The following morning, Ayesha woke up very early, determined to show Farhan how much she cared. As early as 5 AM, she quietly slipped out of bed and made her way to the kitchen. She prepared his favorite breakfast—omelets, freshly baked bread, and a pot of rich, aromatic coffee. She carefully packed his lunch, including all the little details she knew he loved: a neatly wrapped sandwich, fresh fruit, and a small note expressing her love and hope for their future.
By the time she finished, it was already 7:00 AM. She could hear Farhan moving around upstairs, getting ready for work. Her heart raced with a mix of hope and anxiety. She laid the table meticulously, making sure everything was perfect.
As Farhan walked down the stairs, dressed sharply in his suit, Ayesha stood by the dining table, a hopeful smile on her face. "Good morning," she said softly, trying to keep her voice steady. "I made breakfast and also packed your lunch."
Farhan glanced at the table briefly, his expression unreadable. He didn't acknowledge her words or the effort she had put into preparing everything. Instead, he walked straight past her and headed for the door, his silence cutting through the air like a knife.
Ayesha's smile faltered, but she tried to keep her composure. "Have a good day at work," she called out, her voice tinged with sadness.
Farhan paused for a moment at the door, his hand on the handle. But he didn't turn around or say anything. He simply opened the door and left, leaving Ayesha standing there, feeling more alone than ever.
She sank into a chair, staring at the untouched breakfast and the lunch pack she had prepared with so much love. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that this was just the beginning. It would take time for Farhan to heal, and she had to be patient.
Determined not to let the day be consumed by sorrow, Ayesha decided to keep herself busy. She cleaned the house, ensuring every corner was spotless. She sorted through old photos, reminding herself of the good times they had shared. Each memory gave her a bit more strength, a bit more hope.
Later that day, Ayesha received a text message from her mother, asking how she was doing. She replied with a brief but optimistic message, assuring her that she was doing fine and that things would get better. She didn't mention the pain she was feeling or the cold reception from Farhan that morning. There was no need to worry her mother any more than she already had.
As the day wore on, Ayesha found herself replaying the events of the morning over and over in her mind. She wondered if there was anything else she could have done, anything more she could have said. But she knew deep down that Farhan needed time. He needed to see that she was sincere, that she was committed to making things right.
By the time evening approached, Ayesha had prepared dinner, hoping once again that Farhan might join her at the table. She set the table for two, lighting a small candle to create a warm, inviting atmosphere.
Farhan returned home to find a meal prepared and waiting for him. The aroma of spices filled the air, a stark contrast to the cold, sterile environment his home had become. Ayesha had prepared his favorite dishes, hoping to bridge the gap between them.
"Farhan, please," Ayesha said softly as he walked through the door. "I've made dinner. Can we sit and talk?"
Farhan glared at her, his eyes filled with resentment. "I'm not hungry," he snapped, walking past her without a glance. He made his way to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him
Ayesha watched him go, her heart heavy but her resolve unbroken. She sat down at the table, eating alone, the candle flickering softly beside her. She knew this would be a long and difficult journey, but she was determined to keep trying, to keep showing Farhan how much she loved him.
After cleaning up from dinner, Ayesha sat down on the couch, looking around the cozy living room that had once felt so warm and full of love. She remembered the nights they spent here, talking and laughing, planning their future together. She picked up a photo album from the coffee table and flipped through the pages, each picture telling a story of their journey. The wedding photos showed their radiant smiles, the love in their eyes unmistakable. She traced Farhan's face in one of the pictures, a tear slipping down her cheek.
She decided to leave the album open on the coffee table, hoping Farhan might see it and remember the good times too. She needed him to see that their relationship was worth saving, that the love they shared was still there, buried beneath the hurt and anger.
As the night wore on, Ayesha found herself growing restless. She wandered into the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea, trying to soothe her frazzled nerves. She took the cup and went to sit on the back porch, the cool night air a welcome relief. She looked up at the stars, their twinkling light a reminder that even in the darkest times, there was always a glimmer of hope.
She stayed outside for a while, lost in her thoughts, before finally heading back inside. She checked the time and realized it was late. Farhan was likely already asleep. She made her way to their bedroom, careful not to make any noise. As she entered, she saw Farhan lying on his side, his back to her. She changed into her nightclothes quietly and slipped into bed, keeping a respectful distance.
Ayesha lay there, staring at the ceiling, the events of the past few days playing over and over in her mind. She longed to reach out to him, to bridge the gap that had grown between them. But she knew she had to be patient, to give him the space he needed to heal.