Chapter 24, Two Stories
"Getting married again... not even four weeks after the first?" Zayd muttered under his breath, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned pale with rage.
They sat in silence inside his car, parked just outside the office. The air between them was heavy—filled with pain, betrayal, and unspoken anger.
Zeenat had told him everything.
The suffocating silence that filled her home. The way Rayyan and Sakinat shared laughter over meals while she sat like a shadow. How Sakinat flaunted the upcoming wedding on social media, making no effort to hide it. And worst of all, the past they shared—the same past now being revived under Zeenat's roof.
Zayd's jaw clenched. His chest burned with fury. Not just at Rayyan, not just at Sakinat—but at himself too. He had been drowning in his own problems with Anaya, too distracted to see his sister silently breaking.
"He doesn't even treat you right," Zayd snapped, voice low but loaded with emotion. "How does a man who's failed his first wife already start planning a second marriage?"
He turned to her, disbelief etched across his face. "He chose her long before he married you, didn't he? So what's left for you, Zeenat?"
Starting the engine, he shook his head bitterly. "I'm taking you home. You can't stay with someone so heartless. Is this what his father meant when he spoke to us last 2 weeks?"
Zeenat stayed quiet, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. Then, just as he began to drive, she spoke softly.
"Brother… are we not rushing this?"
Zayd glanced at her sharply. "What are you saying?"
She hesitated. Her voice was barely audible. "I think… I want to stay."
He slowed the car and pulled over, turning to face her fully.
Not even in her worst fears did she imagine saying those words out loud. But she did. And deep down, she knew she meant them.
Zayd stared at her, trying to read her expression. "You care for him that much?" he asked, his voice quieter now, almost defeated.
She didn't respond. But her silence was answer enough.
There was a time—not too long ago—when Zayd would have dragged her out of that house if she is being treated badly, no matter her protests. But now… he recognized that look. The same one he had once seen in his own reflection. The look of someone choosing to endure… for love.
Without another word, he turned the key and drove her back to Rayyan's house.
When they arrived, he parked in silence.
"We're here. You should go in," he said flatly.
Zeenat turned to him, guilt in her eyes and voice trembling. "I'm sorry, brother. I didn't mean to upset you. Please forgive me."
He said nothing.
"In sha Allah… things will get better between me and Rayyan. I'll talk to him. We'll fix it."
"Zeenat, go in," he repeated, his tone distant. "May Allah ease your affairs."
She reached out. "Please, brother—"
"No problem," he said, cutting her off firmly. "Just… go inside."
She stepped out slowly, watching his car reverse and pull away. The engine's hum faded into silence. Only then did she turn toward the house—uncertain whether she had just made a brave decision… or set herself up for heartbreak.
And though she tried to stay strong, guilt gnawed at her chest.
That wasn't how she wanted things to go with her brother.
___
After the Maghrib prayer, Zeenat remained on her prayer mat in the parlour, her heart weighed down by unspoken prayers—pleas for peace, clarity, and a resolution to the chaos threatening her world. She had just folded her mat when a sudden knock at the door startled her.
She stood quickly, confused by the unexpected visitor.
"Father, As-salamu alaykum," Zeenat greeted softly as Mr. Abbas stepped into the house.
She quietly closed the door behind him and followed him into the living room. As he sat down, she bent respectfully to greet him.
Though they exchanged formal pleasantries, the air was thick with tension. Mr. Abbas's expression was stern, his jaw tightly clenched.
"Let me get you something—" Zeenat offered gently about to leave, but his words cut through her sentence.
"Call Rayyan," he said, straight to the point. "I need to talk to him."
Zeenat paused. She hadn't seen Rayyan since she got back. She opened her mouth to explain, but before she could speak, the front door opened with a loud creak.
Rayyan stepped inside, laughing lightly, with Sakinat beside him. Their laughter echoed through the hallway—carefree and oblivious to the storm awaiting them.
The moment Rayyan saw his father seated in the living room, his smile vanished. He froze mid-step. Sakinat, sensing the tension, instinctively stepped back, half-hiding behind him.
Mr. Abbas rose slowly to his feet, his eyes narrowed in disbelief.
"What is this, Rayyan?" His voice cut through the silence like a blade. "So was true all along?"
Rayyan lowered his gaze, unable to meet his father's furious eyes.
"After everything I told you? After all the warnings? You're already married, yet you bring someone else into your life, into this house?" His voice grew louder with each word. "And you even plan on marrying her without my knowledge? What exactly are you turning yourself into?"
"Dad, please," Rayyan said, his voice shaking. "I've tried doing what you e
Want before. Please Don't separate me from Sakinat again."
But Mr. Abbas's patience snapped. He took a step forward and, before anyone could react, slapped Rayyan across the face. The sound echoed across the room, followed by thick, suffocating silence.
Zeenat and Sakinat stood motionless, stunned.
Mr. Abbas turned sharply to Sakinat, his fury undiluted. "Is this what you're doing?" he hissed. "You should get out of this house. Now."
He raised his voice. "Salima! Where is Salima?"
Salima and Hussaina rushed in, startled by the scene.
"Pack her things," Mr. Abbas ordered coldly, pointing at Sakinat.
The women moved quickly. No one spoke. Rayyan and Sakinat remained rooted in place, still trying to process what was happening.
Then Mr. Abbas turned to Zeenat. His voice softened, but the hurt was still there. "Forgive me. So this is what's been happening?" His eyes, filled with disappointment, searched hers. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
Zeenat couldn't speak. Her throat was tight, her eyes stinging with tears. She looked down, silent as her heart cracked in two.
Within minutes, Salima and Hussaina returned with Sakinat's bag.
Mr. Abbas's voice rang out again, final and firm. "Sakinat, I tried to handle this with respect. I tried to solve it peacefully. But you refused. I won't allow this disgrace. Take your things and leave. I don't want to ever see you in this house again. And forget any marriage between you two."
Rayyan couldn't stay quiet. "Dad, please," he pleaded. "Don't send her away. I love her. She's the one I want to spend my life with."
But Mr. Abbas didn't respond. He didn't even look at his son.
Sakinat, shoulders slumped in defeat, turned toward the door. Rayyan followed, his heart torn.
"Rayyan," his father's voice thundered behind him, "if you follow her… know that you'll be walking out of my life forever."
Rayyan stopped. He stood in the doorway, fists clenched, face clouded with turmoil. His gaze followed Sakinat as she walked out of the house, disappearing into the night.
He didn't move.
The silence that followed was heavy and suffocating. Zeenat stood just a few feet away from him, the weight of everything pressing down on her chest.
Mr. Abbas finally exhaled, turning back to Zeenat. His voice now filled with quiet remorse. "I'm sorry… for Rayyan's behavior. If not for Zayd who told me what was going on, I don't know how far this would have gone."
Zeenat only remain silent to that.
"Go inside. Let me speak with him."
Zeenat nodded silently and turned away, her heart numb. She wasn't sure what to feel—whether to be relieved that Sakinat was finally out of her husband's life, or saddened that the love he once had for another woman still lingered in his heart. The uncertainty gnawed at her as she quietly walked into her room, leaving father and son behind in the wreckage of what had just unfolded.
____
After Isha prayer, Anaya settled into the sitting room at the site parlour, her laptop open in front of her. She was on a video call with her friends from the USA. Laughter echoed as she giggled and chatted freely, a bowl of popcorn and a few drinks beside her. They were reminiscing about their school days—the jokes, the drama, and the silly memories that once defined them.
It had been a long time since she felt this lighthearted. These calls were a rare escape from the pressure that had been building around her lately.
Suddenly, the door swung open.
Mr. Abbas stepped in. His face was tight with anger. He had just returned from Rayyan's house and was clearly still fuming.
"Anaya, off that thing!" he snapped.
Anaya blinked, startled. "Dad, I'm just talking to my friends," she replied, trying to keep her tone calm.
Mr. Abbas's voice rose. "Are you trying to defy me again? Just like you always do? Since you and your brother grew up, both of you have become a pain. I didn't treat my own parents like this—why are you treating me this way?"
The atmosphere shifted immediately. Anaya's smile faded. Slowly, she closed her laptop.
"Dad, you just embarrassed me," she muttered. "Couldn't you see I was talking to my friends?"
"You were talking to your friends?" he repeated, voice heavy with disbelief.
Silence stretched between them.
Then Mr. Abbas spoke again—firm, unyielding.
"Anaya, enough is enough. You're going back to your husband's house tomorrow."
Her heart stopped. "What?"
"You heard me."
"Dad… but Zayd hasn't even agreed to my conditions yet—"
"My decision is final," he said sharply. "And if you won't go, then return to the States. I'm done watching you drag this on."
Anaya was speechless. Her chest rose and fell, but she said nothing more. Her father had made up his mind.
---
Later that night, long after Mr. Abbas had gone to bed, Anaya lay in her room staring at the ceiling, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. Her phone buzzed. It was her mother calling.
Since her wedding, her mom had only called four times.
The first was a day after the wedding—just to ask about Zayd. When Anaya explained her issues, her mom questioned why she agreed to the marriage in the first place.
The second was the day after she left Zayd house. Her mom had found her a good job in the States after hearing about her fallout with Zayd and urged her to come back. She believed it was the perfect time for Anaya to start a life for herself. But when Anaya mentioned it to her dad, he was furious that she was even considering leaving.
The third was two nights ago, when Anaya updated her mom on her situation. She told her she was still trying to work things out. Her mom didn't understand—she scolded her for even hoping Zayd would change. Anaya had shared the agreement: Zayd had to allow her to work outside his family company and get a new house if they were to live together again. But Zayd kept refusing, saying it was impossible.
And the fourth call... was tonight.
She picked up.
The talk alot about all that has happened earlier.
"So… you're going back to his house even though he hasn't accepted your conditions?" her mother asked, her voice tired.
"Mom, it's all Dad's doing," Anaya said, her voice breaking. "I swear I don't want to live with his stepmother anymore. And I also want to have a proper job too. I'm tired of living on a tight budget. I can barely take care of myself the way I want to anymore."
Her mother sighed deeply.
Ever since Anaya fallout with her dad, everything had changed. Life used to be easier—lavish, even. Back in the States or before the marriage, her bank account was always full. Whether from her dad, her mom, or even Rayyan, she never lacked. Even if they didn't send anything, her earnings from Haris company were decent.
But now?
Her father had completely cut her Budget off. Rayyan had stopped sending money too—probably under their mom's instruction. Both of them were constantly telling her to return to the States and work, but her father made it clear she'd get no support unless she went back to Zayd.
"I don't know what's wrong with your father," her mother said, frustrated. "He even canceled your brother's wedding. And now he wants you to go back to that man's house—just to become a housewife?"
"Mom, please help me," Anaya whispered, wiping away another tear. She hadn't even mentioned Rayyan's issue in her complaint. "I know once I go back, Zayd won't let me work anywhere else. And there's no project at his company right now. Plus… his stepmother—she's a nightmare. I don't want to live with her again."
"Don't worry about that," her mom replied firmly. "I'll handle everything. I can't keep letting your father ruin your life with his outdated thinking. There's no way I'll let you stay with abusive in-laws or become a housewife just because he says so. And as for Rayyan—his wedding with Sakinat will still happen. His father can't stop it, not this time."
Anaya closed her eyes.
Everything felt heavy. The pressure. The expectations. The decisions that didn't feel like hers anymore.