He slowly closed his eyes after gazing at her radiant face, which was filled with overwhelming happiness. Clearly, the message her father had sent to him had reached her, and that was what brought her such visible joy and calmness. She didn’t know that the same message struck him differently—bringing him sorrow instead of happiness. His heart trembled and slipped into that familiar state he always found himself in whenever a girl told him that her father had “approved.” He opened his soft, handsome eyes that carried depth and authority, fixing them on her. Tears were threatening to fall, but his strong will and pride restrained them. Jaheed was a real man—one who knew how to hide his wounds and emotional weakness. Despite the storm in his heart, he could still console her, even if it meant breaking down in tears.
His destiny was a heavy one, tangled deeply with his life’s struggles. It was the kind of fate that made one wonder if God truly intended their creation—unless faith reminded them that every hardship was a divine test. Tears welled up in Khairi’s eyes when she saw his pain, and her happiness quickly faded. In distress, she asked, “What’s wrong, Hubby? Don’t tell me Abba’s message upset you—aren’t you ready for our marriage?” He shook his head gently, trying to calm her. “I’m ready, Habibteey,” he said softly. “But you remember I told you who I really am from the start. What I fear is—will your father ever agree? What if he finds out that I’m nobody but the son of a mentally unstable woman who doesn’t even know where she is, let alone who fathered me?”
Khairi fell silent, her heart racing. She had long forgotten this part of Jaheed’s life until now. Her father was a man of pride and strict beliefs—unyielding when convinced. If he found out who Jaheed was, he would rather see her die than marry him. But Khairi’s love for Jaheed had gone too deep; she believed she could marry him—with or without her father’s blessing. Her heart overflowed with pity for Jaheed’s situation—a fate that was never his fault. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she held his hand and whispered, “No one will separate us, Jaheed. Whether they like it or not, I’ll marry you. God created me with your love in my soul. I belong to you—always.”
Jaheed remained silent, listening to her heartfelt words that tore at his heart. His chest ached, a familiar pain he’d felt four times before—each when love slipped away because of his background. Khairi was the fifth woman he had loved, and he knew this would likely be his last attempt. Her words, though passionate, didn’t give him strength. Others had said the same before leaving him. He gently lifted her face from his palms and gazed at her tears that burned his heart like hot metal. “Stop crying, Khairi,” he said weakly. “I know this time too, luck isn’t on my side. But In shaa Allah, after you, I’ll never love again. I’ll accept my destiny.”
Khairi broke down, insisting he should still go to her father to seek her hand in marriage. She believed this time her father would agree. Jaheed studied her eyes, realizing how pure her love was. He loved her deeply—without reason or measure. Since meeting her, he hadn’t known peace or sleep. His heart feared losing her, knowing he might not survive it. Taking her fingers gently, he rolled the promise ring they both wore. “If only Allah blesses us to stand as husband and wife,” he whispered, “I’ll fast for sixty days in gratitude.” Then he smiled faintly, saying, “Go home, Habibteey. I’ll speak with Baffa. If it works, Alhamdulillah. If not, let’s accept our fate.”
Khairi shook her head fiercely. “No, Jaheed, I can’t live without you. If he refuses, let’s elope and get married!” Jaheed forced a weak smile—not because he agreed but to calm her down. “Alright,” he said softly. “Go now, dream of Jaheed. Dream of me kissing those sweet lips.” Khairi closed her eyes shyly and drove off quickly. Jaheed smiled painfully before closing his eyes—this time letting his tears flow freely. Khairi’s love was unlike any other; it had broken through his strongest defenses. Slowly, he started his car and drove home, his heart whispering that this might be his last farewell to Khaireey.
Haunted by the Past and the Weight of Rejection
Driving home restlessly, Jaheed couldn’t find peace. Even he was surprised he made it home safely, given how distracted he was. The gatekeeper opened the gate, and Jaheed parked his car. This was the house where he had grown up since infancy—raised by his mother and a kind man he called “Baffa.” Baffa had always treated him like a son, giving him and his mother full care, while his second wife and her children despised them. They believed Baffa had a secret reason for his kindness. But in truth, Baffa only followed the Prophet’s teachings—to show compassion to the helpless.
Jaheed sat in the car for a long time, weak and drained. Finally, he took a deep breath and stepped out, only to be met by Haidar, who smiled as he approached. Haidar, raised by the same woman as Jaheed, treated him like a true brother. “Man, where have you been?” Haidar asked. “From Khaireey’s place,” Jaheed replied with a sigh. “Ah, from Khaireey? Then why the sad face?” Haidar teased. Jaheed hesitated but finally confessed, “Her father told me to come formally for her hand if I’m serious.” Haidar’s smile faded—he feared another heartbreak like before.
Jaheed continued, his voice heavy. “I think this love too will end like the others. I’ve tried four times, Haidar. Four rejections. I love Khaireey, and losing her hurts the most.” Haidar looked at him with teary eyes, deeply moved. “Don’t give up, bro,” he said firmly. “This time will be different. We’ll tell Baffa and pray together. Maybe Allah will finally grant you peace. Let’s just hope that troublemaker who keeps exposing your past doesn’t ruin this one too.”
At that moment, a black car sped into the compound with loud music shaking the air. Haidar frowned immediately—only one person in the house could behave that way: Najma. She stepped out confidently, wearing black shades and walking with arrogant grace. Through the tinted lenses, she shot Jaheed a disdainful look. “Good evening, Ya Haidar,” she said coldly. Haidar replied curtly, then called her name sharply as she tried to walk past. She froze but didn’t turn around. “Did you only see me here?” he asked. Turning with visible annoyance, she snapped, “You’re the only one I needed to greet.”
Haidar stared at her in disbelief—amazed at her arrogance and lack of respect. Jaheed said nothing, his quiet nature clashing with her loud energy. He hated noise, hated conflict—but somehow, trouble always found its way into his life.
Description
The Weight of Fate and Hidden Pain
He slowly closed his eyes after gazing at her radiant face, which was filled with overwhelming happiness. Clearly, the message her father had sent to him had reached her, and that was what brought her such visible joy and calmness. She didn’t know that the same message struck him differently—bringing him sorrow instead of happiness. His heart trembled and slipped into that familiar state he always found himself in whenever a girl told him that her father had “approved.” He opened his soft, handsome eyes that carried depth and authority, fixing them on her. Tears were threatening to fall, but his strong will and pride restrained them. Jaheed was a real man—one who knew how to hide his wounds and emotional weakness. Despite the storm in his heart, he could still console her, even if it meant breaking down in tears.
His destiny was a heavy one, tangled deeply with his life’s struggles. It was the kind of fate that made one wonder if God truly intended their creation—unless faith reminded them that every hardship was a divine test. Tears welled up in Khairi’s eyes when she saw his pain, and her happiness quickly faded. In distress, she asked, “What’s wrong, Hubby? Don’t tell me Abba’s message upset you—aren’t you ready for our marriage?” He shook his head gently, trying to calm her. “I’m ready, Habibteey,” he said softly. “But you remember I told you who I really am from the start. What I fear is—will your father ever agree? What if he finds out that I’m nobody but the son of a mentally unstable woman who doesn’t even know where she is, let alone who fathered me?”
Khairi fell silent, her heart racing. She had long forgotten this part of Jaheed’s life until now. Her father was a man of pride and strict beliefs—unyielding when convinced. If he found out who Jaheed was, he would rather see her die than marry him. But Khairi’s love for Jaheed had gone too deep; she believed she could marry him—with or without her father’s blessing. Her heart overflowed with pity for Jaheed’s situation—a fate that was never his fault. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she held his hand and whispered, “No one will separate us, Jaheed. Whether they like it or not, I’ll marry you. God created me with your love in my soul. I belong to you—always.”
Jaheed remained silent, listening to her heartfelt words that tore at his heart. His chest ached, a familiar pain he’d felt four times before—each when love slipped away because of his background. Khairi was the fifth woman he had loved, and he knew this would likely be his last attempt. Her words, though passionate, didn’t give him strength. Others had said the same before leaving him. He gently lifted her face from his palms and gazed at her tears that burned his heart like hot metal. “Stop crying, Khairi,” he said weakly. “I know this time too, luck isn’t on my side. But In shaa Allah, after you, I’ll never love again. I’ll accept my destiny.”
Khairi broke down, insisting he should still go to her father to seek her hand in marriage. She believed this time her father would agree. Jaheed studied her eyes, realizing how pure her love was. He loved her deeply—without reason or measure. Since meeting her, he hadn’t known peace or sleep. His heart feared losing her, knowing he might not survive it. Taking her fingers gently, he rolled the promise ring they both wore. “If only Allah blesses us to stand as husband and wife,” he whispered, “I’ll fast for sixty days in gratitude.” Then he smiled faintly, saying, “Go home, Habibteey. I’ll speak with Baffa. If it works, Alhamdulillah. If not, let’s accept our fate.”
Khairi shook her head fiercely. “No, Jaheed, I can’t live without you. If he refuses, let’s elope and get married!” Jaheed forced a weak smile—not because he agreed but to calm her down. “Alright,” he said softly. “Go now, dream of Jaheed. Dream of me kissing those sweet lips.” Khairi closed her eyes shyly and drove off quickly. Jaheed smiled painfully before closing his eyes—this time letting his tears flow freely. Khairi’s love was unlike any other; it had broken through his strongest defenses. Slowly, he started his car and drove home, his heart whispering that this might be his last farewell to Khaireey.
Haunted by the Past and the Weight of Rejection
Driving home restlessly, Jaheed couldn’t find peace. Even he was surprised he made it home safely, given how distracted he was. The gatekeeper opened the gate, and Jaheed parked his car. This was the house where he had grown up since infancy—raised by his mother and a kind man he called “Baffa.” Baffa had always treated him like a son, giving him and his mother full care, while his second wife and her children despised them. They believed Baffa had a secret reason for his kindness. But in truth, Baffa only followed the Prophet’s teachings—to show compassion to the helpless.
Jaheed sat in the car for a long time, weak and drained. Finally, he took a deep breath and stepped out, only to be met by Haidar, who smiled as he approached. Haidar, raised by the same woman as Jaheed, treated him like a true brother. “Man, where have you been?” Haidar asked. “From Khaireey’s place,” Jaheed replied with a sigh. “Ah, from Khaireey? Then why the sad face?” Haidar teased. Jaheed hesitated but finally confessed, “Her father told me to come formally for her hand if I’m serious.” Haidar’s smile faded—he feared another heartbreak like before.
Jaheed continued, his voice heavy. “I think this love too will end like the others. I’ve tried four times, Haidar. Four rejections. I love Khaireey, and losing her hurts the most.” Haidar looked at him with teary eyes, deeply moved. “Don’t give up, bro,” he said firmly. “This time will be different. We’ll tell Baffa and pray together. Maybe Allah will finally grant you peace. Let’s just hope that troublemaker who keeps exposing your past doesn’t ruin this one too.”
At that moment, a black car sped into the compound with loud music shaking the air. Haidar frowned immediately—only one person in the house could behave that way: Najma. She stepped out confidently, wearing black shades and walking with arrogant grace. Through the tinted lenses, she shot Jaheed a disdainful look. “Good evening, Ya Haidar,” she said coldly. Haidar replied curtly, then called her name sharply as she tried to walk past. She froze but didn’t turn around. “Did you only see me here?” he asked. Turning with visible annoyance, she snapped, “You’re the only one I needed to greet.”
Haidar stared at her in disbelief—amazed at her arrogance and lack of respect. Jaheed said nothing, his quiet nature clashing with her loud energy. He hated noise, hated conflict—but somehow, trouble always found its way into his life.