The passage of time brought subtle changes to Miraal's demeanor. A month had slipped by, but the wounds within her heart were still raw and festering. She withdrew further into her solitude, retreating into the shadows of her own thoughts. Miraal hardly spoke, and when she did, her words were bitter, laced with the venom of her pain.

Abraar watched her from afar, feeling helpless in the face of her suffering. He had tried everything to bring a glimmer of light back into her eyes. He even invited her cousin, Zubiya, to lift her spirits, but Miraal remained distant and detached.

One evening, as Miraal and Zubiya sat together, a glint of light caught Miraal's eye—a ring adorning Zubiya's finger. Curiosity piqued, Miraal couldn't help but ask, "Ye anguthi tumhe kisne di?" (Who gave you this ring?)

Zubiya replied with a gentle smile, "Zoheb ne." She then chuckled, as if remembering something, and continued, "Ya Allah, mai tumhe batana hi bhul gayi thi, tumhare nikkah ke baad Zoheb aaya tha mujhse milne. Woh Ruhsana Khaala ko last stage cancer tha, she wanted to apologize to me." (I forgot to tell you, after your wedding, Zoheb came to meet me. Ruhsana Aunt was in the final stages of cancer, and she wanted to apologize to me.)

Miraal gave her a curious look, her brow furrowing in thought. "Aise log badalte hai?" (Can people change like that?) she asked, genuinely puzzled.

Zubiya nodded, her eyes reflecting a deep understanding of life's complexities. "Ye sab toh Allah ke bas mai hai kab kisko hidayat de." (It's all in Allah's hands, who He chooses to guide.)

The conversation took an unexpected turn as Miraal inquired further, "Zubiya, maut ke wakt hidayat ka kya tuk bandta hai? Aur tum itne pyaar se kyun unka naam pukar rahi, bhul gayi unhoney tumharey saath kya kiya tha?" (What changes a person's heart during their last moments? And why are you mentioning him with such affection? Have you forgotten what he did to you?)

Zubiya's eyes held a depth of wisdom as she embraced Miraal with a warm hug. "Nafrat ... Khud se nafrat hoti hai Zubiya. How are you so strong?" (Hatred... it's self-hatred, Miraal. How can you be so strong?)

"How can you forgive and move on so fast?" Miraal pressed, her voice tinged with both curiosity and bitterness.

"I am not strong, Miraal," Zubiya admitted with a soft sigh. "I just have faith in Allah. Jab bhi mujhse koi cheez cheeni hai, khuda ne uske badle m mujhe kisi aur cheez se nawaza hai." (Whenever something has been taken away from me, Allah has blessed me with something else in return.)

Miraal frowned, struggling to comprehend. "How can you trust Zoheb? What if he breaks your heart?"

Zubiya replied with unwavering resolve, "I don't trust him. And I don't expect anything from him."

This left Miraal perplexed, and she questioned further, "Fir tum itni khush kaise ho?" (Then how can you be so happy?)

Zubiya sighed, her gaze softening. "Jab tum dunya se expectations lagna chod dete ho, toh farak padhna band hojata, Miraal. Kissi aur ke saath khush nahi raha jaa sakta jab tak tum khud khush na ho." (When you stop having expectations from the world, you stop caring about the outcomes, Miraal. You can't find happiness with someone else until you're happy with yourself.)

Miraal clapped sarcastically and teased, "Mashallah yaar badi shayar ban gayi ho tum." (Wow, you've become quite the poet.)

Zubiya shook her head, her eyes twinkling. "Tumse badi nahi hu, Miraal." (I'm no greater than you, Miraal.)

"What do you mean?" Miraal inquired.

Zubiya revealed a secret, "Miraal, jab tum gayab hogayi thi, toh maine tumhari diary padhi thi." (Miraal, when you disappeared, I read your diary.)

Miraal's hand clenched involuntarily, and she abruptly picked up her shawl, leaving the room without a word.

Late at night, as Miraal sat alone on the terrace under the moon's gentle glow, she couldn't help but notice Zoheb and Zubiya laughing together in the garden. For a fleeting moment, she saw a reflection of herself and Abraar in their joyous camaraderie. But the thought revolted her, and she couldn't fathom it—how pathetic and insincere it would be.

She raised her hands, their trembling a reflection of her inner turmoil, and brought them together in a fervent prayer.

"Ya Allah," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath, "forgive me."

The weight of her past sins bore down upon her like an iron chain, threatening to drown her in despair. She knew what she had done was unforgivable, a stain on her soul that no amount of tears could wash away. But still, she fought against the darkness that threatened to consume her.

As her eyes closed, she could hear the whispers within her—a cacophony of self-doubt, guilt, and remorse. Her inner demons clawed at her heart, but she resisted, determined to find a glimmer of hope in the depths of her despair.

With great effort, she raised her trembling heart and offered a prayer for forgiveness, her words a desperate plea for guidance and redemption. Each word was soaked with tears, each syllable a testament to her broken spirit.

"I don't know if I can ever make amends," she continued, tears escaping from her tightly closed eyes. "But I beg You, Ya Allah, grant me the strength to change, to find my way back to You. End this trial that I've brought upon myself."

A single tear broke free, rolling down her cheek and dropping onto the cold stone beneath her. It was a tear of surrender, a tear that symbolized the beginning of her journey towards healing and forgiveness.

With newfound determination, Miraal stood up and retreated to her room. She performed wudhu, the ritual cleansing of her body and soul, holding back the sobs that threatened to escape. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for any remnants of the past that had held her captive.

But the sleeping pills were nowhere to be found.

Wrapped in the comforting embrace of her scarf, she cocooned herself in the warmth it offered. The presence of her Allah enveloped her, and slowly, the fears, the helplessness, and the self-pity that had plagued her began to dissolve.

In that solitary moment, as she sought forgiveness in the stillness of the night, Miraal felt a faint glimmer of hope. It was a fragile beginning, but it was a beginning nonetheless—a chance for her to emerge from the darkness and find her way back to the light.

She sat on her table and began to read one of her old diary entries, her heart heavy as she revisited her past dreams. "I want to be a doctor," the words echoed in her mind, "even if it's one person, but before I die, I want to save a life."

"Tomorrow marks my first day at medical college, and my aspiration is to become a doctor. However, my motivation isn't solely driven by my father's wishes; it's rooted in my genuine desire to assist others. I've witnessed doctors who have worked tirelessly, pulling people back from the brink of death, dedicating their entire lives to healing and caring for others. I yearn to follow in their footsteps, even if it means saving just a single soul during my lifetime. The thought of being one of those selfless individuals who sacrifice everything for the betterment of their community fills me with an unexplainable longing. I long to be among them, striving to make a difference, and I can't fathom how much Allah cherishes those with compassionate hearts. My fervent wish is to become one of them."

Miraal couldn't help but compare her old self, full of dreams and aspirations, with the broken, guilt-ridden woman she had become. She fell asleep at the table, her diary entry haunting her.

Abraar found her there, the diary pages flipping open to reveal a letter that fluttered to the floor. He picked it up and began to read, the words tugging at his heart.

"(Dated six months ago)

Dear Khan,

I don't know what spell you have cast on me, but my every moment is spent thinking about you. When I close my eyes I can see yours, those black lively eyes those shiny eyes seem to talk. Whenever you smile in my dreams, your eyes smile too as your lips curl up. When you are sad I can see sadness in those withdrawn eyes, whenever you are lost in thought you bind your hands behind your back. I can't fall asleep, your thoughts keep me awake. I hope we meet soon, and Khan would you mind if I called you Abraar?"

The old letter spoke of love and longing, and as he continued to read, Abraar felt his chest constrict with pain. Another entry beckoned him, further tormenting his soul.

"Today Abraar proposed to me. I am overjoyed; it feels like he has fulfilled a cherished childhood dream. I may never openly admit it, but the truth is, I had already claimed Abraar as mine. When Mukhtar Khan never brought him to our home, my heart ached, and I believed he didn't like me. However, he wasn't even aware of my existence. I often wonder what he finds appealing about me. It was his gleaming eyes, his hair, and that infectious smile that made me fall in love with him at first sight. I appreciate how he listens to me, even when our thoughts differ; he strives to find common ground. We may be vastly different, but our destinies seem inexplicably intertwined. From this day forward, I can confidently say that Abraar Khan belongs to me."

The diary entries painted a stark contrast between the Miraal who once loved and aspired to help others and the Miraal who now hid in the shadows, imprisoned by her guilt. Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized the magnitude of her suffering and the long road to recovery that lay ahead—for both of them.

The next morning it rained, raindrops cascaded from the heavens like a gentle caress, kissing the earth below. Each drop was a promise of renewal, a chance to wash away the stains of the past. As Miraal stood by the window, her eyes fixed on the rhythmic dance of the rain, she felt a sense of calm wash over her.

In that moment, the rain was a mirror to her soul—full of turmoil, yet longing for purity and redemption. She extended her hand, her fingertips grazing the cool glass, as if trying to bridge the gap between herself and the cleansing rain. Her face was a mixture of yearning and reluctance, caught between the desire to be free and the fear of exposing herself to the world once more.

Abraar watched her silently from a distance, hidden in the shadows of the room. His heart ached as he observed her, recognizing the battle she fought within herself. He could feel the walls she had built around her heart, walls that were as impenetrable as his own guilt.

As Miraal's hand remained suspended in the air, caught between her longing and her reservations, Abraar's thoughts were a tempest of conflicting emotions. He longed to bridge the gap that had formed between them, to wash away the pain and guilt that separated their souls. But he knew that it would not be easy.

His inner thoughts were a tumultuous whirlwind, filled with self-recrimination and a desperate desire to make amends. 'I have hurt her so deeply,' he thought, his eyes never leaving Miraal. 'I've shattered her trust, and now she's nothing but a broken soul. How can I mend what I've destroyed? How can I ease her suffering when I'm the source of it?'

He remembered the days when they had been together, when their love had been a beacon of hope. Now, their love was buried beneath layers of pain, anger, and betrayal. 'Can love that's been tainted find its way back to purity?' he wondered.

Abraar's gaze remained fixed on Miraal, a silent promise forming in his heart. 'I will do whatever it takes,' he resolved. 'I will endure her bitterness, her anger, her pain, and I will wait. Maybe one day she'll find the strength to step out of her self-imposed exile.'

And so, in the midst of the rain's embrace, Abraar sat alone with his thoughts, determined to be patient and steadfast as he waited for the storm within Miraal's heart to subside.