Death of Invitation

A Quiet Beginning

It was an appealing little mountainous valley. The paths here meandered up and down, as if nature had carved them with her own fingers. The scent of spring was everywhere — the mountains were covered with green and the trees were bearing fruit.

A month had passed since spring. The soft golden morning sun was shining on Karen’s lawn, as if every ray wanted to touch her and wake her up. Karen, who had spent nearly thirty-five years of her life, was watering the plants with a fountain in one hand. Her curly, silky hair flowed over her shoulders. There was calmness, quietness and some hint of inner anguish in his manner.

It was as if a beautiful scene on the mountains had come to the eyes in the form of a dream, and Karen was a living reflection of that dream.

Karen was watering the plants from the fountain. The soft light of spring fell upon her face, and the scent of flowers floated in the light air. Her silky, curly hair was scattered over her shoulders, and a faint shadow of thought floated over her face—as if she were apparently engaged in her garden, but her heart was elsewhere.

The drops of water from the fountain fell on the leaves of the plants, making a faint music, and Karen was lost in the scene for a while. Around him, the greenery of spring, sunshine and peace seemed to be giving him shelter for a while.

During this quiet moment, the sound of footsteps stirred the garden path. Aunt Lucy — Karen’s lifelong guardian and silent companion — slowly made her way toward her. Her voice, soft and sweet as always, gently called out:

“my dear, breakfast is ready.”

Karen turned her head and offered a faint smile, then continued watering the plants for a few more moments. At last, she turned off the sprinkler, placed it to the side, and walked toward the table set under the golden sunlight.

The table, placed along the lawn’s edge, was arranged with such quiet grace as if prepared like a prayer — every item in its rightful place, every detail soaked in silent affection. It held not just breakfast, but a peace so delicate, one could bow their heart before it.

Karen sat down gently, drying her hands with a napkin. She picked up the newspaper and flipped through a few pages with disinterest — as though she longed to turn back time itself. But every page felt empty. She placed it back on the table; Karen ate in silence. Aunt Lucy poured the tea into her cup. She took the first sip of tea; a shaft of sunlight fell across her face, and for a moment, that face — pale from illness — appeared almost glowing.

Outside, a wave of green swept across the mountains, as if the hills themselves were watching her lovingly.

Aunt Lucy leaned down, whispered something into Karen’s ear, and quietly walked away.

Karen took the last few sips of tea, set her cup down, and slowly moved toward the sitting room.

The sitting room — a quiet corner where every object held a memory: old furniture, framed photographs, books — all bound together by threads of time. Even the air held the faint fragrance of the past.

As she opened the door, her eyes landed on the doctor. He sat on the sofa, waiting for her.

“Hello Doctor, how are you?” Karen asked softly, greeting him with a faint smile and handshake.

The doctor returned the gesture and handed her a file.

“My daughter, sit down… I’ve seen your reports. It’s clear you’re not taking your medication on time.”

Karen looked out the window and replied in a low, distant voice:

“Yes… I know. And you know too — none of this can really change. Whatever time remains… I want to spend it on my own terms.”

There was exhaustion in her tone, a helplessness, and perhaps the quiet resignation of a heart that had stopped fighting.

The doctor looked at her intently, like a father trying to summon the right words before gently reprimanding his child.

“Karen, I’ve seen you since you were a little girl. Your father entrusted you to me. And I can’t bear to see you abandon yourself like this.

You must take your medicine regularly, you need rest — and at least a full month of calm living, so we can prevent the illness from advancing further.”

Karen lowered her gaze.

“I’m not saying you’ll be cured forever… but I do want you to live

with some control — so you’re not entirely at its mercy.” what remains of your life with dignity. If you don’t cooperate, the illness will only grow, and there may come a time when we’ll be left with nothing.”

“This tea… this room… this silence… all remind me of your father’s voice. I made a promise to him — that I wouldn’t leave you alone. And today… I’m asking you to make me a promise. Start your medication on time. Step away from work for a while. If we delay now, the disease may slip beyond our reach.”

Karen remained silent. Only her eyes searched through the greenery outside the window — perhaps for that one moment of life still breathing on the far edge of hope.

Karen had only a few years left to live… and her last hope — perhaps lost itself — had left her wandering in search of it. She had everything one could need to live: no lack, no excess — every part of life measured in balance, as though she had weighed even herself on the same scale. She had never divided life into “more” or “less”; instead, she quietly gave herself away, piece by piece, with time.

Today marked the anniversary of the foundation she had established. In the office garden, a modest but elegant reception was underway. Guests, journalists, cameramen, and social figures mingled, exchanging pleasantries. Tea, sweets, and soft laughter floated through the air.

Karen stood among the guests, engaged in conversation. She wore a black suit, and as always, a muted olive-green stole wrapped around her neck — winter or summer, no one had ever seen her without it. Perhaps this stole was the silent witness to her life — one that knew everything, yet never spoke a word.

Suddenly, a taxi stopped at the gate.

From the back seat emerged a dignified man — around forty-five years old, with a soft beard and slightly long hair that gave his face the look of an old photograph. Tall, wheat-complexioned, with eyes… eyes that seemed to be in search of something — cloaked in a cloud-grey sorrow. He wore a deep grey suit and held a fresh bouquet in one hand.

He walked slowly toward the garden. Karen was still surrounded by guests, smiling, talking. But the moment she sensed an unfamiliar presence, her smile faltered. She turned — and was stunned.

For a few moments, time seemed to freeze. The stranger, walking with quiet composure, stood directly in front of her. He gently extended his hand.

“How do you do, Madam?”

Karen stood silently for a few seconds, then extended her hand in return. The man offered the bouquet with his other hand.

“This is for you.”

Karen took the bouquet. Her eyes remained fixed on his face — as if searching through a fog of memory.

“Pardon me… I don’t recollect knowing you,” Karen said softly.

They released hands. The stranger slipped both his hands into his pant pockets and smiled.

“Actually… we’re meeting for the very first time.”

“By the way, my name is Dr. Zawar… I received the invitation, that’s why I’m here.”

Karen smiled gently and motioned with her hand, “Please, most welcome… come this way.”

Dr. Zawar quietly followed her. As they walked, Karen turned and asked, “How did you recognize me?”

He pointed toward a nearby table, and they both sat down. Dr. Zawar smiled with calm grace, “Your presence led me here itself… And besides, there can’t possibly be another Karen.”

Karen blushed softly and lowered her gaze. Then she asked, “Where have you come from?”

Zawar replied, “I was abroad, involved in relief operations. For the past three years, I’ve been receiving your foundation’s emails, Every year, I’d get an invitation — but duty always came in the way. This time, my heart insisted — I had to come. So I left everything behind for a few days and made the trip.”

Karen was watching him — as if his words were echoing off the quiet walls of her heart. There was a strange peace in his tone — as though time had paused, and only he would speak… and she would listen.

A few moments later, Karen softly looked down and said, “You really came just for our event? I can’t believe it.”

Dr. Zawar chuckled, “Then start believing it… A simple man sits before you.”

Karen laughed openly. By then, tea had been served on the table.

Karen gestured, “Please… have some tea.”

Zawar picked up the cup and took a sip. Karen lifted her own to her lips and asked, “You seem to know everything about us… But what about you — tell me something about yourself?”

Dr. Zawar rested both hands on his knees and replied gently, “I’ve been offering my expertise to your foundation’s projects for some years now. Whenever they needed, I shared my advice. I’m a neurologist, have been practicing for eighteen years. No long story — just my name, my work, and now, here I am in front of you.”

Karen smiled and said, “You’re a doctor, but you speak like a philosopher… Maybe brain doctors do understand the depths of the heart too.”

Zawar smiled as well — and for a moment, both fell silent. But in that silence, so much had already been said.

Some guests came over to Karen. She stood up promptly, shook hands with warmth, and introduced Dr. Zawar to them. Dr. Zawar rose politely, greeting everyone with courtesy. Soon, a few guests expressed their intent to leave. Karen shook hands with each one, bidding them farewell with grace. Gradually, all the guests had left — except Dr. Zawar.

Karen returned to the table and sat down in front of him. Smiling, she said: “Dr. Zawar… now that you’re here, I hope you’ll stay for a few days?”

Dr. Zawar nodded gently: “Yes, I do plan to stay a little while. I want to explore a bit. This place, this atmosphere, these mountains… everything is incredibly beautiful. I want to feel the calm this region holds. You know how suffocating big cities can be — sometimes, even breathing feels like a blessing. And I’m always on the move… This may be the first time I’ve come somewhere solely to meet someone… and I want these days to become some of the most cherished moments of my life.”

Karen listened silently. His voice added another hue to the breeze in the garden.

After a pause, Karen asked, “Where are you staying?”

Zawar smiled, “I had booked a guest house before arriving. It took me about six to seven hours to get here — it was a long drive. But it felt like some unseen pull brought me here… To be honest… even the fatigue of the journey felt pleasant today. It was as if I didn’t bring myself here… but some higher force led me toward you.”

Then, with a playful smile, he added: “Anyway… I’d like to get some rest now, if you’ll allow. From now on, I’m at your mercy — you may ‘drive’ me however you like.”

Karen lowered her gaze and smiled softly. “Of course, how can I not? Please, rest… relax… I’ll see you again this evening.”

Dr. Zawar stood up quietly. He walked with Karen to the gate. She bid him farewell at the door, and he got into the taxi and left for the guest house.

Karen remained standing by the gate… the scent of his presence, the pull in his silence, still encircled her gently. She felt like a butterfly… delicately trying to take flight in the air with fragile wings stretched open.

A while later, she returned to her office. She called for her secretary, Alicia, and gently instructed: “Alicia, please write this down… Call Dr. Zawar in thirty minutes. Tell him, if he’s feeling relaxed, I’d love for him to come over for dinner at seven tonight. I’ll wait for him after seven… Eight… nine — whenever it’s convenient for him. Just make sure you call him in thirty minutes.”

Alicia nodded promptly, “Yes, madam,” and quietly walked toward the door.

At the guest house, a soft golden light filled the room. Dr. Zawar sat in peaceful silence, absorbed in reading. An open newspaper lay before him, and a steaming cup of tea rested on the side table. Suddenly, his phone rang. He gently folded the newspaper, placed it on the table, picked up the phone and answered: “Hello?”

“Good evening, Dr. Zawar. This is Alicia from Madam Karen’s office.”

“Oh yes, please go ahead.”

“Madam Karen has invited you to dinner at her home tonight. If you’re comfortable to come, just let me know so I can inform her.”

“Yes, sure. I’ll be there. No problem.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The call ended.

Zawar glanced toward the window. A light mist had settled outside — and somewhere within him, a faint light had been kindled. It was five in the evening.

Karen entered the house, her steps weary and slow. Aunt Lucy came forward to take her bag and files. “Good evening, ma’am. Shall I bring you something? Tea or coffee?” Karen lowered her head slightly and replied, “I’m really exhausted today… just coffee, please. I’ll freshen up and come down.”

Then, just as she was about to leave, she paused and softly added: “There’s a guest arriving this evening… they’ll be here by seven. Please prepare something special.”

“Don’t worry. Everything will be ready,” Aunt Lucy replied gently.

In her room, Karen stood before the mirror, drying her hair. Droplets of water fell from her damp strands, and she spoke to herself quietly: “What’s happening to me? It’s been so long since I saw myself this closely… When did I drift so far away from myself?”

She twisted a few silver strands of hair between her fingers, touched them softly, and whispered: “Very soon… I too will become a complete reflection of these silver threads… Time has passed so silently… We never untangled ourselves — nor did we allow each other to.”

She loosely tied her hair — then let it fall free. Just a soft twist, and she let them rest gently over her shoulders.

There was a knock at the door. Lucy peeked in. “Coffee is ready.”

Karen nodded, pulled out a white shawl from her drawer, wrapped it around herself, and left the room.

In the lounge, she sat by the window. Dusk was descending on the mountains. The last golden rays of the sun touched her face through the glass. It was the same view she saw every day… but today, there was a strange stillness in the evening light. As if this moment… was a prelude to something that had yet to unfold.

Karen gently closed her eyes — and for the first time in years, she listened to the rhythm of her own heartbeat.

Meanwhile, Dr. Zawar stood inside a small but elegant boutique, selecting a gift. His eyes were fixed on a white shawl, delicately embroidered with soft green and earthy hues. The shawl was as exquisite as it was graceful. He unfolded it carefully, ran his fingers over the fine fabric, and then looked at the shopkeeper: “Please… wrap this beautifully.”

The shopkeeper folded the shawl with great care, placed it inside a simple but elegant bag, and handed it to Dr. Zawar. He paid in cash, stepped outside, and got into a waiting taxi.

The taxi wove through the valley’s winding, scenic roads and headed toward Karen’s home. Evening had fallen, and the sky glowed with a soft blush. When the car finally stopped before Karen’s elegant hillside house, Dr. Zawar peeked out. The classic wooden door, tall windows, and mountain-style architecture all spoke of refined taste.

He stepped out, checked his wristwatch — exactly seven o’clock — and quietly opened the wooden gate. He walked along the cobblestone pathway, arriving at the front door, and rang the bell.

Inside, Karen sat on the sofa, dressed in deep navy pants and coat, her white shawl draped neatly over her shoulders. Her silky curls were loose, and a gentle smile graced her face. Hearing the bell, she rose, walked to the door, and opened it. There stood Dr. Zawar — composed, dignified, yet with kindness in his eyes.

“Good evening, Dr. Zawar. Thank you for coming. Please, come in.”

He smiled softly and greeted her, stepping inside.

“Please, have a seat.”

They moved into the lounge, where a corner sofa nestled beneath a large glass window that framed the fading light of dusk. Outside, the sky darkened into a peaceful blue.

Karen gestured toward the sofa:

“I hope you’re comfortable.”

“Thank you,” Zawar replied, sitting down and placing the bag he had brought on the coffee table.

He said, “Karen, this is for you.”

Karen smiled and accepted the bag:

“Thank you, Dr. Zawar. But you really didn’t have to trouble yourself.”

“No, no, it was my pleasure. I’m glad I could bring something for you.”

Karen set the bag down gently and sat opposite him.

Zawar looked around appreciatively:

“You’ve decorated your home beautifully. The simplicity is so warm and inviting to the heart.”

Karen replied softly:

“Thank you. My aunt lives here — she’s taken care of me since childhood. My parents passed away long ago, and since then this home, these memories — they’ve been my world. Everything I have is tied to them — I live on their love.”

She lowered her eyes slightly. Zawar drew in a quiet breath and spoke tenderly:

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to remind you. Please forgive me if I did.”

Karen gave a gentle smile:

“No, it’s alright. Life brings people and it takes them away. That’s the way it goes.”

Zawar gazed out the window and said:

“The view outside is beautiful. May we go outside for a moment?”

“Of course,” Karen replied, standing. Dr. Zawar rose as well, and they both walked into the lawn outside. Together, they looked like people from two different worlds, yet there was a warmth between them — as if they had known each other for years. Karen folded her hands in front of her chest, while Dr. Zawar walked beside her, hands in his pockets.

Dr. Zawar asked, “You speak English and Urdu equally well. How did you learn Urdu?”

Karen smiled and answered:

“Once I traveled abroad for a relief operation and stayed for five or six months. There were many people from different countries — including Urdu speakers. I liked the language so much that I began learning from them gradually. The emotions and depth of Urdu touched me deeply. Then I formally began studying Urdu and read its literature.”

She paused, then smiled gently:

“You might be surprised to know that after many years, I’m speaking Urdu with you now. It brings me joy because we usually speak English here. And you’ll be pleased to know I also speak three other languages.”

Dr. Zawar suddenly paused mid-step and looked deeply into Karen’s face. She, too, stopped walking. There was a gentle surprise in her eyes. Then she softly spoke, “Yes, it’s true. In my profession, I interact with people from many different linguistic backgrounds, and most relationships remain professional. Due to time constraints, people only know each other to the extent of their work. I’ve been fortunate enough to have opportunities where I could learn various languages and stay connected with people.”

They were strolling side by side when Karen suddenly asked, “Dr. Zawar, I’m still astonished… did you really come all this way just because you received an invitation?”

With a light laugh, Dr. Zawar replied, “Karen, it might seem like I came from far away… maybe I did, or maybe not. Your organization has been sending me invitations for the past three years, but my schedule always got in the way. This time, for some reason, it felt like if I didn’t go now, I might never get the chance.”

He paused for a moment and added, “You may call it my fault or the guilt, but I felt compelled to come. Sometimes, it’s that very sense of wonder that leads us down the right path… and here I am.”

Dr. Zawar glanced at Karen, and she looked away. A light, cool breeze was drifting around them. Karen’s scent seemed to envelop him, as if he were lost in another world for a moment. Then, as if pulled back by a thought, he gave a slight shake of his head and said, “The mornings here must be breathtaking. I imagine the sun must touch your garden before it reaches the rest of the world.”

Karen looked at him and simply smiled. Walking together now felt like the beginning of something new — as if two people from different worlds were ready to walk the same path. Karen felt such warmth, she wished she could rest her head on his shoulder and let time stop.

As they walked, Karen said, “Dr. Zawar, I’m truly glad that you’ve been supporting our programs and staff all these years, but no one ever told me.”

Dr. Zawar gently replied, “It was my instruction not to mention my name. It was a noble cause, and in such work, discretion is best. The kindness done in silence is the truest form of giving.”

Karen paused for a moment and said, “That’s a heartfelt thought… You really do think differently. Here, people want recognition even for a small donation. Still, I’m glad you think this way — though all of this feels like a mystery to me.”

Dr. Zawar chuckled, “No mystery at all… maybe it just feels that way to you.”

Just then, Aunt Lucy approached them gently and said, “Karen, the table is ready.”

Karen nodded, “We’re coming. Thank you.”

She turned to Dr. Zawar and gestured, “Please, come.”

They entered the lounge and sat across from each other at the table. Aunt Lucy was setting the teacups. Karen asked,

“Dr. Zawar, if you prefer coffee, it’s available too.”

He smiled warmly, “Thank you, tea is just fine.”

Aunt Lucy smiled and said, “Dr. Zawar, thank you for coming. Your presence has brought a special warmth to our home… and to Karen’s face too. God bless you.”

Dr. Zawar bowed his head in gratitude and began sipping his tea. Then he looked at Karen and asked,

“Karen, if you don’t mind, may I ask — how did your parents pass away?”

Karen gently placed her cup down and said, “No, not at all.” She began, “It was about thirteen or fourteen years ago — they were in a car accident. Both of them left me alone. Since then, I’ve managed everything on my own. My father had many projects across the country, and a few abroad. After he passed away, I had to take over all of it. Over time, I got used to handling everything. I never really kept track of how time passed. Except for Aunt Lucy, I had no one waiting for me. Morning turned to evening, evening to night, and night to morning again. We were enough for each other. There’s nothing particularly extraordinary in my life. It’s a simple life, and I believe it’s going to remain that way.”

She spoke with a hint of sadness, sipping her tea in between. Dr. Zawar listened intently, as though reading every line on her face.

Composing herself, Karen picked up a plate and said,

“Please, try this.”

Dr. Zawar took something from the plate, tasted it, and smiled,

“This is delicious.”

Karen smiled too and said,

“Dr. Zawar, now tell me something about yourself. You seem like a deep book — one with many unopened pages.”

Dr. Zawar nodded with a gentle smile and said, “My story isn’t all that different. My father passed away five years ago. I had come to your country for my studies—it’s been twelve or thirteen years now. I would visit once a year, sometimes after two years. My father always waited eagerly for my return.” His voice grew heavier. “It was his dream to see me become a doctor, to sit beside him, to look at me with pride. I fulfilled his dream... but he didn’t live long enough to see it. Then the whirlwind of responsibilities came, and our conversations were reduced to just phone calls or video chats. He would say, ‘Son, just come once,’ and I would reply, ‘Soon, I’ll be free’... and then came a time when I truly was free.”

Tears welled up in Dr. Zawar’s eyes. Karen quietly stood up and came to sit on the chair beside him. She rested her chin on her palm, elbow on the table, silently watching him. Dr. Zawar continued, “Five years ago, my father said to me for the last time, ‘Son, consider this the final invitation. It may be to my funeral.’ I broke down... I tried to catch a flight that night, but due to a snowstorm, all flights were grounded. For a whole week, I couldn’t find any flight. And when I finally reached... five days had already passed since his funeral.”

Karen’s eyes filled with tears too. Without realizing, she gently placed her hand over Dr. Zawar’s and whispered, “I’m so sorry…” Then she slowly pulled her hand back.

Dr. Zawar fell silent. A deep hush settled over the room—yet in that silence, an unknown intimacy began to rise, a wordless harmony that softly echoed in both hearts. Sitting up straighter, Dr. Zawar clasped his hands and said, “Since that day, I’m not sure if I’ve been free—or imprisoned. When one is trapped in regret, the soul keeps burning quietly. Perhaps this is the extent of my life... and where it ends.” He unclenched his fists and laid his palms flat on his knees, gently pressing them as if grounding himself.

Karen spoke softly, “I’m really sorry… this is our first meeting, and I’ve brought so much sadness upon you.” Dr. Zawar gave a faint smile, “Not at all. Maybe after years, I finally got the chance to speak to someone like this. And I’m glad it’s you. Talking to you doesn’t feel unfamiliar—it’s like speaking with someone very close. People like us, constantly entangled in responsibilities and missions, hardly have time for ourselves or to feel someone’s presence or absence. But today, for the first time, I feel like coming here wasn’t meaningless…”

He glanced at the clock. It was 9 PM. “I’ve taken quite a bit of your time.” He smiled. “If you allow, I should leave now.” Karen rose from her chair and said, “How can that be? You’re my guest, visiting for the first time—you can’t leave without dinner.”

Dr. Zawar hesitated, “Just being here, having tea and talking to you—this moment alone is more than enough for me.” Karen gently, yet firmly insisted, “No, Dr. Zawar. Please… it’s impossible to let you go without dinner.” Dr. Zawar stood silently. Karen gestured, “Please, come… sit comfortably on the couch. I’ll set up dinner.” And she went to the kitchen.

Dr. Zawar lowered his head and closed his eyes briefly. Then he noticed the file on the side table—the one Karen had given him that morning. A moment later, Karen returned and sat across from him. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. You must eat,” she said with a soft smile.

Dr. Zawar shifted slightly and replied, “Alright, as you say.”

Just then, Aunt Lucy entered. “Karen, dinner’s ready. Shall I set the table?” Karen replied, “No, Auntie. You relax. I’ll take care of it.” Aunt Lucy nodded and left.

Karen returned to the couch and sat down peacefully—as if, finally, someone had steadied her heart. Dr. Zawar looked out at the lawn—moonlight had spread across it like a veil of secrets, touching everything in silence. Shadows of trees mingled like whispered conversations. Some tall branches pierced through the moonlight, casting delicate shadows on the grass. He was lost in that scene. Karen silently watched him.

Both seemed absorbed in their own thoughts. Dr. Zawar looked up at the moon—striving for fullness. Its light spilled across the mountains, trees, and the entire lawn, as if the moon had descended into Karen’s courtyard alone. There was a serenity to it—a mysterious kind, yet deeply peaceful and beautiful.

Karen kept silently watching Dr. Zawar, and he, in turn, stared quietly at the moonlit garden. Then he shifted slightly, as though fatigue was settling in. Karen noticed right away. She gently said, “Dr. Zawar, if you’d like to freshen up, I can show you the guest room. You can relax a bit, and then we’ll have dinner together.”

Zawar gave a soft smile and stood up immediately. Karen rose as well and said, “Come with me.” Leading him to the right, she said, “This is the guest room. Please go in and relax. If you wish, you can even take a short rest. We can adjust dinner timing to what suits you.” Dr. Zawar replied, “No, I’m perfectly fine. Just want to freshen up a little.” Karen smiled, “Of course. Please.” She left him at the room’s door and turned back toward the kitchen.

Inside, Dr. Zawar took off his coat and neatly placed it on the bed. He rolled up his sleeves and went to the washroom. A while later, he stood in front of the mirror, combing his hair—now streaked with noticeable silver. His beard, too, had hints of time’s frost. He looked at himself for a moment, sighed deeply, and returned to the living room, settling once again on the couch.

Karen was still in the kitchen. Zawar’s eyes fell on the file on the side table—the same one she’d given him earlier. Almost involuntarily, he reached for it, opened it, and read the report within moments. He closed the file and placed it back, leaning against the back of the couch and closing his eyes—as if slipping into an unseen thought, a world that had absorbed him completely, if only for a moment.

When Karen returned, Zawar had already fallen into deep sleep. She quietly stood there, watching him for a moment. Then she went back to the kitchen, covered the food, and returned silently. Zawar was still asleep, shoes on, unaware.

Gently, Karen removed his shoes, straightened his legs, and brought a light quilt from her room, carefully covering him. Then she lay down on the adjacent couch. Pulling a quilt over herself, she looked toward Zawar—sometimes at the moonlight, sometimes at his face glowing under its silver rays—as if the light was coming from within him.

The moonlight spread across the lawn, the shadows of trees whispered, and the moon in the sky—on its journey to fullness—made everything feel like a dream. Karen’s gaze began to lower, her eyelids heavy… and she, too, slipped into the silent valley of sleep—on that same couch, under the same moment’s spell, in the witness of that same moonlight.

It was 2 a.m. when Dr. Zawar suddenly woke up. He looked on his wrist watch and around, spotted the clock—it was exactly 2. He sat up abruptly, his heart anxious, whispering: “Oh God…”

He looked ahead—Karen was asleep on the couch, wrapped in a quilt. Her shoes were off, and her face glowed in the moonlight. Dr. Zawar whispered to himself;

“Karen… what have you done? I was never worthy… Don’t reflect my image so brightly in your lucid mirror of sacred heart… mine has long been covered in dust.”

Saying this, he quietly walked toward the guest room, took off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and entered the washroom. When he came out, he had performed ablution. He took a shawl from the wardrobe and spread it on the floor of the lounge, where moonlight was softly scattered like a gentle glow. He sat down, prayed, recited, and lost himself in the vastness of the sky while gazing at the moon.

Meanwhile, Karen’s eyes fluttered open. Through her half-open gaze, she saw Dr. Zawar sitting in the moonlight — he looked like a silent image of sanctity in that soft glow. Karen realized he was in worship, but the scene was so moving that she couldn’t move. It was as if a strange trance had overtaken her body — she wanted to speak, to lift her hand, but some invisible force had stolen all movement from her.

Dr. Zawar completed his prayer, folded the shawl, wore his coat, and quietly walked toward the main door. Before leaving, he looked at Karen once — she was now deeply asleep, a calm expression on her face. A soft smile touched Zawar’s lips. He opened the door gently, stepped outside… and left.

It was 7 in the morning when Karen’s mobile alarm started ringing. She was still lying on the couch, half-covered in the quilt. Her eyes slowly opened, she reached for the phone and turned off the alarm. Sleep still lingered in her eyes, but as consciousness returned, she looked ahead — Zawar was no longer there.

Suddenly, panic gripped her. She tossed the quilt aside and rushed to the guest room. She opened the door and peeked inside — the room was empty.

A sad sigh escaped her lips. She whispered to herself, “Oh God… how did I fall asleep? He left… I waited for dinner… Was I really that tired? Or were those moments simply too kind, too comforting?”

She slowly returned to the sofa and sat down, as if something had been left behind… or a moment had remained incomplete. She took deep breaths, then silently picked up her mobile and the quilt, and walked toward her bedroom. Lying on the bed again, she fell into a deep sleep — as though her weary soul had finally found a wordless peace.

It was noon. Aunt Lucy was in the kitchen. Noticing the time, she walked toward Karen’s room and gently opened the door. Karen was still fast asleep in a deep slumber. Bending near her ear, she softly said, “Karen, my child… wake up. It’s already noon.”

Karen stirred, opened one eye, and looked at Aunt Lucy. “What time is it?” “It’s twelve. You’ve never slept in so late. I checked on you a couple of times — you were in such deep sleep.”

Karen stretched and leaned against the headboard, speaking gently, “I can’t believe it myself… maybe for the first time in years, I truly felt peace.”

Aunt Lucy asked kindly, “When did Zawar leave?”

Karen replied softly, “I don’t know… he fell asleep on the couch, and I must’ve dozed off there too… When I woke up in the morning, he was gone.”

Aunt Lucy said, “So you two didn’t eat dinner? I saw the tray untouched.”

“We kept waiting… Maybe he was too tired and fell asleep, and then me too… I don’t know when. I just lost track of time.”

“No worries. Freshen up, I’ll prepare breakfast,” Aunt Lucy said with warmth and left the room.

Karen picked up her mobile, paused for a moment, and then dialed a number: “Alicia, do you have Dr. Zawar’s number? Please send it to me.”

She ended the call. Moments later, a message arrived — Zawar’s number. Karen dialed it immediately, but the phone was off. She tried again… same result — switched off.

She set the phone aside and silently walked toward the bathroom, as though some question was twisting inside her… one only silence could answer.

When she came out of the bathroom, her phone was ringing. She quickly picked it up, spoke briefly — “Okay, I’m on my way” — and ended the call.

Standing in front of the mirror, she quickly adjusted her hair, put on her coat, wrapped a scarf around her neck, and went to the table to eat breakfast. She ate in haste, but inside, another restlessness gnawed at her — Zawar’s number was still switched off. She tried multiple times, but always the same.

She muttered to herself, “What is going on…? Maybe I’ll have to go and find out myself.”