Unspoken But Not Broken

The evening sky bled hues of amber and violet as Mariyam found Humera sitting silently in the corner of the room. The distant chatter of others served as a muted background to her stillness.

“Humi,” Mariyam called softly, sitting beside her.

“Hmm?” Humera responded, not looking up.

“You’ve been suffocating yourself in this room for days,” Mariyam said gently. “Come to the terrace. Get some fresh air. It’ll do you good.”

Humera hesitated, fear flickering in her eyes. “What if...what if the attackers—”

Mariyam placed a reassuring hand on hers. “I’m here. Nothing will happen to you.”

Unconvinced but unable to argue, Humera nodded reluctantly. With Mariyam’s encouragement, she ascended the stairs to the terrace. The breeze was cool, carrying the faint aroma of jasmine from the garden below. She took a deep breath, trying to let the air calm her frayed nerves.

For a moment, she closed her eyes, letting the quietness settle over her.

“Humu.”

Her eyes flew open, her heart stopping for a beat. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. There was only one person who called her that.

“Aiyaz,” she whispered under her breath before speaking louder, “Ji, Aiyaz. Boliye.”
("Yes, Aiyaz. Tell me.")

“I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice deep and laced with an unfamiliar vulnerability.

She turned to face him, her hands nervously clutching the edges of her dupatta. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into hers, and for a fleeting moment, she felt exposed, like he could see every corner of her soul.

“Aiyaz,” she began, but he took a step forward, cutting her off.

“Humu, I can’t keep this inside anymore,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “I’ve tried, but it’s eating me alive.”

She stepped back instinctively, her heart racing. “What are you talking about?”

He exhaled sharply, gripping the terrace railing so hard his knuckles turned white. “I’m talking about you, Humu. About us. About how I’ve felt for twenty years.”

Her breath hitched, and she stared at him, unsure of what to say.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he continued, his voice raw. “I want you, Humu. Only you. I’ve always wanted only you.”

“Aiyaz—”

“Please, jaan,” he interrupted, his tone breaking as he stepped closer. “Don’t push me away. Don’t do this to me.”
("Please, my love, don’t push me away. Don’t do this to me.")

She shook her head, backing up until her spine hit the cold metal of the railing. “Mat kariye, Aiyaz. Chodiye mujhe,” she said, her voice trembling.
("Don’t do this, Aiyaz. Let me go.")

He moved closer, but not enough to touch her. His hands pressed against the railing on either side of her, caging her in with his presence but still respecting her space. “Samjho, Humu,” he pleaded. “Aap meri sab kuch hain, jaan. Mujhse door mat bhago.”
("Understand, Humu. You are my everything, my love. Don’t run away from me.")

Her eyes filled with tears, her voice breaking as she replied, “Main nahi kar sakti, Aiyaz. Main nahi kar sakti.”
("I can’t, Aiyaz. I just can’t.")

“Humu,” he whispered, his voice heavy. “I love you, damn it. I have since the day I laid my eyes on you. And you, of all people, know it the most. Don’t pretend like you don’t. Twenty years, Humu. Twenty years. Do you think that’s a joke? We’ve both secretly loved each other for two decades, and you still don’t trust me enough to give me yourself?”

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her mind a storm of emotions she couldn’t contain. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him he was wrong, but she couldn’t. The truth weighed too heavily on her.

Aiyaz’s voice softened, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Let me help you, Humu. Let me share your pain. Give me your trust, your hand, yourself. I need you more than you could ever imagine. Please, jaan.”

Her tears fell freely now, and she shook her head violently. “Stop it, Aiyaz! Just stop!”

“Humu—”

But before he could say more, she shoved him back with all her strength, her hands trembling. “I can’t!” she screamed, her voice cracking.

And then, without waiting for his response, she turned and ran, her sobs echoing in the stillness of the terrace.

Aiyaz didn’t follow. He stood there, his chest heaving as he watched her disappear down the stairs. His hands gripped the railing again, and he closed his eyes, letting the ache consume him.