"ALLAH-HU-AKBAR.
ALLAH-HU-AKBAR."
The Fajr Adhan echoed through the city. The sun was about to rise, birds chirped in the cool morning air, and flowers seemed to awaken with the day. The streets were slowly coming alive โ people rushing for prayer, then back to their work.
In the Khan mansion, servants bustled quietly, preparing for the day. On a bed, a figure stirred, her alarm ringing insistently.
Mehr opened her eyes, taking in the sunrise through her window. A small smile played on her lips as the melody of birds filled the room. Today felt ordinaryโฆ yet, a quiet anticipation lingered in the air.
She moved to the bathroom, performed wudu, and laid her prayer mat. Kneeling in silence, Mehr prayed Fajr with eyes full of peace. After completing her dua, she went to her wardrobe, selected a gown, and headed for the shower.
The cold water made her shiver, her long black hair clinging wetly to her back. She dried it, styled it into a neat bun, put on her hijab, completed her skincare, added a touch of eyeliner, and finally felt ready.
Just as she was packing to leave, a knock came at the door.
"Come in," she said.
"Baji, come have breakfast downstairs. Everyoneโs coming," her maid, Hiba, called.
Mehr smiled faintly. Hiba wasnโt just a maid โ she was family in every way that mattered.
She made her way to the dining room. Her family was already there, chatting and laughing. Her older brother greeted her warmly, the only one who truly cared. The rest barely glanced her way, as usual.
"Assalamualaikum, everyone," she said softly.
"Walikumsalam, Mehr," her brother replied.
Mehr sat beside him, quietly eating. She was used to being ignored, especially by her father, but she had long accepted it. Her brotherโs love was enough.
Breakfast finished, she left for work. The drive was smooth, and within fifteen minutes, she reached her hospital. Parking her car, she made her way to the elevator and up to her cabin, where a pile of reports awaited her.
Her first patient was critical โ the kind of case she hadnโt handled alone before. Mehr focused, reviewing the test results, when suddenly her door banged open.
"Haniya!" she exclaimed. Her best friend, their friendship forged two years ago, stood smiling.
"Assalamualaikum, Jaan," Haniya greeted.
"Walikum salam, Hani. How are you"
"Alhamdulilah. You?"
"Iโm fine, alhamdulilah. Busy?"
"Not reallyโฆ just a bit. Letโs go out! Itโs been two months since we went anywhere."
Mehr chuckled. "What about Friday? Itโs a holiday, full day fun."
"You always say thatโฆ and never come!" Haniya laughed.
"This time I will, promise," Mehr said firmly.
"Promise?"
"In Sha Allah," she added.
Haniyaโs cheer faded as she returned to her work. Mehr, meanwhile, received a call from her patient.
"Assalamualaikum, Baji," a trembling voice said.
"Walikumsalam, ji. What happened?"
"Last nightโฆ my husbandโฆ he beat me more. I think my arm is broken."
"Astagfirullahโฆ" Mehrโs heart ached.
"Iโฆ I canโt move it. Please come quickly," the woman pleaded.
Mehr rushed to her patientโs location. A little girl opened the door, eyes wide with fear. Inside, the house was in chaos. Mehrโs heart tightened at the sight of bruises and swelling covering the womanโs body.
"Ya Allah, Mrs. Arwaโฆ" Mehr whispered.
She examined Arwa carefully, called an ambulance, and ensured the lawyer was informed. Relief washed over her when she realized justice would be served โ Arwaโs husband would pay for his crimes.
After finishing her hospital duties, Mehr returned home late, exhausted. Her motherโs tense expression offered no explanation. She ignored it, as usual.
The next day began like any other. Fajr Adhan woke her, she showered, dressed, and headed to the hospital. Breakfast with her family was another reminder that she was invisible in their eyes โ except for her brother. He was her anchor, especially after losing their mother and her first love at sixteen.
The mundane routine was shattered during dinner when her father mentioned a visitor
"Hassan Razaโs family will arrive tomorrow," he said.
Mehr froze. The name sent a jolt through her chest. Razaโฆ the surname she had hoped to never hear again. Her heartbeat quickened.
Her thoughts swirled with worry โ not just about him, but also about telling Haniya she couldnโt meet her for their planned day out. She tried to focus on finishing dinner, but the unease lingered.
Later, after Isha prayer, she went to bed, hoping sleep would offer some escape. But her mind refused rest, tangled in the uncertainty of tomorrow and the presence of a name that still haunted herโฆ
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Hana.
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