Scene One: After the Call – Noon, Maryam's Room
Maryam stared at the message from Catherine, her heart a whirlwind of emotions. After months of silence, Catherine had finally replied. The familiar name in her Gmail inbox had felt like a warm breeze on a winter night. Five days late—but it didn't matter anymore. Maryam had saved every picture and video of her wedding onto her laptop and had been planning to email a few to her old friends, when the subject line caught her eye:
"From Catherine… please read."
The message was short, almost casual, and it ended with a WhatsApp number.
> "Hey Maria, sorry for the silence. I hope you're doing well. Here's my new number. Let's talk soon, please."
Tears filled Maryam's eyes as she saved the contact.
Within minutes, she called.
The phone rang twice.
Then came that voice—soft, familiar, hesitant.
"Hello?"
"Catherine?" Maryam whispered, her voice catching.
There was a pause. "Maria?"
Maryam smiled through tears. "It's Maryam now."
Another pause, then a gasp. "Oh my God… Maryam! I… I'm sorry! I wasn't there when you needed me. I was afraid. Confused. And by the time I wanted to reach out, you had already left…"
"It's okay," Maryam said softly. "You're here now. That's enough."
Catherine exhaled shakily. "Tell me everything. I want to hear all of it—your journey, your love story, your marriage. I can't believe you're married!"
Maryam laughed. "Yes. I'll tell you everything. But maybe… we should meet in person."
Catherine grew quiet. "You'd want that?"
"Of course I would."
"I'll check with the church administration," Maryam added cautiously.
"No need," Catherine replied. "I have a surprise for you. I'm not living in the church anymore. I left a month after you did. Just ask your husband and tell me when you can meet. Bye for now!"
The line went dead, but Maryam's heart was alive with memories and anticipation.
Scene Two: That Night – In the Bedroom
The day rolled into night. Irfan returned from the office, his shoulders tired but eyes full of love. Dinner was quiet and warm with the family. Afterward, as the house fell into stillness, Maryam and Irfan sat together on their bed.
She looked at him, nervous yet resolved.
"Irfan, there's something I want to talk to you about," she began.
Irfan put aside his phone and turned toward her. "Of course, jaan. What's on your mind?"
She hesitated for a moment, then began. "Today, I reconnected with an old friend. Her name is Catherine. She was… very close to me during my time at the church."
He looked at her with curiosity, nodding slowly.
"I never told you this properly," she continued. "I wasn't born a Muslim. I converted."
He took her hand gently, his face calm. "I know. And I admire you more for it."
Maryam's eyes welled up. "There's a lot you don't know about my past."
She reached to the lower drawer of the side table and pulled out two thick, worn-out diaries.
"These," she said, placing them in his lap, "are my life. My journey. My pain. My growth. From when I was Maria."
Irfan opened the first diary with care, almost reverently.
Maryam began, her voice steady.
"I'm twenty-nine now. These diaries cover almost nine years of my life. When I was in college, I fell in love with a boy named Ryan. He was my classmate. Confident. Gentle. For a while, I believed we'd spend our lives together."
She paused, remembering.
"But when things got tough… he left. Just disappeared. I broke down. I couldn't breathe."
Irfan listened intently, his hand never letting go of hers.
"I drifted… ended up in Vancouver. I met a man there—Vincent. He owned a nightclub. He wasn't kind, but he gave me work. I thought I could survive, maybe even start over."
She shivered, remembering the bright neon lights and the dark shadows behind them.
"Vincent had a partner, Xavier. Ruthless. One day, he killed Vincent. Took over the business. I was in danger."
Maryam's voice lowered.
"Vincent's security manager, Mark, helped me escape. We were chased. There was gunfire. Our car crashed on the highway. Mark… died. I was bleeding, alone, unconscious."
Irfan's brows furrowed, pain flashing across his face as he imagined her suffering.
"I woke up in a hospital—Saint Michael Church Hospital. An old man had found me. And that's where I met Sister Agnes."
She smiled faintly. "She was tough. But she saved me. And in that place, I found faith. Real faith. I studied. I healed. I prayed."
There was silence between them, filled only by the soft humming of the ceiling fan.
"Over time," Maryam whispered, "I became Maryam."
Irfan gently cupped her face. "You are incredible. You've survived what most people couldn't even imagine."
Maryam lowered her eyes. "There's more. Catherine was my closest friend at the church. We were inseparable. But when I decided to leave… she didn't support me. She went silent. It hurt. But today, she wrote to me. She wants to meet."
Irfan nodded. "Of course. If she was that important to you, you should meet her."
Maryam blinked in surprise. "You're okay with it?"
"You forgave her, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Then that's enough for me."
She smiled through tears. "Thank you. I just wanted you to know everything before I took any step."
He took her hand and kissed it. "Maryam, your past made you who you are. And who you are… is someone I'm proud to call my wife."
They held each other in silence, the weight of the past finally lifting.
Scene Three: Later That Night – Maryam Alone
Maryam sat alone in the room, the diaries back on the table, her heart lighter than it had been in years. She picked up her phone and messaged Catherine.
> "Irfan is okay with it. Let's meet. Tell me the time and place."
Almost instantly, the reply came.
> "I'll send you the location. It's not far from where you live. Can't wait to see you, Maryam."
Maryam smiled, whispering to herself, "So much has changed, Catherine. I hope we've both changed for the better."
She glanced at the diary again and whispered a silent prayer.
Then she turned off the lamp, nestled beside Irfan, and fell asleep—ready for whatever the next day would bring.
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