October arrived with a gentle sun, marking a day that was once special: Anisa's birthday. In previous years, it had been a bright spot, filled with Zayan's planned surprises. Now, the day felt hollow, a ghost of its former self. Her mind replayed memories of past celebrations with him; laughter, gifts, his unwavering attention, all made bitter by the knowledge that just five months after her last birthday, he had left on a journey from which he would never return. 💭
She went through the motions, heading to AZ Studio as usual. The business, though still operating at a loss, had one heavy weight lifted. The funds from the sapphire ring had cleared the daunting bank loan entirely, closing a chapter of crushing financial anxiety. Yet, the core problem remained; revenue was a trickle, not a stream. Her thoughts were now a constant loop of potential solutions, marketing ideas, and new product lines she could introduce to revive Zayan's dream.
Exhausted by the day's mental labour, she skipped the effort of cooking at home, a place that offered no comfort. Instead, she stopped at a quiet restaurant, drinking a solitary cup of coffee and ordering takeaway for dinner. The act felt symbolic: sustenance for the body, with none for the soul.☕
At home, she ate quickly, avoiding the saccharine questions from her mother-in-law and sister-in-law. Their performative concern had become nauseating. She retreated to her room, the only space where she didn't have to act, where the silence, though heavy, was at least honest.
Meanwhile, miles away, Yugh was a storm of agitation. Anisa's words, her accusations about Zahra and the ring, echoed in his mind like a taunt. "Zahra wasn't like that. That Anisa woman is delusional," he would mutter to the empty house, trying to drown out the doubts. He clung to the fourteen years of marriage, remembering a life built on mutual respect and accommodation. Yes, their interests had diverged, but they had always navigated it with understanding, hadn't they? 😣
His grief forged a fierce resolve. "I'll prove Anisa wrong," he vowed aloud, the sound firm in the stillness. "I'll prove my wife was innocent. I have to."
On the other side of the city, in her quiet room, Anisa felt a parallel resolve crystallize within her own grief. The confusion and pain were hardening into a steely determination. She would not live in the shadow of these lies. One way or another, she would pull every hidden truth into the light. The birthday had passed uncelebrated, but it had birthed something new in her: a relentless will to know. 💪