Haris's POV -
She was sitting cross-legged on the kitchen counter.
My wife.
Eating strawberries like she had nowhere to be.
Like today wasn't taking her away from me.
Morning sunlight poured through the kitchen window, turning her brown eyes warm and golden. Her hair was loosely tied, a few strands falling around her cheeks. She wore my oversized white shirt, the sleeves rolled up, looking far too comfortable for someone who would be leaving in a few hours.
I stood by the stove pretending to focus on the omelette.
But I wasn't.
I was watching her.
Every small movement.
The way she absent-mindedly licked strawberry juice from her thumb.
The way she hummed quietly.
The way she had no idea I was memorising her.
"Why are you staring?" she asked suddenly.
"I'm not."
She glanced at me knowingly.
"You are."
I walked toward her slowly, the spatula still in my hand.
"I'm checking something."
"What?"
"If five months is too long to survive without this face."
She rolled her eyes but smiled.
"I'll video call."
"Not the same."
I placed the plate beside her and stood between her knees, resting my hands on the counter on either side of her.
She looked up at me.
Too calm.
Too unaware of what she does to me.
"Eat properly," she said softly. "You didn't finish dinner last night."
I ignored that.
Instead, my hand moved to her waist.
Firm. Protective.
She noticed the shift.
"Haris?"
My jaw tightened slightly.
"When you're there," I said quietly, "don't go anywhere alone."
She blinked.
"It's Lucknow. My home."
"I know."
"Ammi will be there."
"I know."
"Then why are you saying it like that?"
Because the world doesn't see you the way I do.
Because people look.
Because you're too soft.
Because I won't be there.
But I didn't say that.
Instead I leaned closer.
"Just don't make me worry."
Her expression softened.
"I won't."
My thumb brushed gently along her jaw.
"And if anyone makes you uncomfortable-"
"You'll fly there?" she asked with a soft laugh.
"I don't need a reason to."
She smiled quietly.
But my gaze didn't change.
She noticed.
Her hand came up and rested against my cheek.
"You don't own me," she whispered.
My eyes darkened slightly.
"No."
I paused.
"But I guard you."
She tilted her head.
"And I like that."
That sentence settled something deep inside my chest.
I leaned forward and kissed her forehead slowly.
"You're different today," she murmured.
"I don't like distance."
She slid down from the counter and stood in front of me.
"You survived before me."
I looked at her steadily.
"I wasn't living before you."
For a moment neither of us spoke.
Then she whispered softly,
"Come. Let's eat."
Lazy Breakfast -
We sat across from each other at the small dining table.
Sunlight falling between us.
Quiet.
But not empty.
She buttered my toast without asking.
I poured tea into her cup.
Small domestic rituals.
Little pieces of belonging.
"Haris," she said.
"Hmm?"
"I got confirmation yesterday."
"For what?"
"My new project."
Her eyes widened immediately.
"You didn't tell me!"
"I was going to."
She leaned forward eagerly.
"Where?"
"Birmingham".
She blinked.
"UK?"
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"Three months. Maybe more."
She went silent for a moment.
Then smiled softly.
"That's big."
"It is."
I studied her carefully.
"You're not upset?"
She shook her head.
"I married an architect, Haris. Not a stay-at-home husband."
I smirked slightly.
"I'll probably travel after you return from Lucknow."
Her fingers stilled around her cup.
"So we'll keep missing each other?"
"Temporarily."
She looked down.
"I don't like the idea of you far away."
Something possessive stirred in my chest.
"You think I like it?"
She smiled weakly.
"You'll have girls with British accents around you."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Hazel."
"What?"
"My gaze doesn't wander."
Her cheeks immediately turned pink.
"And if anyone tries," I added calmly, "they won't get very far."
She swallowed softly.
"You sound very sure."
"I am."
I reached across the table and took her hand.
"Distance doesn't change choice."
Her lips curved into a smile.
"Better."
That Night -
She fell asleep before me.
Her head resting on my chest.
Her fingers curled into my shirt like she was afraid I might disappear.
I waited until her breathing deepened.
Then carefully slid out from under her.
She stirred slightly.
My hand instantly returned to her waist.
"It's okay, jaan," I whispered.
She settled again.
Tomorrow she would leave.
And I hated the idea of this house without her.
So I quietly packed her suitcase.
Her abayas.
Her soft pastel suits.
Her sandals.
Her glasses.
Her chargers.
Her calligraphy pouch.
Every small thing.
Then I took out my black hoodie.
The one she always steals.
The one she says smells like home.
I folded it and placed it inside her suitcase.
Then lightly sprayed my oud over the clothes.
Just enough.
So when she opens it-
It feels like I'm there.
After that, I wrote her a letter.
Folded it.
And slipped it inside the hoodie pocket.
Then I zipped the suitcase slowly.
And went back to bed.
She immediately moved closer in her sleep.
Her hand finding my shirt.
Holding it.
I kissed her hair gently.
"You won't feel alone," I whispered.
Morning -
Morning came too quickly.
Sunlight spilled across the room.
I opened my eyes and saw her face.
Ya Allah...
How did this woman become my entire world?
I checked the time.
7:30 am.
We had missed Fajr.
I leaned closer and kissed her hairline.
"Jaan... wake up. Let's pray."
She murmured sleepily and tried to turn away.
I smiled.
She loved her sleep too much.
So I scooped her into my arms.
She opened one eye.
"Haris..."
"Wake up. Qaza prayer first."
She smiled lazily.
"Good morning, hari."
We made wudu together.
Prayed.
After finishing my dua she laid her head in my lap.
Still half asleep.
I recited Ayatul Kursi softly and blew it over her.
Then gently fixed her hijab and brushed her hair back.
"Come eat breakfast."
She nodded lazily.
Leaving -
By 9:00 am we were ready.
Her flight was at 10.
She stepped out wearing a black summer abaya.
I changed into a black shirt.
Matching her without planning to.
And somehow...
I loved it.
Airport -
The boarding announcement echoed through the airport.
Hazel and I stood facing each other silently.
I reached into my pocket.
"Wait."
She frowned slightly.
I took out a small bracelet engraved with Ayatul Kursi.
{Small bracelet engraved with Ayatul Kursi.}
Then tied it around her wrist.
"You always forget to recite it," I murmured.
She looked at it softly.
"So you're sending protection with me?"
I shook my head.
"My protection was already with you."
Her eyes softened.
Then she stepped forward and hugged me tightly.
I held her just as tightly.
Memorising the feeling.
"Fi amanillah," I whispered.
"Ila al-jannah," she replied softly.
Then she walked toward the boarding gate.
I stood there watching her disappear into the crowd.
And one quiet thought settled in my chest.
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