Ahad arrived home earlier than usual, his hand clutching a bouquet of fresh roses. The deep red of the petals matched the sharp contrast of his black suit, and his tie was slightly loosened-a sign of his long day. But he wasn't thinking about work as he walked into the living room. His focus was on Naira.

She was sitting on the couch, her legs curled beneath her, reading a book while Mina and Zara played quietly on the rug. The sight of her made something in his chest loosen, the tension of his day melting away as he stepped further into the room.

"You're home early," Naira said softly, looking up with a small smile.

Ahad held up the bouquet. "These are for you."

Her smile faltered for a moment, and her brows knitted together as she looked at the flowers. "They're beautiful," she said, taking them hesitantly.

"You don't like them," he said immediately, his voice low and laced with a hint of worry.

Her eyes widened. "No, it's not that. They're lovely, really. It's just..." She trailed off, her fingers brushing over the soft petals.

"Just what?" he pressed, crouching slightly so they were at eye level.

She sighed, glancing at the flowers again before meeting his gaze. "They'll die soon. That's what flowers do." Her voice was quiet, tinged with a sadness that took him by surprise.

Ahad frowned, his brows furrowing as he watched her. He didn't say anything for a moment, letting her words sink in. Then he straightened and gave her a small nod. "I'll fix it."

"Fix it?" she asked, confused.

He leaned down, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering for a brief moment. "You'll see."

Before she could ask more, Mina tugged at his hand, pulling him toward the blocks they had set up. He gave Naira one last glance before turning his attention to their daughters, but her words stayed with him for the rest of the evening.

The next morning, Naira found herself in the study, staring at the laptop Ahad had set up for her.

"It's yours," he had said simply the night before, brushing off her protests.

She had assumed it was just for browsing or watching something to relax, but when she logged in, she found a personalized dashboard filled with links to online courses. The subjects ranged from literature to business to creative writing.

"Did you do this?" she asked him later, finding him in the garden with the girls.

Ahad looked up from where he was helping Zara balance on a low stone wall. "You deserve to have options," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "You've spent your whole life surviving. Now it's time for you to figure out what you want."

His words hit her like a wave. For years, she had buried her own desires, focusing only on keeping her daughters safe. The idea of doing something for herself felt foreign.

"I don't know where to start," she admitted, her voice trembling slightly.

"Start wherever you want," Ahad said, setting Zara down and walking over to her. He gently rested his hand on her shoulder. "There's no rush. Whatever you decide, I'll make sure you have everything you need."

Her throat tightened, and she nodded, unable to find the words to express the gratitude swelling in her chest.

That evening, Ahad retreated to his workshop-a small room in the house that no one but him ever entered. It was where he sometimes unwound, tinkering with tools or sketching designs for things he rarely showed anyone. Tonight, he worked with a purpose.

The bouquet of roses Naira had found sad now sat on the workbench beside him. He studied the flowers carefully, their delicate structure, the folds of the petals, and the way the stems curved. Then he began to work, cutting and shaping pieces of fabric with precision, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he stitched and molded the materials into life.

By the time he was done, the fabric roses looked almost real. He reached for a small box, placing the bouquet inside with care before closing the lid.

The next afternoon, Naira was sitting on the couch with Zara curled up beside her, reading a storybook. Mina was drawing on the rug, her tongue poking out in concentration. The sound of Ahad's footsteps made them all look up.

He held out a small box, his expression unreadable. "For you," he said simply, handing it to Naira.

She opened it slowly, her breath catching when she saw the fabric flowers inside. The vibrant colors, the intricate details-they were perfect.

"They won't die," Ahad said, his voice softer now. "You don't have to worry about that."

Her lips parted, and she looked up at him, her chest tightening. "You... made these?"

He nodded, his eyes steady on hers.

"Ahad, I-" Her voice broke, and she quickly placed the box down, standing to face him fully. Without thinking, she reached up and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into his chest.

Ahad stiffened for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden contact. But then his arms came around her, holding her gently but firmly.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice muffled against his shirt.

"You don't have to thank me," he said quietly, resting his chin on the top of her head. "I'll do anything to make you happy, Naira. Anything."

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, her hands still resting on his chest. "You're impossible, you know that?"

His lips curved into a faint smile. "For you? Always."

Her laughter was soft but genuine, and for the first time in years, she felt like she could dream again.

That evening, as Naira sat in the study, scrolling through the courses Ahad had set up, she couldn't stop thinking about his words. You deserve to have options.

For so long, she had been living in survival mode, focusing only on getting through each day. But now, with Ahad's quiet encouragement and unwavering support, she felt a flicker of something she hadn't felt in years: hope.

She clicked on a course-creative writing. It was something she had loved as a child, long before her life had taken its dark turn. As the screen loaded, she smiled to herself.

This was the start of something new. Something just for her. And she had Ahad to thank for it.