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"Sit still," he commanded sternly, his voice low and deep like a calm river with currents she couldn't see "I said we need to have a talk."

Jadwa swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to her hands as they anxiously twisted the delicate lace trim of her dress. Her fingers moved restlessly, betraying the storm of nerves that churned beneath her composed exterior. She didn't dare look up, the weight of his gaze pressing on her like a physical force.

Imran, turned away briefly, exhaling as if to gather himself. He picked up a soft throw blanket and draped it gently over her. His movements were careful, tender. "I'm getting too distracted," he muttered, almost to himself, as if fighting some inner battle. Jadwa bit down on her lip, anticipating the moment when his words would cut through the fragile silence between them.

"Are you traveling again?" she asked suddenly, her voice wavering. The question was a feeble attempt to steer the conversation away. She already knew he was leaving soon, but she hoped bringing it up might delay the confrontation she could feel brewing.

Imran's dark eyes locked onto hers, searching. "Yes, just as planned. But that's not what I want to talk about." His voice was calm, yet it held a note of finality that made her throat tighten. The confirmation sent her heart into overdrive, a wild drumming that she was sure he could hear. She forced a small nod, willing herself to keep her composure, to steady the tremor in her hands.

Imran's eyes lingered on her. He noticed how her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, the quiet nervousness in her eyes, the way her eyelids seemed to close slower than usual, the slight dilation of her pupils but he immediately shook his head, trying to refocus. This is my wife, not some intelligence case I was trained to analyze. But still, something felt off, there was something she wasn't telling him.

"Are you genuinely okay?" he asked, his tone softening as he reached out to take her hand. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through her, almost breaking her resolve.

Jadwa met his eyes briefly, forcing herself to smile. "I am, baby. Why do you ask?" She tried to infuse her voice with casualness, and thankfully it worked.

Imran hesitated, remembering the period tracker he'd seen earlier. It showed her period was due in a few days, and he knew well enough how irritable she got before it started last time. The last time, she'd been in such severe pain that he had postponed his travel just to stay with her until it subsided.

"How is Uncle Hafiz's health?" he asked, probing for any other possible source of her distress. "Is everything okay with the family?"

"Yes," she responded, her smile wide, a performance just convincing enough. "Everything is fine," she added, nestling further into the blanket like it could shield her from his questions.

"Hmm." Imran didn't seem satisfied. "Are you having those cramps again? Should we see a gynecologist?"

Jadwa's heart clenched at the mention of a doctor. Her mind raced back to that day, the day she was supposed to get her period but instead felt a different kind of cramping. The realization had hit her like a thunderbolt, it wasn't her period it was implantation cramps, not menstrual ones.. Her stomach twisted in knots as she remembered the lie she is living. She hadn't bled that month, and she hadn't told him.

Her fingers went cold, and she looked away, pretending to fix the blanket, her pulse a frantic beat against her throat. "No, baby, it's just the usual stress," she lied, each word heavy on her tongue, tasting bitter like betrayal. She couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes, terrified he'd see the truth lurking in her gaze.

Imran's brows furrowed as he watched her. "Hey," he said softly, leaning in and brushing his fingers against her cheek, "there's no need to be shy with me, okay?" He gave her that gentle smile that used to be her safe harbor, but now it felt like an interrogation light.

Jadwa nodded mutely, burrowing deeper into him as if his embrace could absorb her secrets. "We can switch the birth control to something else if it's bothering you," he offered, genuinely concerned. He hated seeing her like this, her usual spark dimmed by something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

He saw the clear side effects of the birth control pills on her seeing how her body had changed, She hadn't gained much weight but her hips had grown fuller, how her bust had become more pronounced. She was always beautiful to him, but these changes made her seem even more mature, fuller and more womanly.
But now he wondered if the pills were wreaking havoc on her in other ways he couldn't see.

The light overhead cast a warm glow on her features, her red dress slipped slightly off her shoulder, revealing a glimpse of her smooth skin. She adjusted it absently.
"Baby, I promise you, there's nothing wrong," she said, her voice softer, almost pleading. But her eyes told a different story—they were glossy, like a surface of water disturbed by an undercurrent of emotion.

"Are you sure there's nothing I need to know, habibti?" His question was gentle, yet the weight of it pressed down on her like a confession waiting to be dragged into the light.

Jadwa swallowed thickly, her throat suddenly dry. "No, baby," she lied again, hating how easily the falsehood slipped from her lips. "I'm just really stressed with my project," she added hastily, throwing in the half-truth like a lifeline to distract him from the bigger secret she was harboring. She knew it was cowardly, but right now, she couldn't face the consequences of the truth.

"Sit up," he instructed softly, with a sigh of relief at her opening up while she obeyed, turning to face him. His eyes were searching, digging, as if he could pull the truth out of her by sheer will. "And what about your project? What's been stressing you out?"

"I don't like my supervisor," she said quickly, relief washing over her as she latched onto this safer topic. "I hate her so much, I can't stand her!!!"

Imran's shoulders relaxed, a small smile tugging at his lips. "What did she do?" he asked, his tone lightening as the tension between them eased.

"She's made me change my topic three times!" Jadwa burst out, her frustration spilling over. "She keeps saying she's too busy to review complex topics and wants me to pick something easier, like everyone else. And then Jadwa raised her hands to make a dramatic quote gesture as her face twisted in a mocking expression—"'all these baturai always want to do too much.'"

Imran chuckled, unable to resist the contagious energy of her indignation, and she shot him a mock glare.

"How dare she?" he teased, quickly regaining a serious tone. "Sometimes, lecturers here are just incompetent and lazy."

"I know, right?" she pouted, feeling a small sense of victory in shifting the conversation away from dangerous waters.

"I'll handle it," he promised, his tone reassuring. The relief that spread across her face was so genuine it almost made him forget the shadow that had lingered there moments ago. Jadwa beamed and flung herself into his lap, a cascade of giggles breaking the tension like sunlight piercing through clouds.

"Oh, I know you will," she murmured, her voice turning husky as she pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat. "But for now, let me handle you," she whispered, the guilt momentarily forgotten as desire took over.

Imran's breath hitched, his hands finding their way around her waist, his grip firm and possessive. He guided her face up to his, his eyes darkening with desire before he crushed his lips to hers in a hungry kiss that was both desperate and claiming. Jadwa melted into him, giving herself over to completely.

•••

The next morning, Jadwa woke to the faint sound of cleaning in the living room. She knew it must be Jessica tidying up. Her eyelids fluttered open slowly, and she groggily reached for her phone. A glance at the screen revealed it was already past noon. She groaned softly, disappointed by how long she oversleeps since she found out about the life inside of her.

As she sat up, a wave of nausea swept over her, not the kind that made her rush to the bathroom, but a persistent queasiness that left a strange taste in her mouth. She swallowed hard, relieved that at least she wasn't vomiting. If she had been, Imran would have immediately known something was up, and she wasn't ready for that.

Shaking off the lingering queasiness, she unlocked her phone and found a message from Imran: he had gone to the office and would be back later in the evening. Smiling, she quickly responded with a wish for him to have a great day.

With a deep breath, she stretched, trying to shake off the sluggishness still clinging to her limbs. She hopped off the bed and headed for a long, steaming shower, hoping it would wash away the remnants of her lingering fatigue and the unsettling nausea. The warm water cascading over her helped ease the discomfort, and she closed her eyes, savoring the moment of solitude.

Fresh out of the shower, her skin still warm from the heat, Jadwa picked up her phone again before stepping into the closet. She dialed Imran's number, put it on speaker, and took her ginger shot while waiting for him to pick up. On the fourth ring, his soft, familiar voice came through.

"Gentlemen, excuse me, my wife is on the phone," he said, and a smile crept up her face.
"Hey, babe," he greeted her warmly.

"Habiby, am I interrupting?" she asked, sliding hangers aside in search of something suitable to wear.

"No, never," he reassured her. "I'm just in a board meeting."

She gasped, feeling a rush of guilt. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I just called to tell you I got an email from the HOD this morning. I need to go to school," she explained, aware that he had already intervened to change her supervisor.

"Yes, I know," he said smoothly. "You should get going. The driver is at home, ready for you."

"Thank you so much, habiby," she said sincerely, her voice softening. "You're my lifesaver. I'm loving this privilege you're giving me."

He chuckled lightly. "You're welcome."

"I can drive myself, though," she offered, knowing full well what his response would be.

"Let him drop you off, and I'll come get you myself later," he insisted firmly.

Recognizing it was pointless to argue, she conceded. "Alright, babe. Thank you."

"You're welcome. And before you leave, send me the topics to review," he reminded her.

"Okay, I will," she assured him, ending the call.

Jadwa chose a white, long-sleeve, ankle-length sundress adorned with tiny blue flowers. She tied her hair in a neat low bun and draped a white veil over her head. A spritz of light vanilla perfume and a pair of comfortable sandals completed her look.

Downstairs, the aroma of spices filled the air as she requested a very spicy bowl of noodles from the cook. While waiting, she opened her laptop, quickly forwarded her thesis topics to Imran, and added a few extra options for good measure. She used the remaining time to submit assignments for various lectures, her fingers flying across the keyboard, and indulged in a quick TikTok scroll until Jessica appeared with a steaming bowl of spicy noodle soup.

Jadwa ate in silence, savoring each bite, and washed it down with her favorite flavored water. Ready to go, she gathered her things, greeted a few lingering staff members and the gardener, then slid into the backseat of the car. The driver, Malam Bashir, nodded respectfully as they set off towards the university.

Upon arrival at the faculty parking lot, Jadwa slipped on her sunglasses and turned to the driver. "You don't have to wait, Malam Bashir. You can even close for the day if you head back now."

"Alright, madam. Have a good day," he responded, tipping his cap before driving off.

As she entered the faculty building, the cool air enveloped her, a welcome contrast to the scorching heat outside. She made her way to the lift, grateful it was empty, and headed straight for the HOD's office. Knocking softly, she stepped inside, greeted by the secretary that led her straight to him.

"Good evening, Sir," she greeted the elderly man behind the desk.

"Good evening, Mrs. Muhammad?" he inquired, a warm smile lighting up his face.

"Yes," she confirmed with a polite smile, taking the seat he offered.

"It's great to have you here," he said kindly. The secretary entered with an assortment of teas, which Jadwa thanked her for before she left.

"How are you doing?" he asked, settling back into his chair.

"Very well, sir. I hope you're well too," she responded.

"Alhamdulillah," he replied. "Now, let's get straight to it. I received a call from the Vice Chancellor this morning, and I want to apologize for any misconduct you may have experienced from our staff."

Jadwa's heart sank; she felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. Imran's influence was powerful, and sometimes, overwhelming. "Oh, there's no need for an apology, sir. I'm already grateful for this," she managed to say.

"From now on, I will be your supervisor, and Mrs. Zainab will personally apologize to you," he concluded with finality.

"Thank you so much, but truly, there's no need for that," she insisted, though she knew it was a lost cause.

"Please submit all your topics for approval by tomorrow morning and start working on them before your final exams," he advised.

"I will, In Shaa Allah. Thank you very much," she promised. They spent the next few minutes discussing her interests, with the HOD providing valuable guidance on which topics would be most suitable.

Stepping out of the office, she immediately called Imran.

"Baby," his voice came through the line.

"Naam," she answered softly.

"Are you done?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm done," she replied.

"Okay, I'm already on my way. Give me just a few minutes," he said, sounding eager.

"Alright, no rush. I'll be waiting," she assured him.

She settled into a chair outside the faculty building, the evening air cool against her skin. True to his word, less than five minutes later, she spotted his car pulling into the parking lot. Her heart lifted at the sight, and she got up, walking towards him.

Imran stepped out, striding over to meet her halfway. She embraced him, her arms wrapping around his waist. "You really don't play when it comes to your wife," she teased, looking up at him with a grin.

"Who would dare play about you?" he replied, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Thank you so much, Albi," she said, stepping back from the hug.

"You're welcome. Let's go; it's almost time for Maghrib," he said, gently guiding her to the car. He opened the door for her, always the gentleman.

Once inside, she leaned her head on his arm, planting a quick kiss on the muscle there. He responded by kissing the top of her head before starting the car. They drove in a peaceful silence, the recitation of the Quran filling the car until a call from Ibrahim interrupted the tranquility.

"Can I pick this up, Mama?" he asked, his voice soft yet clear. Jadwa swore that nickname was like peeling away her armor, stripping her of the layers she carefully wore. She looked away quickly, nodding to hide the sudden rush of emotion.

"Of course," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper as she pulled him closer, as if afraid to let him go.

She listened to him chat away on the phone, his voice a low, comforting murmur. He spoke of plans and projects she couldn't quite piece together, but the mention of his work trip stood out. The moment he hung up, she tilted her head, her eyes seeking his. He met her gaze briefly before focusing back on the road.

"Two weeks? Really?" she asked, leaning into his warmth, seeking comfort.

"Yes, sweetheart," he answered softly, his tone gentle, as if trying to soften the blow. "I'll have Anaya and Rahma stay with you," he added, almost as an afterthought. She let out a dramatic huff.

"I'm not a baby," she protested, laughter bubbling up despite herself.

Imran burst out laughing, his joy contagious. She wrinkled her nose at him, feigning irritation. "Seriously, I don't want my sisters-in-law thinking I become a sobbing mess when their brother is not around," she said with all seriousness.

"So, it's our little secret?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. She nodded eagerly, a conspiratorial grin spreading across her face.

"Did you tell anyone?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

He kept laughing, shaking his head. "No, no, no," he insisted, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I didn't, I promise." The crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened, his gaze glowing under the streetlights.

"Better," she said, her tone mock-serious. He instantly mimed zipping his lips as they turned onto their street.

"What do you want to eat tonight?" she asked, slipping into the comforting role she knew best.

"Remember that chicken you made when we visited Hajiya?" he asked, his eyes lighting up.

"I made a lot of chicken that day," she replied, brows furrowing in confusion.

He sighed, clearly struggling to recall. "I can't remember the name, but you made it again later and sent some to Hajiya because she loved it so much."

Realization dawned on her. "Ohhhh, that's coconut lime chicken," she said, a triumphant smile on her lips.

"Exactly! Can I have that?" His request was almost sheepish. "If it's too much trouble, I can wait until tomorrow," he added, waving it off.

She rolled her eyes. "You always do things for me, whether you're tired or not. Why can't I do the same for you?"

"Because you're a woman, my woman," he said with a teasing grin.

"Oh, please spare me," she laughed, shaking her head. "It's a simple dish, I promise."

Once they arrived home, Imran headed straight to the mosque while Jadwa went upstairs to pray. Afterward, she changed into a comfortable dress and headed to the kitchen, setting jasmine rice in the cooker. As she started preparing the coconut lime chicken, she lit a few coals and burned some bakhoor, letting the fragrant smoke drift through the house.

Feeling a craving for something zesty, she whipped up a mango salad, making her portion extra spicy. Just as she was finishing up, she heard Imran's footsteps behind her.

"It smells amazing in here," he said, rubbing his hands together in excitement.

"Does it?" she asked, her back still to him as she stirred the sauce.

He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. "I missed you so much," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper against her ear.

Jadwa smiled, feeling his warmth seep into her. She scooped up a spoonful of the sauce, blowing on it gently before turning around to offer it to him.

He released her slightly, bending down to her height to take a taste. His eyes fluttered shut, and he threw his head back dramatically. "Ugh, this is perfect!" he exclaimed, a blissful smile spreading across his face.

"Yay!" She beamed, flipping her hair playfully.

"It's not ready yet?" he asked, his voice tinged with impatience.

"Almost. Can you grab the jug from the fridge?" she instructed. He complied eagerly, and she turned off the stove, plating the food with care.

They sat down in the living room, eating quietly, though Imran couldn't stop himself from showering her with compliments.

After dinner, they settled on the couch, going over some project topics. Their brainstorming session was fruitful, and they came up with even better ideas before sending them to the HOD. They spent the rest of the evening lazing around before heading to bed.

•••

The next morning, Jadwa woke up later than usual, a habit she'd picked up in recent weeks.
Sunlight poured through the curtains, gilding the room in a soft glow, but the serene moment was short-lived. As soon as she opened her eyes, the now-familiar wave of morning sickness hit her like a tidal force. She grimaced but she was secretly relieved Imran was always out in the morning.

Dragging herself out of bed, she shuffled to the bathroom. The steam from the shower enveloped her as she let the warm water soothe her weary body. After freshening up, she slipped into her favorite pair of sweatpants and a hoodie a combination that felt like a hug on days like these. Downstairs, the kitchen smelled faintly of citrus and ginger as she juiced fresh ginger with lime, diluting it with orange juice before gulping it down, willing the nausea to ease.

The aroma of cooking wafted from the kitchen, signaling that the chef was already busy with breakfast. Trusting the task to capable hands, Jadwa made her way to Imran's home office. She found him there, headphones on and deeply engrossed in his students, his composure was calm and confident as he spoke. Smiling softly, she waved at him through the glass pane of the door before retreating back upstairs.

The next two hours passed in a time of chatter with Ammi and Baba. They spoke of everything, from the mundanities of daily life to updates on Sadiq's twins, who had become the centerpiece of the family. Just as she finished updating her mother on her own life, Hanan and Zarah's name lit up her phone, and another lively conversation began.

Mid-laughter, Jadwa noticed Imran leaning against the doorway, his smile warm and inviting. "Breakfast's ready," he announced before turning around to let finish her call. She ended the call and joined him downstairs, where the table was laden with a hearty spread of eggs, sausages, baked beans, and freshly buttered toast. They chatted animatedly, laughter punctuating their conversation as they savored the meal together.

The rest of the day unfolded in a cocoon of comfort. They lounged in bed, binge-watching Jadwa's favorite show and stealing moments to tease each other. Time seemed to stretch and compress, and before long, the inevitable hour of departure arrived.

Standing by the door, Jadwa watched the driver load Imran's suitcase into the trunk. Her chest tightened with every passing second, knowing she'd miss him more than she cared to admit. As if sensing her unspoken thoughts, Imran turned back, his eyes soft and brimming with affection. Without a word, he crossed the threshold and scooped her into a tight embrace, lifting her off the ground. She squealed in surprise, her laughter mingling with his.

"Before you know it, I'll be back, In Shaa Allah," he promised, his voice a soothing rumble against her ear.

"In Shaa Allah," she replied, giggling through the ache in her chest. "Don't worry about me, I promise I won't be sad."

He set her down gently but didn't let go, cupping her face as his lips met hers in a deep, lingering kiss. "Please don't be," he murmured, his forehead resting against hers. "Or I'll leave everything and come right back."

"Is that a threat?" she teased, her fingers brushing against his stubble.

"It's a promise," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "I'd abandon anything for you."

"Don't you dare," she chided, playfully tapping his chest. "Two weeks will pass by like a blur" she sighed "You've got over eight people depending on you, especially with Sadiq's twins. Do your job, or else!"

He chuckled, pressing a finger to her lips. "Shhh. Just let me kiss you one last time," he pleaded, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. Their lips met again, the kiss stretching into a moment she wanted to freeze forever.

"Take care of yourself," she whispered as he finally pulled away, his departure looming like a shadow over their intimacy.

"You too," he said, pointing at her with a grin as he walked toward the car. Jadwa blew him exaggerated kisses, her antics drawing a laugh from him. He climbed in, waving one last time before the car pulled away.

As the vehicle disappeared from view, her phone buzzed. His name lit up the screen, and her heart skipped. She answered immediately, her lips curving into a smile before she even spoke. They talked all the way until he boarded his flight, the distance between them softened by the warmth of their words.

The rest of the day stretched out in a haze for Jadwa, a blend of sleep and heavy silence, punctuated by the occasional thought of Imran, still two hours away from landing in Abu Dhabi. She burrowed deeper into her bed, craving the warmth of oblivion, her body pulled under into a restless doze. But her slumber was abruptly shattered by the blaring ringtone of her phone. She jolted awake, heart pounding as her eyes adjusted to the screen's glare in the dim room. It was late—too late for anyone to call. Yet there it was: Anaya's name glowing on the screen.

Clearing her throat, Jadwa answered, her voice thick with the remnants of sleep. "Hello?"

"Jadu..." The shakiness in Anaya's voice sliced through the darkness like a knife.

Instantly alert, Jadwa's eyes snapped open, and she shifted against her pillow, a chill creeping down her spine. "Na'am, lily? How are you?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. But there was no immediate answer, just the faint sound of Anaya breathing, fighting to hold herself together.

"Alhamdulillah," Anaya finally replied, her voice breaking on the last syllable. Jadwa's heart stilled. She heard Anaya inhale, trembling, before finally blurting out the words like a wound bursting open. "Jadu, we... we just lost one of the twins."

The words struck Jadwa like a slap, her heart recoiling as if it had been physically torn from her chest. She felt a shudder start in her bones, racing upward, raising every hair on her skin. Her stomach twisted, nausea clawing its way up her throat as her mind tried to grapple with the horror of it.

"What?" The single word came out choked, barely audible, her hand flying to her mouth. "Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un..." she whispered, almost in disbelief, the words falling from her lips in a chant of anguish. "Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un..." she repeated, her voice mingling with Anaya's as they both clung to the invocation, desperate for any semblance of comfort.

Jadwa felt the world tilt, her mind clawing for comprehension. "What happened, Anaya? How... when? Are you at the hospital now? Ya Salam..." She fumbled with the blankets, swinging her legs off the bed, her movements frantic, wild with the need to do something—anything.

Anaya's voice was low, barely contained, as she recounted the nightmarish series of events. "His mom noticed he had a high fever earlier; he kept crying and wasn't taking her milk. We brought him to the hospital, hoping it was something minor. But things spiraled—around Maghrib, they hooked him up to machines, and now..." Her voice cracked, and Jadwa could hear the struggle in each syllable, the effort to keep from breaking apart.

The image of a small, helpless body connected to machines lodged itself in Jadwa's mind, and her chest tightened painfully. "Where is Ya Sadiq? And Fatima... how is she?" She barely recognized her own voice, distant and detached as if it were someone else asking.

"They're home now... he's trying to calm her down. We came back an hour ago." Anaya's voice was fading, her strength eroded. "He told me to call you."

"I'm coming now, Anaya. Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un..." Jadwa forced herself to say, her voice breaking.

"Jadu, You don't need to come tonight," Anaya interrupted softly. "Let's pray for them. For her. Tomorrow morning, before the janazah, we'll meet."

The finality of her words struck Jadwa, sinking her deeper into the darkness surrounding her. Numbly, she agreed, her voice an echo she barely recognized. Anaya kept talking, but the words blurred together, distant and indistinct, until the call ended and Jadwa was left alone with the silence.

And then it hit her like a crashing wave, relentless and all-consuming. the stark, unforgiving reality of it all. The fragility of life, so delicate it felt like it could crumble under the weight of a single breath. Time, that merciless thief, slipping through her fingers no matter how tightly she tried to hold on. And death—the most brutal of all truths.

Her mind spiraled into the darkness of its possibilities. How it could rip a mother from her child's arms, leaving a void that no comfort could ever fill. Or worse, how it could wrench a child away from the mother, severing a bond so profound it defied the limits of words. The sheer thought clawed at her heart, as her hands went to her stomach, suffocating her with its cruelty.

How gruesome it was, this undeniable truth. A force that didn't discriminate, didn't pause, didn't care. It left behind shattered pieces, broken lives, and unanswered questions, demanding acceptance where none was possible. Her baby suddenly felt like a delicate thread stretched too thin, and the weight of that realization crushed her.

The room began to shrink, the walls closing in as her breath came in sharp, shallow gasps. A cold sweat prickled her skin, beads forming along her forehead. She didn't know what was wrong with her as she tried to steady herself, but her hands shook violently, her fingers curling into fists as if grasping at air. Her vision blurred, black spots dancing at the edges, her lungs clawing for oxygen that felt just out of reach. She could feel her heart pounding erratically, each beat jarring, painful, as if it were trying to tear its way out of her chest.

A painful lump built in her throat, suffocating her, but she couldn't release it. Every muscle in her body tensed, her jaw clenched so tight it ached. She felt trapped, drowning in a wave of helplessness and horror, the grief crashing over her in waves, pulling her under.

In the darkness, she clutched herself, rocking back and forth as she tried to hold herself together, her breaths jagged as desperate gasps. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to silence the storm raging within her. But there was no escape from the raw agony, the haunting reality of her life, her baby, her misery, her lies and the life that had been lost.

Jadwa remained there, cocooned in the darkness, for over an hour, trapped in her anguish, as the silence pressed down like a weight on her chest, suffocating and inescapable.

At some point, her trembling fingers found her phone, though she couldn't remember reaching for it. It felt heavy in her hands, almost foreign, like it didn't belong to her. She pressed Imran's contact, her vision blurred and unfocused as her thumb hovered over the call button, the fear shaking her as she physically trembled like a glass about to break. She didn't know what she would say, only that she needed to hear his voice, needed something to anchor her, to pull her from the relentless tide.

The phone rang, each tone stretching out endlessly, and then his voice drained but steady, filled her ear. "Jadwa?"