The line we crossed By Mahnoor Ijaz Starting PageI once heard this story from someone — a quiet, trembling voice that spoke not just with words, but with pain. The person who told me these events didn’t ask for sympathy, only for remembrance. They said, “Write it down. Maybe someone will read it and stay away from the same mistake we made.”So here I am, writing what I was told.Some parts of this story are shaped with imagination, a few names are changed, and some scenes are softened to hide real faces — but the truth behind it all remains the same.It’s a story of three souls — Hania, Khadija, and Hassan.Each walked a different path, yet all of them met at one point — the line that separates halal from haram.It’s not a love story.It’s a story about what today’s world calls “love” — and what Allah calls fitnah.About hearts that beat for the wrong reasons, tears that came too late, and lives that were changed forever by one wrong step.This isn’t to judge them.It’s to remind all of us that sin doesn’t always begin with evil — sometimes it starts with something that looks like care, feels like love, and ends like punishment.The person who told me these words said,“Maybe if someone reads this, they’ll stop before it’s too late.”And maybe that’s why I decided to write it — not as a story,but as a confession wrapped in fiction. ….Her ….The night was very silent. She was sitting near the window. The air was cold, but inside her, it was burning like fire. The city lights outside were shining, but her eyes were dry. She had cried so much that no tear was left now.Her house was not peaceful anymore. Her son was in jail. Her daughter was under the ground. And her husband was lying in bed, half dead, not speaking, only breathing with difficulty. The sound of the hospital machine still echoed in her head.Every night when she tried to sleep, she heard her own scream again. That scream which came out of her mouth when her son shot his own sister. “No! Please stop! She is your sister!” she had shouted, but his eyes were full of anger. He had said only one thing, “She ruined our honour, Ammi.”And that word “honour” broke her forever. Because she knew, years ago, she was the one who broke another girl’s honour in the same way. She remembered the face of that girl—.The same girl she had pushed into sin, the same girl whose respect was destroyed because of her tricks.Now she was paying the price.She closed her eyes and whispered slowly, “Ya Allah, please make it right, You are Merciful. I was wrong. I did wrong. Please forgive me.” But her words were weak, lost in the darkness.She thought she was smart. But now she knew—sin comes back. Always. In some other form, in some other person.Outside, the azaan started. She stood up slowly, her body weak. She wanted to pray, but when she raised her hands, she couldn’t speak. Her throat was tight. Her heart said, you can’t ask for mercy when you never showed mercy to anyone.The sound of the azaan filled the air, “Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar…” and she fell on the prayer mat crying again.She remembered everything.The first time she met her .The way she used to smile. The way she trusted people easily.She had jealousy in her heart even then. She had everything at home—money, comfort, education—but she never had peace. Hania had something different: innocence. A kind of light that made Khadija feel small.That’s why she did it.That’s why she introduced Hania to her cousinAnd that’s where everything started.The azaan ended. The clock ticked. She looked at the picture of her daughter on the wall. “I am sorry,” she whispered again. “I ruined one girl’s life. And Allah took mine in return.”Outside, thunder roared. The lights flickered. Her husband coughed in the next room.But she didn’t move. She just sat there, staring at the darkness, and thought—Maybe this is what happens when haram love enters a life. It never leaves quietly.The clock struck twelve.And the night continued crying with her. ……..2….Hania was just a fifteen-year-old school girl.Her house was always full of noise — four sisters talking, laughing, fighting. But no one really talked to her.She was the middle one, and somehow in the middle, she got lost.Her father was busy in his shop. Her mother was always tired. Her elder sisters were preparing for marriage. The younger one was too small.So nobody really noticed when Hania started spending more time alone.She would sit on the roof in the evening, watching the sky turn orange. She would hear the azaan from the nearby mosque and whisper, “Ya Allah, please make someone care for me.”She didn’t want money. She didn’t want fancy clothes.She only wanted one thing — someone who would listen.Khadija was her only friend Khadija was different. She was bold, talkative, confident. She always knew what to say, and how to make people listen.Hania liked her company. When Khadija sat near her, she felt noticed for the first time.One day at school, while sitting under a tree during break, Khadija said,“You know, my cousin Hassan is really cool. He’s in college now. He’s smart, handsome, and he doesn’t talk to girls. But I told him about you. And he said you sound… nice.”Hania laughed shyly.“Why you told him about me? I don’t even know him.”Khadija smiled in that strange way. “Just like that. He saw our photo together. He said you have innocent eyes. He likes that.”That was the first time anyone said Hania had something nice about her.Her heart felt light. For the first time, someone found her worth looking at.Days passed. Khadija started talking more about Hassan.She would say, “He asked how’s your study going,” or “He said your handwriting must be pretty.”Sometimes, she would bring small gifts — a pen, a bracelet, a note — saying, “He sent it.”Hania didn’t know what to say. She didn’t even meet him. But the idea that someone cared made her feel special.That was how the trap started — soft, sweet, and slow.At night, she would hide under her blanket and read the small notes that came through Khadija.“I want to see you once. I think you are like peace,” one note said.Another said, “I will marry you one day, InshaAllah.”That “InshaAllah” word made her believe it was something pure.She didn’t know love before. She thought this was it — someone finally promising forever.And slowly, her heart began to change.Her thoughts became about him.Her prayers became about him.Her smiles were because of him.Khadija would tease her, “He’s crazy about you, Hania.”And Hania, shy but happy, would blush.She didn’t know the storm that was waiting.She didn’t know that behind all those sweet words was a heart full of revenge.She didn’t know that Hassan didn’t love — he just wanted to break someone like her.Because long ago, a girl had once laughed at him when he was small, and that laugh had burned his mind forever.He didn’t even remember the girl’s face now. He just remembered the humiliation.And when Khadija mentioned Hania — the soft, sweet girl — something dark woke up inside him.He thought, Yes, I’ll love her till she forgets herself. Then I’ll leave her like I was left once.That’s how Hania’s story started.Not with love — but with a revenge that looked like love. ……3…..It was Friday morning. Hania was sitting near the classroom window, her notebook open, but her mind somewhere else.Outside, the sun was bright. Inside, she was smiling without reason.Khadija had told her yesterday, “He said he will come near your college gate today. Just to see you from far.”Her heart was beating faster since morning.She had never met him before, never even talked directly. But now the thought that he will be near her… made her nervous and excited.When the class ended, she walked out with Khadija.Her hands were shaking. She tried to act normal, but her heart was too loud inside her chest.Near the gate, she saw a car parked under a tree.There was a boy inside, wearing a black shirt. He looked at her once — just a glance — and then looked away.That one look was enough to shake her whole world.Khadija whispered, “That’s him. Hassan.”Hania’s lips parted slightly. She didn’t say anything. She just kept walking, her eyes down, her face red.She didn’t know why, but she felt like something inside her broke and formed again at the same time.When she reached home that day, her heart was full of strange feelings — something between joy and guilt.She didn’t even tell anyone. Who would listen anyway?Her sisters were busy in their own dramas. Her mother was shouting about the dishes. Her father wasn’t home yet.So she went to her room, closed the door, and sat on the floor.She opened her notebook and wrote, “He saw me.”Then she smiled to herself, feeling like she finally existed in someone’s world.That night, she got a text from Khadija:“He said you looked beautiful. He wanted to talk but was afraid someone might see. He said next week, maybe you both can meet in the park. Just for few minutes.”Hania read that message again and again.Her hand was trembling. Her mind was full of questions.Is it right? Should I go? What if someone sees me?But then she thought of his eyes, that one look full of something she thought was care.And she said to herself, He will marry me. It’s not wrong if it’s love.The next Friday, she went with Khadija.They sat on a bench in the small park near the tuition center. Birds were making soft sounds. Her heart was making louder ones.Then he came. Hassan.He had an easy smile, a confident walk, and eyes that looked like they could read everything.When he said, “Assalamualaikum,” her voice almost didn’t come out when she replied.He sat down near them. He talked softly, nicely. He said, “You know, I waited for this day since I first saw your photo.”She looked down, her face burning.He talked about dreams, future, and marriage.Every sentence had the word “InshaAllah.”She believed every word.When they were leaving, he said, “I will never hurt you.”She smiled. She thought that was the safest promise in the world.But he didn’t mean it the way she thought.For him, this was not the start of love.For him, this was the start of his revenge — slow, careful, cruel.He looked at her walking away and smiled in a strange way, whispering to himself,“Let’s see how long your innocence lasts, Hania.”And that was the first day her life started turning from light into shadow. ……. 4…….Days passed like wind. After that first meeting, Hania started living in a different world.She smiled more now. She looked at her phone again and again, waiting for a new message.Sometimes, when Khadija sat with her, she would say softly, “He said you looked like peace itself that day.”And Hania would blush and whisper, “Don’t make fun of me.”Every message from him made her heartbeat go fast.Sometimes he sent a verse, sometimes a small quote, sometimes just “Miss you.”And every time she read those words, she thought, This must be love.Her namaz started getting late. Her Quran lesson notebook got dusty.But she told herself, Allah knows my heart. This love is not wrong. It’s pure.One evening, while she was studying in her room, Khadija called.“Guess what? Hassan bought a gift for you.”Hania got surprised. “Gift? Why?”“He said it’s for your birthday,” Khadija laughed. “He said you like blue colour, right?”Next day, Khadija came to school with a small box. Inside was a silver bracelet.It had tiny hearts hanging from it.Hania touched it like it was made of light.“It’s beautiful,” she said.Khadija smiled. “He said you should wear it always. He said, when he sees it, he will feel you are his.”Those words “you are his” made her heart melt.For the first time, she felt belonging.That night, she stood in front of the mirror wearing that bracelet.She smiled, but deep down, a small voice whispered, Is this right?But she pushed the thought away.She said to herself, He will marry me. What’s wrong in that?Hassan, on the other side, was celebrating his small victory.He told his friends, “The girl is almost mine.”They laughed and clapped his back.He smiled proudly. But when one of them asked, “You love her?”His smile froze. “Love?” he said. “No. I’m just teaching a lesson.”He remembered that one girl from his childhood who had insulted him in front of everyone — said he was poor, ugly, useless.He remembered her laughter, sharp like glass.And since that day, he decided that one day, he would break someone the same way he was broken.He just needed someone innocent enough.And Hania was perfect.At school, Khadija started noticing something strange too.She liked how much power she had.She could make Hania laugh, cry, or panic, just by one message from Hassan.It made her feel strong. Important.Because in her own house, she was nothing more than a puppet — listening to her parents’ political talks, pretending to smile.Now she was controlling a heart.Sometimes, she looked at Hania and thought, Why does she deserve happiness?Sometimes, she wished Hassan would love her instead.But then she remembered, she was the one who connected them. She couldn’t go back now.And slowly, all three were walking into the same trap —One with revenge,One with jealousy,And one with blind trust.And none of them knew —When love is not halal, it doesn’t end with a wedding.It ends with tears, and silence, and shame. ……5……It was Sunday afternoon. The house was quiet. Hania was sitting near the window, writing something in her small diary.Her room was filled with the smell of roses from the bracelet box. She opened the diary and wrote,“I think I love him. I don’t know why, but I do. When I talk to him, I forget everything bad. Maybe this is what love feels like.”She stopped writing and looked outside. The sky was bright, the children in the street were playing. Her little sister was shouting for ice cream, but she didn’t move. Her world had changed now.At that moment, her phone vibrated. A message came.Hassan: “I miss you. I want to meet again.”Her heart jumped. She typed slowly,Hania: “It’s not easy for me. My family is strict.”After a few seconds, his reply came.Hassan: “If you love me, you will find a way. I can’t live without seeing you.”She read that message again and again.Those words “If you love me…” felt like a challenge, a test.And she wanted to prove that her love was real.Next week, she lied for the first time.She told her mother she was going to group study.Instead, she went with Khadija to meet him at the park again.This time, he brought chocolates and a small teddy bear.He smiled, “I missed you.”Her eyes filled with shy happiness. She looked down, trying to hide her smile.They talked for an hour. About random things, studies, dreams.He said, “You know, one day I’ll marry you. But promise me you will never leave me.”She said softly, “InshaAllah, never.”But that “InshaAllah” had no meaning now.It was just a cover for a sin that was slowly becoming normal.After that day, meeting became often. Sometimes in the park, sometimes near her coaching center.She started lying more.She started skipping prayers.But her heart didn’t feel guilty anymore — it was full of him.Hassan, however, had started feeling strange.Sometimes, her innocence made him angry.She was too trusting, too pure. He couldn’t understand why she still smiled so honestly.It made him remember that old pain — the one that made him start this whole thing.The more kind she was, the more cruel he wanted to be.He started testing her.He would ignore her for days and then suddenly message, “I was busy.”She would still reply kindly, “It’s okay.”He would shout on her sometimes, “You don’t love me enough.”She would cry and say sorry, even when it wasn’t her fault.And every time she cried, he felt a strange power inside.He would whisper to himself, “Now you know how it feels to be broken.”Khadija, who saw both sides, started feeling uneasy sometimes.But she stayed quiet. She didn’t want to lose Hassan’s trust or Hania’s friendship.She was standing between both — enjoying their secrets, but also scared of them.Sometimes at night, she looked at her phone screen with their chat open and thought,“If this is love, why does it look so dangerous?”But then she remembered, she was the one who started it.And now she couldn’t stop it even if she wanted to.Because by now, sin had become a habit for all three of them —The liar, the lover, and the pretender. ……6……Days were passing fast. Hania was fully lost in this new life. Her mind was full of Hassan. She stopped thinking about what was right or wrong. She thought, “If my heart feels happy, then maybe it’s fine.”But in reality, it was not fine.She didn’t know that shaitan makes sins look beautiful first.She didn’t know that small lies grow into big sins.Hassan started changing slowly. He was not as soft as before. Sometimes he talked nicely, sometimes he ignored her. When she messaged him and he didn’t reply, she cried for hours. But next day he smiled again, and everything felt okay.This became a pattern — pain, then peace, then pain again.Khadija was watching everything from the side.She was not a good friend now. She liked control. She liked seeing Hania depend on her.When Hania said, “Should I tell him I miss him?”Khadija said, “Yes, you should. If he doesn’t reply, then cry. Boys like girls who cry for them.”She was not joking. She liked the mess she had made.She knew both sides, and she was enjoying how much power she had.Sometimes she even told Hassan small lies —“She was with another boy yesterday.”Just to see what will happen.When Hassan got angry after hearing that, Khadija smiled silently.Because she knew, his anger will make Hania cry, and Hania’s crying will make her look like the “only friend who cares.”She was playing with both hearts.But Allah sees everything.Every word, every lie, every hidden plan.Still, none of them thought about Allah that time.They were too busy in their own world.One night, after crying for hours, Hania opened her Quran app.Her eyes fell on a verse:“Do not go near zina. It is a shameful act and an evil way.”She froze.She wasn’t doing something that big — she told herself — “We are just talking.”But deep down, she knew she was walking towards it slowly.Her heart shook a little that night. She prayed two rakats after many weeks.She cried and said, “Ya Allah, if this is wrong, take me out of it.”But next morning, when Hassan called her, she smiled again like nothing happened.Her heart wanted Allah, but her mind wanted Hassan.Khadija saw her at school that day and said, “Don’t cry too much. Boys don’t like boring girls.”Hania laughed weakly. “You’re right.”And just like that, the small light that came in her heart last night went off again.Sometimes the most dangerous people are not enemies —they are friends who make sin look normal.And Khadija was exactly that. ….7…..It was the start of her college exams when everything began to fall apart. Hania had stopped focusing on studies completely. Her world had only one name — Hassan. She waited for his texts more than she waited for azaan. She didn’t even notice that her prayers were gone, her grades were gone, and her peace was gone too.Hassan had also started feeling bored now. His revenge was almost done. He had made her fall for him, made her forget right and wrong. The same girl who once looked innocent and careful was now living in his shadow.But he didn’t feel peace either. Something inside him still burned — the same anger, the same emptiness.One evening, Hania saw him near her college gate, but he was not alone. Khadija was sitting beside him in the car.Her heart dropped.She froze there for a minute, trying to understand what was happening.When she texted him that night asking, “Why was Khadija with you?”He replied coldly, “She’s my cousin. You think too much.”But she could feel the tone had changed. The warmth was gone.Days later, she found out the truth — through whispers, screenshots, and gossip.Khadija had been talking to him behind her back. Not as a friend, but as someone who shared her secrets and made fun of her in front of him.All the things she told in trust, Khadija had repeated to Hassan, laughing.Then came the worst.Hassan, angry at some small argument, leaked her chats — messages full of emotions, broken promises, and words she never thought the world would see.Khadija spread them, saying, “See, I told you, she was never pure.”Her phone didn’t stop ringing that day. Her sisters shouted. Her father didn’t talk. Her mother cried in silence.It felt like the whole town knew her sin.The same people who never cared for her were now shouting her name with shame.That night, she wished she could disappear.She thought of ending everything — but guilt stopped her.She prayed and said, “Ya Allah, forgive me. I am not innocent, but I didn’t know what love was. I thought it was something good.”But the truth was, she had loved a man who came only for revenge,trusted a friend who came only for jealousy,and betrayed a God who was always there to protect her.And far away, Hassan sat alone, looking at the chaos he created.He thought revenge would bring peace — but all he felt was emptiness.His eyes were red, his hands shaking. For the first time, he felt like the bad one.He remembered his mother’s face — soft, kind, full of prayers — and wondered what she would say if she saw him now.But it was too late.Because some sins don’t just destroy others — they destroy the sinner too.And this was the end of that haram relation.No love, no peace — only regret, guilt, and broken pieces left behind. …….8……..Years passed, but the stains of that time didn’t wash away.Hania’s family moved to another city quietly. Nobody talked about what happened, but everyone remembered it.She stopped going out much, stopped trusting people. Every time she looked at her phone, she felt a sudden fear—like someone might bring the past back again.She finished her studies slowly, trying to fix her broken self. But deep inside, she knew she could never be the same girl again. There was always a weight on her chest, something she could never tell anyone.Khadija got married soon after. Her wedding was full of smiles and makeup and lies. She looked happy, but there was something missing in her. Her husband was a serious man, religious and disciplined. He didn’t know what kind of games she played once.She thought life had moved on—but sin doesn’t end just because time moves.When she gave birth to her daughter, she felt something strange.She was scared of her own child growing up. Every time her daughter laughed with a boy cousin or smiled at her phone later in her teenage years, Khadija’s heart trembled.She started shouting at her for small things, not because she wanted to—but because she was scared her daughter might do what she once did to others.Meanwhile, Hassan’s life also took a dark turn. He went to university, but his mind never stayed stable. He tried to date again, to love again, but every time he saw a girl smiling, he remembered Hania’s tears.He had nightmares—her crying face, her father shouting, people whispering.He wanted to forget, but guilt followed him like a shadow.Then one day, he met Bahare.She was not like Hania or Khadija. She was simple, silent, and peaceful. A girl who avoided gossip, who walked with her head down, who prayed between lectures. She never noticed him much, and that made him restless.For the first time, Hassan wanted something pure.He tried to talk to her, but she was polite and distant.She didn’t fall for his charm. She smiled once and said, “Brother, please don’t waste your time on me. I don’t believe in this kind of love.”That line hit him harder than any insult ever did.He went home that night and sat in silence.Maybe for the first time in years, he realized what true modesty looked like.Bahare was everything he destroyed in someone else.He started praying again, slowly, one prayer at a time.But Allah’s mercy doesn’t always erase worldly pain immediately.Guilt stayed. Memories stayed.And somewhere, deep inside, he knew—he had taken away someone’s peace forever.And now, peace was something he could never truly find for himself. …….9….Khadija was forty-two now.Her life looked perfect from outside — a big house, a religious husband, two grown-up children. But inside, she was never at peace.Her son, Saad, was twenty. He studied engineering, smart but proud. He never listened much.Her daughter, Noor, was seventeen — quiet, soft, emotional. She reminded Khadija of her younger self, before she learned how to pretend.Khadija had become the kind of woman who prayed five times, wore hijab, and spoke about modesty — but inside, she was always afraid.Afraid of the day when her past might return through her own children.Her husband, Rashid, was a strict man. He had strong Islamic values and didn’t like any small mistake. His word was law in the house.He respected Khadija, but there was no deep love between them — only distance and rules.Noor had recently joined college. She was bright and curious, but Khadija started feeling uneasy when she saw her spending time on her phone.Once she saw a message flash — “Can I see you tomorrow?”Her hands shook.She called Noor immediately. “Who was that?”Noor looked nervous, “Just a classmate, Mama. We are in a group project.”But Khadija’s heart screamed, Lies.That night she couldn’t sleep. She sat on her prayer mat, crying silently. “Ya Allah, not my daughter. Don’t make her like me. Please don’t let her fall in the same fire I created for someone else.”But fear doesn’t make love.And Khadija didn’t know how to talk with gentleness.So instead of guiding, she started controlling — checking Noor’s phone, shouting for small things, forcing her to wear what she wanted, not what Noor liked.Saad watched everything. He saw his mother’s anger, his sister’s tears.He hated seeing Noor cry, but he hated her “disobedience” even more.Because Rashid had raised him with the same strictness — “Protect your family’s honour, no matter what.”Once he shouted at Noor for laughing on a phone call. “You’re bringing shame to us!”Noor screamed back, “I’m not doing anything wrong!”Khadija slapped her before she could say another word.That night Noor locked herself in her room.Khadija sat outside her door for hours, whispering, “Beta, please forgive me, I’m scared for you.”But Noor didn’t open the door.Sometimes, sins echo back through generations.And Khadija didn’t know that her own lie, her own jealousy from the past, was now returning — not to her directly, but through her children.The same poison she once spread in someone’s life was slowly growing inside her house.And she had no idea that one day, that poison would destroy everything she loved. ……10……Weeks passed, and the air inside the house was never peaceful anymore.Rashid was busy in work, strict as always, but the real storm was between Khadija, Saad, and Noor.Noor had changed. She didn’t talk much now. She looked lost, tired.Her eyes always looked swollen, like she had cried all night.Khadija kept telling herself she was doing the right thing.She wanted to save her daughter, but her way was harsh.She forgot that fear never saves — it only breaks.One afternoon, Khadija entered Noor’s room without knocking.Noor was sitting near the window, phone in hand, tears in her eyes.When she saw her mother, she quickly hid the phone.Khadija’s anger exploded.“Who was that? Who are you talking to again?”“Mama, please— it’s not what you think!” Noor tried to explain, her voice shaking.But Khadija grabbed the phone, scrolled through the messages, and froze.There was a boy. His name was Hammad.Messages like “I’ll always protect you.”“I wish your family trusted you.”Her whole body went numb.It felt like the past had returned wearing her daughter’s face.She shouted, screamed, threw the phone on the floor.Rashid came rushing in.“What’s happening?”“She’s talking to a boy!” Khadija cried, pointing at Noor.Rashid turned red with rage.He slapped Noor so hard that she fell on the ground.Saad ran inside after hearing the noise. He saw his sister on the floor, crying, and his father shouting.Something in him snapped that moment.He had always hated the idea of dishonour.He didn’t see Noor as a scared girl — he saw her as a shame.That night, Saad couldn’t sleep. His mind kept replaying his father’s words — “Our honour is everything.”He sat outside with shaking hands, thinking about what to do.He convinced himself he was doing something good, something pure, something that would “save” the family name.Inside the house, Khadija was praying.She begged Allah to protect her daughter.But maybe it was too late.The sins that once began with lies and jealousy were now ready to end with blood.Khadija didn’t know that the punishment she feared most was already walking inside her own home — her own son, Saad. ……11…..The next morning, Noor didn’t come out of her room for breakfast.Khadija stood outside her door, feeling both angry and worried. She knocked twice, but Noor didn’t answer. When she finally opened the door, her eyes were swollen again, and her voice was low.“I’m not hungry,” she said.Khadija wanted to shout, but her heart softened for a moment. “Noor, sit with us. I made your favourite paratha.”“I don’t want anything, Mama.”That tone—half broken, half distant—cut Khadija deeper than any words could.She went to the kitchen and sat silently. Rashid was reading the newspaper. Saad looked serious.No one spoke.The house felt cold, heavy with silence.After a while, Saad said, “Abbu, we can’t keep ignoring what Noor did.”Rashid looked up. “What do you mean?”“She talks to a boy. People might find out. You know how our relatives are.”Khadija’s heart stopped for a second. “Saad, don’t talk like that. She’s your sister.”Saad replied sharply, “Then make her act like one.”His words stayed in her mind all day.She tried to pray, but her thoughts kept going back to Noor’s messages, that boy’s name—Hammad—and her own old memories of Hassan and Hania.It felt like the same sin had come back to test her again, only this time, she was the mother.Later that day, Khadija sat with Noor quietly. “Beta, listen to me. These things—these friendships—they are not halal. They destroy girls. I’ve seen it happen.”Noor’s eyes filled with tears. “Mama, I’m not like that. He’s just my friend. He listens to me when no one else does.”Khadija’s heart broke at that line.When no one else does.She realized how much distance had come between her and her daughter.She wanted to hug her, to tell her she wasn’t her enemy—but pride stopped her. Instead, she said coldly, “Delete everything. You will not talk to him again.”Noor nodded, but her hands were trembling.That night, she messaged Hammad one last time.“Mama found out. I can’t talk anymore. Please don’t text me again.”He replied instantly: “I understand. But if you ever need me, I’ll be there.”She stared at the message for long, then deleted the chat.But her heart didn’t feel calm.She kept thinking of Hammad’s kindness, his soft words, how he made her feel safe.The same safety she never felt at home.Meanwhile, Saad watched everything silently. He noticed Noor crying at night, and it made him angry again. He believed she was still talking to that boy. He didn’t tell anyone, but something inside him had already started to darken—a dangerous mix of pride, anger, and false honour.Khadija felt something strange in her house these days.Even while praying, her mind whispered, Something bad is coming.She looked at her children and felt fear instead of comfort.Sometimes she thought of calling Hania—her old friend from years ago.But she didn’t even know where she lived anymore.And deep inside, she felt she didn’t deserve to speak to her after what she had done.So, she stayed quiet.And silence became the biggest curse of her house. ………12……The night it happened, everything was too quiet — like the world had stopped breathing for a moment before breaking apart.Khadija was praying in her room. Rashid was sitting on his bed, reading Qur’an slowly, trying to calm his mind. Noor was in her room, writing something in her diary. Saad was pacing in the courtyard, eyes red, hands shaking, his heart full of anger he didn’t even understand anymore.He had seen Noor talking again on her phone earlier that day — it was only a voice note, nothing wrong, but for Saad, it was enough.He felt betrayed, ashamed, furious.He thought of all the things his father had said about honour, about how a single mistake can destroy a family name.And he believed it. He believed every word.He took his father’s licensed gun from the cupboard. It was heavy, cold, real.He told himself he was doing the right thing. That he was cleaning the stain. That Allah will forgive him because his niyyat was to protect his family.But shaitan loves twisting good intentions.He walked toward Noor’s room quietly.She looked up, startled. “Bhai? What happened?”“Give me your phone.”She hesitated, “Bhai, please, I’m not—”Before she could finish, Saad screamed, “You’ve ruined us!”The shot echoed through the house. Once. Then silence.Khadija dropped her prayer mat and ran.Rashid froze, the Qur’an falling from his hands.When Khadija entered the room, Noor was on the floor, blood spreading fast, her eyes wide open — half alive, half gone.She fell beside her daughter, screaming, “Noor! Noor, wake up! Ya Allah, no! Please no!”Rashid came, stumbled, his body stiff, and fell to the ground. His face turned white; his hands couldn’t move.In that single moment, his body gave up. He was paralyzed.Neighbours rushed in after hearing the scream.Someone called the police.Saad stood there, frozen, the gun still in his hand. His lips trembled, “I didn’t mean to… I just wanted to stop her…”The police came. They pulled him away while Khadija screamed, “He’s my son! Please! Don’t take him!”But it was too late. Noor was gone.Rashid couldn’t speak anymore.And Saad was dragged away, his hands covered in his sister’s blood.Khadija sat on the floor, her voice hoarse, whispering again and again,“Ya Allah, please make it right. You are Merciful… please make it right…”But mercy doesn’t erase consequences.And the past she thought was buried had come back to destroy everything she loved — her daughter, her son, her husband, and her peace. …….13……The smell of antiseptic filled the small hospital room.Hassan sat on the chair, his hands resting on his knees, his face calm but tired. The years had changed him. His eyes no longer carried the wild shine they once did — just a quiet emptiness.The doctor smiled while closing the file.“You’ve recovered a lot in these years, Hassan,” he said gently. “When you first came here, you were angry, restless, and full of guilt. Now you talk better, think better.”Hassan looked down. “Sometimes I still see her face in my dreams,” he whispered. “Crying, asking why I did that.”The doctor nodded. “That will take time. You can’t forget overnight. But you are learning to live without hating yourself. That’s a big step.”Hassan stayed silent for a while, then said, “Do you think Allah forgives people like me?”The doctor smiled softly. “Allah forgives everyone who truly repents. You’re young, Hassan. You still have a whole life to rebuild. Just don’t go back to darkness.”He nodded slowly, not fully believing, but wanting to.Two days later, his father dropped him at the university gate.It was his first day after two years of therapy, and he felt like a stranger among normal people.Students laughed, clicked pictures, and chatted loudly. Hassan just walked quietly with his bag, looking at faces that all seemed happy — something he hadn’t felt in a long time.Inside the class, he sat at the back. His heart beat fast, not from excitement but from fear — fear of being judged, of being known.Then she walked in.Bahare.She wasn’t like the others. Her dupatta was properly placed, her steps were calm, her eyes didn’t wander. She smiled politely at everyone but didn’t join any group.Hassan noticed her the moment she sat two rows ahead of him. Something about her peace felt… unfamiliar, almost painful to look at.During the break, one boy tried to talk to her. She just said, “Sorry, I don’t talk with non-mahrams,” and walked away.The boy laughed, but Hassan didn’t.He felt something move inside his chest — respect, guilt, and confusion all together.He whispered to himself, “People like her still exist…”For the first time in years, he didn’t want to play games.He just wanted to be… better.When he went home that evening, he stood before the mirror and said quietly,“I’ll not destroy another life again.”He didn’t know it yet,but Allah was giving him another chance —and this time, it would come wrapped in a test called true love. ….14….It didn’t happen all at once — it started slow, quietly, like rain that begins with a few drops before turning into a storm.Every morning, Hassan reached the university early. He told himself it was because he wanted to study more, but deep inside he knew — he just wanted to see her.Bahare.She wasn’t the kind of girl who spoke much. She smiled softly when someone greeted her, helped classmates if they needed notes, but never stayed long in any group. She never wore makeup, never talked loudly. Her world looked calm, disciplined, and full of dignity.And maybe that was what pulled Hassan toward her — the peace he could never find in himself.He tried talking once. It was just a small “Assalamualaikum,” outside the library.She looked at him, smiled slightly, and said, “Wa Alaikum Assalam,” before walking away.That small reply stayed in his heart the whole night.He began noticing everything about her — the way she lowered her gaze when talking to teachers, the way she stayed behind after class to help someone understand a topic, the way she said Alhamdulillah for small things.He had seen many girls before — but none like her.He wanted to talk more, but fear stopped him.He still remembered his past — the damage, the lies, the tears.He didn’t want to hurt another girl. He didn’t even want her to know who he once was.So, he loved her silently.He prayed for her at night, asking Allah to forgive his sins and give him a chance to become someone pure enough for a girl like her.He fasted some days just to control his thoughts.He stayed away, because this time, he didn’t want to fall into sin — he wanted to make it right.One year passed like that.One full year of quiet love, secret duas, and unspoken emotions.Then one day, without meeting her or confessing a single word, Hassan did something that even surprised himself.He told his father, “I want to send a proposal for a girl.”His father looked shocked. “Do you even know her family?”Hassan nodded slowly, “A little. I just… I want to do this in the right way.”His father, who had never seen this side of him, agreed after some hesitation.And within a week, a formal proposal was sent to Bahare’s house.Hassan waited with trembling hands for the reply.Every prayer felt heavier.He imagined her rejecting him — because why would someone like her accept someone like him?But then the message came.A simple, short answer.“Yes.”He couldn’t believe it. For minutes, he just stared at the screen, his eyes filling with tears.He went into sujood and cried.“Ya Allah, thank You. I don’t deserve this, but You still gave me a chance.”Everything felt unreal.But when he saw Bahare again in university after that, something felt… different.She didn’t look the same.Her eyes, once so calm and shining, looked tired now.She smiled less.Sometimes she didn’t come to class at all.When she did, she looked pale, weak, like her soul was slowly fading.He tried to talk once, “Are you okay?”She just smiled faintly and said, “Alhamdulillah,” before turning away.Days passed, and her glow kept disappearing.She didn’t talk much, didn’t laugh at anything.It was like the “yes” she said had taken something away from her — something deep.Hassan didn’t understand it.He thought maybe she was nervous, maybe shy.But deep inside, something told him — there was more.And for the first time, fear entered his heart again.Not the fear of losing love,but the fear that the peace he found might soon break again —and this time, it would shatter differently. …..15…… It was a quiet afternoon. The winter sun was soft, the breeze calm, and the university courtyard almost empty. Hassan was sitting on the bench near the old fountain, waiting for his next class, when he saw her walking slowly toward him.Bahare.He was surprised — she had never come to him before. Her face looked pale, her lips dry, but her eyes carried something deep — something heavy, like she was holding a thousand thoughts inside.She stopped a few steps away. For a second, she hesitated. Then she said softly, almost whispering,“Allah dislikes talk with non-mehram…” she paused, her eyes lowering, “…but I’m doing it due to need.”Hassan looked at her quietly, not interrupting.“I want to tell you something,” she continued, her voice trembling a little. “I am a sick person. My family didn’t tell you. They agreed quickly for your proposal because… because they thought maybe you can afford my treatment. But that’s cheating, and I don’t want to start anything with a lie.”Her words cut through the air like cold wind.For a few moments, Hassan didn’t move. His expression didn’t change. He just looked at her with soft, calm eyes.Then he said in a low voice,“I’m okay with everything. I will stand by you every time, no matter what happens.”She looked up at him with surprise. “You don’t even know what kind of sickness I have,” she said slowly. “You don’t know how painful it is, or how fast it is spreading. I might not even have much time.”He didn’t speak. His silence felt like patience — like acceptance.“I don’t want your pity,” she said, her voice breaking a little now. “I just wanted to be honest. I don’t want to waste someone’s life over me. I know my survival is nearly impossible… then why you want to spend your life on me?”Tears filled her eyes but she kept talking. “You are young, you have dreams, you have a future. Don’t tie your life to someone who will leave soon. Love someone who can live with you, not someone who is dying every day.”Her voice became soft, almost like she was speaking to herself.“Sometimes… sometimes Allah takes people early not because He dislikes them, but because He loves them too much. Maybe He wants them close to Him sooner. Maybe He saves them from this world’s dirt, from pain, from sins. People think death is a punishment — but for some hearts, it’s mercy.”Hassan felt something deep stir inside him — fear, pain, faith, all mixed together.He asked quietly, “You love Allah a lot. You never go against Him. Then why He will take you so soon, when you are so young?”She smiled faintly — a weak, but peaceful smile.“Because sometimes, Hassan,” she said, looking at the sky, “the flowers that smell too beautiful are taken early by the gardener. He doesn’t want them to be crushed by the dust. He wants them near Him, where they’ll never fade.”There was silence between them — a silence full of meaning.Hassan felt tears in his eyes but didn’t let them fall. He wanted to be strong, for her.He looked at her and said softly,“If Allah is taking you, then maybe He sent me not to save you, but to make your last days easier. And maybe through you, He wants to fix me too.”She looked at him for a long moment — eyes full of shock and emotion.And then she turned away slowly, whispering,“You have a strong heart, Hassan… but don’t let it break for me.”He watched her leave, step by step, until she disappeared around the corner.The wind blew softly, and he whispered under his breath,“I won’t lose hope. Maybe miracles still happen… and maybe Allah will listen if I keep praying.”He sat there, alone, holding that faith — the kind that hurts, but still glows quietly inside the soul. ……16…… The hospital room smelled of medicines and fear. The white walls were cold, and the sound of machines made the silence even heavier. Hassan sat outside the operation theatre, his hands folded tightly together, his lips moving constantly — whispering the same prayer again and again.“.Ya Allah, please… not this time. Not her. Please.”His eyes were red, swollen. He hadn’t slept since last night. Bahare had fainted suddenly in front of her house, and the next thing he knew, he was here — waiting, praying, trembling.He could see her parents across the hall. Her mother was crying quietly, pressing a handkerchief to her mouth to stop the sobs from echoing. Her father was sitting still, his eyes fixed on the floor. He was a strong man once, but today he looked broken — like someone who had already accepted what was coming.Hassan couldn’t sit still. He kept standing up, walking a few steps, then sitting again. Every time the red light above the operation theatre blinked, his heart jumped.He remembered her last words to him a few days ago.“You have a strong heart, Hassan, but don’t let it break for me.”And now, he could feel that very heart trembling inside his chest.He tried to smile for her mother’s sake. “Aunty, don’t worry. She’ll be fine. Doctors said she’s strong.”But even as he said it, his voice cracked.He kept remembering their small moments — her laughter, her shy glances, her calm voice when she spoke about Allah.He remembered how people once taunted him for being emotional, for being too soft.“How can you love someone who doesn’t even look back?” his friends had joked.And he had laughed then — pretending it didn’t matter.Now every one of those laughs felt like knives cutting through his chest.He kept whispering to himself,“She will survive. She has to. Allah is merciful.”The red light outside the operation theatre finally went off. The door opened slowly. The doctor walked out — his eyes low, his face tired.Hassan stood up instantly. “Doctor… how is she?”The doctor took a long breath. “We tried our best… but she couldn’t make it.”It felt like everything stopped. The hallway, the people, the sounds — all froze.Hassan didn’t move. He just stared at the doctor blankly. His lips moved but no words came out. His eyes were wide, empty. Then suddenly, his knees gave way, and he fell to the floor.Her mother screamed behind him. “Bahare… my daughter!” She ran to the doctor, begging him to say it was a mistake.Her father closed his eyes, tears rolling silently down his wrinkled cheeks.Hassan sat there on the cold hospital floor, unable to breathe. It felt like someone had ripped out his soul. He pressed his hands to his chest, whispering,“No… no… she can’t go like this. She promised. She said she’ll fight.”He wanted to run into the operation room, to see her face one last time, to tell her that he was still there, still waiting. But when they finally brought her out, covered in a white sheet, he couldn’t move.He saw a small part of her face — peaceful, still, as if she was just asleep.There was a soft smile frozen on her lips.That smile — it tore him apart.Because it looked like she had seen something beautiful in her last moment, something not from this world.Hassan’s tears fell on her cold hand. He held it tightly, whispering brokenly,“You said Allah loves you more… maybe He really did.”The nurse tried to pull him back, but he didn’t let go. “No! You don’t understand… she was my prayer! My reason!”But she was gone.That night, when he stood near her grave, watching the wet soil cover the coffin, he felt like the earth was burying him too.All the pride, all the sins, all the old arrogance he once had — it died right there.He had once made fun of someone’s pain. He had once broken a heart like it meant nothing.And now, Allah had shown him what heartbreak truly meant.He whispered as he fell to his knees beside the grave,“Ya Allah… she was pure. Take care of her. Forgive me for every time I hurt someone’s heart. Forgive me for every feeling I buried. Maybe this… this is my punishment.”He stayed there till dawn — the wind cold, the stars fading.And when the sun rose, it didn’t bring light for him anymore.From that day onward, Hassan lived, but only halfway.Half of him was buried under that soil — with Bahare, the girl who taught him what real love meant, and how Allah sometimes takes away what you love most… to bring you closer to Him. …….17…… The evening light fell softly through the white curtains of a small house in Chicago. Hania stood near the window, watching the snowflakes settle quietly on the road. Inside, everything was warm — the faint smell of tea, the sound of pages turning, and the peaceful hum of a home filled with calmness.Her husband, Yusuf, sat on the sofa reading Qur’an. His voice was soft, every word recited with care and love.Hania watched him silently. Every time she saw him like that, she felt something heavy inside her — a strange mix of gratitude and guilt.Yusuf was everything she had once prayed for — kind, patient, respectful, God-fearing. He treated her with gentleness she had never known before. When he smiled at her, it was like the world stopped rushing.He never shouted, never questioned, never doubted her.And yet, she couldn’t look him in the eyes for long.Because every smile he gave her made her heart ache a little more.It had been five years since she left Pakistan — five years since she tried to bury everything that once destroyed her.Hassan. Khadija. The rumours. The shame.The looks of neighbours that once burned her skin.The tears her mother cried behind closed doors.But sins don’t die when you change your place.They live inside you.When Yusuf had sent her a proposal, she had wanted to say no.But her father, for the first time in years, looked happy — proud that someone of such good character wanted to marry his daughter.She couldn’t say no again.And when Yusuf himself came, his calm presence and pure intentions broke her heart.He didn’t ask about her past. He didn’t question why she was so quiet, or why she cried some nights without reason.He simply said, “Whatever your yesterday was, it’s gone. Let’s start today with Allah’s name.”And she had nodded, smiling weakly — though her hands trembled with fear.Now, sitting beside him every evening, she wondered if he truly knew the kind of woman he married.What if one day someone told him?What if he came to know about that old, dirty story spread by Hassan and Khadija?Would he still look at her with those same gentle eyes?Would he still hold her hands during prayer?Or would he walk away, disgusted, thinking she was unworthy of him?Every night, she prayed the same dua before sleeping —“Ya Allah, please never let him know. Forgive me, but don’t let him know.”Sometimes, Yusuf would notice her lost expression and ask softly, “You’re quiet today, Hania. Something bothering you?”She’d force a small smile. “Just tired. Maybe homesick.”He’d nod and say, “Someday, we’ll go back and visit.”Her heart would drop every time he said that.Back home?Where her name was once a scandal whispered in every street corner?Where people still judged her family for mistakes that weren’t even crimes — just sins between her and Allah?No, she could never go back.She had left everything there — not just her home, but her name, her courage, and her innocence.One night, Yusuf came and sat beside her quietly. “You know,” he said, “every human carries something from their past. But if we keep looking back, we’ll miss the path ahead.”His voice was calm, like a father advising a child.She wanted to cry. She wanted to fall to her knees and tell him everything — the lies, the manipulation, the wrong turns she took.But she couldn’t. Her throat closed up.Instead, she said softly, “You are too good for me, Yusuf.”He smiled. “No. I’m lucky Allah gave me you.”She turned away before he could see her tears.That night, when he fell asleep, she sat near the window again. The snow had stopped, and the world outside was silent.She whispered to herself,“I wish he never knows. I wish he never sees who I was. I wish Allah forgives me before truth ever finds me.”Her reflection in the glass looked older than her age — a face tired from pretending peace.Maybe this was her punishment — to live in comfort yet feel restless, to have everything yet fear losing it all with one truth.And deep down she knew… no one can ever run away from what they once were.Some sins don’t die; they just sleep — waiting for the right time to wake up.When Yusuf woke up the next morning and called her name, she turned with a gentle smile, hiding the storm behind her eyes.Because that’s how she had learned to live — smiling with guilt, loving with fear, praying with tears.And though life seemed peaceful from outside, her soul whispered every night —“Will the truth stay buried forever? Or will Allah one day make me face what I tried to forget?”Goodbye When time had played its last move, and all three stories were written in pain — the truth stood quietly, heavy and clear. None of them were innocent. Not Hania. Not Hassan. Not Khadija.Each one walked a different road, but every road began from one thing — crossing the line that Allah had drawn between halal and haram.It started so small.A message.A talk.A promise that looked harmless.And slowly, it became a fire that burned everything pure inside them.Hania was young, only fifteen, but she forgot that love before nikah isn’t love — it’s a test. She believed in a stranger’s words more than in Allah’s limits. She didn’t stop when her heart whispered this is wrong.She let herself fall, and though she later regretted it, the scar stayed. Her repentance was real — but sin doesn’t vanish just because you cry. It stays to remind you what happens when you let emotions rule over deen.Hassan… he was broken too. Neglect, anger, loneliness — they shaped him into someone cruel. But his revenge didn’t heal him. Hurting someone innocent didn’t fill his emptiness.He learned it too late — when Bahare died, when he finally loved someone pure, and Allah took her away. Because the heart that once caused pain must taste the same pain to understand its weight.Khadija — she grew with deceit. She could smile and destroy in the same moment. Jealousy and pride made her believe she could control others’ lives. But her own house burned later — her son became a murderer, her daughter a victim. The same evil she once encouraged returned to her doorstep.Because Allah’s system never fails — what you plant, you will reap.All three had forgotten one truth — love without nikah isn’t love, it’s fitnah.Every word exchanged, every promise made without Allah’s permission — it becomes poison in the soul.Allah made boundaries not to stop hearts, but to protect them.When those boundaries are crossed, peace disappears, blessings turn into tests, and what looks beautiful begins to rot from inside.Their stories weren’t about punishment only — they were about mercy too.Allah gave each of them a mirror — to see themselves, to repent, to understand that no sin is small.Hassan lost the one he loved most.Khadija lost the ones she raised.Hania lost her peace forever.Different pains. Same cause.Because love that begins in disobedience never ends in peace.And when you give your heart to someone before giving it to Allah, He will take it back — not to hurt you, but to remind you who truly owns it.Their lives became living proofs of this one lesson:What is haram will never bring barakah, no matter how sweet it feels.And what is halal, even if it comes late, even if it looks impossible — it will always come with peace.So when someone says “It’s just love,” remember — real love waits for nikah.Because everything else is only a beautiful lie wrapped in sin.
