A Journey Of Hope

Chapter 1 – A Happy Childhood

My name is Sofia, and I live in Karachi, Pakistan. Once upon a time, I lived a happy and peaceful life with my parents. I have five brothers and one sister, Sidra. Since I was the youngest in the family, everyone loved and cared for me, especially my five brothers, who never returned home empty-handed on my birthday. Whether it was chocolates, wafers, biscuits, or small gifts, they always found a way to make me smile.

My parents loved me deeply. I was the only child in the family who continued her education after school. While all of my siblings had left their studies, I was completing my Intermediate along with an IT diploma. My father was proud of my determination, and my mother made sure I never lacked anything. Every week, she took my sister and me shopping before treating us to a meal at our favorite restaurant.

She often smiled and said,

“I don’t know what kind of lives my daughters will have after they get married and leave this house. As long as they are with me, I want to fulfill every wish they have.”

At that time, I never imagined those beautiful days would become nothing more than memories.

People often say that happiness never lasts forever, and they are right. After every bright moonlit night comes darkness.

The first sign of change came when a marriage proposal arrived for my sister, Sidra. The family appeared respectable, and after careful consideration, my parents accepted the proposal. Soon, the engagement was finalized, and our home was once again filled with excitement and happiness.

None of us knew that only a few days later, our lives would change forever.

Chapter 2 – The Day Everything Changed

Just a few days after my sister’s engagement, tragedy struck our family.

My mother suffered a paralytic stroke.

It felt as though the ground had disappeared beneath our feet. She was immediately admitted to the hospital, where my sister stayed by her side to take care of her. Meanwhile, I suddenly found myself responsible for managing our entire household.

Although I had five brothers who were all employed and my father worked as a contractor, most of the daily responsibilities fell on my shoulders. Overnight, my life changed completely.

After some time, my mother’s condition improved enough for her to return home. However, the right side of her body remained paralyzed, leaving her unable to care for herself. From that day forward, looking after her became my responsibility.

Before we had fully adjusted to this new reality, my sister’s future in-laws visited our home to discuss the wedding date. They had seen my mother’s condition with their own eyes, yet they still wished to proceed with the wedding as soon as possible. Eventually, my father agreed, and the wedding preparations began.

Despite everything we were going through, our home became busy once again. There was shopping to do, wedding arrangements to complete, and endless responsibilities to manage. Together, my sister and I worked tirelessly to prepare for her special day.

Finally, the wedding day arrived. Our house was filled with lights, laughter, relatives, and celebration. For a few precious hours, it felt as though happiness had returned.

But after the wedding, my sister left for her new home, and the house suddenly became silent.

Every morning, my father and brothers left for work, leaving only my mother and me at home. At the same time, I was trying to continue my studies while caring for my paralyzed mother

I had no idea that this was only the beginning of the hardships life still had in store for me.

Chapter 3 – A Heartbreaking Diagnosis

During those difficult days, however, my bond with my mother grew stronger than ever.

She loved me even more because she knew how much responsibility had fallen upon me, yet I never allowed those responsibilities to become an excuse to abandon my education.

For a while, life seemed to settle down again.

Then one day, wonderful news arrived.

My sister was expecting a baby.

The news filled our home with happiness because our family had longed for the laughter of a little child for many years. After hearing the wonderful news, life seemed brighter once again. However, that happiness did not last long.

Soon after, problems began in my sister Sidra Appa’s married life. We discovered that her in-laws had deceived us before the marriage. They had claimed that her husband owned his own business, but the truth was very different. He was only working as a helper in his grandfather’s business and had no business of his own.

To make matters worse, her in-laws emotionally manipulated her into giving up all of her jewelry, which they eventually sold. Only eight months had passed since her marriage, yet she had already endured more pain than anyone should have to bear.

Unable to watch her suffer any longer, Abba brought Sidra Appa back home. Unfortunately, her mother-in-law made her life even more miserable. By then, Appa was five months pregnant. She decided that she wanted to live separately, but instead of supporting her, her in-laws argued with their own son and threw both of them out of the house.

Abba said gently, “How can you live alone in this condition? Find a house near us sothat we can take care of Sidra.”

Soon afterward, my sister rented a house in our neighborhood. With her pregnancy becoming more difficult, she spent most of her time at our home. As she was unable to do much household work, my responsibilities increased even more. I not only managed our own home but also prepared meals every day for my brother-in-law.

Finally, the long-awaited day arrived. My sister gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. Amma lovingly named him Muhammad Noor.

Noor’s arrival filled our family with joy. He quickly became the light of our home and the apple of Amma and Abba’s eyes. I loved him deeply as if he were my own child and cared for him like a mother.

Around that time, Sidra Appa started working. Meanwhile, her husband left his job after arguing with his grandfather. Abba was deeply disappointed with him. Although he could support his daughter and grandson, he believed it was not his responsibility to provide for a healthy son-in-law who had willingly left his job.

Because of everything happening around us, I decided to put my education on hold. Ibelieved that once the family situation settled down, I would continue my studies. Days turned into months, and before I realized it, Noor was already three years old.

Just when we thought life was finally becoming peaceful again, another storm entered our lives.

One day, Amma noticed redness and pain in one of her breasts. I immediately took her to the doctor. At first, the doctor was unable to determine the cause and simply prescribed some medication. After taking the medicine, Amma felt slightly better, and we assumed it was nothing serious.

A few days later, the redness returned. This time, I took Amma back to the same doctor. After carefully examining her, the doctor called me aside.

The words she spoke shook my entire world.

“I suspect your mother may have breast cancer,” she said quietly. “This isn’t just redness. I believe there may be a lump inside. I’m writing a test for her. If the scan shows no lump, then there’s nothing to worry about. But if it does... I’m afraid mysuspicion may be correct.”

At that moment, I wanted to scream and cry, but I forced myself to remain calm because Amma was waiting for me outside. She was a very sensitive woman, and I couldn’t let her see my fear. All I needed at that moment was someone to give me strength.

Holding back my tears, I walked out of the doctor’s office.

“Is everything alright?” Amma asked.

“It’s nothing serious,” I replied, forcing a smile. “The doctor just wants you to have a few tests.”

When we returned home, Abba asked what the doctor had said.

I remained silent for a moment before answering, “She has asked Amma to undergosome tests.”

“That’s fine,” Abba said calmly. “Tomorrow, take your mother with Usman to get the tests done.”

I nodded quietly. I couldn’t even speak. I didn’t want to worry my family before we knew the truth.

The following day, Usman Bhai and I took Amma to the hospital for her tests. Throughout the journey, I silently prayed that the results would prove the doctor’s fears wrong. No one knew the battle I was fighting inside my heart.

After the tests were completed, Amma looked exhausted. Concerned, I asked if she was alright.

“I’m just tired,” she replied softly.

The hospital staff told us the reports would be ready in an hour. I tried asking if they could tell me anything about the results, but they politely refused, saying only our doctor was authorized to discuss them.We returned home with the reports and waited anxiously until evening. Although everyone else was carrying on with their day, I was trapped in a storm of fear and uncertainty.

That evening, I took Amma back to the doctor.

The doctor opened the report and carefully studied every page. Then she looked at me before lowering her eyes to the report once again.

My heart began pounding with fear.

She quietly asked Amma to wait outside for a few minutes.

As soon as Amma stepped out of the room, tears streamed down my face uncontrollably

Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably.

The doctor looked at me with compassion and said gently, “You need to stay strong. This is the time to give your mother happiness. Pull yourself together.“I looked at her desperately and asked, “Isn’t there any treatment? Isn’t there any hospital where we can take her?”

The doctor sighed before answering.

“Sofiya, it is very difficult to save patients with this stage of the disease. I have seen families sell everything they own—their homes, their land, all of their property—to try to save their loved ones. Yet even after sacrificing everything, many of those patients still don’t survive. Go home. Whatever time your mother has left, make it peaceful. Spend every possible moment with her and keep her happy.”

At that moment, it felt as if the doctor was announcing my mother’s death.

Somehow, I walked out of her office.

My mother was waiting for me outside. I quickly wiped away my tears before walking over to her.

“Did you get the medicine from the doctor?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied with a nod.

In reality, the doctor had only prescribed pain medication.

We returned home together.

When we arrived, Sidra Appa was already there. Abba was sitting in the living room with Usman Bhai, Rehman Bhai, Zeeshan Bhai, and our youngest brother, Arman.

They helped Amma sit down, and Sidra Appa gently asked me to sit beside her.

“What did the doctor say after seeing the reports?” she whispered.

With Amma sitting right in front of us, I couldn’t bring myself to answer.

When Sidra Appa asked if the doctor had prescribed any medicines, Amma smiled and said, “It’s just a small problem. Why would I need so many medicines?”

Until Amma went to sleep, I couldn’t tell anyone the truth.

After dinner, no one asked me anything. Perhaps they were all waiting for Amma to fall asleep.

After giving her the medicine, I helped her walk from the living room to her bedroom. Once she had settled in, I quietly returned to the living room.

Everyone’s eyes were fixed on me.I covered my mouth with both hands to stop my sobs from becoming loud, but I couldn’t hold them back any longer.

Seeing me in that state, everyone became anxious.

They all surrounded me, asking what had happened.

Through my tears, I whispered, “It’s over... We’ve lost. Our greatest treasure will leave this world very soon.”

The room fell silent.

Sidra Appa broke down in tears. My brothers cried as well.

Abba came to me, trying to comfort me.

“My daughter... what happened? What did the doctor say?”

I wrapped my arms around him and cried against his shoulder.

“Abba... Amma has cancer.”

“The doctor said there is no cure anymore. And even if there is treatment, people like us—a middle-class family—could never afford it. She said families spend all their wealth, and even then, the chances of survival are only about thirty percent. She did mention a few government hospitals where we could try.”

Abba rested his hand on my head before quietly turning toward Amma.

He didn’t say another word.

He had become completely silent.

Sidra Appa and I held each other tightly and cried for a long time.

Usman Bhai and Rehman Bhai gathered all of us together.

“This is the time to be brave,” they said. “We have to take care of Amma, and she must never find out how serious her illness really is. Remember, Abba is completely broken right now. He needs us more than ever. Amma and Abba have been life partners for so many years. When one of them is suffering like this, how can the other ever find peace?”

We all agreed that we would fight this disease until Amma’s very last breath.

The next day, my brother and I took Amma to another hospital.

They performed a bone scan and a biopsy, along with several other tests.

Throughout the examinations, Amma kept asking, “Nothing is wrong with me, so why are you making me go through all these tests?”

Our mother was so innocent.

We simply smiled and said, “The doctor just wants to be extra careful because of the reaction.”

One by one, the test results came back.

Every doctor gave us the same heartbreaking answer.

“The cancer has spread throughout her body. It is too late now.”

One doctor said, “There is one thing we can do. We can remove the affected side through surgery.”

But Amma immediately refused.

“Even if I have to die,” she said calmly, “I want to leave this world with my whole body. I don’t want surgery.”

There was nothing left for us to say.

We brought her home and placed everything in Allah’s hands.

Besides cancer, Amma was already living with diabetes, high blood pressure, and paralysis.

Days turned into weeks.

Weeks turned into months.

Seven months later, her condition became much worse.

The cancer had spread to her internal organs.

When her health deteriorated further, we rushed her to the hospital.

The doctor examined her and said, “She has lost a great deal of blood.”

We explained that the cancer wound bled every single day—sometimes so heavily that we had to change her clothes every morning and every evening. She also perspired so much that we had to spread extra sheets beneath her wherever she lay.

The doctors admitted her to the hospital.

We prayed constantly for her recovery.But perhaps Allah had chosen a different path.

After observing her condition, the doctor discharged her and quietly said,

“Now... just pray that her remaining time becomes easy.”

My brother and I forced ourselves to accept what we had heard.

With heavy hearts, we brought Amma back home.

Days passed.

About a month later, Amma softly said,

“Call everyone home. I want to talk to all of you.”

All of my brothers left work and came home.

Sidra Appa arrived as well.

Abba sat beside Amma, supporting her gently.

Her head rested on his shoulder.

Looking at all of us, Amma said,“Take good care of your father. After I am gone, he won’t be able to live for very long.”

Chapter 4 – Losing Amma upload

“Take good care of your father. After I am gone, he won’t be able to live for very long.”

Every one of us burst into tears.

“Please don’t say that, Amma,” we kept begging.

We were giving her water over which Surah Yaseen had been recited.

We gently reminded her,

“Amma, keep reciting the Kalima.”

She continued reciting it quietly.

Then she turned and looked at me.

I was standing there, crying helplessly.

She looked at everyone and said,

“Take care of my Sofiya. Marry her to a good man.”

I cried uncontrollably.

“No, Amma... please don’t leave me. How will I live without you?”

She kissed my cheek lovingly and looked into my eyes.

My brothers, my sister, and everyone around us were crying.

Amma took a few deep breaths...

And then...

Those breaths never returned.

Abba seemed frozen, as though he had lost all sense of the world around him.

We screamed.

We cried.

We begged.

But Amma was gone.

We gently shook Abba until he came back to his senses.

Then he gathered all of us into his arms, comforting us even though he himself had already shattered from within.

Life slowly moved on without Amma.

Abba began taking even greater care of all of us, especially in the way Amma once had.

He would often say,

“My daughter took such wonderful care of her mother.”

He tried his best to keep us smiling.

The pain of losing Amma never faded, but life has a way of moving forward whether we are ready or not.

What we failed to realize was that Abba needed our time just as much as we needed his.

We were always around him during the day.

But every night, when he walked alone into the bedroom he had once shared with Amma, he was left to face a silence that only he could understand.

That silence slowly consumed him from the inside.

We had no idea...

What was about to happen next.

A month later, my father’s condition suddenly worsened. He could no longer move the lower half of his body. We were all terrified and rushed him to the doctor. After examining him, the doctor explained that this had happened because of a stroke.

The doctor advised us never to leave him alone. From that day on, all of my brothers and sisters took even greater care of him. My brother, Zeeshan, stayed with him at night. Thankfully, my father recovered much sooner than we had expected, and life slowly began to return to normal. I was finally able to continue my education.

However, that peace did not last long.

Around that time, my aunt often brought marriage proposals for me. Every time she mentioned my marriage, my father refused politely but firmly.

“I don’t want Sofiya to get married yet,” he would say. “She is still studying, and I don’t want anything to interrupt her education:

Chapter 5 – Losing My Father

My aunt replied, “What is the point of educating her so much?”

My father answered with tears in his eyes, “After seeing everything my daughter Sidra has gone through after her marriage, I don’t want Sofiya to suffer the same hardships. My Sofiya is very precious to me. She is not going anywhere.”

Eventually, my aunt left.

Not long afterward, my father’s health began to decline. He started experiencing breathing problems. We often gave him nebulizer treatments at home, but sometimes his condition became so serious that we had to rush him to the hospital. After receiving treatment, he would return home. Most of the time, however, his condition worsened late at night.

Because I had to wake up early every morning, I usually went to bed early and often had no idea that my father had been taken to the hospital during the night. The next morning, my brothers would tell me everything that had happened.

Whenever I asked my father how he was feeling, he would smile and say, “I’m fine, my dear. Don’t worry about me.”

Hearing those words always brought me comfort, and I truly believed that everything would be alright.

One winter evening, my uncle’s wife came to our house to invite us to her daughter’s wedding. The weather’’

was extremely cold. My sister Sidra, my younger brother Usman, and I spent a long time talking with her. After chatting for quite a while, she got up to leave.

Before leaving, she greeted my father and then went home.

Later that night, I took a glass of warm milk and some warm water to my father.

I asked gently, “Abba, do you need anything else?”

He smiled and replied, “No, my dear.”

I asked, “Should I go to my room and sleep now?”

He nodded and said, “Yes, go and get some rest.”

As I turned to leave, he called my name.

“Sofiya.”

I looked back at him.

He smiled softly and said, “Promise me you’ll attend the wedding.”

I looked at him in surprise.

“Why are you insisting so much, Abba?”

He replied, “It will be good for you. You’ll get a little change of environment.”

I smiled and said, “We’ll see when the wedding comes.”

Then I went to my room and fell asleep. It was around 9:00 p.m.

I was fast asleep when I was suddenly awakened by loud knocking on my bedroom door. Startled, I jumped out of bed and rushed to open it.

As soon as I opened the door, I saw my brother Rehman standing outside. Looking worried, he said,

“Sofiya, Abba’s condition has suddenly become very serious. Usman and the others have already taken him to the hospital.”

At that moment, only Rehman Bhai was at home because all of my other brothers had gone to the hospital with my father.

When Rehman Bhai woke me up, it was around midnight.

We waited anxiously for everyone to return, but the hours passed slowly. By 2:00 a.m., they still hadn’t come home.

Unable to control my anxiety, I called one of my brothers and asked,

“Why haven’t you come back yet? We’ve been waiting for so long. When are you coming home?”He replied calmly,

“We had to bring Abba to the Heart Hospital. Don’t worry. We’ll be home soon.”

His words reassured us for a while, but we had no idea what was actually happening at the hospital.

Around 3:00 a.m., my sister Sidra arrived.

Surprised to see her at that hour, I asked,

“Apa, why are you here so late?”

She replied,

“Usman Bhai called me and said they would be delayed, so he asked me to stay with you.”

Hearing that made me even more anxious.

About half an hour later, one of Usman Bhai’s close friends arrived with his wife.

I looked at them in confusion and asked,

“Why have you come here at this time?”

They replied,

“Usman called us. He said your father’s condition isn’t good.“The moment I heard those words, I burst into tears.

Holding his wife’s hands tightly, I cried,

“Please tell me the truth. Why are you really here? I don’t feel that everything is okay. Is my father alright? Please... take me to him.”

Sidra Apa also began to cry.

A few moments later, we heard the sound of an ambulance outside the house.

The siren made my heart race.

I ran toward the front door, but Usman Bhai’s friend’s wife held me back as tears streamed down her face.

By then, our neighbors had gathered outside, making way for the ambulance.

The ambulance doors opened.

Usman Bhai stepped out, crying uncontrollably.

The moment he saw me standing at the doorway, he looked at me with tear-filled eyes and said,

“Sofiya... I couldn’t bring Abba back alive.”

The moment those words reached my ears, a heartbreaking scream escaped from my lips.

Sidra Apa ran toward the door, crying hysterically, but my brother held both of us tightly as we broke down.

My father’s body was gently taken out of the ambulance and laid in his room.

I sat beside him, crying uncontrollably.

“Abba... please wake up. What will we do without you? Someone... please wake my father up...”

We cried, screamed, and prayed, but my father never opened his eyes again.

Just a few hours earlier, around midnight, he had left our home alive.

At 4:00 a.m., he returned to us...

Wrapped in silence.

His funeral was held after the Zuhr prayer.

That single moment changed our lives forever.

Even today, I cannot understand how my father left us so suddenly.

I had not yet recovered from losing my mother, and within six months, I lost my father as well.When my mother passed away, I somehow managed to prepare myself because she had been fighting a very serious illness.

But my father’s death was completely unexpected.

He wasn’t suffering from any life-threatening disease, so none of us ever imagined that he would leave us so suddenly.

His passing left a wound in my heart that time has never been able to heal.

After my father’s passing, everyone around us began saying that there should be another woman in the house so that I wouldn’t feel so lonely.

Eventually, my brother Usman got married.

I personally took the lead in arranging his wedding because there was no one else to manage everything. My sister Sidra was working, so most of the responsibilities fell on my shoulders. I handled every detail of the wedding and welcomed my new sister-in-law into our home with an open heart.

I had imagined that we would live like real sisters rather than simply as a sister-in-law and a sister. I sincerely wanted us to share a close and loving bond.

From the very beginning, I did my best to make her feel comfortable.However, after she came to live with us, I noticed that she often spoiled food while cooking and threw it away.

One day, I gently said,

“Bhabhi, please don’t waste food like this. It isn’t right to throw away the blessings that Allah has given us.”

She simply replied,

“Alright.”

Chapter 5 –Part 2 When My Future Was No Longer Mine (upload)

There was something else that seemed to trouble her.

All of my brothers handed their salaries over to me because I was responsible for managing the household finances. I handled all the expenses and made sure everything in the house ran smoothly.

Wanting to make her life easier, I told her, “You can rest in the mornings. I’ll prepare breakfast.”

Every morning, I woke up early, made breakfast, sent all of my brothers off to work, and then cleaned the entire house. Meanwhile, my sister-in-law usually didn’t wake up until around noon.

When Sidra Apa noticed this, she became concerned.

She said, “Sofiya, this isn’t right. How can the daughter-in-law of the house sleep until midday every day? She has responsibilities too.”

I smiled and replied, “Apa, don’t worry. I told her not to feel pressured. I’m already used to waking up early, and she’s always had the habit of sleeping late.”

Sidra Apa looked at me seriously and said, “You’re making a mistake.”

But I ignored her warning.I believed she was simply being protective because she loved me. I never imagined that one day I would understand exactly what she had been trying to warn me about.

Before my father passed away, he had transferred his pension into my name. Usman Bhai made sure all the paperwork was completed, and every month I received nearly eighty thousand rupees from his pension.

One day, my brother handed me the money and said, “Sofiya, buy whatever you need for yourself.”

Long before his death, my father had also purchased a piece of land. He often said, “When Sofiya gets married, this land will help us give her something special.”

When I completed my IT course, my father bought me a brand-new computer along with all the equipment I needed.

Smiling proudly, he said, “Whenever you get married, take your computer with you. It belongs to you.”

Those words still echo in my heart.

From my father’s pension, I saved forty thousand rupees to have jewelry made for my future wedding. I used the remaining money to continue my education and enroll in more professional courses.

After completing my IT course, I began studying Fashion Designing and Beauty Therapy.

At that time, I was working hard to build a better future for myself. I truly believed these qualifications would

help me create a successful life.

I had no idea that one day, despite all my education and skills, I would find myself facing hardships that none of those achievements could protect me from.

Meanwhile, another challenge was quietly making its way into our lives.

Years earlier, my father had arranged Zeeshan Bhai’s engagement. However, his wedding had been postponed because Usman Bhai was the eldest son, and according to our family tradition, the elder brother had to marry before the younger one.

There was another reason as well.

While my mother was still alive, she constantly worried about Usman Bhai’s marriage. But even more than that, she worried about my future and prayed that one day I would find a loving husband and a good home.

Only four months after Usman Bhai’s wedding, Zeeshan Bhai’s future mother-in-law came to our house.

She insisted, “Now it’s time for Zeeshan and my daughter to get married.”

Usman Bhai replied politely, “We need to arrange Sofiya’s marriage first.”

She immediately responded, “Then arrange it. What’s stopping you?”

He answered, “As soon as we find a good match for her, we will.”

After that, our relatives began searching for a suitable groom for me.

Unfortunately, most of the proposals they brought were completely unsuitable.

It was during that phase of my life that I realized something painful.

Sometimes, the people closest to you care less about your future than they do about their own convenience.

I repeatedly told my brothers, “I don’t want to get married yet. I want to complete my graduation first.”

But they always gave the same reply.

“If you don’t get married, Zeeshan Bhai won’t be able to get married either. We have to arrange your marriage first.”

Without even realizing it, my future had become tied to everyone else’s decisions.

There were many people waiting for my marriage to happen.

Once I was married, my sister-in-law would have complete control over the household.

One thing I have learned about this world is that almost everything can be bought with money.If you want to bring a smile to someone’s face, you can buy them a gift.

If you want someone to stay close to you, you can offer them a share of your wealth, and they may choose to stand by your side.

But there is one thing people give away freely...

Tears.

Without any reason, people can fill your eyes with tears and walk away as though they have done nothing.

Across from our house lived a kind-hearted woman whom I lovingly called Aunty. She cared deeply for me and always treated me like her own daughter.

One day, she spoke to my sister, Sidra, and said...

Chapter 6 – Part 1A New Beginning

“I know of a young man from a respectable family,” Aunty said. “I think he would be a good match for Sofiya.”

Sidra Apa replied, “Please introduce us to his family. If we like the boy, we would be happy to move forward.”

Aunty smiled warmly.

“I’ll speak to them first and let you know.”

A few days later, she returned with good news.

“They’ve agreed,” she said. “You can come and meet the boy.”

Soon afterward, my family went to meet the man they believed might one day become my husband.

When they met him, Usman Bhai, my sister-in-law, and Sidra Apa all seemed pleased.

Only Zeeshan Bhai had some reservations.

The man was almost twelve years older than I was, and that age difference made Zeeshan Bhai uncertain.

The rest of my family, however, focused more on the respectability of his family than on the difference in our ages.

At that moment, none of us knew that this meeting would mark the beginning of an entirely new chapter in my life.

We believed we were simply meeting a prospective groom.

We had no idea that the decision made that day would change the course of my life forever.

Some time later, my phone rang.

I answered the call.

“How do you know my name?” I asked.

He replied, “This is Waqar.”

I smiled.

“Yes, I had already recognized you.”

He laughed.

“Oh, so you were teasing me?”

I smiled again.

“You were teasing me too, judging by the way you were talking to me.”

Waqar’s voice softened.

“You have every right to tease me.”

Hearing those words filled my heart with happiness. For the first time, I felt as though I had found someone who truly belonged in my world. I couldn’t stop smiling.

From that day on, we spoke regularly.

As the days passed, our conversations became longer and more comfortable.

One day, he told me that he wanted to meet me in person.

At first, I refused.

But he continued asking until I finally agreed.

Meeting him wasn’t very difficult because I was attending a beautician course, and his house was only about

eight to ten minutes away from mine.

I asked him to meet me near my beauty parlor after my class ended.

When class was over, I stood by the roadside waiting for him.

Those few moments felt endless.

I was nervous that someone might recognize us, and I kept wondering how I would even speak to him when he arrived.

My hands trembled with anxiety, and without realizing it, I kept clasping them together.

Then, all of a sudden, someone stepped in front of me.

To me, he looked like the prince I had always imagined.

People often said that he looked much older than I did, but to my eyes, he was no less handsome than a film hero.

The moment I saw him, it felt as though my heartbeat had stopped.

Even today, whenever I remember that day, a famous verse comes to mind:

Love is not easy. It is a river of fire, and one must drown to cross it.

He stood there smiling, looking at me with quiet admiration.

Then, in a gentle voice, he asked,

“Shall we?”

I nodded.

Together, we began walking slowly toward my neighborhood.

As we walked, we talked about many different things.

After a while, he smiled and said,

“Do you know? The camera doesn’t do you justice.”

I looked at him in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

He smiled again.

“You’re far more beautiful in person. Seeing you today made me realize how much my family must love me, because you’re even more beautiful than your pictures. Photographs don’t capture your real beauty.”

I lowered my head shyly and smiled.

Still talking, we eventually reached the road leading to my house.

“I should go now,” I said softly.

He stopped where he was while I crossed the road.

Just as I had taken a few steps, I heard him call my name.

“Sofiya.”

I turned around.

He was standing there, looking at me with deep affection.

Then he said quietly,

“I don’t feel like letting you go.”

I smiled, hoping to reassure him.

“Don’t worry. Just a few more days. Then we’ll be together.”

Chapter 6 – Part 2

After I reached home, Waqar called me.

“Sofiya,” he asked gently, “tell me honestly... is anyone forcing you to marry me?”

His question caught me completely by surprise.

“No,” I replied. “Why would you think that?”

He hesitated for a moment before answering.

“I was just wondering. You’re so beautiful. I couldn’t understand how someone like you could ever choose someone like me.”

I couldn’t help laughing.

“If you could see yourself through my eyes,” I said, “you’d fall in love with yourself too.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll believe you,” he replied with a smile.

From that day on, our conversations became a cherished part of my daily life. With every passing day, we

grew closer, and our bond became stronger.

As the wedding drew nearer, only one month remained.

Preparations had begun in both of our homes. Everyone was busy shopping, making plans, and getting everything ready for the celebrations.

During that time, I made a mistake—one that I still regret whenever I think about it.

One evening, my elder sister, Appa, wasn’t feeling well, so I took her to see a doctor. It was around 8:00 p.m. when Waqar called.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“I’ve brought Appa to the clinic,” I replied.

“Send me the address,” he said immediately.

At the time, I had no idea that he was planning to come there himself.

A little while later, I received another message.

“Come outside. I’m waiting for you.”

I told Appa, “I’ll be right back. Please wait here until the doctor calls you.”

Then I quietly stepped outside.

Just as I did, the electricity went out. Power outages were common in Pakistan, and within moments the entire neighborhood was covered in darkness. The streets were unusually quiet, making the night feel even more still.

I walked toward Waqar.

Seeing him unexpectedly filled me with happiness, but I also felt nervous. We spoke briefly and shared a quiet moment together before I returned to the clinic.

When I went back inside, my heart was filled with emotions I had never experienced before. I felt shy, confused, and deeply attached to the man who would soon become my husband.

After collecting Appa’s medicine, we returned home.

Later that night, at around one o’clock in the morning, Waqar called again.

His voice was gentle and full of affection.

“Sofiya... please don’t be upset with me.”

I remained silent and listened.

He continued speaking from the heart, trying to explain how much our brief meeting had meant to him.

I didn’t know what to say.

Part of me had been uncomfortable because I knew we should have been more careful. Yet another part of me couldn’t deny that I cared deeply for him. The memory of seeing him that evening stayed with me long after the conversation ended.

That night, he spoke about our future with great excitement.

I smiled and warned him, “If you keep talking like this, I’m going to hang up.”

He laughed but continued teasing me about the happy days that awaited us after our marriage.

His words made me blush.

Listening to him, I found myself dreaming about the life we would soon begin together.

With only one month left until our wedding, controlling my emotions had become increasingly difficult. Every heartfelt conversation brought us closer, and I found myself looking forward to each new day.

As our relationship grew stronger, there came a time when we allowed our emotions to outweigh our better judgment.

That decision, which felt insignificant at the time, would later become one of the moments I reflected on most deeply.

Chapter 6 – Part 3

Earlier, Waqar had learned from his family that my room had two doors—one opened into the house, while the other opened directly onto the street behind our home.

One day, he asked me,

“Which room has the outside door?”

“My room,” I replied without giving it much thought.

The moment he heard my answer, he insisted on seeing me that very night.

“I’ll come to your house tonight.”

I immediately refused.

“Why?” he asked. “We talk on the phone every day.”

Then he added softly,

“I just want to sit with you and talk face to face. Don’t be afraid. I promise I won’t do anything to hurt your trust. We’ll simply spend some time together.”

Even then, I refused.

He was disappointed, and for the next three days, he hardly spoke to me.

On the third night, he finally called.

“I’m coming tonight,” he said firmly. “Now it’s your choice. Either tell your brothers... or open the door for me.”

Before I could respond, he ended the call.

About ten minutes later, he was standing outside the door to my room.

It was around three o’clock in the morning.

My heart was pounding as I quietly opened the door.

He stepped inside.

I switched off the main light and turned on only the small bedside lamp, filling the room with a soft, dim glow.

For a few moments, we simply sat together and talked.

Being able to see each other without a telephone between us felt completely different. We spoke about our

future, our wedding, and the life we hoped to build together.

As the conversation continued, our emotions grew stronger than our sense of caution.

We shared a quiet moment of affection, forgetting for a while how close we were to our wedding day and how important it was to protect the boundaries we had promised ourselves.

At the time, it felt like nothing in the world could separate us.

Before dawn, at around five o’clock in the morning, Waqar quietly left through the same outside door.

After he was gone, I remained awake for a long time.

The following morning, I could hardly believe everything that had happened.

Life suddenly felt different.

Along with happiness came a fear that refused to leave my heart.

Again and again, I found myself asking the same question:

Would Waqar still marry me?

More than ever before, I found myself counting the days until our wedding.

Preparations were now in full swing in both families.

It wasn’t only my wedding everyone was preparing for. My brother Zeeshan’s wedding was also approaching, and our home was filled with excitement, laughter, relatives, and endless shopping.

Only twenty days remained before the weddings.

When there were just ten days left, Appa, my sister-in-law, and I stayed up late packing clothes, gifts, and everything that would be needed after the ceremonies.

By the time we finished, it was nearly two o’clock in the morning.

Appa returned to her house, my brother and sister-in-law went to their room, and eventually everyone else fell asleep.

After such a long and exhausting day, I locked my room, lay down on my bed, and quickly drifted off to sleep.

Around four o’clock in the morning, my phone suddenly rang.

It was Waqar.

Chapter 6 – Part 4

Around four o’clock in the morning, my phone suddenly rang.

It was Waqar.

As soon as I answered, he said,

“Sofiya, open the door. I’m standing outside.”

For a moment, I was both surprised and happy.

I quietly unlocked the outside door to my room, and there he was, waiting for me.

He stepped inside.

The main light was still off, so I switched on the small bedside lamp. Its soft glow filled the room while the rest of the house remained silent, with everyone fast asleep.

For a few moments, we simply stood there, looking at each other.

Neither of us had expected that love could make even a few days of waiting feel so difficult.

Waqar gently took my hand.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he said quietly.

Hearing those words, I felt my heart soften.

We sat together and talked about our future, our wedding, and the home we dreamed of building together.

Every conversation brought us closer, and every passing day made the approaching wedding feel both exciting and painfully slow.

After a while, he looked at me and said softly,

“I can’t imagine my life without you anymore.”

His words touched me deeply.

I loved him just as sincerely as he loved me.

Then his expression grew more serious.

“Our wedding is only ten days away,” he whispered. “Soon, we’ll never have to say goodbye like this again.”

I smiled, but I also knew we had to be careful.

I looked into his eyes and said,

“What we’re doing already feels risky. We should wait until we’re married.”

He sighed, understanding what I meant, even though waiting was difficult for both of us.

For a long time, we remained together, talking quietly about our hopes, our fears, and the life we believed was waiting for us.

As dawn slowly approached, reality returned.

Soon, everyone in the house would wake up.

Reluctantly, Waqar stood to leave.

Before he left, he smiled and said,

“I’ll see you very soon.”

I nodded.

“In just a few more days.”

He quietly slipped out through the outside door and disappeared into the darkness before anyone realized he had been there.

I closed the door behind him and leaned against it for a long moment.

My heart was overflowing with love, yet it was also weighed down by an unfamiliar fear.

For the first time, I truly understood how easily love could blur the boundaries we once believed we would never cross.

I silently prayed that everything would be alright.

After all, only ten days remained until our wedding.

I had no idea that fate had written a very different future for us.

The days ahead would change my life forever.

Chapter 7 Three Days Before the Wedding

I was happy with the decision and beThree Days Before the Weddinglieved that my life was finally about to change. Little did I know that behind every happiness, another test was waiting for me.

About an hour later, they left. Only three days remained until the wedding. The entire house was filled with noise and excitement. Relatives had arrived from everywhere, and everyone was busy with the wedding preparations.

That day, my dowry was supposed to be delivered to Waqar’s house. The furniture my

brothers had chosen for me had been delayed because the furniture store was responsible for delivering it to our home before it could be taken to my future in-laws’ house.

While we were waiting, I received a call from Waqar.

“Where are you?” he asked. “My brothers and sisters are waiting to arrange our room.”

I replied, “We’re on the way. The furniture shop has delayed the delivery.”

Without saying anything else, he disconnected the call.

About thirty minutes later, my phone rang again. As soon as I answered, I froze in shock. The voice on the other end was completely different from the man I thought I knew.

It was Waqar.

He angrily said, “Have your brothers lost their minds? No one has come yet. Do you think my family has nothing better to do than sit here waiting for them? Tell your brothers that no one here is free to waste their time.”

The moment I heard those words, tears began rolling down my cheeks.

Eventually, my brothers delivered all of my belongings to Waqar’s house. Among my dowry was my gold jewelry set. I had bought it with the pension I received after my father’s death.

About six months earlier, my father’s pension had been transferred to me. I had carefully saved that money and used it to have a gold jewelry set made for my wedding.

One of my older brothers, Rahil, who was older than me but younger than Zeeshan, began insisting that before I got married, I should transfer my father’s pension to one of my brothers.

He said, “Why should someone else benefit from our father’s money?”

Hearing those words hurt me deeply, but I remained silent.

In any case, only a short time remained before my wedding.

About a month before the wedding, my pension stopped. According to Pakistani law at that time, a deceased person’s pension could only be received by his widow or his unmarried daughter.

However, just three days after my brother had asked me to transfer the pension, a new law was introduced. Under the new law, only unmarried daughters under the age of eighteen were eligible to receive the pension.

At that time, I was already twenty-three years old.

I only wanted to mention this because the gold jewelry I had made with my father’s pension was also part of the belongings I took with me after my marriage.

By then, all of my belongings had already been sent to Waqar’s house.

That night, after finishing all the remaining work at home, our guests gradually returned to their own houses. Most of our relatives lived nearby, so they spent the day helping us with the celebrations and went home at night.

We all went to bed early because the next day was my brother Zeeshan’s wedding procession, and the day after that was my own wedding. His wedding ceremony would continue the following day, so everyone needed some rest.

At around 2:00 a.m., my phone rang.

It was Waqar.I was still upset with him because the side of him I had seen earlier had completely shocked me. But with only two days left before our wedding, there wasn’t much I could do.

He called once.

Then again.

Finally, I answered.

As soon as I picked up, he softly said, “I’m sorry. I know you’re upset with me.”

His words brought tears to my eyes.

He immediately added, “If you don’t stop crying, I’ll come over right now. And then you’ll remember what I’ll do.”

I quickly replied, “No... please don’t come. I’m fine now.”

A moment later, he said gently, “Sofiya, I don’t feel like sleeping alone on this new bed. Please come soon. I miss you so much.”

I stayed silent.Very gently, he asked again, “What happened? Are you still angry with me?”

I answered quietly, “No. Zeeshan Bhai’s wedding procession is tomorrow. We had so much work today, and I’m really exhausted. I have to wake up early.”

Waqar laughed softly and said, “If you allow me, I can take away all your tiredness.”

I replied, “There’s no need for that. I just want to sleep.”

He smiled through his voice.

“Alright. Get some rest. We’ll meet on our wedding day.”

I simply murmured, “Hmm.”

Then I disconnected the call and went to sleep.

The next morning, the house was once again full of excitement as everyone prepared for Zeeshan Bhai’s wedding procession.

At around 8:00 p.m., the wedding procession left.

By the grace of Allah, my brother’s Nikah was completed peacefully.

Later that night, we welcomed his bride into our home.

The house was overflowing with laughter, happiness, and celebration. Everyone was smiling.

Around 3:30 a.m., after leaving my brother and his bride in their room, the rest of us finally went to sleep.

We all needed to wake up early because the next day was my wedding.

The day I had waited for had finally arrived.

Yet strangely, I couldn’t sleep.

Along with my happiness, there was an uneasy feeling deep inside my heart.

It felt like the calm before a storm.

I spent the entire night restless.

The next morning, I woke up around 10:00 a.m.

Everyone else was already awake.

It was my sister-in-law’s first morning in our home, and everyone was warmly

The next morning, I woke up around 10:00 a.m.

Everyone else was already awake.

It was my sister-in-law’s first morning in our home, and everyone was warmly welcoming and taking care of her.

When I came out of my room, everyone surrounded me with the same love and attention.

After all, by the end of the day, I too would be leaving this house forever.

Today was my wedding day.

I took a shower first...Breakfast arrived, and Appa said, “Sofiya, have your breakfast first. Then we need to go to the beauty salon.”

We already had an appointment there. My new sister-in-law was getting her bridal makeup done, and I was also scheduled for my bridal makeup. Usman Bhai’s wife and Appa were getting their makeup done there as well.

After getting ready, we left for the salon at around 3:00 p.m. Once my sister-in-law’s bridal makeup was complete, it was my turn. The makeup artist carefully prepared me for my wedding day. My bridal dress was a beautiful maroon color, and my jewelry matched it perfectly.

When I was finally ready, I couldn’t believe my reflection. I looked no less than a princess.

Our makeup was finished by around 8:00 p.m., and we headed to the wedding hall. By then, all of Zeeshan Bhai’s relatives and guests had already arrived. The only person everyone was waiting for was Waqar.

About thirty minutes later, a wave of excitement spread through the hall.

The wedding procession has arrived!”

The moment I heard those words, my heartbeat became faster. Soon, everyone gathered, and my Nikah with Waqar was solemnized. After the ceremony, it was time for my farewell, and I left my parents’ home with Waqar.

When we reached his house, everyone welcomed us warmly. The traditional welcoming ceremonies were performed, and afterward, they escorted me to Waqar’s room.

The room was beautifully decorated, making the moment feel even more special.

My sister-in-law looked at me with a bright smile and expressed how happy she was to see me.

Now, I was waiting for Waqar.

The heavy bridal jewelry had become almost impossible to bear, and as I waited, the hours slowly passed. By the time it was 2:30 a.m., I gently closed my eyes and lay quietly on the bed.

Just then, Waqar entered the room.

He walked over to me and softly said, “You look very beautiful.”

As soon as I heard his voice, I slowly opened my eyes.

Chapter 8: The Beginning of My Silence

The first few days of my marriage felt like a dream. I smiled whenever I looked at Waqar. During the Muh Dikhai ceremony, he gave me a beautiful ring as a gift. Later, he helped me remove my bridal jewelry. Like every newly married couple, we began our new life together, unaware that my happiness would last only for a few days.

The next morning, I woke up at around 7:00 a.m. Waqar gently said, “Don’t wake up so early. Everyone is still asleep. No one will be up for a while.”

I smiled, lay back down, and fell asleep again. When I woke up, it was almost noon. The house was still filled with relatives and guests who had come to celebrate our wedding. A little later, my brothers arrived with breakfast from my parents’ home. I was overwhelmed with happiness.

Perhaps I had forgotten that every moment of happiness in my life always came with a heavy price.

According to our family traditions, I returned to my parents’ house after the wedding ceremonies. My happiness seemed to end with those celebrations. Once they were over, I went back to Waqar’s home, believing that our married life would now trulybegin.

During the first three days of our marriage, Waqar was extremely affectionate. However, my body could not cope with everything I had been through. Within those first few days, I became seriously ill. I was in constant pain and cried for hours, unable to find any relief.

When Waqar told his family that I was unwell, one of his sisters stood at the doorway and casually asked, “What happened?”

Through my tears, I replied, “I’m in a lot of pain.”

Instead of showing concern, she simply said, “We can’t give you any medicine right now. We’ll take you to the doctor this evening.”

That evening, they took me to a doctor, who put me on an IV drip. Unfortunately, it didn’t ease my pain. Since my condition remained the same, they took me to another doctor.

After examining me, the doctor said, “Come back tomorrow after getting an ultrasound. Some women are more physically sensitive after marriage, and this kind of pain is not unusual. There’s no need to worry.”

Before the doctor could continue, my sister-in-law interrupted her.

Doctor, she’s a newlywed bride, but she doesn’t even wear makeup.”

The doctor looked at me kindly and replied, “That’s perfectly normal. The poor girl isn’t feeling well. She has just been through the stress of her wedding, and the house is still full of guests. Brides often become exhausted after everything they’ve been through. Besides, she has low blood levels. If she doesn’t receive proper nutrition, it could lead to more health problems. Make sure she eats healthy food and gets enough rest.”

Those words should have brought sympathy, but they didn’t.

When we returned home, my mother-in-law asked what the doctor had said. Before I could answer, my sister-in-law laughed and said, “Mom, your daughter-in-law has low blood.”

She laughed openly. My mother-in-law laughed with her, and to my surprise, Waqar laughed as well.

Then Waqar joked, “Why don’t we slaughter a chicken and make her drink its blood?”

Their laughter echoed around the room.

I couldn’t understand how people could make jokes about someone’s illness. Even so, I forced myself to smile. I had spent most of my life convincing myself that I shouldn’t

That night, when we were alone, Waqar wanted to be close to me again. I quietly refused because I was still in severe pain.

He didn’t try to understand how I was feeling.

Instead, he became angry.

From that moment on, he stopped speaking to me.

I tried to explain that I wasn’t refusing him out of choice. I simply wasn’t well enough. But my words seemed meaningless to him.

Eventually, I fell silent too.

Sometimes silence isn’t a choice. It’s the only thing left when no one is willing to listen.

Chapter 9 The Price of Silence

I had nothing left.My elder sister had already paid half of the advance for our new rented apartment, but Waqar didn’t have enough money to arrange the remaining amount. I couldn’t ask anyone else for help. In the end, I made one of the hardest decisions of my life.

I sold my jewelry.

It wasn’t just ordinary jewelry—it was the last precious memory my father had left behind. Every piece reminded me of him, and parting with it felt as though I was letting go of another piece of my childhood.

First, I sold my earrings and my ring. With that money, we managed to move into the rented apartment. The house was small and simple, but I hoped it would become a place where peace would finally find us.For a few days, life seemed quieter.

Then one afternoon, my brother and sister-in-law came to visit. My brother apologized on behalf of his wife. His sincere words softened my heart, and the resentment I had been carrying slowly began to fade. After that day, the distance between us gradually disappeared, and the rest of my family also started visiting us again.

I believed everything would finally get better.

But I was wrong.

A new problem quietly entered my life.

Although Waqar and my elder sister never openly argued, he constantly complained about her.

One evening he said,

“Your sister makes her breakfast, leaves the kitchen untidy, and walks away. Then you end up taking care of her son as well. Doesn’t she realize you’re pregnant? She could at least help with the housework.”

I looked at him calmly before replying,

“What can I do if she doesn’t? At least she never fights with me. And Noor doesn’t trouble me at all. I love taking care of him.”

Noor was like my own child. I had never even raised my voice at him.

But Waqar didn’t see things the way I did.

Sometimes he would scold Noor so harshly that the poor child would burst into tears. Watching that broke my heart. Whenever I tried to explain things gently, Waqar would become angry with me instead, and another argument would begin.

There were days when I wondered if these misunderstandings would ever end.

My pregnancy was becoming more difficult with each passing week.

Despite my condition, I still cleaned not only our room but my sister’s room as well. I washed clothes, cooked dinner whenever necessary, and completed almost every household chore. My health wasn’t good enough for so much work, yet I kept going because I believed patience would eventually bring peace.

Unfortunately, peace never came.

Another thing continued to disturb me.

Ever since the beginning of our marriage, Waqar often received phone calls that he never answered in front of me.

Whenever his phone rang, he would glance at the screen, reject the call immediately, and quietly leave the apartment.

Curiosity often pulled me toward the window.

From there, I would secretly watch him standing outside, smiling brightly as he talked to someone on thephone.

The happiness on his face disappeared the moment he returned home.

As soon as he stepped inside and looked at me, his smile faded completely.

He barely spoke.

Instead, he buried himself in his mobile phone, while I sat silently beside him, wondering where I had gone wrong.

Days passed like this.

My sister returned from work and stayed in her room.

Waqar returned from work and ignored me.

And I...

I silently carried the weight of loneliness.

Chapter 9 – The Price of Silence (Part 2)

One afternoon, I wasn’t feeling well.

My body felt unusually weak, and I couldn’t understand what was happening to me. My lips had turned pale and dark, and I could barely stand.

When my sister returned home from work, I opened the door for her.

The moment she looked at me, the smile on her face disappeared.

“What happened?” she asked with concern. “Are you feeling alright?”

I forced a faint smile and shook my head.

“I don’t know. I just don’t feel well.”

She didn’t waste another second.

“Get ready. We’re going to the doctor.”

I lowered my eyes.

“I don’t have any money.”

Those words were heavier than I could explain.

I had already sold my earrings while shifting into the apartment. The only thing I still had was the necklacefrom the same gold set.

That necklace carried memories of my father.

It was the last valuable gift that remained with me.

Holding it in my hands, I stood silently for a long moment before making another painful decision.

I sold it.

It felt as though I was letting go of the final piece of my father’s love.

With that money, we went to the hospital.

The doctor examined me carefully before asking,

“Is your baby moving?”

I hesitated before answering.

“No... I haven’t felt much movement.”

The doctor’s expression changed immediately.

“You’re already seven months pregnant,” she said seriously. “By now, your baby should be moving regularly.”

Several tests were performed.

The wait felt endless.

When the reports finally arrived, the doctor looked at me with concern.

“Your baby is becoming weak.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“The baby’s energy is dropping,” she continued gently. “You need proper nutrition immediately. Eat healthy food, rest as much as possible, and avoid stress.”

I couldn’t say a single word.

The doctor sighed before speaking again.

“If parents aren’t prepared to take care of their child, why bring one into this world?”

Her words pierced straight through my heart.

She didn’t know my circumstances.

She didn’t know that I wanted nothing more than to protect my baby.

If I could have given my child my own strength, I would have done it without hesitation.

She prescribed medicines and gave me strict instructions to take care of myself.

I quietly accepted the prescription and left the hospital.

From that day onward, I stopped thinking about myself.

Every prayer...

Every meal...

Every heartbeat...

Everything became about my baby.

I promised myself that no matter what happened, I would protect my child with everything I had.

A month passed.

My eighth month of pregnancy began.

Around the same time, a heated argument broke out between two of my brothers.

It was a family matter, but somehow the news reached Waqar.

The next morning, my brother repeatedly called my phone because he needed to discuss some work with Waqar. He had also tried calling Waqar directly, but Waqar refused to answer.

I looked at him in confusion.

“Why aren’t you answering my brother’s calls?”

His face hardened.

“Your brothers have no sense of responsibility,” he replied coldly. “They know their sister is pregnant, yet they’re busy fighting among themselves and causing her unnecessary stress.”

Then he mentioned my younger sister-in-law, who was also expecting a baby.

“Look at your brother,” he continued. “He takes such good care of his wife. He brings her fresh juice every day, buys fruits for her, takes her out, and keeps her happy.”

His words cut deeper than he realized.

He admired the way my brother cared for his pregnant wife.

Yet he never noticed...

that I was carrying his own child.

That I had nearly lost my baby because of stress, exhaustion, and poor nutrition.

I looked at him with tears gathering in my eyes.

“So... you’re worried about her,” I whispered, “but not about me?”

The moment those words left my lips...

his anger exploded.

He shouted at me so harshly that I couldn’t stop crying.

That entire night, I sat alone on the apartment balcony.

The city lights shimmered in the distance while tears silently rolled down my cheeks.

I kept asking myself the same question over and over again.

Where had I gone wrong?

Had I asked life for too much?

All I had ever wanted...

was love,

respect,

and a peaceful home.

But somehow...

those simple dreams felt more impossible with every passing day.

Chapter 9 – The Price of Silence (Part 3)

The holy month of Ramadan arrived.

By then, I was in the final weeks of my eighth month of pregnancy. My doctor had strictly advised me not to fast because my body was already weak, and my baby needed proper nutrition.

So, although it saddened me, I followed her advice.

Waqar, however, was observing his fast.

One morning I asked him gently,

“Appa is off from work today. We were thinking of going to the market to buy some curtains for our room. Is it alright if I go with her?”

He nodded without looking at me.

“You can go, but come back quickly.”

I smiled faintly.

“Alright.”

That morning, Appa and I finished the household chores before leaving. By the time we reached the market, it was already around half past twelve.

There were many things to buy.

I wanted simple curtains to make our room feel a little warmer and more welcoming. Appa also needed to purchase a few household items, so we moved from one shop to another.

Time passed without either of us realizing it.

When we finally returned home, it was around 2:30 p.m.

What I didn’t know was that Waqar had come home around 1:00 p.m. during his break.

He had his own key, so he unlocked the apartment, found it empty, and left without waiting.

I had no idea he had even been there.

That evening, after returning from work, he looked at me and asked,

“What time did you come home?”

Thinking he might get angry if I told him the exact time, I answered nervously,

“Around one... maybe one-thirty.”

He stared at me.

“You’re lying.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“I came home at one o’clock. You weren’t here.”

I lowered my head.

“I’m sorry... I thought you would get upset if I told you we got late.”

Instead of calming down, his anger exploded.

He accused me of lying.

Before I could explain anything, he struck me.

The blow was so violent that blood filled my mouth.

For a moment, I couldn’t even understand what had happened.

I touched my lips with trembling fingers and saw blood on my hand.

Everything around me blurred.

The pain inside my heart was even greater than the pain on my face.

In that moment of despair, I completely lost control.

I picked up a knife.

I didn’t want to hurt anyone else.

I simply wanted the unbearable pain inside me to end.

Before I could do anything, Waqar rushed forward and grabbed my wrist.

He pulled the knife away from me and threw it across the room.

Then he forced me to sit down on the bed.

The room fell into complete silence.

He didn’t apologize.

He didn’t ask whether I was hurt.

He didn’t even look at the blood on my face.

After a few moments, he walked away as though nothing had happened.

I sat there alone.

Quietly, I cleaned my own wounds.

No one knew how much I was hurting.

No one knew how frightened I was for the tiny life growing inside me.

Waqar often complained about my sister.

He believed she was the reason our marriage was falling apart.

But I knew the truth.

She had never interfered in our relationship.

She had never asked him for money.

She had never disrespected him.

The misunderstanding had begun because one of Waqar’s sisters had convinced him that my elder sister was ruining our married life.

Those words slowly poisoned his thoughts until he believed them completely.

No matter how much I tried to explain the truth, nothing changed.

Every conversation ended with silence...

or another argument.

As the days passed, my delivery date came closer.

Despite everything that had happened, I held on to one hope.

Soon...

I would finally meet my baby.

And perhaps, when that little soul entered our lives...

everything else would change.

I prayed with all my heart that my child would become the light that brought peace back into our broken home.

Chapter 10: A Home Divided

Waqar grabbed me, threw the broom aside, and dragged me into the room. He made me sit down, but he never even apologized. I cleaned and treated my own wounds myself.

Waqar always complained about my elder sister, even though she had never asked him for anything or spoken badly to him. She was a single mother who worked tirelessly to raise her son on her own.

The real problems began because of Waqar’s family. He had seven sisters, and they were extremely close. They frequently organized gatherings, spent generously on one another, and whenever they visited their mother’s house, they stayed for nearly fifteen days. They brought countless gifts, and Waqar’s mother always prepared special meals just for them. It wasn’t that everyone ate the same food—his sisters always received special treatment.

Gradually, they began poisoning Waqar’s mind. They convinced him that I would spend all of his money on my sister. They even told him that my sister, Sidra, was brainwashing me against him.

From then on, Waqar’s behavior changed completely. Every day, he emotionally tortured me with new accusations. To avoid creating more conflict, I stopped talking to my sister altogether. It broke my heart because I knew she had never spoken against him or interfered in our marriage. Yet Waqar believed every word his family told him.

Then the time for my delivery arrived.

One day, I was cooking lunch at home. The food was on the stove when I suddenly felt extremely weak. I went into the bedroom to lie down, but within moments my condition worsened. I immediately called Waqar, who was at work. He informed his sister-in-law, and soon Usman Bhai, my sister, my sister-in-law, and Waqar rushed me to the hospital.

The pain was unbearable, but it was also the day I had been waiting for with all my heart.

After hours of labor, my wait finally came to an end.

My beautiful baby boy was born.

The moment I saw him, every bit of pain disappeared. He was incredibly beautiful, with fair skin and large, bright eyes. Since I had a normal delivery, we were discharged from the hospital just three hours later and returned home.

After bringing us home, Waqar went to tell his mother the good news.

Once we arrived home, my brother reminded Waqar that the doctor had prescribed medicines for me and asked him to buy them.

Waqar simply replied, “I don’t have any money.”

Without hesitation, my brother and my sister pooled their money together and bought all the medicines.

Soon, another problem arose.

I was unable to produce breast milk. When we consulted the doctor, she explained that it was most likely

due to poor nutrition or severe emotional stress. Because my milk had dried up, my newborn son had to be fed formula milk.

Sadly, none of this seemed to matter to Waqar’s family.

A few days later, Waqar’s mother and two of his sisters came to see the baby. Instead of congratulating me, they began criticizing my family.

They repeatedly said, “You still live with your sister. Because of her, you and Waqar can never have your own life.”

I calmly explained that my sister had her own responsibilities and her own household, but they ignored everything I said. They continued planting the same ideas in Waqar’s mind, insisting that we should move into a separate rented house.

Eventually, they left, but Waqar began spending more and more time at his parents’ home.

He had taken only three days off after our son’s birth, yet he spent almost all of those days with his own family instead of helping me or caring for our newborn.

Five days passed, and our son still had not been given a name.

On the sixth day, Waqar started another argument.

He angrily said, “Your sister is a very unlucky woman.”

I could not stay silent.

“How can you say that?” I replied. “She is older than me, and she even helped pay for my delivery.”

Waqar answered, “I only stayed with your family so I could see what kind of people you really are. My family was right all along. You people are not good.”

His words shattered me.

I finally replied, “If you want to go back to your wonderful family, then you are free to leave.”

It seemed as though he had been waiting for those words.

Without hesitation, he packed his belongings. Before leaving, he took not only his salary but also every envelope of money that my family had gifted to our newborn son, Jawad.

Then he walked away.

After he left, I cried endlessly.

When my brother saw my condition, he and my sister comforted me.

“Don’t worry,” they said. “We are with you.”

Waqar stayed away for seven long months.

Later, my brother went to speak with his family.

One of Waqar’s sisters said mockingly, “Good. She separated our brother from us, and now her own son has been separated from his father.”

My brother replied firmly, “Your way of thinking is truly shameful.”

They answered, “Tell your sister to get a job. My brother cannot afford to maintain a separate rented house by himself.”

My brother reminded them that I had just given birth and was caring for a newborn baby.

Their response was cold.

“So what?” one of them replied. “I had to work too.”

Eventually, Waqar came back and took me to a separate rented house. Ironically, the house had been chosen by one of his sisters.

When I left, my own sister was once again left alone with her young son.

Life in our new home was extremely difficult.

I started working to help support our household. During the day, my sister-in-law looked after Jawad because she and my brother had no children of their own. From the day he was born, they loved him as if he were their own son. My brother loved him just as deeply.

Every evening after work, I picked up Jawad, bought groceries on my way home, then cooked, cleaned, cared for my baby, and managed every household responsibility by myself.

The house had almost no basic facilities. I often felt that my in-laws had deliberately chosen an old, run-down place for us.

Still, I endured everything.

One day, Waqar’s niece visited our home. She said, “While you were at work, your brother came here.”

I smiled gently and replied, “No, dear. I think you’ve misunderstood. I was at work, and Jawad was with my sister-in-law. Why would my brother come here? Besides, I had the only key to the house.”

She seemed satisfied with my explanation.

However, somehow the story reached Waqar.

He never wanted my family to visit me or even meet me. In his mind, they were only acceptable when they were looking after our son.

When Waqar confronted me, I immediately said, “That isn’t true. It’s a lie.”

But Waqar refused to believe me.

Chapter 11: The Walls Closed In

“But Waqar refused to believe me.”

Instead, he looked at me with anger and said, “My niece would never lie. I know your family. They will never stop interfering in our lives.”

I tried once again to explain everything.

“Please listen to me. I was at work that day, and Jawad was with my sister-in-law. My brother had no reason to come here. Besides, the house was locked, and I had the only key.”

But my words meant nothing to him.

From that day onward, he became even more suspicious. He questioned every phone call, every visit, and every conversation I had with my family. It felt as if I was living under constant surveillance.

Whenever I mentioned my brother or sister, Waqar would become irritated. He would say, “Your family is the reason our marriage is falling apart.”

Deep inside, I knew that wasn’t true.

My family had only supported us whenever we needed help. They had paid for my

medicines after my delivery. They had cared for Jawad when I had no choice but to work. They had never asked Waqar for money or any favors. Instead of appreciating them, he treated them as if they were his enemies.

Life became exhausting.

Every morning, I woke up before sunrise. I prepared breakfast, cleaned the house, washed the clothes, and got ready for work. After finishing my job, I would buy groceries on my way home, collect Jawad from my sister-in-law, prepare dinner, and complete the rest of the household chores.

By the time I lay down at night, I was physically and emotionally drained.

Still, I never complained.

I believed that if I remained patient, one day everything would get better.

Unfortunately, I was wrong.

Waqar’s family continued to interfere in our marriage. They called him almost every day, filling his mind with new doubts and accusations. Every small misunderstanding became another reason for an argument.

Instead of trusting his wife, Waqar trusted everyone else.

Sometimes he would come home angry without saying a word. Other times, he would accuse me of things I had never done.

No matter how much I explained, he refused to listen.

The peace I had dreamed of after moving into our own home never came.

One evening, after returning from work, I found Waqar sitting silently in the room.

His expression was cold.

Without looking at me, he asked, “Where were you?”

“I came straight from work,” I answered.

“Are you sure?”

His question shocked me.

“What do you mean?”

“I heard you’ve been meeting your family behind my back.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Who told you that?”

He ignored my question.

“I don’t want your brother or your sister coming anywhere near this house.”

I took a deep breath and replied calmly, “They have never tried to interfere in our lives. They only helped us when we had no one else.”

Instead of understanding, he became even angrier.

“You always defend your family.”

“And you always believe yours,” I answered quietly.

For a few moments, complete silence filled the room.

I knew that whatever I said would only make things worse.

So I stayed quiet.

That night, after Waqar fell asleep, I sat beside my little son.

Jawad was sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of the tension surrounding him.

I gently held his tiny hand and silently prayed.

“I don’t know what my future holds, but please, God, protect my son. Give him a life

filled with love, respect, and peace—the life I always wished for but never had.”

As I wiped away my tears, I made a promise to myself.

No matter how difficult life became, I would never stop fighting for my son’s future.

He deserved a childhood filled with happiness, not the pain his parents were living through.

And for him...

I would endure anything.

Chapter 12: The Night Everything Changed

Waqar looked at me with hatred in his eyes and said, “It seems my niece was telling the truth. You’re the liar. Your entire family is full of liars.”

His words pierced my heart, but what happened next was even worse.

He crossed every limit.

He began insulting my parents, using abusive language against my mother and father.

I pleaded with him, “Please... don’t drag my parents into this.”

Instead of stopping, he took off his belt and shouted, “I’ll say whatever I want!”

Then he started beating me mercilessly.

It was around 2:30 in the morning.

His shouting attracted the neighbors, and before long, the entire neighborhood had gathered outside our house.

He kept hitting me with the belt without showing a trace of mercy.

Jawad, who was only nine months old, woke up crying. Terrified by the noise, he rolled

off the bed and fell onto the floor.

The moment I saw him fall, I rushed toward him.

As I bent down to pick him up, Waqar struck my back repeatedly with the belt.

Ignoring my own pain, I held my crying baby tightly in my arms.

Finally, I managed to snatch the belt from his hands.

Looking straight into his eyes, I said, “You need psychiatric help. It is impossible to live with someone like you.”

My words only made him angrier.

He threw all of my belongings outside and shouted, “Get out of my house!”

At 2:30 in the morning, carrying my nine-month-old son in my arms, I walked out of that house on foot.

Not once did he stop to think about where I would go at that hour or how I would protect our baby.

I somehow reached my parents’ home.

When my family saw my condition, they immediately took me to the hospital.

The doctor carefully examined my injuries before saying, “This is a police case.”

But my brothers chose not to take legal action.

Instead, they brought me home, where I stayed with my parents.

Eight months later, Waqar returned with several relatives to reconcile.

Everyone kept saying the same thing.

“Give him one more chance.”

“With time, everything will be fine.”

Deep down, my heart told me that nothing would ever change.

But I looked at my little son.

I wanted him to grow up with both parents.

At my brothers’ request, I agreed to return.

For the next three years, I did everything possible to save my marriage.

I worked outside the home, looked after Jawad, managed the entire household, and cared for Waqar in every possible way.

Before he woke up each morning, I ironed his clothes.

By the time he finished showering, his breakfast was already waiting on the table.

Every evening, before he returned from work, I completed all the household chores and prepared dinner on time.

I never demanded expensive clothes.

I never asked for jewelry.

I never insisted on vacations or gifts.

My entire world revolved around one person—my son, Jawad.

Even today, I often ask myself:

What more does a woman have to do to become a good wife?

No matter how hard I tried, happiness never stayed in my life for long.

It was like unexpected rain during a clear season.

Without warning, dark clouds would gather, and another storm would begin.

One day, we attended a family dinner at my sister-in-law’s house.

On the way home, I noticed that Waqar had become unusually quiet.

I tried several times to ask what was wrong, but he refused to answer.

For days, he barely spoke to me.

Yet he expected me to continue doing everything for him.

I cooked, cleaned, cared for our son, and fulfilled all of his needs.

Once he had what he wanted, he would simply turn his back and go to sleep without saying a single word.

Then one day, I developed a high fever.

Despite feeling terribly ill, I somehow managed to cook dinner.

When Waqar came home, he simply said, “Go and get your medicine.”

He never offered to take me.

Instead, I had to walk alone with four-year-old Jawad to buy my medicine.

When I returned home, Waqar suddenly announced, “Jawad isn’t going to school anymore.”

I was shocked.

“Why?” I asked.

Instead of answering, he shouted, “Don’t question me!”

I pleaded with him.

“Whatever problem you have with me, please don’t stop Jawad’s education.”

Rather than explaining his decision, he once again began insulting my parents and my family.

I pointed my finger toward him and said firmly, “Please don’t speak about my parents like that.”

In an instant, he grabbed my finger and twisted it backward.

I screamed in pain.

Trying to protect myself, I pushed him away and cried, “You need psychiatric treatment!”

His rage exploded.

He seized all of my fingers in both of his hands and twisted them violently.

I cried and begged him to stop.

Instead, he grabbed my hair and dragged me across the room.

Jawad stood nearby, crying helplessly as he watched his mother being beaten.

When Waqar finally stopped, I collapsed from exhaustion.

That night, I didn’t leave the house.

The next morning, my fingers were badly swollen.

They had become so stiff that I couldn’t even bend them.

The pain was unbearable.

My fever had become even worse.

I was too weak to prepare breakfast.

Instead of showing concern, Waqar called my family and said coldly,

“Come and take her away.”

When my brother arrived and saw my condition, he could not control his anger.

For the first time, he raised his hand at Waqar.

Then he turned to me and said,

“Pack your things. You’re coming home.”

As I packed Jawad’s belongings, I picked up his packet of milk.

Waqar immediately snatched it from my hands.

Looking directly at me, he said,

“My money isn’t earned to feed you for free.”

Those words shattered something deep inside me.

He could insult me.

He could hurt me.

But hearing him speak that way about our innocent child broke my heart completely.

Jawad wasn’t only my son.

He was Waqar’s son too.

Parents are willing to sacrifice their lives for their children.

Yet standing before me was a father who wouldn’t even let his own child take a packet of milk.

My own father couldn’t bear to see tears in my eyes.

Thinking of that made me cry even harder.

Holding Jawad close, I left with my brothers and returned to my parents’ home once again.

Seven years have passed since that day.

Life has never been easy.

I worked tirelessly in a company to raise Jawad on my own.

Although I never stopped Waqar from meeting his son, he often disappointed him.

Sometimes he would take Jawad to stay with him for a few weeks.

Just when my son became attached again, Waqar would suddenly cancel his plans, claiming he was too busy whenever Jawad called.

One day, Jawad’s schoolteacher asked me,

“Where is Jawad’s father?”

I quietly replied,

“We are separated.”

She looked at me gently and said,

“He needs his father.”

I asked, “Did something happen?”

She nodded.

“Yesterday I told the children that if they kept misbehaving, I would call their fathers.”

The moment I said that, Jawad burst into tears.”

Later, I asked my son what had happened.

With tears streaming down his innocent face, he whispered,

“But... I don’t have a father.”

I stood there speechless.

How could I explain to a child that his father not only lived apart from him but also

Chapter 13: A Mother’s Victory

When I asked Waqar to complete Jawad’s B-Form, he placed a condition before me.

“First,” he said, “write on a plain piece of paper that you want a divorce. Get your brothers to sign it. Only then will I apply for Jawad’s B-Form.”

I looked at him in disbelief.

“If that’s what you want,” I replied, “then why don’t you divorce me yourself?”

He answered without hesitation.

“No. I will never divorce you.”

I couldn’t understand his thinking. He refused to give me a divorce, yet he also refused to help our son. It felt as though he was using Jawad’s future to control my life.

When I realized there was no other option, I gathered my courage and sought justice through the courts.

I filed a legal case against Waqar.

The case was never about revenge.

It was about my son’s future.

Under Pakistani law, a child needs a B-Form to continue his education and to obtain important legal documents later in life, including a national identity card. Without it, many educational and professional opportunities become difficult or even impossible.

Waqar refused to cooperate. He knew that the process depended on the legal status of our marriage and the necessary documentation, yet he still chose not to help.

His refusal was not hurting me alone.

It was putting our innocent son’s future at risk.

Before taking legal action, I tried many times to convince him.

I reminded him that Jawad had done nothing wrong.

I begged him to think like a father.

But every conversation ended the same way.

He refused.

That was the day I made one of the hardest decisions of my life.

I told myself,

“I can forgive everything he did to me. I can let go of my own rights. But I will never sacrifice my son’s future.”

With faith in Allah and determination in my heart, I continued the legal battle.

Today, Jawad is twelve years old.

By the grace of Allah, my patience was finally rewarded.

I won the case.

The Pakistani court granted me legal guardianship of my son, allowing me to complete the documentation needed for his future, including obtaining his B-Form.

It was one of the happiest moments of my life.

For the first time in many years, I felt that justice had finally found its way to us.

Throughout these years, I did everything I could to ensure that Jawad never felt deprived because of his father’s absence.

I became both his mother and his strongest source of support.

Today, I work hard to build a secure future for him. I continue to develop my skills and work in data entry through online platforms such as Upwork and LinkedIn while striving to create a better life for my son.

The journey has never been easy.

There were nights filled with tears, days filled with exhaustion, and moments when I questioned whether I was strong enough to continue.

But every time I looked into Jawad’s eyes, I found the strength to keep moving forward.

Even today, I sometimes feel that every woman naturally wishes for a caring life partner.

But as a mother, I have learned something even greater.

A mother carries the strength of an entire family within herself.

She becomes comfort, protection, hope, and courage all at once.

I still have not taken a formal divorce from Waqar.

Life simply continued in its own way.

Many members of my family encouraged me to divorce him and remarry.

They wanted me to begin a new chapter of my life.

Perhaps they were right.

But healing a wounded heart is never as simple as making a decision.

The truth is that I still carry love for the man I once married.

That love will probably always remain somewhere in my heart—not because I accept what happened, but because love does not always disappear simply because someone hurts us.

However, I have learned one lesson that I want every woman to remember:

Loving someone never means accepting injustice.

Love should never require a person to tolerate abuse, humiliation, or violence.

Respect is just as important as love.

I once built my life around a dream.

I believed that dream would bring me happiness.

Instead, both my dream and my hope were shattered.

During the most difficult days of my life, I also discovered that hardship reveals people’s true faces.

Some people who stand beside us during moments of comfort quietly disappear when life becomes difficult.

By the time I understood that lesson, I had already learned how to stand on my own.

And perhaps that was my greatest victory.

A Message to Every Girl

Never place all your hope in another human being.

Place your trust first in Allah.

He never abandons those who sincerely place their faith in Him.

Never think of yourself as weak.

Your strength is far greater than you realize.

Marriage can be one of life’s greatest blessings, but it should never become the only

purpose of your life or the only source of your happiness.

Not every husband is like Waqar.

My own father was a wonderful husband. After my mother passed away, he never truly recovered from losing her, and before long, he also left this world. Watching their love taught me that beautiful marriages do exist.

So never lose faith in goodness.

Just remember that your dignity, self-respect, and relationship with Allah should always come before everything else.

Build your education.

Build your skills.

Build your confidence.

And most importantly, build a life in which you can stand on your own feet, no matter what challenges come your way.

As Allama Iqbal beautifully said: