It was Zara's mother.
She called on a Sunday, her voice clipped and formal.
"I saw the photos," she said. "You and Malik. Holding hands. Smiling like you have no idea what people will say."
Zara's heart sank. "We're not hiding anymore."
Her mother sighed. "I thought you were smarter than this."
Zara gripped the phone tighter. "Smarter than what? Loving someone who's been there for me every step of the way?"
"You know how this looks. To the family. To the community."
Zara closed her eyes. "I don't care how it looks."
"You should."
The call ended with silence.
She told Malik that night, curled up on his couch, her voice shaking.
"She thinks I'm reckless," Zara said. "She thinks I've ruined my reputation."
Malik's jaw tightened. "Do you want me to talk to her?"
"No," Zara said quickly. "She'll just blame you."
He looked away. "I'm used to being blamed."
Zara reached for his hand. "I'm not ashamed of us."
"But you're scared," he said.
She didn't deny it.
The next few days were quiet. Not the safe kind. The heavy kind.
Zara avoided her mother's calls. Malik withdrew, unsure if he was welcome in her world anymore.
They were together. But something had shifted.
Love in the light had cast shadows they hadn't expected.
And now, they had to decide whether to stand in the sun—or step back into the dark.