7:00 PM – Siddique Residence, Living Room
The front door creaked open gently as Zara stepped inside, her dupatta slipping slightly from her tired shoulders. Her black kurta carried faint creases from the long day, and her face, though weary, still had the grace she wore effortlessly. She toed off her sandals and placed her bag on the console near the entrance. The quiet hum of the fan and the faint aroma of dinner preparations filled the house.
Before she could call out, her father Mr. Sameer Siddique, appeared from the hallway with a soft smile.
"Beta aa gayi? Kaisi thi office aaj?"
Zara smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Bas theek thi Abbu… thoda exhausting day tha. Meetings were back-to-back."
He gave a concerned nod and motioned her to sit. "Beta… ek baat batani thi. Tum fresh hojao phir araam se baat karte hain."
Zara paused in her steps, a knowing look forming in her eyes. "Aap already bata chuke ho, Baba… Bataiye na seedha seedha."
He chuckled awkwardly and rubbed his palms together. "Wo... Rehan saab aaj dinner par aa rahe hain. Saba baji, Ayhaan sab honge..."
Zara's face turned unreadable.
Just then, her Mother, Rihana Siddique, entered from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her dupatta. Her eyes softened seeing Zara's pale face.
"Zara beta, fresh hoja... dinner ki tayari bhi karni hai aur thoda rest bhi. You look drained."
Zara, still standing in place, looked between her Mother and Father, lips parting slowly. "Toh... aaj milna fix kar diya?"
Rihana avoided her eyes as she replied, "Tum dono ka officially ek dusre se milna zaroori tha beta. Sirf office ki pehchaan se shaadi ke faislay nahi hote... Families ko bhi toh baat karni chahiye."
Zara gave a faint nod and turned to walk to her room, but before disappearing, she paused. "Mamma…"
Rihana looked up.
Zara stepped back into the room, speaking softly, "Aap tension mein hain na?"
Rihanna Siddique tried to shake her head and smile it away. "Nahi toh… bas thodi si thakaan hai… roz ka kaam…"
But Zara walked to her and held her hand gently. "Mamma… main jaanti hoon. Aap hamesha meri fikr karti hain. Bachpan se aap ne meri har weakness se ladne mein meri madad ki hai. Mujhe pata hai aap mujhse zyada stress le rahi ho."
Mami cupped her face. "Toh kya karun Zara? Tujhe paal pos ke bada kiya hai. Har baar jab teri tabiyat kharab hoti thi, meri jaan nikal jaati thi. Ab bhi wohi darr hai… aur ab toh baat sirf tabiyat ki nahi hai… tumhara future bhi daav pe hai."
Zara gently leaned her head on her Mamma's shoulder. "Mujhe pata hai… par aap please stress mat lo. Main hoon na. Koshish karungi sab theek se handle karne ki."
Her mother whispered, "Aur Ayhaan?"
Zara didn't answer for a moment. Then softly she said, "Main nahi jaanti. Shayad mujhe khud bhi samajhne mein waqt lagega."
Mamma kissed her forehead. "Toh theek hai. Aaj ki raat sirf ek dinner ki raat hai. Jo hoga dekha jayega. Tum bas khud pe bharosa rakhna."
Zara gave a small nod and turned to head upstairs.
As she disappeared into her room, Baba looked at Mamma with quiet concern. "Waqt badalne wala hai... Zara ke liye bhi... sab ke liye."
Sameer Siddique sighed. "Bas dua karo sab behtar ho
___
Zara's Bedroom
She shut the door behind her and leaned against it. The silence in her room felt heavier than usual. She walked to her dresser, took off her earrings and wristwatch, and placed them gently in their trays.
Her eyes met her reflection in the mirror.
For a moment, she studied her own face—the slight dark circles, the tired eyes, and that tiny flicker of nervousness that refused to hide behind her composed exterior.
"Zara Siddique…" she whispered to herself, "Get a grip."
As she washed her face and freshened up, the buzz of preparations started downstairs. Utensils clanked, voices echoed, and aroma of her Mother's famous chicken korma started drifting through the air.
She stepped out of her room, hair neatly tied in a braid, and sleeves rolled to her elbow. Her dupatta draped perfectly over her shoulder.
She made her way to the kitchen.
"Mamma, main help karu?" she offered with a smile.
Rihana turned with a spoon in her hand, eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "Aaj toh madam khud chale aaye!"
Zara smirked. "Khaas mehmaan aa rahe hain aakhir…"
Both shared a look—an emotional one. Behind the humour, lay thousands of unspoken emotions. Expectations. Fears. Love.
---
As Zara began kneading dough beside her Mother, the camera pans out slowly, capturing the subtle tension in their faces, the silence wrapped in the soft clatter of kitchenware, and the clock ticking gently above the dining wall.
The atmosphere was still.
But change was coming.
And dinner would not just serve food tonight—it would serve memories, unresolved stories, and maybe… a confrontation waiting to happen.
_____,,,,,_____
Late Evening | Ayhaan's Farmhouse, Outskirts of the City
The sky had dipped into hues of deep violet, with twilight casting long shadows across the wide expanse of Ayhaan Malik's private farmhouse. Crickets had just begun their nightly chorus, blending with the soft lapping of water from the clear blue swimming pool glistening under ambient garden lights.
Ayhaan sat silently on one of the wooden lounge chairs placed beside the pool. He had loosened the first two buttons of his crisp white shirt, his sleeves rolled up just below the elbows, and his dark blazer tossed aside on the chair next to him. His face held a weight—calm on the surface, but eyes… they betrayed the storm he fought internally.
The gentle night breeze ruffled his slightly damp hair. He leaned back, arms resting on both sides of the chair, staring blankly at the still water that mirrored the restless expression he tried so hard to mask.
A few minutes passed before he finally pulled out his phone from his pocket. His thumb hovered over a name saved under a simple initial. No emoji, no surname—just a name that probably meant more than he ever admitted.
After a moment of hesitation, he tapped the call button.
The phone rang once… twice… thrice.
His jaw clenched.
On the fourth ring, someone picked up—but it wasn't the voice he was expecting.
A slightly shaken, unfamiliar tone came from the other end. "Hello?"
Ayhaan's brows drew together. "Where is he?"
The voice paused briefly, then responded in a low, hesitant tone. "He's not well, sir. Thodi der pehle hi tabiyat aur down ho gayi hai. Hum log doctor ko bula rahe hain…"
Ayhaan didn't wait for the rest of the sentence.
He stood up abruptly, phone still to his ear. "Why wasn't I informed earlier?"
The person on the line began explaining something, but Ayhaan cut the call mid-sentence.
He grabbed his blazer from the chair and slipped it on with one swift movement, eyes already dark with concern and urgency. The night's breeze turned a little colder as he made his way toward the parking area of the farmhouse.
The sound of his footsteps echoed sharply across the stone-paved path.
His sleek black car stood under the awning, engine cold, headlights off. Without a second thought, he got in, started the engine, and the roar of the ignition broke the night's calm.
His hand tightened around the steering wheel. His jaw flexed. He didn't say a word, didn't call again. He just hit the accelerator.
Tyres screeched lightly as the car sped out of the farmhouse gates and vanished into the darkness of the winding road beyond, leaving behind the still water and silent night.
The swimming pool shimmered under the garden lights as if untouched—but in that moment, Ayhaan Malik had already begun a journey that could change something… or perhaps reveal a past he had locked away too deep for comfort.
____,,,,,_____
Evening | Zara's House, 7:45 PM
The table was perfectly set. The aroma of warm home-cooked food lingered in the air, weaving through the soft golden lights of the elegantly decorated living room. A warm tone of anticipation filled the house, but beneath it all, there was an unspoken layer of anxiety.
Zara's family had been waiting.
Sameer Siddique stood near the main entrance, quietly checking his wristwatch while Rihana adjusted the final touches of the fruit platter on the table, although everything already looked flawless.
The gentle chime of the doorbell finally rang through the house.
Sameer looked toward the door, and Rihana immediately walked over and opened it with her signature graceful smile.
"Assalamualaikum, bhaiyya, bhabhi," she greeted warmly, folding her hands gently.
Saba Malik returned the smile and stepped forward to hug her affectionately. "Wa Alaikumussalam, Rihana. Tumhara ghar hamesha itna pyaara lagta hai."
Rihana smiled modestly, "Aap log aaye, isse zyada pyaara kya ho sakta hai."
Rehan Malik stepped in behind his wife, exchanging a brief but respectful nod with Sameer. "Sameer bhai," he greeted, offering a firm handshake.
"Rehan bhai, itni der laga di aapne?" Sameer teased lightly.
"Thoda kaam late ho gaya… Ayhaan ka bhi wait kar rahe the," Rehan replied, glancing briefly toward his wife.
Rihana stepped aside to let them in fully. But as she looked around and noticed only the two of them, a question popped up almost instantly. "Ayhaan nahi aaye? He didn't come?"
That small question hung awkwardly in the air for a few seconds.
Saba Malik and Rehan exchanged a fleeting glance—one that carried more than words.
"We'll explain," Saba replied gently, her tone calm but laced with a hint of concern.
They all made their way toward the living room. The place looked warm and inviting — soft cushions on the beige couch, a low center table set with tea and snacks, and warm lighting giving the place a welcoming glow.
Saba's eyes subtly scanned the room as if expecting someone.
"She's upstairs," Sameer said, understanding her glance. "Thoda tired ho gayi thi… she's resting for a while."
Saba gave a slow nod. "Of course, she must be. It's understandable. It's a lot for her too."
There was a silence. One that wasn't uncomfortable—but carried a weight of shared history, family bonds, and hidden stories.
Rihana stood up. "Main bula lati hoon usse," she said gently, brushing her dupatta from her shoulder as she moved toward the staircase.
As Rihana climbed up, her mind wasn't just focused on calling Zara. It was racing with a thousand thoughts. She knew Zara. Every flicker of emotion, every unspoken word — she'd seen it in her eyes since childhood.
Because wether Zara wasn't just her biological daughter but She was her daughter.
She might not have carried her in her womb, but she had carried her in her heart from the day they'd brought her home.
And now… seeing Zara on the verge of entering a complicated phase of life, Rihana's heart tightened.
Still, she knocked gently on Zara's room door.
"Zara beta… mehmaan aa gaye hain."
Inside the room, Zara slowly opened her eyes, her breath catching slightly. She already knew who had come. And somewhere deep down, she had already felt the nervous energy floating through the house.
"Ji… aa rahi hoon Mamma," she replied softly, pulling her dupatta around her shoulders and sitting up.
As Rihana waited outside, she whispered under her breath, "Bas sab theek ho jaaye…"
Zara Comes Downstairs – Elegant, Graceful, and Composed
The door to Zara's room opened gently.
Dressed in a soft pastel blue suit with minimal embroidery that complimented her poise, Zara stepped out with elegance. Her dupatta was neatly placed over her shoulders, hair tied back in a simple but tidy bun, and the faintest trace of kohl in her eyes brought attention to her naturally expressive gaze.
Standing right outside, Rihana Siddique—her mother—smiled lovingly. Without a word, she extended her arms and pulled Zara into a brief, warm hug.
"Sab theek hoga beta… bas apna asli self dikhana," she whispered close to her ear.
Zara gave a soft nod, her hands gently holding onto her mother's arms for support before letting go. She took a deep breath, quickly adjusted her dupatta again, straightened her posture, and slowly walked downstairs.
The sound of her light footsteps on the staircase made Saba Malik turn slightly toward the entrance of the hall.
And there she was.
Zara walked toward the living area with calm composure, her eyes respectfully lowered. She greeted them with a soft, clear voice.
"Assalamualaikum, aunty, uncle…"
Saba Malik's face brightened instantly. "Wa Alaikumussalam, beta!" she said warmly, getting up and placing a hand over Zara's head as a gesture of affection. "Mashallah, tum toh bilkul badi ho gayi ho… kitni khubsurat lag rahi ho."
Zara offered a polite smile, her cheeks slightly flushed, "JazakAllah, aunty…"
Rehan Malik also nodded in approval, "Bohot tameezdaar bachi hai. Kaise ho, Zara beta? Tabiyat theek hai ab?"
Zara responded softly, "Ji uncle, thoda rest kar liya toh better feel kar rahi hoon."
"And kaam kaisa chal raha hai?" Saba asked with a curious but supportive tone.
Zara's eyes briefly flicked up to meet hers before she replied, "Alhamdulillah, work is going well. I've recently been assigned to a new project. Thoda pressure hota hai kabhi kabhi, but I'm managing."
Sameer Siddique, who was watching quietly from the side, gave a small smile of pride.
"Zara hamesha apna kaam sincere tareeke se karti hai," he added.
Rihana returned and gently placed a hand on Zara's back, "Chaliye sab, dinner ke liye dining table pe chalte hain."
Everyone nodded and moved toward the dining area. Zara gracefully followed, helping her mother with serving as much as she could without making a fuss. Throughout the meal, she kept her gaze modest, answering questions politely when spoken to, and made sure to present herself as respectful, mature, and responsible—exactly as she had been raised.
Even as the conversation flowed around her, Zara stayed composed—letting her presence speak more through her mannerisms than words.
_____,,,,,_____
Arshiya's Night – Nervous Heart & Quiet Prayers
The night had settled deep outside the window of Arshiya's room, but inside her heart, a storm was slowly brewing.
She sat on her prayer mat, head low, her hands cupped in front of her, palms trembling slightly—not just with nervousness for tomorrow, but with the burden of all the emotions she'd been carrying lately. The lamp on her study table dimly lit the room, casting soft shadows on the walls, but it was the quiet of her room that truly allowed her thoughts to be loud.
After completing her Isha Salah, she remained seated, whispering her dua, her lips trembling in a soft, broken rhythm:
"Ya Allah… tu sab kuch jaanta hai. Mujhe toh sirf itna pata hai ke kal ka din mere liye bohot important hai… Lekin mujhe darr lag raha hai, bohot zyada. Main kisi ko kuch dikhati nahi, par andar se bilkul tooti hui mehsoos karti hoon."
She paused for a second, took a shaky breath, and blinked away the tears forming in her eyes.
"Mujhe pata hai ke jo mere haq mein behtar hoga, wahi tu karega. Lekin agar ye naukri mere liye hai, toh mera raasta aasan kar de. Mere dil ko sukoon de, mere jazbaat ko sambhaal le… aur agar meri koi baat kisi ko galat lage, toh mere niyat ko dekh lena, mere Rabb."
She closed her eyes, and a few warm tears slipped down her cheeks.
"Aur ek aur baat, Allah... meri maa aur baba ki izzat rakhna. Unka yakeen hai mujh par. Main unko kabhi sharminda nahi dekh sakti. Mere liye nahi toh unke liye... ek mauqa zarur de dena."
The silence that followed felt comforting. She wiped her face, gently folding the prayer mat back, placing it near her pillow. Just then, her phone buzzed on the side table.
It was a message from Zara:
> "Sorry Arsh… aaj time nahi mil paya baat karne ka. Thoda busy thi… Shayad subah ya raat ko baat ho paaye. You take care, okay?"
Arshiya smiled faintly, quickly typing back:
> "It's okay Zaru… you take care too. Allah Hafiz."
She placed the phone back on the bed.
Still feeling a whirlwind in her chest, she reached toward her shelf and picked up her copy of the Qur'an. Her fingers lovingly brushed against its cover as if greeting an old friend. She opened it, turned to one of her bookmarked surahs—Surah Al-Inshirah—and began reading in a soft, slow voice.
"Fa innama'al usri yusra…"
Her heart found comfort in each word. As if her pain, her worries, her questions—were all melting gently into the silence of her room and the embrace of divine verses.
The flickering light, the soft recitation, and the peace of turning to her Lord made her feel a little less alone in the chaos. The night was no longer just about the interview. It became about trust.
Trusting that even in the silence… someone was listening.
_____,,,,,_____
Living Room – Secrets Beneath Smiles
The clink of cutlery and the soft hum of casual laughter had faded. Dinner was done, and the warmth of good food had settled into the room like a familiar shawl on a cold night. The air, however, still carried an unspoken weight—something only the elders in the room seemed to recognize.
Zara had already excused herself politely, saying she had some files to review before the night. Rihana had patted her hand gently and whispered a soft "Ja, araam kar lo." She had climbed the stairs slowly, her graceful silhouette vanishing into the shadows of the hallway, leaving behind a living room now occupied only by the adults.
Saba Malik, dressed elegantly in a deep maroon suit, sipped her tea slowly. Her gaze was calm but curious as it flicked between her husband Rehan Malik and the couple sitting across from them—Sameer Siddique and Rihana Siddique.
A pause stretched in the room before Rehan finally broke it.
Rehan (softly):
"Waqt kitni jaldi badal jaata hai na, Sameer bhai…"
Sameer glanced at him with a quiet smile, one that held years of untold stories.
Sameer:
"Haan… aur kuch rishton ko waqt ke saath sirf mazboot ban jaana chahiye tha… lekin humein chup rehna pada."
Rihana glanced at her husband, her hand resting lightly on his.
Rihana:
"Sab kuch keh dena zaroori nahi hota. Kabhi kabhi kuch sach chupane padte hain, taake naya rishta sambhal sake."
Saba, who had been silent till now, looked at Rihana with a knowing look.
Saba (gently):
"Zara ko kuch nahi bataya ab tak, hai na?"
Rihana gave a tight-lipped nod.
Rihana:
"Nahi… Uske liye woh sirf hamari beti hai. Aur rahegi… Hum uski zindagi mein ek aur uljhan nahi daalna chahte."
Sameer added quietly.
Sameer:
"Zara abhi tak ye nahi jaanti ke woh humari apni beti nahi… ke uska asli khoon kahin aur se hai. Aur Ayhaan bhi nahi jaanta ke main uska mama hoon."
Saba exhaled, shaking her head.
Saba:
"Humne in bachon ko door rakhne ki har koshish ki thi... par lagta hai kismet ka apna plan tha."
Rehan:
"Bachpan mein toh sabne sirf ye socha tha ke do dosti bhare ghar milke ek rishta jodenge. Lekin kaun jaanta tha ke ek din, dono ek dusre ke itne kareeb ho jaayenge… aur sach itna gehra ho jaayega."
The air shifted.
Sameer (leaning forward):
"Zara aur Ayhaan sirf itna jaante hain ke unki bachpan mein kisi se mangni hui thi. Par yeh nahi jaante ke wo ek dusre hi the…"
Saba (softly smiling):
"Na unhe yeh pata ke unka rishta sirf dosti ka nahi… par khoon ka bhi hai."
Rihana (tense):
"Zara ke liye ye sab jaan lena aasaan nahi hoga. Hamare liye toh woh hamari apni beti hai. Jab usse pata chalega ke woh Siddique family ka hissa paidaishi nahi… toh uske bharose ka kya hoga?"
A silence fell over them. No one had an answer to that.
Rehan (sighing):
"Par sach kab tak chhupta hai? Ayhaan bhi ziddi hai. Agar use Zara ke saath sachche jazbaat ho gaye… toh wo sach ke samne zaroor jaayega."
Sameer nodded slowly, lost in thought.
Sameer:
"Humein sab kuch ek waqt pe batana hoga. Tab, jab woh dono is rishtey ke liye emotionally ready hon…"
Saba (gentle but firm):
"Ayhaan toh kab ka tayyar tha… bas khud se bhaagta raha."
Rihana (softly):
"Zara bhi… andar se sambhal gayi hai. Bas use lagta hai ke duniya ke liye strong rehna zaroori hai."
A clock ticked loudly somewhere in the background. The warmth of the evening had cooled. Yet something in their tones… felt like old chapters returning, rewriting themselves.
Sameer (final words):
"Zindagi mein sab kuch humare plan ke mutabiq nahi hota. Kabhi kabhi… jo raaz hum chhupana chahte hain, wahi kirdar ban jaate hain kisi aur ke nayi kahani mein."
Rehan:
"Bas dua hai… ke jab sach samne aaye, to dil tootne se bachein."
They exchanged a look—brothers not just by blood, but by time, sacrifice, and silence.
Zara's Room – Quiet Conversations
The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a side lamp spreading a warm hue across the cream-colored walls. Zara had just finished her isha salah, her white dupatta gently resting over her head as she whispered her final duas. Her heart was calm, but her mind still lingered on the evening's events.
She folded her prayer mat neatly, placed it by the bedside, and stood up with a light sigh. Picking up her phone, she glanced at the time—11:03 PM.
She headed downstairs, finding her mother adjusting the cushions on the couch.
Zara (softly):
"Ammi... chale gaye Malik uncle aunty?"
Rihana Siddique looked up, nodding gently.
Rihana:
"Haan beta, kuch der pehle. Tum jao, rest lo ab. You looked tired."
Zara (smiling faintly):
"Ji Ammi… Sabaa khair."
Rihana (smiling back):
"Allah Hafiz."
Zara walked back to her room, kicked off her slippers, and sat cross-legged on her bed. Her fingers tapped her phone screen. Online – Arshiya.
A smile appeared.
Zara:
"Heyyy… finally free! You awake or half asleep already, Miss Marketing Queen?"
Arshiya (replying instantly):
"Hah! I'm very much awake. Nervous? Yes. Dying? Maybe. Interview feels like war prep. You tell me—where the hell were you all day?"
Zara:
"Ahh… that's why you're still up. I knew it. And well, something... unexpected happened today."
Arshiya:
"Wait what? WHAT unexpected? Don't you dare leave me hanging."
Zara:
"Rishte waale came home today."
Arshiya:
"…WHATTT??? HOLD ON—WHO? WHY? HOW?? YOU??"
Zara (laughing silently as she typed):
"Yes me, Arshiya. They came to see me. Calm down, you're typing like you're catching a criminal."
Arshiya:
"ZARA SIDDIQUE!! You dropped a nuclear bomb at 11:15 PM. And you're laughing?! Oh my God. I'm freaking out here. Why didn't you tell me before?"
Zara:
"I was… occupied with being stared at like I'm an alien bride specimen. And I wanted to tell you properly, not in between your panic-mode prep."
Arshiya:
"I am SHOOK. Also offended. But mostly excited. Did you like the guy? Wait, don't tell me now. No. I need details in person."
Zara:
"That's why I texted. How about you come over tomorrow after your interview? I'm on leave, remember?"
Arshiya:
"Oooo yes! That's perfect! But only if you promise me full details. I want chai, snacks, gossip, and drama."
Zara:
"Ugh, drama toh you bring. But yes, I'll make your favorite masala chai. Waise, how are you feeling? Nervous?"
Arshiya (after a pause):
"Honestly… a little. You know how much this job means to me. But I've prepped hard. Gave it everything. Just praying it works out."
Zara:
"It will. I've seen you hustle harder than anyone. You've earned this. Trust yourself."
Arshiya:
"I love you. Seriously. You're always the calm to my chaos. But by the way… are YOU okay? I heard from your tone—were you feeling unwell again?"
Zara (smirking):
"I'm fine, meri maa. Just overworked. Nothing major."
Arshiya (fake scolding):
"Zaraaa! How many times have I told you to take your health seriously? You're always like—'It's just a little work.'* One day you'll pass out on your files and no one will find you till morning!"*
Zara:
"That's oddly specific. And scary. Thanks for that comforting image."
Arshiya:
"It's love, babe. Brutal honesty is my love language."
Zara (laughing):
"And mine is silently judging you while sending you food pics."
Arshiya:
"And I still eat your food, don't I? You win."
A pause. Then Zara typed again, slower this time.
Zara:
"I'm really glad I have you, Arsh."
Arshiya:
"Always. You and me, through all rishtas and rejections. Okay?"
Zara:
"Okay."
They stared at their screens for a moment, feeling the comfort in that silence.
Arshiya:
"Alright, sleeping beauty, go rest now. I need you all bright and gossip-ready tomorrow."
Zara:
"Same goes for you. Knock 'em dead in that interview. And then come straight here. Promise?"
Arshiya:
"Promise. Goodnight, Zara."
Zara:
"Goodnight, Arshiya. Take care."
They both placed their phones down with tiny smiles on their faces, hearts a little fuller.
And in two different rooms, two best friends drifted into sleep—one dreaming of new beginnings, and the other praying for hers.