Almir hurried to get ready, fastening the last button of his shirt as he reached for his watch. The moment he tried to slip it onto his wrist, it slipped from his hand and fell to the floor with a sharp clink.
"Oh, what a day," he muttered under his breath. "Why does everything have to happen today?"
He bent down and picked up the watch, turning it over in his palm, relieved to see that the glass hadn't cracked. With a slow exhale, he set it aside and reached for his pen. But as he straightened up, his eyes landed on the small velvet ring box placed neatly at the edge of the table the one he had bought for Sehra.
For a moment, everything around him seemed to fall silent. His mind drifted back to the first time he had seen her. He had gone to Mr. Hakim's house the day her mother's funeral was being held, offering whatever help he could. The house had been filled with an aching quiet, broken only by muffled whispers and the rustle of people moving in and out.
And then he remembered it vividly his gaze had lifted toward the window on the upper floor. She was standing there, Sehra, still and fragile, her eyes glistening with tears that clung to her lashes. The weight of her grief had settled in the air around her.
Almir had quickly lowered his gaze,
Just as Almir's thought overr, a sudden voice echoed from behind him.
"Almir! Are you ready or not?"
He turned to see Selim standing at the doorway, calling out to him. At the same time, the honk of the car downstairs peemp, peemp rose insistently, as if reminding him that they were already running late.
Almir quickly slipped the ring box into his pocket and hurried down the stairs.
Selim and his wife, Safaq, were waiting at the entrance, both dressed impeccably, each holding a neatly wrapped gift box.
"Took you long enough," Safaq teased, raising an eyebrow. "If you get ready this slowly, you and Sehra will never get married."
Selim shook his head. "Not today, Safaq. The wedding isn't today. Mr. Hakim invited us for dinner, remember?"
Almir managed a brief, controlled smile. "Let's go then."
The three of them got into the car and soon reached Mr. Hakim's residence. The house glowed softly in the evening light. Mr. Hakim greeted them warmly at the door, ushering them inside with genuine warmth.
They settled around the dining table, but before anyone could begin, Sehra quietly stood up. She turned to leave.
"sehra , where are you going?" Mr. Hakim asked gently.
She paused, looked at everyone at the table, and replied in a restrained tone, "Why? Do you need something? I'm not hungry. I'm just going to my room."
Almir had been watching her the entire time. Something inside him tightened, but he said nothing as she disappeared down the hallway. Mr. Hakim soon excused himself and followed after her.
A few moments passed in uneasy silence. Then Selim leaned closer to Almir and asked quietly, "What's going on with her? She seems upset. Did something happen?"
Almir suddenly pushed back his chair, frustration flashing in his eyes. "I'll be right back," he said sharply, and walked away before anyone could speak further.
Inside Sehra's room, her aunt and father were trying to reason with her.
"Sehra, your marriage with Almir is being arranged. How long will you keep behaving like this?"
She snapped, her voice trembling with fury, "I don't want to get married! How many times do I have to say it? Why don't you understand, Baba?"
Just then, Almir entered the room.
"Uncle… please," he said softly. "Let me talk to her."
Her father and aunt exchanged a look, then stepped aside and left the room.
Almir walked slowly toward Sehra. Her eyes still burning with anger refused to meet his. For a moment, he simply stood there, watching her struggle with emotions she couldn't hide.
Then, without saying a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring.
Sehra's breath caught.
Almir gently took her hand, lifted it, and slipped the ring onto her finger.
For one long, suspended moment, the world grew completely still. Their anger, their questions, their fears everything quieted as they stared at each other, eyes locked, hearts pounding in the same stunned rhythm.
And then Almir stepped back.
Without speaking further, he turned and walked out of the room.
Outside, Selim and Safaq were already waiting. They all got into the car, the silence heavy but not hostile.
As the car rolled away from the house, Safaq finally asked, "Almir… what happened? Are you alright?"
He was still tense, jaw tight, but after a moment he exhaled slowly and answered, calmer now, "Everything's fine. The wedding… will be next month."
Next morning...
In her room, Sehra sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the ring on her finger. Her thoughts drifted restlessly toward Almir, toward the argument, toward the future that suddenly felt unbearably close.
Unable to bear the silence any longer, she stood up, slipped on her sandals, and stepped outside, heading toward the library. Her mind was elsewhere, wandering through tangled memories and unanswered questions.
Lost in thought, she didn't notice the car speeding toward her until it was almost upon her.
She froze.
The car screeched to a stop just inches away but the shock made her stumble backward. She fell hard onto the ground, her palm scraping against the rough road. A sharp sting shot up her arm as blood began to stream from the wound.
The car door swung open.
A tall man stepped out -Demir Arslan.
"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice controlled but concerned. His assistant rushed out behind him, panic written across his face.
"Ma'am, how can you stand in the middle of the road like that? Are you out of your mind"
"Enough," Arslan said firmly, silencing him.
Sehra pushed herself up, wincing. "I ,I'm okay, sir," she replied breathlessly. Then, recognizing him fully, she straightened. "Sir, I'm actually a huge fan of yours. I've always wanted to work in your company. I had no idea I'd meet you like this I mean, I'm… I'm really happy."
Arslan blinked, caught off guard by her sudden enthusiasm. "I see. But first we need to get your hand treated. It's bleeding too much."
"No, no, I'm fine," she insisted. "There's a hospital nearby. I'll go myself."
He nodded after a moment. "Alright. Just take care. We're already late for a meeting."
He returned to the car.
As they drove away, Arslan rubbed his forehead and muttered, "Ten whole minutes… completely wasted."
Sehra watched the car disappear, then headed toward the hospital. When she entered, she froze this hospital belonged to Arslan's father, Mr. Tamer. The thought made her heartbeat quicken, but the throbbing in her hand forced her forward.
A nurse approached her Safaq.
The moment she recognized Sehra, she stopped cold. "Unbelievable," she breathed. "I swear, I don't know when you people will stop showing up everywhere."
She grabbed Sehra's hand. "This is a deep cut. You must have lost a lot of blood"
Sehra jerked her hand away sharply. "I don't want anything from you. Stay away from me."
She snatched a roll of bandage and a small bottle of antiseptic from the tray, sat down, and wrapped her wound herself despite the pain. Then she stood, ready to leave.
At the doorway, she turned back.
"Tell Almir," she said coldly, "that I'm not marrying him. No matter what."
Safaq stared at her, stunned and troubled, but she didn't stop her. She simply turned and went back to her duties, her mind heavy with worry.
...
Sehra reached home with her hand still aching beneath the bandage. The moment she stepped inside, she began searching anxiously around the living room.
"Aunty… have you seen my book? The one with the interview questions? I borrowed it from the library and I've been looking for it since morning. I can't find it anywhere I'm really stressed."
Her aunt looked up from the kitchen counter. "No, beta, I haven't seen it… Wait." She paused, thinking. "Oh! Maybe I accidentally placed it inside Hakim's room among his books. I thought it was his."
Sehra blinked. "Oh… okay, I'll check there. And can you please take out dinner for me? I'm starving."
"Of course, I'll bring it right away."
Sehra walked toward her father's room. The door creaked softly as she pushed it open. Inside, the air smelled faintly of old paper and sandalwood. The bookshelf stood tall against the wall packed with neatly arranged volumes.
She began scanning through the titles, sliding books aside one by one, searching for the missing interview guide.
But then something else caught her eye.
A thin report file lay tucked against the side panel of the shelf, half-hidden beneath a stack of older documents. It wasn't a book… and it certainly wasn't something placed there casually.
Curiosity tugged at her.
She pulled the file free and opened it.
Her eyes widened.
Inside were typed pages official documents, medical charts, notes all with her father's name on them.
At the top of the first page, bold and unmistakable, were the words:
"Medical Report For Mr. Hakim…"
At first, Sehra skimmed the page without fully understanding. But when her eyes reached the center of the report, her breath stopped.
"Diagnosis: Stage III cancer."
"Prognosis: Low chance of recovery."
The words blurred for a moment. She blinked hard, her fingers tightening around the thin paper. She flipped through the pages each line heavier than the last. Test results… biopsy notes… treatment recommendations… all pointing to the same unbearable truth.
Her father knew.
He had been hiding it.
He had been carrying this alone.
Her heartbeat began to pound painfully in her chest. A heat rose behind her eyes, burning, stinging and then the tears broke free.
"No… no… this can't be…" she whispered, her voice cracking.
The room around her dissolved as she clutched the file to her chest. Her knees trembled until she sank onto the edge of the bed, the report slipping helplessly from her hands.
Tears poured down her cheeks in uncontrollable streams. Her breath turned shaky, shallow. A sob escaped her a raw, broken sound that filled the silence of the room.
"Baba… why didn't you tell me…?" she cried, her body shaking as though the grief itself had weight.
The pages of the report fluttered on the floor.