The sun had barely risen, its light spilling over the horizon in soft golden hues, yet inside the mansion, all was still. The world outside had moved on, but inside, Zafar and Zoha were standing at the beginning of something new—something delicate and raw.
Zafar sat by the window, the same window that Zoha had stared out of in the stormy days before. He wasn't looking out anymore. His gaze was fixed inward, as if trying to make sense of everything that had happened. The battle with Imran was over, but the scars left behind were not easily erased.
His heart was in turmoil. There was a quiet emptiness in him now, one that no victory, no amount of success, could fill. The war had taken so much from him, and though he had won, the cost was far greater than he had ever anticipated.
Zoha approached him cautiously, her heart aching for the man she loved. Zafar had always been strong, always so composed, but now, he was crumbling. She could see it in the way his shoulders were hunched, the way his eyes no longer sparkled with the same fierce energy. The weight of the last few months had taken its toll.
"Zafar," Zoha whispered, her voice gentle as she knelt beside him. Her hand hesitated in the air for a moment, unsure if he would let her touch him. But when Zafar didn't pull away, she placed her hand on his.
His eyes met hers, and for the first time in a long time, there was no coldness in them—only pain. "I thought winning this war would make everything easier," he confessed quietly, his voice hoarse. "But it didn't. It's like I've lost everything that mattered along the way."
Zoha's heart broke at his words. She had seen him fight, seen him sacrifice so much for them, and yet here he was, lost in the very victory he had fought so hard for.
"You didn't lose anything, Zafar. You still have us," she said softly. "You have me, and you have Ezra. That's all that matters now."
Zafar's eyes softened at the mention of Ezra's name, but the sadness in his eyes didn't fade. "I've hurt you, Zoha. I've pulled away, pushed you into this fight when I should've protected you. I've been so focused on keeping you safe that I've forgotten to be here with you… to love you."
Zoha's heart ached, but she wasn't going to let him spiral further. She leaned in, her forehead resting against his. "Zafar, I've never needed protection. I've needed you. All of you. The good and the bad. I love you—not just the man who fights, but the man who is hurting right now. And I'm here. I always will be."
Zafar's breath hitched, and for a moment, he let the tears that had been threatening to escape fall freely. He had tried so hard to be the strong one, to be the one who kept them safe, but now, in Zoha's arms, he realized that strength wasn't about being invincible. It was about letting someone in, even when it was hard.
"I'm sorry, Zoha," Zafar whispered, his voice broken. "I've been so focused on protecting you that I pushed you away when you needed me the most. I was afraid—afraid that if I let go, I'd lose everything."
Zoha shook her head gently, wiping away his tears. "Zafar, you haven't lost me. You'll never lose me. I'm here, and I always will be, no matter what. We're in this together. Always."
For the first time in a long while, Zafar allowed himself to lean into Zoha, to let her support him in the way she always had. And as they sat together, wrapped in the warmth of each other's presence, something began to shift inside him. The weight of the past didn't vanish overnight, but for the first time in months, he felt a flicker of hope.
He wasn't alone anymore. They had each other, and that was all they needed.
The following days were quieter, the air less heavy than it had been. Zafar and Zoha spent their time together, taking care of Ezra, rebuilding the life they had always wanted. There were still moments of doubt, moments where the pain of the past lingered, but they faced them together, hand in hand.
Zafar began to open up more, not just to Zoha, but to Ezra too. He spent hours with his son, playing, teaching, laughing—just being present. The bond between father and son was growing stronger with every passing day.
One evening, as they sat together in the garden, Zafar turned to Zoha, his expression more peaceful than it had been in months. "I never thought I could find peace after everything. But with you, with Ezra, I'm starting to believe it's possible."
Zoha smiled softly, her heart full. "Peace doesn't come from the outside, Zafar. It comes from within. And you're finding it."
Zafar's lips twitched into a faint smile. "I think I'm starting to believe that, too."
The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the garden. Zafar reached for Zoha's hand, his fingers intertwining with hers as they watched the sky turn from gold to purple.
"I love you, Zoha," he said softly, his voice filled with a sincerity that she hadn't heard from him in a long time.
Zoha turned to face him, her heart swelling with emotion. "I love you, Zafar. Always."
And as the stars began to appear in the night sky, Zafar knew that this—this was the beginning of their new life. Together.