A pool of dismay and desolation covered the walls of their home. Senselessly, she fell to the floor, her knees finally giving in, and she curled up against the wooden door, the door from where he'd left her behind. As if her brain stopped functioning, she couldn't comprehend what had happened.

Her chest was clawing, and an unsettling ball of anxiety swirled her throat. It was getting hard to breathe, so she tugged the hijab off of her and inhaled deeply.

She felt so cold that even the heater felt useless. She stared at nothingness for a while and then longingly looked towards the door from where Zaib had walked out. It made her heart clench.

She pushed herself off the floor, dashing to her purse left forgotten on the table. She yanked out the contents on the floor, and then with a rumble, her phone crashed onto the floor.

She picked it up with shaking hands, but the phone was dead; she realised her phone had run out of battery, so she quickly lunged towards the landline phone.

Despite messing up the numbers several times due to her quivering fingers, she finally got the digits right and numbly waited as the rings fell through. The first six rings prolonged, and she stubbornly dialled again.

She almost fell into prostration as he finally picked up. "Za—" her voice broke into a sob, interrupting her. She quickly gulped down the heavy sobs because she knew this was the only time he was willing to listen.

"Please come back. Please. I'll explain everything to you. I'm so sorry," the sobbing and dryness of Zoya's throat combined made her voice hoarse, unpleasant. Her eyes were now achingly red and swollen.

"Zaib, I didn't—I never wanted to hurt you. I'm begging, please. Come home and let me apologise."

The silence, on the other end, killed her. She couldn't even hear anyone breathing. She almost cried, thinking Zaib had already shut the call, but then his voice emerged.

"I've called you a cab; they'll be there in a minute. Leave to your mom's place." His voice was unbearably monotonous as if he was speaking to some formal colleague, someone he didn't recognise. Zoya felt herself flinch at the sense of unfamiliarity but knew she deserved it.

"Zaib no, please come home—"

"I'm not coming back for a while. I want time to think." The sentences were concise and dull; she couldn't even register it being her husband's voice.

"Time to think about what?" She muttered. "We need to talk- Zaib, don't do this!" She gasped, her heart pacing painfully fast.

Yes, it was unerring that she was always messing up; yes, he deserved someone so much better, but there was no way she could let him go, ever. Despite all her flaws and cowardly choices, they belonged to each other, and that's all that mattered.

"Later." She heard him rasp. "We can talk later." And then the call deadened.

He was the only one she didn't want to hurt. She thought she was doing the right thing, being a good wife while juggling her assignment deadlines and the new job for her family's survival. Instead, the big pile of responsibilities she was working hard to fulfil went unnoticed, and it all collapsed in a blink because of that one lie.

How stupid she felt at that moment; she had never felt this defeated in her life. She did everything to make everyone happy; in the end, she lost someone who she wanted to please the most.

She hurt him so bad that he refused to come home to her and see her. It made her want to double over and hurl until she was breathless. His look of utter disdain flashed back into her memory, and she collapsed to the ground, curling into herself.

She felt sick and exhausted.

And as embarrassing as it was after all that happened, she still wanted to be in his arms, have him hold her like nothing was wrong.

—:—:—:—:—:—

"You haven't said a word since you've come home. It's been hours, Zaib. What happened?"

He looked towards his thin-lipped mother and felt his heart clench as he noticed how much she had aged in the past few weeks. He forced a slight smile to his lips and shook his head, shrugging off her concern.

"Zay, did you miss me?" He muttered at his sister, who had her head in his lap as she played on his phone.

"Not the slightest," she smirked up at him, and he chuckled dryly.

"How do you have so many games on your phone! You never let me download any and told me it would take too much of your storage!" She accused, glumly eyeing him as she awaited his response.

He looked at the phone and felt something tingle in his chest. "Zoya plays on my phone," he rasped.

Upon hearing this, Zayna perked up, her eyes shimmering with excitement. "Really! See, she's not boring like 'somebody'." Zayna laid emphasis, rolling her eyes at him.

Zaib looked away at his phone and wondered if his wife had safely reached home; he had called a cab as soon as he left the place, knowing he wouldn't be able to face her for a while.

"Why didn't Zoya come with you?" His mother again interrogated more pointedly. Zaib glanced up at her and noticed she seemed a little nervous with her forehead covered in lines of worry.

"She wanted to stay at her mom's place, so I thought I'd visit you. Don't worry, mom. Everything is fine." He didn't like lying to his mother, but he couldn't help the circumstances for now. When he came home, his mother seemed exhausted and told him she'd spent the night at his aunt's place with Zayna.

Upon asking about Zain, she told him he was gone for a trip with his friends.

"Mom, Zoya told me she was here this morning. Why?" He was reminded of the bitter events; Zoya refused to tell him why she had come to his house.

He felt his mother tense up, and she avoided his gaze as she replied, "Didn't she tell you?"

Zaib narrowly looked towards his mother and shook his head. "No, I forgot to ask her."

His mother then answered. "I just wanted her help in planning a get-together for Naimat and Ehsan after they come back from their honeymoon."

Zaib stared at his mother, not believing her for a second, his temper flaring again. Zoya had avoided his calls, ignored their time together for a freaking party planning? He felt his mind race, and he lowered his head in humiliation.

He was so embarrassed.

Was he the only one anticipating their time together? She rendered it to be so insignificant that planning a party for their friends was more important. He wanted to smack himself: why was he so oblivious?

"What's the matter?" His mother noticed the horrid expression in his eyes and asked concernedly.

"Nothing," he bitterly spat.

Zaib shared almost everything with his mother, but at the moment, things seemed too complicated to explain to her. He wanted his peace of mind to think about the circumstances.

Allah didn't like the ones who decided rashly, so he wanted some time in solitude.

What did he want to decide?

Well, he wasn't sure either. He couldn't even imagine leaving Zoya, let alone make some big decision that affects their entire marriage; he just wanted to be away from her to digest the truth.

She had chosen to believe in everything but him.

More than anger, he felt a mountain of sadness and frustration building up inside of him. Since the beginning of their marriage, Zoya seemed so independent, not that there's anything wrong with being independent, but leaning upon your spouse is a huge part of marriage. If she couldn't depend on him for money, she should've-at least-confined in him with her feelings.

Yet, she managed to lie to his face and leave to work every day with a smile. He noticed the lines of exhaustion under her eyes whenever he picked her up from work, but he pathetically pretended it didn't faze him, for her.

God, he had wanted to throw his arms around her.

"Zaib, I've made dinner. Come, let's eat."

His mother was not oblivious; she knew Zaib like the back of his hand; something was off about his visit. She, however, decided to lay off for a while. Zaib didn't seem like he wanted to tell her about the problem just yet.

"I don't have an appetite." Food was the least of his concerns at the moment.

"Zayna, go outside," his mother instructed. Zayna knew better than questioning her mother when she used 'that' tone, so she quickly scuttled away to the dining hall.

"Can you tell me what happened?" She asked, stricken with confusion. He gulped, anticipating her interrogative gaze on him.

"Mom, I'm honestly just exhausted. Stop worrying," he muttered, wishing she would buy it. He looked her way, and she seemed more nervous than concerned.

"Zaib... I'm tired, myself. You boys are killing me!" His mother suddenly blurted, her eyes pooling in grief. Zaib stared at her, taken aback by her sudden outcry, but she didn't give him the time to react as she hurried out.

He watched her leave the room, and then he confusedly laid back on the mattress.

His thoughts resumed back to the one who had his heart, and he felt the dull ache in his chest resurface.

Why was marriage so complicated? Despite having so much affection in their relationship, they managed to drift apart.

Were things too unstable to fix?

"Zaib, your aunt's here!" His mother suddenly called out. Zaib sat up, hoping it would be Aunt Afeesa so he could perhaps discuss his problem with her.

He ran his fingers through his tousled hair, sitting the bewildered strands down to make him seem presentable. As he walked out, he immediately regretted coming face to face with his other judgmental aunt and her daughter Mariah.

"As salamu Alaykum," he greeted his aunt, who smiled back at him.

Mariah, his brunette cousin, perked up. "Look who's here! Zaib? I never thought I'd see you again," she sarcastically remarked, shuffling towards his direction.

He didn't bother attempting to fake a smile. "I didn't die, Mariah. I just got married." He didn't mean to sound so bitter but judging by her slight glare, Zaib knew he already hit a nerve.

"Where's your precious wife?" She grinned.

"Back home," he uttered and excused himself as he stepped away, heading to the balcony.

As he stepped outside, the harsh slap of wind struck his physique; he immediately regretted not wearing a sweater on such a cold night. He frowned, gazing up at the blank sky where it seemed as if every star had gone into hiding behind the city lights. Man, he could use some pretty scenery to uplift his spirits right now.

Was she looking up at the same sky?

He heard the door behind him creak- someone stepped out into the cold night. "Zaib, are you okay?" His cousin asked.

Surprised by the sincerity in her question, he glanced down at her. Mariah seemed genuinely concerned with a frown covering her features.

"Why do you think something's wrong?" He muttered, glancing away at the dull, black sky.

He heard her chuckle lightly. "You're not as annoyed as usual when talking to me. Plus, you seem distracted," she explained her analysis.

Zaib gulped uncomfortably.

Was it that obvious?

"What's the matter? Is it Zoya?" She again bombarded- Zaib silently wondered if he should tell his cousin about the mishaps in his relationship.

Mariah genuinely seemed worried for him; he couldn't share anything with his mother just yet because of the circumstances. Talking to his cousin didn't seem like a terrible idea.

"Zoya...she lied to me." As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt a wave of grimace and discomfort swirl down his frame; saying it out loud made it more real than ever.

"What did she lie about?" Mariah questioned, an eyebrow quirked up interestedly. Now, this had caught her attention; what could the ever-so-perfect Zoya lie about to her husband?

"She was working to pay for her family's debt. Instead of asking me for help, she worked herself to the core and lied, saying it was important to gain experience beforehand." Mariah listened attentively.

"Like a fool, I went along with it. I didn't question Zoya or complain about not spending time with her. Yet it was so freaking easy for her; so easy to lie!" Mariah felt the ferocity of his words and backed away instinctively.

He gripped the railing, his knuckles turning pale due to the tight hold. "It's killing me."

Mariah gently patted his back, attempting to comfort him.

-/-/-

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