Chapter 26, Two Stories
Early in the morning, Anaya had just woken up in bed to the gentle sensation of someone rubbing her hair.
"Zayd, stop it," Anaya mumbled, turning away and trying to cover herself with a pillow, but it was quickly snatched away.
"Zayd, please..." she complained, opening her eyes—and then she had to open them even wider to make sure she wasn't dreaming.
"Mom!" Anaya exclaimed, sitting up excitedly and hugging her mother tightly. "I missed you, Mom! Why didn't you come yesterday?" she asked as she released her.
"Anaya, I didn't come here for this. Pick your clothes—let's go," Mrs. Hanifah said sharply, already beginning to fold Anaya's clothes into her suitcase.
"You're going back to the States. Now."
Anaya sat up, still trying to fully wake up.
"You were saying Zayd's name in your sleep. Were you dreaming about him?" her mother asked, her tone tinged with frustration. "This attachment is too much. It can't keep happening."
Anaya helped her mom, though reluctantly, to fold the clothes into the luggage. She couldn't help but think about Zayd. Her mom asked the helpers to take the luggage outside.
On their way out, they saw Mr. Abbas watching them, but he said nothing. He hadn't spoken to Anaya in the last two days apart from his reminders—ever since he told her to either go back to Zayd's house or leave his. She had greeted him, even cooked for him, but he refused to acknowledge any of it, instead reminding her of what he said.
Even aside from Zayd, Anaya was scared of leaving her father's house while he was still angry with her. They arranged the luggage in the car that Mrs. Hanifah had specifically brought to pack up Anaya's things.
But then Anaya paused. "Mom, I think we should wait for Zayd for some time."
"So we should wait for him? What is going on, Anaya?" Hanifah asked while Anaya remained quiet, indirectly confirming her mother's words.
"So it's true. You want to stay with that poor man, Anaya? He won't give you the life you deserve. Neither will he let you work anywhere except beside him," Mrs. Hanifah tried to reason.
"Mom, it's not like that. I'm sure Zayd would reconsider his decision. Last night, I called him and told him I was leaving, giving him another chance. He pleaded with me to stay. Mom, he doesn't want to leave his family house because of his father. When I refused, he said we would talk in the morning. As long as he didn't agree, I promised to follow you, Mom," Anaya explained, hoping that it wouldn't come to that.
Mrs. Hanifah and Anaya settled in the parlour as Anaya kept trying Zayd's number.
Not even twenty minutes passed with them sitting there, with Mrs. Hanifah's continuous complaints.
"Anaya, let's go. I can't keep waiting for someone like your husband," she said.
Just then, Zayd walked in.
Zayd went straight to Mrs. Hanifah, bowed, and greeted her respectfully.
"So he is the Zayd," Mrs. Hanifah said, not responding to his greeting.
"Mom, he's greeting you," Anaya reminded her, prompting her to finally acknowledge him.
Anaya gestured for Zayd to sit, and he took the seat beside her.
"So you're my daughter's husband, yet you keep us waiting? You see, poor people like you are always full of ego. You made my daughter lose a huge opportunity and kept her in a house where she could be tortured. If you're so fortunate in life to have someone like Anaya, why don't you treat her right? If you don't like her, why not just let her go? If not for her father, I would never have chosen someone like you for her. After all the men that came seeking her hand, I still wonder why her father chose you. Yet my daughter will never understand." Mrs. Hanifah continued to complain bitterly.
"Mom," Anaya called her softly, trying to stop her. She thought her mother was going too far.
Zayd remained quiet despite the sting of her words. So this is Anaya's mother… and also Rayyan 's mother, he thought. He is just glad Anaya didn't inherit this from her.
"Fine, since you've found someone better than me," Mrs. Hanifah muttered and fell silent.
Anaya looked at Zayd. "I'm waiting for your decision, Zayd," she told him.
He looked between her and her mother and explain to them, "Anaya, I've heard you. I've agreed for you to work at the place you want. As for leaving my family house, I've found a new house for us—just opposite my father's. I hope you'll be able to bear that, Anaya."
Zayd asking sincerely, hoping she would stay.
Anaya sat in silence, thinking. No one said a word. Only Zayd, quietly hoping.
"She's not going to live anywhere close to your step–" Mrs. Hanifah began, but Anaya's voice cut through.
"Yes, Zayd. I think I can manage," she said.
"Yes!" Zayd thought, delighted. If not for his mother-in-law's presence, he would have shown just how grateful he was.
"What? Anaya, are you really going to agree to this?" Mrs. Hanifah complained again.
"Bless you, my child," Mr. Abbas said to Anaya. He had been silently listening to the entire conversation.
And he was happy to hear that.
Mr. Abbas gently held Anaya's hand and led her to a quiet corner away from everyone.
"Anaya," he began softly, "thank you for accepting this marriage. But this time, I want you to return to your husband's home for the sake of Allah—not because anyone pressured you or out of fear. Go with a sincere heart."
He paused, then added with a serious tone, "Please, don't let anyone sway you with marital advice that contradicts what's right. Always choose what pleases Allah, and never allow anyone to lead you into disrespecting your marriage or husband."
He shared some heartfelt words about marriage, and Anaya nodded quietly, taking it all in.
"I've already spoken to someone about work for you," he continued. "You'll hear from me soon. Stay blessed, my dear. May your marriage be filled with happiness. Now go—don't keep your husband waiting. I'll speak with him too."
"Now?" she asked softly.
Mr. Abbas nodded.
He was determined to get her away from Mrs. Hanifah as quickly as possible. He had seen enough of the damage her influence could cause and didn't want her affecting Anaya's mindset any further.
Together, Mr. Abbas and Anaya instructed the house help to return her clothes to Zayd's car. Zayd had told her everything at the house was ready. They both couldn't wait to be with each other again.
The clothes that had been packed in her mother's car were now being moved to Zayd's car by Zayd himself and a houseboy help. Mrs. Hanifah watched them coldly, her eyes narrowing as Zayd helped carry the bags. The sight only deepened her resentment—he was taking her daughter away.
Later, Mrs. Hanifah called Anaya into her room. She locked the door behind her, then turned to face her daughter.
"You asked me to come and support you," she said bitterly. "But now, you and your father—and even your husband—have made me look like a fool. So you've chosen your father and husband over me?"
"Mom, I thought we agreed," Anaya replied gently. "Zayd has accepted my conditions."
Mrs. Hanifah shook her head, her voice laced with frustration. "I just don't want you to suffer for nothing. You deserve better than Zayd. What is it about him that you can't let go of?"
Anaya stayed quiet.
Mrs. Hanifah gave her daughter a knowing, almost playful smirk. "Is it his face, Anaya? Don't be fooled—looks can be very deceiving. You could've had someone who gave you both beauty and comfort. Someone who matched your lifestyle. Think of your exes—Kasim, Hanif, Abdul... even my Favorite Haris. You know how much I adored him for you."
She leaned forward, her voice sharper now.
"They treated you like royalty—flew you around the world, showered you with gifts, made sure you never lacked. And now, you're here defending this one?" She scoffed. "What has he given you besides heartbreak and mediocrity?"
"Please, Mom," Anaya said firmly. "I'm no longer a girl. I'm a married woman now."
Mrs. Hanifah smiled faintly as she walked to unlock the door. "Go, Anaya."
Anaya hugged her before stepping out. "Since you'll be here until Rayyan's wedding, I'll come visit soon."
She joined her father and Zayd outside. Mr. Abbas looked at her, knowing full well what had just happened.
"Remember what I told you," he reminded her gently.
Zayd opened the car door for Anaya. She slid into the passenger seat, and he walked around to the driver's side. With one final glance at her father, they Left.
____
After Zuhr, Zayd returned from the mosque to the comforting scent of food and something even more breathtaking—Anaya, arranging food flasks neatly on the dining table. But it wasn't just the setup that caught his attention. It was her.
Dressed in a simple blue skirt and shirt, with a scarf loosely pinned at her hairline, her long black hair flowed freely down her back. The soft scent of her perfume floated through the air, wrapping around him like a long-lost memory. She looked stunning. More than stunning—she looked like home, but she is.
"What are you doing, Anaya?" Zayd asked, unable to stop staring.
"You came back right on time," she smiled, not meeting his eyes. "Sit down and have your lunch."
"You did all this… for me?" he asked, surprised, touched.
She nodded shyly, blushing.
Without thinking, Zayd closed the distance between them and gently pulled her into his arms. "Does this mean… my Anaya is back, like really back?" he whispered, his voice slightly choked with emotion.
She nodded again, her cheek brushing his chest.
He had fulfilled all her conditions—gotten them a modest but cozy house, far from interference. No mother-in-law. No pressure. She was even allowed to work wherever she wished. Since she arrived, they'd arranged the place together before he left for the office earlier that day to make some quick report.
"I love you, Anaya. Thank you for coming back to me. Life hasn't been the same without you," he said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead, her lips, then both cheeks. He held her close, as though afraid she'd disappear again.
"I love you too, Zayd," she whispered, returning his embrace.
They stood like that, warmth against warmth, until Anaya laughed lightly and said, "Zayd, I'm hungry. Let's eat."
"Oh—sorry, sorry," he said quickly, letting go of her.
She served them and sat beside him. They ended up feeding each other between soft smiles and gentle teases.
After the meal, Anaya looked at him and asked, "You didn't even say how the food tasted."
He blinked, then chuckled. "I was too busy admiring you, I almost forgot what I was eating."
"Really?" she raised an eyebrow.
"But yes, it was delicious," he added, grinning.
They cleared the table together, now sitting in Zayd's room, talking about how life had felt in each other's absence. The conversation was light but filled with unspoken longing. After a while, Anaya left briefly and returned, holding a book in her hand.
"Zayd," she began with a soft smile, "now that I'm back in this house, I want us to live our life to the fullest."
Zayd remained quiet, watching her carefully, his eyes holding a mix of curiosity and affection.
"Can't you do this for me?" she asked, her voice hopeful.
He reached out and took her hand gently. "Anaya, I look forward to anything with you, as long as it's not against our religion."
She let out a small laugh. "Don't even start. You know I went to Islamiya too."
That made him smile.
"I've actually planned everything for the entire week," she continued, excitement dancing in her eyes. "Today, I want us to go shopping for our new house—there are a few things I want to get. After that, maybe a picnic. Just the two of us."
She sat beside him, flipping through the book as she shared her detailed plans for the week. Zayd listened attentively, nodding along, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"What did you say?" she asked, noticing his quiet amusement.
"I look forward to all of it," he said. "Spending time with you—that's what I've missed the most."
Just as she was about to leave, Zayd reached out and gently pulled her back. He seated her on his lap, his hands resting lightly on her waist.
"Anaya," he said, voice lower now, "I've been thinking. We've been apart for days now. Can I…?"
He trailed off, unsure of how to finish.
Anaya met his gaze, a mischievous smile forming as she leaned closer.
"Zayd, I've been gone for almost two weeks… and is that all you're thinking about?" she teased.
Zayd stared at her, completely speechless. Then, with a chuckle, he asked again, "What did you say, Anaya?"
She didn't answer—just smiled and rested her head gently against his shoulder.
___
The Next day.
The morning light slipped gently through the curtains. After praying Fajr together, Anaya and Zayd had returned to bed, wrapping themselves in the warmth of each other and the quiet peace of a new day.
Suddenly, a low, persistent buzzing echoed from Anaya's phone as it vibrated against the wooden nightstand. The sound, though soft, was insistent enough to stir them both awake.
She reached out to pick it up, but Zayd gently pulled her back into his arms, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead.
"Who would be calling my dear wife this early in the morning?" he muttered, voice laced with sleep and annoyance.
Anaya smiled, melting into his embrace. Yesterday had been a whirlwind of joy and spontaneity—just the two of them, shopping for thier new house, laughing, picnicking like carefree lovers. They hadn't even spent much time at home. It was a day she'd treasure forever.
"Please, let's sleep a little more," Zayd murmured, burying his face in the crook of her neck.
But the phone buzzed again. Anaya sighed, glanced at the screen, and picked up the call without further hesitation.
"It's Mom," she warned softly.
That made Zayd pull back a little, curiosity and caution flickering in his sleepy eyes. They both sat up as Anaya answered and exchanged greetings with her mother. The call was brief, but whatever her mother said made Anaya's eyes light up with excitement.
She hung up and turned to Zayd, practically glowing. "Do you know what Mom just told me?"
He shook his head silently.
"She found me a high-paying job—an actual contract—with her friend's company!"
Zayd blinked. The news should have made him happy. But instead, an uneasy feeling settled in his chest. Something didn't sit right. Mrs. Hanifah pulling strings this quickly, and in such a grand way… why did it feel too convenient?
Later, Zayd stepped out of the bathroom, adjusting the cuffs of his white and black attire. He was ready for work, but his eyes kept drifting to Anaya as she hummed while arranging her credentials, her joy contagious. She was dressed modestly in a skirt and shirt, her veil rolled neatly around her head, highlighting her delicate features.
She walked up behind him and gently wrapped her arms around his waist. Lately, she'd noticed how quiet he'd become—ever since she mentioned her mother helping her secure a job, his mood had shifted.
"Zayd, calm down," she whispered softly. "We already talked about this. It's not like I'm going to do anything wrong. Please… just trust me."
Zayd met her gaze in the mirror. After a long pause, he finally said, "It's okay. Just be careful… and good luck."
They had breakfast together—something they'd prepared earlier, side by side—before leaving the house.
"Zayd, just drop me at Mom's place. She'll take me from there," she said with a reassuring smile.
He nodded and drove her to the hotel where her mother was waiting. As he watched her walk inside, that familiar heaviness settled in his chest again.
Ya Allah, he prayed silently, guide us… and protect us both.
---
Later That Day
Mrs. Hanifah led Anaya into the new company where she'd be working. It was stunning—larger and more luxurious than even her father's company. The building was sleek and modern, humming with importance. International clients. High-end projects. Anaya could already imagine the possibilities.
"Mom… how did you manage to secure me a position here and a contract here?" Anaya asked, turning to her with wide eyes. "I mean… who do you know in a place like this?"
Mrs. Hanifah gave a mysterious smile. "Wait and see, my dear."
They took the elevator up to one of the highest floors. Security stopped them briefly, asking for ID or an appointment. But before things could escalate, a well-dressed PA arrived and said, "Sir asked me to let them in."
Anaya's heart began to pound.
They entered the CEO's office—a grand space of glass, metal, and sharp elegance.
Then her breath caught in her throat.
Seated behind the desk, calm and composed, was someone she never expected to see anytime soon again.
"Haris?" she breathed.
He looked up, as if he had been expecting her all along. A small, unreadable smile played on his lips.
"Haris Adeel."