With her name in tatters and her soul on the edge, Mira turned to the only One who never left — Allah. She woke in the nights and prayed through her sobs. Her pillow wet, her heart bleeding, she whispered du'a after du'a. Slowly, the pain became bearable. Not gone. But held — by Someone divine.
She left for home, to her mother's arms, to the softness of being seen without being judged. It was a long journey, but each mile felt like healing. She returned stronger, her heart still aching, but her soul anchored.
She cut Sofia off. It didn't end smoothly — manipulators rarely let go without chaos — but Mira held on. To her boundaries. To her Lord. To her future.