She sprung up and dashed out of the room pushing her way out as Bilal's playful eyes followed her. Her cheeks were colored as she passed through the hallway and sprinted to her room. Had she unknowingly complimented his eyes? Silly-dumb-idiotic move. She stood against the wall of her room, panting as if she'd just ran a marathon.

What had just happened?

The moment their parents decided to scatter off, she knew she wouldn't be able to breathe properly. She had hoped Bilal at least would remain in the room but that didn't happen. On second thought, he'd just have teased her to an unimaginable extent.

Zaib had stared at her as if he were observing a painting and then he spoke and her throat became dry. She barely let herself look at him during the meeting but when she did, her chest swelled with ecstasy. He was absolutely gorgeous with his broad smile and jet black hair thrown to the back and some strands falling on his forehead, in his eyes as he talked. He was gentle with his words and his gaze held modesty. His green eyes reminded her of everything lively.

There was a part of her which was a quivering mess from the previous encounter but the other part was overjoyed; she was ready to burst and disperse into the thin air like the seeds of a germinating flower.

She wanted to be with him.

"Zoya, I want to marry you."

The words replayed at the back of her head. Her heart fluttered as she dropped down against the wall with the largest smile on her lips; the one she'd get whenever she ate honey cake or when she'd score the highest in her exam.

She had hoped her husband would be the man of her dreams but this was too unreal. Initially, she had come to the conclusion that such men were only imaginary. When she was only fifteen, her mother had warned her to expect only less so she'd never be disappointed.

Was Zaib the one who'd prove everything she was told, wrong--or was he going to stand tall on her mother's inception?

The ringing of a phone tugged her out of her muddled thoughts and she lifted herself up, telling herself to get in her right mind. The phone was on the bed, ringing terribly loud. She smiled to herself, realizing it would be her best friend who wanted to poke her nose into the deets of today's meeting.

She grabbed the phone and answered.

"Naim, I'm so—"

"Zoe?"

She silenced herself as she heard a familiar bright voice.

"I've got some amazing news sweetheart!" Ms. Brooke roared. Zoya awaited with curiosity.

"Is everything okay?" She muttered with furrowed eyebrows.

The adrenaline rush from before still had her panting and she was sure it wouldn't leave until Zaib left the house. "Zoe, I've talked to the head ministration and they've decided to offer a scholarship for the remaining year of your uni."

Zoya's mouth dropped in sheer disbelief.

What the—?

"W-what are you saying? I thought they didn't offer them and I even asked before but—"

"I personally talked to Sir Adams and he was devastated upon hearing about such a calamity befall your family. He's a good man so he decided to gift you these years of cardiology. He expects nothing but the best of results from you." The phone dropped from her grip as an unsettling sensation started up in the back of her throat. Her eyes swelled with tears as she fell into prostration, gratifying the only one worthy of it; the one who gave her everything upon one request. Allah never failed her hopes.

Her silent cries soon turned into sobs as she kept praising her Lord. "Allahu Akbar!"

She looked up only when the abandoned phone a few centimeters away from her on the floor vibrated as Ms. Brooke spoke. She lept ahead, grabbing it and holding it to her ear as she thanked her again and again.

Cardiology wasn't a dream since the beginning. When she was ten, she wanted to become a dance teacher after learning a step or two from her friend. On her fourteenth birthday, she was gifted with a new digital camera and she suddenly wanted to become a photographer. When she finished eleventh grade, her grandmother passed away with a heart attack.

She overheard the doctors speaking about the casualty. They had tried to clean up the blocked arteries but it had been too late.

Heart was a complex organ but also the most precious. When a person loved someone, an ache was felt in the heart and when someone lost someone, the same organ was afflicted with a different sense of pain. Both these situations were polar opposites but heart handled them both accordingly.

Heart was, therefore, complex but precious.

The obscurity of this organ excited her and she grew an untamable passion of becoming a cardiologist in the near future.

"So, you're coming to class next week. And that is final," Ms Brooke declared.

Zoya's voice hoarse from all the sobs spoke into the phone. "I—won't ever be able to repay you," she chocked out at last.

"You will, when you become the greatest cardiologist." The call ended.

She heaved a sigh, her hand rubbing against her warm cheek as her mind traced back to the reason she was in her room in the first place.

Zaib.

Her limbs went numb as the realization settled in. She wanted to achieve her dreams but the sudden heaviness weighting on her chest told her that the young man waiting for her at the end of the hallway also meant something to her.

The door was shoved open as Bilal's eyes met her's. "Zoya, you need to come out now."

Her heart sank. It was the moment of truth.

"Are you okay?" Bilal noticed the redness of her nose. She nodded and stood upright. An uproar of emotions tarnished her mind as she tried to decide what her future would come to be.

She couldn't be married just yet if she wanted to become a cardiologist; if she chose to follow her dreams, she'd lose Zaib.

She worried her bottom lip with a crease of frustration visible on her features. Why was it so hard? On one hand, there was her passion and aspirations all plopped in a platter for her, served with no expenses while on the other hand, she'd lose a proposal of a man she didn't know much about.

If it was that simple, why was there a tug at her heart, worrying her? She trudged along the hallway with slow heavy steps until she faced the shut door of the room.

Bilal read her expression, waiting for her to signal for him to open the door when ready. The blank blue eyes made him worrisome.

Fingers digging in her palm created inflammation. Her clenched fist didn't ease even after the affect. She heaved the largest sigh and stepped forward, sliding the door open.

The sight before her only made her weaker.

Her gaze traced his pointed figure situated on the couch next to her father as he chuckled with his lively eyes. She gulped quickly, yanking eyes off of him.

He wouldn't be hers to look at.

She noticed as she sped into the room, the crowd quietened surveying her anxious body. She sat beside her mother with her head lowered, gaze fixated on the ground.

She was embarrassed to look at him.

"Oh, she's still so very shy. Zoya dear, you've got a lovely personality. We'd be really lucky to have you as a part of our family. What do you say dear? Do you like us, more specifically... do you like Zaib?" His mother's sweetness made her stomach churn.

Her nails might've created holes in her palm by now. She gulped again, trying to ease her nerves.

"I truly believe that all of you have great morals and integrity. I'm very grateful that you showed us such respect and came all the way here."

Zoya's mother already sensed the bad news at the edge of her words and tensed up, eyeing her spouse with alarming eyes who sat on the armchair.

"Zoya, can I speak to you in private?" Her mother called her out nervously. Zoya met her mother's gaze and stared. She didn't want to leave and lose against her mother's sugarcoated words.

"No Mariam. Let her say what she wants," her father was quick to intervene. She lowered her gaze and nibbled on her lip.

"I'm sorry. I decline this proposal."

The tension ratified as everyone's eyes tenaciously clung to her frame. She tried to lower herself further into the couch, hoping to disappear into it. The silence of the room intensified as she gulped again and muttered for Allah to rescue her from such a situation.

She felt Zaib's gaze on her from across the room and as she imagined the green eyes staring at her in disbelief, she winced. She wouldn't meet his eyes, she couldn't.

Zaib's father was the first one to break the silence. "It's completely okay. But is it because there's something you don't like about us—or perhaps Zaib? You can let us—"

"No, uncle. Even though we, humans, are imperfect, your family seems so close to the definition of it. I—I can't say yes at the moment due to personal reasons." Bilal fiddled awkwardly and Mariam sighed.

Zoya's father hadn't said a word.

"Alright dear. It was a pleasure meeting you and your family brother Nadeem," Zaib's father, Abdullah, greeted, shifting off the couch as he shook hands with her father. The fathers seemed like friends parting on good terms as if they'd meet soon.

Zoya stared at her lap, feeling a pit of guilt in her abdomen. She heard the ruffling as everyone got up. The mothers', unlike the men, were uncomfortable and refused to so much as smile at one another.

Zoya waited as the ruffling deadened and the door of the entrance slammed shut.

"I can't believe you!" Her mother boomed into the hall with wide pained eyes and distressed frown. "If you don't want to help ease our burdens, why are you pretending! Just finish this. You're mocking us Zoya Hayat!" Her mother wailed.

"Mariam, don't talk to her like that," her father intruded. She heard her mother's sigh filled with annoyance. Zoya's cheeks were stained with fresh tears as her father sat by her and pulled her into an embrace.

"Are you okay?"

"I—I'm sorry. I really wanted to help and accept this proposal. I like the family. Baba, I was ready to say yes but Ms Brooke called and she told me I can finish uni with a scholarship—I didn't think of anything more and I declined. I'm sorry. I know it was a fast paced decision and I should've concerned you about it but at the moment it seemed—"

"Allahuakbar. Why didn't you tell us earlier?" Her father's voice projected great amount of excitement and his eyes shined. Her heart ached upon seeing him happy.

"Yes baba, I got a scholarship. It'll all finally be worth it!" She exclaimed and her father's smile widened, if that was even possible.

"Subhan Allah! That is a blessing from Allah. I'm so happy Zoe." She smiled in her tears. "But Zoya, the way you declined was not right. For instance, you could've told them to wait till you finish with uni." She sat tight lipped.

"I—why would they bother with a girl who wants to make them wait for a year," she muttered, playing with her fingers.

"That wasn't your choice to make Zoya. Either that or we could've asked permission to let you finish your course after marriage," her father sounded eager and his voice hinted at grief.

She did think about that. But—"Baba, if I get married... I don't think I'll be able to finish my course. How can I trust the family? What if they... go back on their words." She wanted to desperately hear someone tell her she did the right thing. If she didn't, her heart would sink further into the pit of grief.

Her father sighed and smiled tightly.

"Zoya... Zaib really likes you. He's a great guy. And—he deserves more than what just went down." And Bilal stormed off out the front door despite his mother's call for him.

Zoya felt tears of frustration blind her eyes as she stood up and shot off into her room.

Back inside, she shut her eyes and listened to the drops of rain cascading down her window.

The pit had been overfilled with regret.

🤩