Chapter 23, 2 Stories
The atmosphere was thick with emotions.
Zeenat had expected Rayyan to show at least a flicker of remorse—a flinch, a hesitation, something. But he didn't.
Because as soon as she asked about Sakinat, he told her everything.
"I've been with Sakinat for the past four and a half years, Zeenat," he said.
Her stomach twisted.
"Before our marriage, she was the one I wanted to marry…"
Just like that, he laid it all bare.
Zeenat sat quietly, her hands clenched in her lap. Her nails dug into her skin, but she didn't loosen her grip.
He was right—he could've loved someone before their marriage. That wasn't the issue.
But still…
She blamed herself more than anything.
For agreeing to this marriage. For agreeing to marry someone who lack interest on her.
For trusting him.
But worst of all—for letting herself grow fond of him.
Foolish girl, she thought bitterly.
When his voice finally fell silent, the room grew heavier. The air was suffocating, thick with things unsaid.
Zeenat broke the silence.
"So… Rayyan," she said softly, her voice trembling at the edges. "After everything, why are you telling me this now?"
Her eyes searched his face. "Why hide it? Why agree to marry me if you didn't want me? Why did you promise to make it work? I thought… I thought we were progressing. I thought—"
She stopped. Her throat tightened, words caught between heartbreak and humiliation.
Rayyan said nothing at first. He just stared at her. Then finally, he spoke.
"I'm sorry, Zeenat," he said. "For not telling you earlier. I didn't have a choice. I'm sure even you didn't. Father forced us into this."
Zeenat blinked. Forced? Yes, but she has accepted her Fate.
"You said we'd work on our marriage," she reminded him, her voice brittle. "You said you'd make it up to me."
"Yes," Rayyan nodded. "That's because… that's what Father wanted."
Something cracked inside her.
So that was it. He'd made it clear now—everything he did was just to satisfy his father.
Yet, she fall for it.
"So everything you did," she asked, barely above a whisper, "was just to please your father?"
He didn't answer.
And maybe that silence hurt more than anything he could have said.
She could have accepted that he had loved someone before her. She wasn't naive.
But this—this indifference, this betrayal, just weeks into their marriage—it was something else entirely. It was cruel.
Her eyes flicked to the framed wedding photo on his desk. Still untouched. Still new. Still fake.
"And what about the project you promised me last week?" she asked, her voice laced with quiet bitterness. "You said it was mine. But now it's Sakinat's."
Rayyan exhaled. "I'm sorry. Sakinat wanted it. I'll find something else for you."
Because Sakinat wanted it.
The words echoed in her mind like a cruel joke.
Rayyan was impossible.
There was no point continuing the conversation.
Zeenat stood up.
She had heard everything she needed to hear. He had no remorse. No regret. No intention of ever choosing her.
"Zeenat," Rayyan called gently.
But she didn't stop. She didn't look back.
She walked out of his office, her footsteps firm even as her heart splintered with every step.
Straight to the house.
Straight into silence.
And when she was finally alone, the dam broke.
She curled into herself and cried.
Cried until her pillow was soaked.
Cried until her chest ached.
Cried until even the silence felt loud.
She had thought—naively—that maybe everything Rayyan did was out of care. She truly believed him. Trusted him. Never in her wildest dreams did she see this coming… until now, when the truth hit her like a storm she wasn't prepared for.
He had no feelings for her. None at all.
It was never about her.
It was always about his father.
___
"I'll only go back to Zayd's house on two conditions," Anaya said firmly, looking at both Zayd and his friend, Amir.
"Conditions?" Zayd repeated, glancing between them.
"Let's hear you out," Amir encouraged.
They were seated in the parlour of Mr. Abbas's house. Zayd sat opposite Anaya, with Amir by his side. He had invited his best friend from another state, hoping he might help bridge the gap.
It was a rare stroke of luck that Anaya even agreed to sit with them today. Zayd had been trying all week, showing up at Mr. Abbas's house every day, hoping for a moment to speak with her. Most days, she locked herself in her room and had the maid tell him she was asleep. Other times, she would walk past him as if he didn't exist.
She was still upset—rightfully so—about the lost project. Zayd had underestimated how long her anger would last.
Even Mr. Abbas hadn't expected Anaya's anger to last this long. After failing to mediate the issue himself, he decided to step back—the pressure had become too much. Anaya had threatened to return to the States if she was forced to move back in with Zayd. Now, her father deeply regretted arranging the marriage and could only hope they would resolve things on their own. His role, he believed, was now just to advise, nothing more.
Anaya cleared her throat, her tone measured.
"First, I want us to work in different companies from now on."
Zayd went quiet. He hadn't expected that. He wasn't sure he could do it. Even in the same company, he was always on alert, protective of her, annoyed by how some men looked at her.
"Second," she added, "I can't live in your family house anymore."
Zayd sat up, startled.
"What?" he asked.
But Anaya didn't explain. She didn't need to. He already knew the reason—Mrs. Raliya's constant meanness, the suffocating environment, and how it had chipped away at her comfort.
Zayd's father had made him promise never to leave the family house. Even his sister Zeenat had lived there before getting married—he had watched her endure it and beared it all. How could Anaya ask him for something so impossible?
"Is that all you want?" Amir asked gently.
Anaya nodded. She meant it. Her anger toward Zayd had mellowed over time, especially seeing how hard he was trying to make things right. But she wasn't willing to sacrifice her career or her freedom for anyone. She wanted to work elsewhere, to avoid another situation like the one that broke them in the first place.
"We'll think about it," Amir said before Zayd could object again.
Anaya didn't budge on her conditions. After they left, Zayd couldn't stop complaining.
"She's asking too much, Amir," Zayd said, frustrated. "How can I move out of my father's house? That was his last wish."
"Zayd," Amir said gently, "I thought you wanted to start fresh with her. She's being honest with you, willing to compromise, and you should listen. We'll figure something out, insha Allah. But if you keep resisting, you might lose her forever."
"May that never happen," Zayd said quickly, his heart sinking.
"It won't, insha Allah," Amir reassured him. "But you need to stop being so overprotective. This world has changed. From everything I've heard, Anaya's conditions aren't unreasonable. And honestly, maybe couples really shouldn't work in the same place. It causes too many problems."
"And besides, you had to agree to her demands—you didn't really have a choice," Amir added.
Zayd fell silent, staring out the window as they drove away. The weight of Anaya's demands pressed heavily on his heart. He wanted her back—desperately. But the price she asked felt steep.
___
"Rayyan and Sakinat are getting married in a week," Mariya said, her voice barely above a whisper as she and Zeenat stared at the glowing screen in silence.
The office was quiet—lunchtime had emptied most of the desks. Only the two of them remained.
Zeenat's breath hitched. Her heart cracked open. She broke down, sobs tearing through her chest as she crumbled in her seat. Mariya moved beside her instantly, wrapping her arms around her, whispering soothing words that fell uselessly against the storm of her friend's grief.
But Zeenat was spent. Tired of crying. Tired of the ache that never left.
What's left now? The thought stabbed through her, sharp and cruel. The pain felt fresh, though she'd been bleeding inside for days. She had seen it—on Sakinat's WhatsApp status of all places. And yet, she hadn't blocked her.
It had been a week since her confrontation with Rayyan. A week since he admitted it—his feelings for Sakinat. And somehow, instead of things improving, they'd unraveled even more.
Now, he didn't even bother hiding it.
At home, she felt like a piece of furniture—present, but unnoticed. No conversations, no warmth. Just cold silence and the haunting echo of what once was. Rayyan and Sakinat did everything together now—shared meals, outings, late-night movies. And she… she was just there, a silent witness to her husband's affection for someone else, under the same roof that used to feel like home.
One day, he had tried to say something to her before heading out with Sakinat. But she had appeared, called him over, and without hesitation, he'd followed. He didn't even glance back.
At work, it was no different. He no longer summoned Zeenat to his office. No messages. No eye contact. It was as if she'd ceased to exist.
Mariya gently wiped her own eyes and rubbed Zeenat's back. "Please, Zeenat… try to breathe. Try to stop crying."
She was the only one who knew everything—what Rayyan had done, what Zeenat was silently enduring. Aside from their household staff, Mariya had been her constant, and Zeenat was thankful. So thankful.
But after more than half an hour, the tears hadn't stopped. Mariya took a deep breath and stood up.
"Let's get out of here," she said. "Home. Or anywhere else. You can't stay here like this."
Zeenat looked up, eyes swollen. "Home," she croaked.
Mariya nodded and helped her up. They walked out slowly, side by side. As they stepped out into the office parking lot, a familiar car sped past.
Rayyan.
With Sakinat.
Zeenat stopped in her tracks. Her knees buckled, but Mariya caught her just in time.
Then a voice cut through the air.
"What's going on?"
They turned. Zayd stood just a few feet away, eyes burning with anger, watching them—and the car that had just driven away.
He had seen everything.