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The Silent Gaze
The sky melted into a soft orange as evening settled over Malik Mansion. A cool breeze passed gently through the open glass doors of Ahmed Malik's balcony, ruffling the hem of his navy blue button-down shirt. His sleeves were rolled up casually, revealing a luxury watch on his wrist. He leaned on the railing, airpods in, a light frown on his face—not from stress, but from distraction.
His friend Anas was rambling on the phone.
But Ahmed wasn't listening.
Because his eyes were locked on the lawn below.
There she was.
Sumaha.
She walked gracefully through the garden, holding her books close to her chest. She wore a simple yet elegant navy blue kurta with silver embroidery on the sleeves and neckline. Her matching dupatta floated softly in the wind, and her white trousers brushed her ankles as she walked. Her hair, neatly braided, rested on one shoulder.
She was talking to someone on her phone—her voice soft, her posture poised.
But for Ahmed, everything else blurred.
He didn't hear the cars on the road.
He didn't hear Anas.
He didn't even hear the audiobook still playing in the background.
He just watched.
Watched how the sunlight touched her face.
Watched how unaware she was of the storm she stirred in his chest.
And then—she stepped inside the house.
Only then did he blink.
"Hello? Ahmed? You there?" Anas's voice broke the spell.
"Yeah… yeah, sorry," Ahmed muttered, trying to refocus, but his eyes lingered on the spot where she had disappeared.
---
Inside the mansion, Sumaha quietly entered the lounge. The chandelier glimmered above as she placed her books aside and tiptoed toward Dadi, who sat on her elegant white and gold sofa, dressed in a soft lavender shalwar kameez with a pearl-white dupatta draped over her shoulders.
With a grin, Sumaha gently covered her eyes from behind.
"This can only be my dear girl," Dadi smiled, placing her hands over Sumaha's.
They shared a warm laugh just as Moon entered—glowing in a soft pistachio green frock-style dress. Her long black hair was loose, her smile gentle. She carried Hassan in her arms, dressed in a fluffy sky-blue romper, his chubby cheeks pink, pacifier half-hanging from his hand.
"Peace be upon you, Moon sissy!"
"And peace be upon you too, my dear," Moon replied, hugging her gently.
Sumaha leaned in to kiss Hassan, brushing his silky baby hair.
"You've completely forgotten us," Dadi teased.
"No, Dadi. My midterms are coming up, so I've just been a little busy," Sumaha replied, holding Dadi's hand. "But how could I forget you? And Moon sissy is here—how could I not come?"
Just then, footsteps echoed near the hallway. Ahmed entered.
He was effortlessly handsome—wearing a sleek charcoal waistcoat over a crisp white shirt and black trousers. His signature watch hugged his wrist, his hair was styled, his jaw clean-shaven.
He leaned against the doorway with a faint smirk.
"There are other people in this house too, sumaha. But you only ever see your Moon sissy."
Sumaha glanced at him briefly, then turned back to Dadi—saying nothing.
"Ahmed, don't tease her. She just got here. Let her sit peacefully," Dadi said warmly.
"As you say, Dadi." He smiled, his gaze lingering quietly on Sumaha, though she refused to meet his eyes.
---
After a while, Moon stood up.
"I'll take Hassan upstairs to sleep. He hasn't napped all day."
"Go, dear. We'll be here,"Grany smiled.
Moon nodded and went upstairs, gently bouncing the baby in her arms.
Now only three remained in the lounge: Ahmed.
Sumaha.
Dadi.
The air felt still—softer somehow.
"Dear, please bring the tafseer book we left unfinished last time," Dadi asked, gently patting Sumaha's hand.
"Yes, Dadi."
Sumaha brought the worn book, opened to the marked page, and began to read.
Her voice was soft and melodious—like a stream flowing gently over stones. Every word was filled with reverence and calm.
Ahmed sat across the room, pretending to check his phone, but his eyes lifted every few seconds.
He wasn't reading anything.
He was listening.
To her voice.
To the peace in her tone.
To the calm that made him fall for her—again and again.
And still… she didn't look at him even once.
---
"Dinner is ready," the maid softly announced.
Dadi stretched and stood. "Everyone, please come to the dining room."
The family began to move, but Ahmed lingered behind, hands in his pockets, eyes on the corridor where Sumaha had vanished.
He muttered under his breath, "She (maid) completely ruined my view."
He adjusted his sleeves and followed.
---
The grand dining hall glowed under chandelier lights. The long table was set with silver cutlery and bone-china plates. Aromas of biryani, kebabs, and fresh naan filled the air.
At the head sat Haji Hamid Malik, the family patriarch, dressed in a pristine white kurta pajama, a soft shawl over his shoulders. Hashir Malik, Ahmed's father, sat beside him, dressed in a steel-grey kameez with subtle patterns, a luxury watch peeking from his wrist. His wife, Ayesha Malik, wore a dusty rose chiffon saree, her demeanor warm.
Moon settled beside Dada Jaan.
"How's Bilawal's business? And how's Hassan's health?" Dada Jaan asked.
"Everything's good, thank God. Bilawal stays busy, but we manage," Moon replied.
Ayesha turned to Sumaha. "Dear, take more biryani. That's barely anything."
"No, Auntie. That's enough," Sumaha replied shyly, her silver bangles clinking as she folded her hands in her lap.
From across the table, Ahmed murmured, "You eat like a bird."
Dadi shot him a light glare.
"You should eat more, dear. How will you study with such little food? You look weak."
Sumaha smiled politely and nodded.
As she looked around for a glass of water, Ahmed noticed immediately.
Before she could reach forward, he had already poured water into her glass and placed it in front of her—quietly.
She looked up, surprised.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He shrugged, pretending he didn't notice the warmth in her cheeks.
---
After dinner, the family dispersed. Dada Jaan went to bed early. Hashir and Ayesha joined Dadi in the living room.
On the balcony, night winds danced softly. Moon, Sumaha, and Ahmed sat together with cups of tea.
The moonlight bathed them in silver.
Ahmed hated tea.
But not when she was drinking it.
He sat quietly, letting the cup warm his hands—not his tongue. His eyes weren't on the sky.
They were on her.
Sumaha sat sideways in her chair, her legs tucked neatly, her dress swaying in the breeze. She was sharing a story about her university group—a chemistry lab mistake.
Her laughter was soft, fingers tucking her hair behind one ear.
She sipped her tea.
And in that moment, Ahmed wasn't hearing words.
He heard music.
He saw her eyes move, the curve of her lips, the way steam framed her face.
She didn't look at him once.
But she filled his entire world.
"Ahmed? Say something too," Moon interrupted.
He blinked. "What?"
Moon narrowed her eyes teasingly—but said nothing.
---
As the breeze whispered, Moon asked, "Why did you bring these books, Sumaha?"
"Oh! I forgot—I actually came to study. I needed your help."
Moon laughed. "Of course you did. Show me—"
But just then, the maid knocked on the glass door.
"Ma'am, Hassan baby is awake and crying."
"Oh no. I'll go," Moon stood, handing her teacup to Ahmed.
"Help her, will you? She came all this way to study."
Ahmed nodded, trying to suppress a smile.
As Moon walked away, he whispered inside, "Looks like my prayer was answered."
---
Now it was just the two of them.
Sumaha opened her chemistry notebook. "Which topic should I ask about?"
Ahmed straightened. "Show me."
She turned the page.
"This part is confusing. I've read it three times."
He leaned closer. "You're just looking at it the hard way. Let me show you something."
As he took the pen, he brushed the cap—where her lips had touched. Unaware, he held it at the same spot near his mouth.
Their eyes didn't meet.
She was lost in the notebook.
He smiled.
Was this a kiss?
No.
But maybe… the closest thing.
He explained gently, his voice calm.
"See? It's not about remembering. It's about understanding how the molecule thinks."
She nodded, scribbling notes.
Ahmed didn't care about molecules.
He watched her think.
Her eyes.
Her smile.
The peace she carried.
His heart was full—and aching.
---
Back at Armaan Malik's home, the wall clock ticked softly.
"Has Sumaha returned?" Armaan asked.
"No. She must still be at Muntaha's," Aila replied.
"It's past 10. Give me my phone."
---
On the balcony, Sumaha's phone buzzed.
"Yes, Baba?"
"It's already 10. You should come home now."
"Oh! I lost track of time. I'll be right there."
"Take care. I'll be waiting."
She ended the call and stood up quickly. "I should go."
"I'll walk you," Ahmed said, already on his feet.
"Thank you," she replied.
She never called him bhai.
Never had.
And that meant everything to him.
---
They walked side by side in silence. The chilly air wrapped around them.
At Armaan House, her father stood on the porch.
Ahmed stopped with her at the gate.
He looked at her, then at the man waiting at the door, and wished… this path was longer.
"Thank you," she said softly.
"Good night."
He looked at Armaan and greeted with quiet respect.
"Peace be upon you, Uncle."
"And peace be upon you too, son."
Ahmed turned and walked back—into the shadows.
---
Inside, Sumaha greeted her parents, answered a few questions, and entered her room. She dropped her bag and fell onto the bed, eyes heavy.
And the last face she saw in her thoughts…
Was still explaining chemistry.
---
Far away, Ahmed lay on his bed too. One arm under his head. The other resting on his chest.
Sleep didn't come.
Because every time he closed his eyes…
He saw her.
In moonlight.
On his balcony.
In his heart.
---