thursday. Every single one. Not for herself. For you. Praying in every sujood for your peace, your safety. She punished herself, thinking that maybe—maybe if she suffered enough—Allah would bring you back to her."
Fahmid swallowed hard, his throat dry. Ayaan leaned back against the tree, his voice softer then. "She might not have fought the way you wanted her to... but she did fight. Quietly. Silently. In her own way."
Silence settled between them. "She didn't move on, Fahmid. Not even for a second," Ayaan said. "And you—you're still in love with her. That's your biggest struggle, isn't it?" Fahmid did not deny it. He could not.
"Okay, tell me-what would you have done if you were in her place that time?" Ayaan asked, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned slightly toward Fahmid, eyes unwavering. "Would you have chosen your love or your family?"
Fahmid's jaw clenched. His gaze dropped to the ground for a second before lifting back up. "I would have chosen her," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "Always her. Even if I did choose my family... I would have at least tried to—"
He was cut off by Ayaan's soft chuckle. "See?" he said, tilting his head with a half-smile. "Even you're trying to justify your choice."
He looked away, slightly irritated but not arguing. Ayaan sighed, his tone softening. "Okay, let's say you would've chosen her. That's easy to say. But you may not know... daughters carry a different type of responsibility," he said, his voice growing heavy with conviction.
"Their family's reputation and image sit on their shoulders like invisible weights. They're always expected to sacrifice... even if it means sacrificing their happiness, their dreams, their love." He looked out toward the lake ahead of them, his expression distant as memories flickered in his eyes.
"I've heard and often seen it with my own eyes," he continued, his voice then more subdued. "My Ammi, Ayaat, went through it. When her first marriage was called off because of what she went through... the backlashes were cruel. They didn't end with the wedding. They lingered, whispered behind her back, and judged her every step. And knowing Afreen the way I do, I'm sure she carries that same burden."
Fahmid stayed silent, but his grip on the grass tightened. Ayaan turned to look at him again, locking eyes. "That's probably why she never told you how she felt. Why she couldn't bring herself to fight."
His voice softened further, just above a whisper. "You weren't there, Fahmid. You didn't hear her confess her feelings for you to Rashid Bhai on the wedding day. But I saw it. I heard it. I could feel the intensity of her emotions when she confessed."
He leaned closer, placing a gentle hand on Fahmid's arm. "You... you at least had the chance to say something, to confess to her when you felt like you couldn't live without her. But she? She buried every bit of her love inside her."
Fahmid looked up at Ayaan, his face unreadable, but his eyes-his eyes betrayed something fragile. "So just imagine how she must have felt," Ayaan whispered. Fahmid swallowed hard but did not respond.
"You might think I'm justifying her," Ayaan added, gently releasing his arm. "And maybe I am. But hasn't she paid enough? Isn't it time... you forgive her?"
He let his words hang in the air for a beat before speaking again, and then his tone was laced with quiet emotion. "Let's be honest. You both are suffering. You both are, were, and always will be... each other's missing pieces."
Ayaan took a breath, watching him closely. "She never stopped being yours, Fahmid," she said softly. "And deep down, you never stopped being hers."
Ayaan turned away from Fahmid after pouring his heart out, his expression unreadable but his mind hoping—desperately hoping—that something would finally reach his friend.
He walked back slowly toward the others, where Rashid and Sufiyah stood under the shade of a nearby tree, watching the quiet distance that separated two hearts that once beat in sync. None of them said anything at first. The silence was heavy but comforting, like a moment of shared understanding.
Sufiyah was the first to speak, her voice low and filled with tentative hope. "Do you think... he'll forgive her?"
Ayaan kept his gaze fixed ahead, on Fahmid sitting alone beneath the tree, shoulders stiff, and on Afreen a little farther off, her fingers nervously clutching the edge of her hijab as she stared into nothingness.
Ayaan finally exhaled, his jaw tightening just slightly before he replied, "We've done what we could." He paused.
Then, with a softer tone—more man to man, friend to friend—he added, "Now, it's up to him. Whether to forgive and hold her hand... or dwell on the past and let her go." Rashid folded his arms, saying nothing, but his gaze never left Fahmid.
The trio stood there in silence, watching from afar as the two hearts they loved most remained painfully close... yet still oceans apart. Because sometimes, healing was not about being pushed. Sometimes, it was about standing still long enough... to decide if love was worth the risk again.