Scene: Noon, Maryam's Bedroom
Sunlight filtered softly through the cream-colored curtains of the newlywed bedroom. Maryam sat cross-legged on the bed, her silky hair wrapped in a loose bun. It had been two days since the Valima—a beautiful and grand evening that still lingered in her heart like perfume on fabric.
Today, she decided to sort through the memories. She opened her laptop and connected the USB drive filled with wedding pictures and videos. As folders opened one by one, her eyes danced with joy watching her first dance with Irfan, the smiles of Ayesha and Khadija, and the warmth of their family around them.
Just as she was naming a folder "Our Beginning," a little notification popped up in the corner of her screen: "1 unread email."
Maryam blinked.
"An email? At this time?" she murmured and clicked it.
Her eyes widened as she read the sender's name.
From: Catherine S. Morland
Subject: I owe you an apology, Maryam
Date: October 10th
Maryam covered her mouth in disbelief. The email had been sent five days ago. Her hands trembled slightly as she clicked it open.
> My dearest Maryam,
I don't know where to begin, except to say: I am sorry. Deeply sorry.
I should have been there when you needed me the most. I know you tried to reach out. I failed you as a friend.
I was going through a storm of my own, but that's no excuse for my silence.
I've recently changed my phone and WhatsApp. Here's my new number: +44 7xxxxxxxxx
If you still remember me, if you still consider me a friend… call me. I would love to hear your voice again.
Yours always,
Catherine
Maryam stared at the screen for a long moment, her emotions tangled like threads. It had been months. Months of silence. Of wondering. Of waiting.
She quickly picked up her phone and saved the number from the email.
Scene: Maryam's Bedroom – Phone Call Begins
Taking a deep breath, she dialed the number. Her heart beat faster with every ring. One… two… three…
Click.
"Hello?"
It was Catherine.
Maryam was quiet for a second. Then her voice, gentle but steady, broke the silence. "Catherine?"
"Maryam! Oh my God—" Catherine's voice cracked, clearly overwhelmed. "Is it really you?"
"It's me," Maryam smiled. "I got your email… today."
"I was so scared you'd never talk to me again," Catherine said, her voice soft and regretful. "I can't say sorry enough… I should have been there."
Maryam nodded, though Catherine couldn't see it. "Yes… you should have been. But I understand now. Life happens. Pain happens."
There was a long pause.
"So… do you forgive me?"
"I do," Maryam said sincerely. "And I miss you. A lot."
"Oh thank God," Catherine breathed in relief, and the two laughed lightly, awkwardness melting away.
Scene: A Conversation Rekindled
"What have you been up to, Maryam?" Catherine asked eagerly. "You look… different in your profile picture."
"I got married," Maryam said, her voice glowing.
"You what?! Oh my God!" Catherine almost shrieked in delight. "When? How? Tell me everything!"
Maryam chuckled and leaned back on the pillow. "His name is Irfan. He's Ayesha's brother-in-law… came from Pakistan, works at Microsoft now. We fell in love… slowly, beautifully."
"I'm so happy for you!" Catherine exclaimed.
"We just had our Valima two days ago," Maryam added. "The pictures are right here in front of me."
"You have to show me," Catherine said. "But… more than anything, Maryam, I want to meet you. In person. Hug you. Talk to you. Laugh like old times."
Maryam smiled and looked toward the closed bedroom door. "I'll ask my husband first. If he's okay, I'll let you know."
"Of course," Catherine agreed warmly. "Just let me know when and where."
"I will," Maryam said. "And Catherine…"
"Yes?"
"I'm glad you wrote to me."
"I'm glad you forgave me."
Scene: Call Ends – Hope Rekindled
As the call ended, Maryam set her phone down and sighed. The past was returning—not to haunt her, but to heal her. She stood up, stretched, and walked toward the kitchen.
In that moment, she realized that while some chapters of life end, others return with new meaning—just like old friendships finding their way back.
---