Chapter 20, Two Stories
It was Friday, Rayyan and Zeenat left the office early to prepare for the jumma'at prayer
Once they got home, Zeenat cooked a delicious meal, and the couple shared it in warm companionship. After the meal, Zeenat got dressed in her elegant pink abaya with a matching niqab and rolling viel, waiting in the living room for Rayyan to finish getting ready.
Suddenly, a knock echoed through the house. Zeenat went to open the door, expecting maybe a neighbor or a delivery. Instead, she was greeted by the sight of a lady.
The woman stood tall in an ankle-length skirt, a fitted blouse, and high heels. A thin veil rested loosely on her head, barely attempting to cover the cascade of long, silky black hair that framed her face. She wore large sunglasses, though they did little to mask her natural beauty.
"Hello," the woman greeted casually.
"Hi… Assalamualaikum," Zeenat responded politely, her tone reserved.
"Wa alaikumussalam," the lady replied, then asked, "Is this Rayyan Ahmed's house?"
Zeenat gave a slight nod, confused as to who this woman could be or how she was connected to Rayyan. But before she could ask further, the lady walked past her into the house without waiting for permission.
Zeenat stood stunned for a moment, but chose not to react. She quietly shut the door and followed her in.
"How may I help you?" Zeenat asked, her voice calm yet wary.
"Please call Rayy—" the lady began, but her words trailed off the moment she noticed Rayyan, who had just stepped into the room, standing right beside Zeenat.
"Sakinat, you're here!" Rayyan said with a smile, surprised but clearly pleased.
"Rayyan," she replied warmly, stepping closer with a radiant smile. She removed her sunglasses, revealing an even more stunning beauty beneath. Her flawless skin, long lashes, and striking eyes added to her already captivating presence. Sakinat was truly the epitome of elegance—graceful, poised, and undeniably beautiful. She looked to be in her early twenties, with a youthful charm that commanded attention without effort.
Their warm exchange made Zeenat shift slightly where she stood, unable to ignore the sudden irritation stirring inside her.
Rayyan, quickly turned to Zeenat. "Zeenat, this is my cousin, Sakinat. And Sakinat, this is my wife, Zeenat."
Sakinat is Rayyan's cousin from his mother's side of the family. He explained to Zeenat that she was just three years older than Anaya, meaning she was 22. Back then, she used to live with them and his mother at the state.
The two women exchanged brief, polite greetings. The air between them, however, remained stiff.
"So, when did you arrive?" Rayyan asked.
"Just today," Sakinat replied. "Rayyan, I really want to see you properly. It's been a two weeks, and there's a lot we need to catch up on."
Rayyan glanced at his watch. "Sakinat, I'd really love to catch up too, but Zeenat and I are heading to the mosque now."
"Really? Then let's go together," she said, her tone light but persistent.
Rayyan hesitated. "But you just arrived from the airport. You should eat, freshen up, pray, and rest. We won't be long."
"Don't worry about me," Sakinat said with a soft smile, adjusting her veil properly to cover her hair. "Let's go together."
As soon as they stepped outside, heading to Rayyan's car, Zeenat moved toward the front passenger seat—but Sakinat was quicker and slid in effortlessly.
"I'm sorry," Sakinat said, flashing a polite smile. "Please, let me have this seat just for today."
Zeenat hesitated. She didn't want to make a scene, so she nodded and got into the back seat without a word. But inside, she was fuming. Why had she even followed them in the first place? The whole ride was filled with laughter and chatter between Rayyan and Sakinat. Anytime Rayyan tried to speak to Zeenat, Sakinat would cut in with another story or memory, pulling his attention right back.
By the time they pray and got home, Zeenat felt like a shadow in her own marriage.
She still did her part—served Sakinat food, snacks, and drinks—before quietly going to change. She only returned when she heard Rayyan's voice.
"No, that's not going to be possible," he was saying firmly.
Zeenat stepped into the parlour and saw Rayyan sitting with Sakinat at the dining table, deep in discussion.
As soon as Sakinat saw her, she got up and walked over.
"Please, Zeenat," she said sweetly, "would you allow me to stay here with you for the weekend?"
Zeenat blinked. The question caught her off guard.
A weekend? Her eyes briefly darted to Rayyan before returning to Sakinat. Why would someone like her—beautiful, bold, and clearly comfortable around her husband—want to stay here?
Zeenat's chest tightened. She's even more beautiful than me… how can I possibly be okay sharing a roof with her? She's already taken so much space in just one hour.
"No, Sakinat. You're not staying here," Rayyan interrupted, stepping toward them.
"It's your wife I'm asking, not you," Sakinat shot back, then turned to Zeenat, waiting for her answer.
"Please, Zeenat," Sakinat pleaded, her tone gentle. "You know as a lady, it wouldn't be proper for me to stay alone in a hotel. It would feel so lonely and unsafe."
It was a valid point, and despite her inner hesitation, Zeenat reminded herself she would never be the one to separate Rayyan from his relatives.
"Fine, Sakinat," Zeenat finally agreed, her voice soft but composed.
"Zeenat, I didn't agree to this," Rayyan said, clearly displeased, looking between the two women.
"It's okay, Rayyan," Zeenat replied calmly. "It's just two days."
With that, he left the room, saying nothing more.
Sakinat's face brightened. She smiled wide and pulled Zeenat into a hug. "Thank you so much, Zeenat. You're very kind-hearted."
Zeenat simply returned the hug briefly, then stepped back and called for Salima and Hussaina. "Please help Sakinat with her luggage to the guest room," she instructed, wondering where Sakinat had even kept it all along.
Later, Zeenat quietly made her way to Rayyan's room, hoping to apologize. She found him seated on the edge of the bed, his expression unreadable.
"Rayyan, I'm sorry," she began, but before she could finish, he pulled her toward him gently, causing her to fall lightly onto his lap—completely catching her off guard.
"Zeenat," he whispered close to her ear, "remember our date tonight?"
Her lips curved into a soft smile shyly. "I remember," she whispered back.
___
Zayd and Anaya parked their car near the hotel after Jumma'at prayer.
Zayd quickly left the driver's seat and opened the door for Anaya, who smiled and took his hand with a soft gesture, stepping out of the car.
He locked the car and walked beside her as they made their way through the grand, luxurious hotel. The venue for the presentation was located somewhere inside. Since only Anaya had been officially invited, Zayd decided to accompany her for support. Both of them carried their documents, walking with purpose.
After wandering around for a while without success, they realized they couldn't find the designated room. Eventually, they decided to split up and ask for directions separately.
As Anaya walked down the hallway, she accidentally bumped into someone.
"Oops," she muttered, and all the documents she was holding spilled onto the floor.
"I'm so sorry, miss," the person said, kneeling down to help pick up the scattered papers just like her.
"Why can't people be more careful?" Anaya grumbled, but as she lifted her head to see who she had bumped into, her words froze in her throat.
The moment their eyes met, the man paused.
"Naya," he whispered, his voice laced with disbelief.
Anaya's heart skipped a beat. "Haris?" she gasped, stunned. She slowly stood up, still clutching the scattered papers in her hands, her gaze locked on him.
Standing before her was Haris Adeel—a tall, strikingly handsome man. He used to be her boyfriend back in the States, back when she worked part-time at his company. Their relationship had lasted just under a year because it ended when she get married.
He stretched out his hand toward Anaya, his eyes warm with familiarity. Just as Anaya was about to respond, sliding her hand into his, a voice interrupted from behind.
"What's going on here?" Zayd said his expression unreadable stepping forward as he gently took Anaya's hand into his, deliberately stopping the handshake.
A brief silence followed. Haris slowly withdrew his hand, the smile on his face faltering. He slid it back into his pocket, clearly caught off guard.
Zayd leaned slightly toward Anaya, his voice low but firm. "Who is he?"
Anaya composed herself quickly. "Zayd, meet Haris Adeel," she said, offering a calm smile. "A friend from back in the States."
Then she turned to Haris. "And Haris, this is Zayd—my husband."
Zayd gave a slight nod as Haris extended his hand toward him. "It's nice meeting you, Zayd," Haris said politely.
Zayd shook it, but the grip was brief and hesitant.
Turning back to Anaya, Haris smiled faintly. "Naya… it's been so long. You look even more beautiful than I remember."
Zayd clenched his fist slightly, jaw tightening as he shot a glare in Haris' direction.
Anaya gave a small, polite smile but ignored the comment. "So… what brings you here, Haris?"
"I'm actually here as the sponsor of a project," he said, straightening his posture slightly.
"Wait, which project?" she asked, curiosity flashing in her eyes.
"Silverstone Residences," he replied.
Her face lit up. "Really? I'm one of the team leads on that project."
Haris' eyes widened, clearly impressed. "That's amazing. Looks like we'll be working closely together then."
"In sha Allah, if we win the bid," Anaya responded calmly.
"You will, Naya," Haris said, his voice soft and sincere. "You've always been a beauty—with grace and brilliance."
Anaya allowed a small smile to form, but it didn't sit well with Zayd. Why was she even reacting to that?
Haris glanced at his watch. "I bet it's almost time. I don't want us to be late. Let's go."
"It's the venue we couldn't find earlier," Anaya explained to him.
"Is that so? Then let me show you where it is," Haris offered.
Anaya and Zayd followed behind him, walking in silence. But just before they entered the presentation hall, Haris turned to Zayd.
"Are you also leading a project?" he asked.
"No," Zayd replied, not understanding the point of the question.
"Then I think you'll have to wait for your wife outside," Haris said smoothly.
Zayd stared at him, biting down the urge to respond. He had heard enough of this man's words.
Zayd tightened his grip on Anaya's hand, this time more possessively. "Come," he said, his voice tense but quiet. "Let me talk to you."
"Anaya, what is going on there?" Zayd asked as soon as they found a quiet corner away from the bustling hotel. His voice was low, but the intensity was unmistakable. "Can't you see the way he's disrespecting your marriage? And me? Who is he, really, Anaya?"
She hesitated for a moment, her gaze faltering. "He's… my ex, Zayd. From back in the States."
Zayd's eyes widened in disbelief. "Wait—your what?"
Anaya looked at him, confused by the depth of his reaction.
"No wonder… it all makes sense now," Zayd said bitterly. "Meeting him here—this isn't some coincidence. That's why none of your teammates, not even me, were allowed to attend."
He took a step back, arms crossed tightly over his chest. "You're opting out of this project, Anaya. That's final."
"What?" Anaya's brows furrowed. "Zayd, you're joking, right?" She let out a nervous laugh, searching his face for even a flicker of playfulness. "Please tell me you're joking. Don't let your insecurities destroy my work—please, Zayd."
But Zayd's expression was stone cold, unmoving.
Anaya's heart pounded. This couldn't be happening—not now. Not after all the sleepless nights, the pressure, the planning. She and her team had poured everything into this bid. "Zayd, we don't have time for this. We're running late. I'm going," she said firmly, stealing a quick glance at her watch and stepping to walk away.
But Zayd's hand reached out and caught hers, firm but not rough, stopping her in her tracks. His grip alone made her freeze.
"Don't be ignorant, I'm talking to you, Anaya," he said quietly, but his voice carried weight—a mixture of hurt and warning. He said firmly. "Didn't you hear me? I said I forbid you from continuing with this project. You're out."
She turned slowly to face him, her eyes wide in disbelief. "What are you saying, Zayd? Are you serious?" Her voice cracked slightly. "We've worked so hard on this… Why would we just walk away now?"
"I'm sorry, Anaya," Zayd said, his tone softening just a little. "But I can't stand by and let you work closely with your ex—especially when it's clear he still has feelings for you. He was flirting with you right in front of me."
"Are you really saying that, Zayd?" Anaya's voice was quiet, but the disbelief in her tone was thunderous.
Zayd nodded, his jaw set. "Yes. I am."
Anaya took a step back, her gaze steady and defiant. "Then stop me… if you think you can."
The words struck him like a slap. Before he could react, she turned to leave. But his hand shot out, grabbing hers and pulling her back, frustration flashing in his eyes.
"Anaya, what are you doing?" he demanded, voice rising. "Are you seriously going to defy me like this? Has something changed in you?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she struggled to free her hand. When he finally let go, it wasn't out of reason—it was to snatch the documents from her arms. Without a second thought, he tore them apart, the pages fluttering to the ground like broken dreams.
"I'm sorry," Zayd muttered, guilt already creeping in. "It's just a project… we'll find another."
Anaya stood frozen, stunned by the side of him she never expected to see. He was equally stunned—never imagining she would fight him over this.
Wordlessly, she reached for her tablet and opened the digital files. "No one is going to stop me from chasing my dreams," she said, her voice low but firm.
But Zayd's anger flared once more. He grabbed the tablet and hurled it to the ground, shattering it.
Anaya gasped. "Zayd! How dare you?"
"And you!" he shot back, eyes burning. "How dare you disrespect me—your husband—over a project? Let's see how you'll keep working on it now."
Her hands trembled as she reached into her bag, pulling out her phone with desperate determination. She wasn't going to let it end like this she can't tolerate anything but not losing this project—not after all her hard work. But just as she tapped the screen to access her cloud storage, Zayd snatched it from her grip and hurled it to the ground.
The phone struck the pavement with a sickening crack, its screen shattering instantly.
"What are you doing?" Anaya cried, her voice raw with disbelief and fury.
Without thinking, she slapped him across the face. Then again—harder—on the other cheek.
"I hate you, Zayd! I hate you!" she screamed, her fists pounding against his chest as tears streamed down her face. "How could you do this to me? How dare you! After everything I've sacrificed—after all the sleepless nights and effort—how could you just destroy it?"
Zayd stood frozen, not from the sting of her slaps, but from the words that followed.
"Do you even realize," she choked out, her voice breaking, "that I only agreed to stay married to you because of this project?"
Her words struck like a blow to his chest. He grabbed her wrists, holding her hands gently but firmly, trying to process what she had just said.
"What… what is that supposed to mean?" he managed, his voice low, aching. "You stayed with me… because of a project, I thought our bound is worth far more than just a project?"
They stared at each other—both breathing hard, both broken in different ways. Rage simmered in her eyes, but beneath it, there was hurt. And in his… disbelief.
But she didn't answer him. Instead, she pulled her hands away and walked off—shoulders trembling, chest heaving—leaving him standing there alone, fully realizing the gravity of what had just happened between them.
She was ignorant.
He was harsh.