I don't love you anymore

Safia and Harun stood beside their mother as she folded clothes, the platinum nose ring on her nose catching the light. Saana hadn't worn it in years, not since Harun was born and would try to tug it off her face as a baby.

"Mom, when will Baba come to visit us?" Safia asked, her small voice carrying the weight of the uncertainty hanging over them.

"Maybe this weekend," Saana replied, her hands moving steadily over the soft fabric.

"Won't he live with us anymore?" Harun's voice was quieter, almost afraid of the answer.

Saana paused for just a fraction of a second, choosing her words carefully. "He'll visit from time to time. And if you miss him, you can always go and stay with him for a while."

The answer was gentle, but before the quiet could settle, Hamin's voice cut through the room like a knife. "Why would you want to live with that man? Can't you see he's abandoned us?"

Hamin was sprawled on the sofa, his face twisted with anger, his tone hard, bitter. Saana's brow furrowed, her patience snapping.

"Hamin, how dare you talk about your father like that?" Her voice was sharp, the air in the room suddenly tense.

"Mama, I'm not a saint like you. I can't pretend like nothing happened." Hamin shot up from the sofa, his face red with fury. "That man left you for another woman, and you still defend him. What's wrong with you? I say, divorce him! Throw him out of our lives. We don't need him."

His voice rose, shaking with the force of his anger. The words stung the air like an open wound.

Bibi rushed in from the kitchen, her face lined with worry, while Samia emerged from her room, drawn by the shouting. Bibi moved to calm Hamin, putting a hand on his arm, but he shook her off, his fury uncontainable.

"No, Bibi, let me speak!" Hamin's voice trembled. "Why is she defending him? That man-he didn't care about us! He didn't care about his own family. He started seeing someone else, having an affair!"

The last word hung in the air, a heavy, poisonous accusation.

Saana's patience finally shattered. Without thinking, she strode across the room and slapped him. The sound echoed in the stillness like a gunshot, and for a moment, everything was frozen. Hamin's eyes widened in shock, and the room fell into a stunned silence.

"Saana!" Bibi scolded, quickly pulling Hamin into her arms as if to shield him. The tension was palpable, every breath heavy. The children stared in disbelief-Saana had never laid a hand on any of them before.

But Saana wasn't finished. Her body trembled, her voice thick with raw, repressed emotion. "Affair? You're talking about an affair? What do you know, Hamin? How can you say something like that about your father?" Her chest heaved, her voice gaining intensity with each word. "I am not a teenager, Hamin. I know exactly what I'm doing. You think I'm some saint for staying calm? Let me tell you what kind of 'affair' your father was having."

She stormed to her room, and when she returned, she was holding a stack of printouts, her hands shaking. Without a word, she threw the papers at Hamin, the pages scattering across the floor.

"Here. Read them. These are the texts between your father and the woman you think he had an affair with." Her voice cracked, but she pressed on. "You think I'm blind? You think I don't know what happened? Two days before your father asked me for a divorce, I saw a message on his phone: 'When are you going to talk to your wife about the divorce?' I lost my mind, Hamin. I couldn't believe it. I never thought Hamza could ever... would ever..."

Her voice broke, and she collapsed onto the sofa, the weight of her grief too heavy to bear standing.

"I was devastated. I wanted to know if he was truly having an affair. I went to that woman. I accused her of everything. Called her a homewrecker, told her she was destroying our family." Saana's eyes were glassy, her voice distant, remembering. "But she didn't fight back. She just... listened. And two days later, she came to see me. She brought these." Saana gestured to the scattered printouts, her voice thick with bitterness. "She wanted me to know the truth."