Chapter 25, Two Stories
Past 8 a.m., Zeenat stepped out of her room, dressed and ready for work. But as she passed the dining area, she noticed it was still untouched. Frowning, she walked over and saw that the breakfast she had prepared for Rayyan remained just as she'd left it—untouched.
After everything that happened between Rayyan and his father the previous day, even Zeenat was unsure of where things now stood between them. Or between her and Rayyan.
Concern growing, she walked to his room and knocked gently. No response. She hesitated, then slowly pushed the door open.
Rayyan was curled up on the bed.
"Rayyan?" she called, stepping closer, her heart racing. "Are you okay?"
He slowly sat up, his movements sluggish. As she moved closer, Zeenat could finally see him clearly—his face was pale, his eyes sunken. He looked weak.
"Subhanallah," she whispered, reaching out to touch his forehead, but before her fingers could make contact, he grabbed her hand, stopping her in her tracks.
"I'm fine, Zeenat. Just go. I don't want anyone here right now," he said, releasing her hand.
She blinked, surprised but determined. "I already made your breakfast. Please come and eat something," she urged softly.
"Just find someone else and give it to them. I don't want it. I want to be alone," Rayyan repeated, his voice flat.
Zeenat looked at him, panic rising in her chest. "Rayyan, look at yourself. Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?"
"There's no need," he murmured, turning his face away and pulling the blanket over his head. "They can't cure me."
This was completely unexpected but still.
She understood what he meant. Sakinat.
He was like this because she was gone. Her presence had left, but her shadow still lingered in every corner of his heart. And Zeenat… she couldn't help but feel the sting.
She didn't know what hurt more—watching her husband openly care for another woman, or watching him break because he lost her.
Anger and sadness twisted together in her chest as she turned and walked out. He didn't want her help. He didn't even want to get better.
But maybe… maybe with time, he would get over Sakinat.
That was the only hope she had left.
____
It was close to Maghrib, and Zeenat hadn't even made it to the office that day.
That was how the day dragged by—Rayyan locked away in his room, refusing to eat, refusing to speak, leaving Zeenat's heart heavy with worry. The little hope she had earlier that he might move on from Sakinat was now slipping away.
She couldn't think of anything but him. He hadn't eaten since morning.
At lunch, she had tried again, bringing the food to him and stubbornly insisting he eat something. But instead of responding to her, Rayyan had called Salima, the house help, and coldly asked her to take the food away.
Zeenat felt crushed, unsure if she was more worried… or just painfully sad.
The truth was sinking in—her husband truly loved another woman.
Is this how they were going to continue living? Without Sakinat, but never really moving on?.
Did Rayyan only love her?
Did Zeenat's marriage to him come between him and the woman he truly cared for?
Had Rayyan ever really cared for her?
Would he ever love her the way he loved Sakinat?
Or had she made a terrible mistake by defying her brother just to stay in Rayyan's life?
Lost in these haunting thoughts, Zeenat stayed on her prayer mat, silently begging Allah to ease her and Rayyan's affairs.
That was when she heard a knock on the door.
Startled, Zeenat rose and went to open it. Instantly, the atmosphere seemed to shift.
Standing before her was a striking good looking woman, probably in her late forties, dressed in expensive attire and carrying herself with a kind of commanding grace. Her eyes barely glanced at Zeenat as she looked past her, scanning the house with open curiosity, as if Zeenat didn't even exist.
"Assalamualaikum..." Zeenat began politely, but before she could finish, the woman pushed past her without a word, heading straight into the parlour.
Zeenat blinked, shocked, but forced herself to stay calm. She closed the door and followed after the woman, determined to be polite, even if her presence already made her uneasy.
Just as Zeenat opened her mouth to speak, the woman turned sharply toward her.
"Who are you? Go and call my son for me," she said coldly.
"Your son?" Zeenat repeated, confused—until she heard a familiar voice.
"Mom, you're here," Rayyan said, appearing at the hallway, pulling a shirt over his three-quarter trousers as he hurried toward the woman.
Mrs. Hanifah.
"Mom, I'm so happy to see you," Rayyan said with a weak but genuine smile as he hugged her briefly.
"Look at you, my baby," Mrs. Hanifah said, concern filling her voice as she helped him to the center couch, where they both sat down.
Zeenat stood there, quietly watching.
So this was Rayyan's mother.
Now that she saw her up close, the resemblance was striking—Rayyan and even Anaya resembled her more than Mr. Abbas.
Trying to be respectful, Zeenat walked over to them. She bent slightly in a respectful greeting.
"Good evening, Mother," she said politely.
Mrs. Hanifah barely glanced at her before replying with a curt nod, already engrossed in her conversation with her son.
"Mom, she is Zeenat," Rayyan said, introducing her simply.
Mrs. Hanifah turned and properly looked at her now, from head to toe, with an expression that made Zeenat's stomach tighten.
It was pure irritation.
But Zeenat ignored it, schooling her face into calmness.
"It's nice to have you here. Let me get you something," she offered quickly, desperate for an excuse to step away from the suffocating tension.
As she went to fetch drinks and snacks, she overheard Mrs. Hanifah speak again.
"So this is the Zeenat," the older woman said in a tone dripping with disapproval. "The girl your father forced you to marry. Anaya's husband's sister."
Rayyan nobbed, but Mrs Hanifah shook her head, clearly unimpressed.
But it wasn't just dislike in her voice—it was something deeper, something almost bitter.
Mrs. Hanifah continued, her voice firm and confident, "Don't worry, Rayyan. You know why I'm here. I won't leave until your wedding to Sakinat is done. Friday. Everything will be set."
Upon hearing that, Zeenat almost dropped the tray in her hands. Her heart thundered painfully in her chest as she fought to keep her composure.
Rayyan smiled faintly, a small, weak smile that broke Zeenat's heart into a thousand pieces.
Still, with trembling hands, she carried the tray over and set it gently before her mother-in-law, her world spinning.
"Mom, you know how Dad is—once he makes up his mind, there's no changing it," Rayyan said, trying to reason with his mother.
Mrs. Hanifah waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry. I've already spoken to your father he would soon come, He's done with his part—his decisions, his orders. Now it's time for mine."
Zeenat quietly stepped forward, serving the drinks with trembling hands, silently whispering duas under her breath. Her heart felt like it was crumbling with every word she had overheard. The conversation was more than painful—it was shattering.
But it was Mrs. Hanifah's voice that yanked her out of her thoughts.
"What is this?!" the woman snapped suddenly. "What is this doing in my son's house?!"
She rose from the cushion, eyes narrowed with rage, and with a sharp motion, she knocked the tray from the table. The drinks and snacks tumbled to the floor with a loud crash.
Zeenat flinched in shock, quickly standing up, her hands shaking.
"Drinks, sugar, junk! Are you trying to poison me and my son?" Mrs. Hanifah yelled, her voice echoing off the walls. "Hasn't Rayyan told you the doctor warned him about this? Do you want to kill my son before his time?!"
Zeenat stood frozen, frightened and ashamed, unable to find the right words.
"I—I didn't know. I'm sorry, Mother. That was actually for you, not Rayyan," she said quietly, her voice trembling.
"For me? Junk and sugar for me?" Mrs. Hanifah snapped, glaring at her with disgust.
"Mom, please calm down," Rayyan said, trying to intervene. "Zeenat didn't know. I never mentioned the doctor's report to her. It's not her fault."
But his mother continued to stare daggers at Zeenat.
Zeenat lowered her gaze, her heart pounding. "Let me go and cook something for you," she offered, eager to ease the tension.
"You don't have to," Rayyan said gently. "I'll buy something for her."
Zeenat didn't respond. She simply turned and walked away, her chest aching, her pride wounded.
Behind her, Salima and Hussaina quietly moved in to clean the mess on the floor.
Zeenat's thoughts churned as she stepped into the kitchen, each step heavier than the last.
The hatred… it stung.
What had she done to deserve this from Mrs. Hanifah? Was it simply because she wasn't Sakinat? Because her mother-in-law had already chosen a bride for Rayyan in her heart—and it wasn't her?
That bitter realization settled inside her like ice:
She was never meant to be part of this family.
At least, not in their eyes.
Thirty minutes later, after Rayyan stepped out to get his mother something to eat, Zeenat finally broke down. Everything from earlier—the humiliation, the rejection, the looming threat of another marriage—hit her all at once. The promise Mrs. Hanifah made about ensuring Rayyan marries Sakinat was like a dagger through her chest. This woman, her mother-in-law, was even more dangerous than her manipulative stepmother, Mrs. Raliya.
She was still trying to collect herself when a knock came at the door. Hussaina stepped in.
"What is it?" Zeenat asked, wiping her face quickly.
"Mr. Abbas is here. He wants to see you," Hussaina said.
Zeenat froze. Mr. Abbas? She wasn't expecting him. She quickly straightened herself, changed, and made her way downstairs.
In the living room, she found Mr. Abbas, Rayyan, and Mrs. Hanifah seated—each on a separate couch. The tension in the room was thick, almost suffocating.
Zeenat greeted Mr. Abbas respectfully.
He responded with a slight nod and gestured for her to sit beside Rayyan. The gesture alone made Mrs. Hanifah's eyes narrow into a glare that made Zeenat's entire body shiver. Mr. Abbas seemed to notice.
"Zeenat," he said softly, "I hope Hanifah hasn't given you any trouble?"
Zeenat slowly shook her head, even though the pain in her eyes was obvious to everyone.
Mrs. Hanifah scoffed. "Are we here to discuss her feelings? Why are you even involving her in this conversation?"
Mr. Abbas turned calmly to her. "I just want to ensure my daughter here is alright—especially with you present. And let me make this clear: you need to stop pushing this issue. My words are final. I will not allow Rayyan to get married again while his current wife is still here. His marriage is barely a month old. He doesn't understand the weight of marriage, much less polygamy. I won't let him destroy his akhirah chasing worldly desires."
His words were sharp, final.
Rayyan had anticipated this. His father would never agree.
Mrs. Hanifah sat upright, her face cold. "I've always tolerated you and tried to let you play your part in our children's lives. But if this is how it's going to be, then fine." She stood abruptly and turned to her son. "Rayyan, we're leaving. Resign from your father's company and come back to the U.S. with me. You'll return to your old job. And don't worry—I approve your marriage to Sakinat."
Mr. Abbas clenched his fists. Zeenat felt her heart stop.
Even more terrifying was what happened next: Rayyan stood up, as though agreeing.
"Hanifah, what are you doing?" Mr. Abbas asked, his voice strained. "He is already married. And you, Rayyan—what about Zeenat? Are you really going to leave her?"
Rayyan looked away. "Dad, I hate this… I truly do. But I can't stay away from Sakinat any longer."
The admission made even Mr. Abbas freeze.
"What about Zeenat?" he asked again.
Rayyan replied without emotion, "She can come with us, if she wants."
"She's not going anywhere with you Rayyan!" Mrs Hanifah snapped.
"He was never hers to begin with!" Mrs. Hanifah shouted. "You forced him into this. You blame him for not doing the right thing when you never did right by him! Just look at him—does he even look well to you? You've always judged him by your outdated ideals instead of giving him love! Why shouldn't he do what he wants now?"
Zeenat stood frozen, shattered by every word.
Mr. Abbas's voice turned quiet. "Yes, I forced him. And I regret that. I regret putting Zeenat in this situation. But I did it because I believed in her character. I didn't want my son losing himself. I didn't want him becoming a man who fails to do justice in his home. But if you insist on this path, Rayyan—if you walk out that door with your mother or marry another woman—then know this: Zeenat had to accept it," Mr. Abbas told Rayyan.
"Zeenat, did you accept it?" Rayyan went to her and asked. She remained quiet averting her gazed.
"You don't have to ask her. Come, let's go. You don't have to beg that girl," Mrs. Hanifah told Rayyan.
Mr. Abbas looked at him again. "Or else, you are no longer my son. And I mean it."
The room went deathly quiet.
"Rayyan, let's go," Mrs. Hanifah urged. "Don't let your father guilt you again. This is your last chance. Even if he forbids it, I want this marriage for you. We both have rights over you."
Rayyan hesitated.
He turned to follow his mother—but then something stopped him.
"Father, please…" Zeenat stepped forward, her voice trembling but determined. "Please stop Rayyan from leaving. I—" She swallowed her pain. "I accept his marriage to Sakinat."
Everyone froze.
Even Rayyan stopped mid-step.
Mrs. Hanifah turned slowly, stunned.
Mr. Abbas's eyes widened, and he turned fully toward Zeenat.
"You—what did you say?" he asked quietly.
Zeenat stood still, her body shaking, but her voice firm. "I accept it. Rayyan and sakinat marriage."
The room was filled with silence. Not even the sound of breath could be heard.
___
"Rayyan, you'll begin an Islamic course on polygamy starting tomorrow," Mr. Abbas said firmly. His voice held no room for argument, though his heart was heavy. He hated this outcome, but since Zeenat had painfully accepted the situation, he had no choice but to guide it with caution. Still, he couldn't ignore the sorrow etched on her face. The pain behind her silence told him everything.
It had been several minutes since Zeenat made her difficult declaration. After that, she quietly excused herself and went inside, leaving Mr. Abbas alone with Rayyan and Mrs. Hanifah—the exact setup she had always wanted.
Turning back to his son, Mr. Abbas asked, "Are you going to take the course seriously?"
Rayyan hesitated. "I already know a lot about polygamy. I understand the rulings and responsibilities."
Mr. Abbas narrowed his eyes. "And yet, you still treat one woman like she matters more than your wife?"
Rayyan fell silent.
"I'm allowing this marriage, Rayyan, not because I want it, but because Zeenat agreed. But listen to me—and listen well." Mr. Abbas's voice dropped, low and weighted with emotion. "Don't mistreat that girl. Even if I'm no longer here, I want you to be just. Treat her with kindness, with fairness. She is an amana, a trust from me to you."
"You'll always be here, Father," Rayyan said softly, guilt creeping into his voice.
Mr Abbas turned slightly, his gaze flicking to Hanifah. "Don't use her as a pawn between your ambitions and your mother's. This game has already cost her too much."
Both mother and son were silent, but they understood. Mr. Abbas wasn't fooled—he knew Zeenat had been used as a convenient tool for Rayyan to secure his position, and Hanifah had pushed hard to make that happen. Now that her son had what she wanted, Zeenat was nothing but an obstacle.
After offering his heartfelt nasiha, Mr. Abbas stood to leave. It was getting late.
As he moved toward the door, he paused and glanced back. "Rayyan, come with me for a moment," he said quietly.
Without a word, Rayyan followed his father outside. The evening air was cool, and the compound was quiet except for the distant sound of crickets. They walked toward the car in silence, the weight of unspoken thoughts hanging between them.
Just as Rayyan reached to open the car door for him, Mr. Abbas spoke again.
"Rayyan, what is really wrong with your wife?"
Rayyan exhaled slowly, already feeling the familiar weight of this conversation pressing down on him.
"It's just us here," Mr. Abbas continued, leaning slightly against the car. "Why won't you stay with your wife—and her alone? You haven't even fully accepted her, Rayyan."
Rayyan tensed. "Oh father, not again. I thought we were done with this."
Mr. Abbas didn't raise his voice. He simply looked at his son with eyes aged by experience and quiet regret.
"I can see it, Rayyan. You've let yourself get distracted by glitter… not realizing the gem that's right beside you."
Rayyan didn't respond. He folded his arms, gaze averted.
Mr. Abbas placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Son," he said, voice low, "you might not understand me now. But I just hope—truly hope—you won't realize this when it's already too late. Don't make the mistake I made. Don't trade a rare gem like Zeenat for a sparkle that may fade."
The words lingered in the air.
Rayyan blinked, confused and unconvinced. Gem? he thought. His heart, his treasure—wasn't that Sakinat? The charming, fun loving lady, The one with beauty beyond compare?
Mr. Abbas opened the car door but paused again, looking back one last time.
"Please take care of Zeenat," he said softly. "And take your mother somewhere else to stay—not here."
He got in and shut the door gently. The engine started, the headlights cut through the dusk, and within seconds, he was gone.
___
Back in the parlour, Mrs. Hanifah's thoughts drifted back to Anaya. Rayyan was finally where he was supposed to be—but when it came to Anaya, she had made up her mind: she would never allow her to remain married to Zayd. Her daughter is worth far more than that.
---
Author's Note:
I'm so sorry, sisters. Like I mentioned before, I've been really busy these days. Alhamdulillah, I'm a bit more free now—though not as free as before—but I'll try to update both of my books more regularly from now on.
As for The Twins 2, editing it has been quite challenging, but in shaa Allah, I'll post an update tonight or tomorrow.