Marriage didn't feel like a cage.
It felt… unfamiliar.
The first morning in her new home, Hena woke up before sunrise. For a few seconds, she forgot where she was.
Then reality settled in.
She was no longer her father's responsibility.
She was someone's wife.
Naim's wife.
The word still felt strange in her mind.
She quietly got out of bed, trying not to make any noise. The house was silent. New walls. New air. A new life.
As she stepped out of the room, she almost bumped into Naim.
He stopped immediately.
"Sorry," he said softly. "Did I wake you?"
She shook her head.
In his hand was a tray.
Tea. Biscuits.
"For you," he said. "You didn't eat properly last night."
Hena blinked.
He noticed?
"I thought you might feel uncomfortable," he added gently. "Take your time. There's no rush here."
No rush.
No pressure.
No demand.
Just patience.
She took the cup from him carefully.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Naim smiled slightly and stepped back.
"If you need anything, just tell me."
And then he left.
He didn't stand too close.
Didn't try to start unnecessary conversation.
He simply gave her space.
For the first time since her wedding, Hena felt her chest loosen a little.
Days turned into a week.
Naim never forced her to behave like a "perfect wife."
He never questioned her silence.
Instead, he did small things.
He asked what food she liked.
He adjusted the room temperature when she looked uncomfortable.
He brought her favorite sweets after noticing she liked them once.
He remembered details.
And that scared her.
Because care creates attachment.
One evening, heavy rain poured outside.
Hena stood by the window, watching the water blur the world.
Rain always reminded her of the past.
Memories she didn't allow herself to touch anymore.
Suddenly, she felt something warm placed over her shoulders.
A shawl.
She turned.
Naim stood there.
"You'll catch a cold," he said quietly.
That was it.
No questions about her past.
No suspicion.
No interrogation.
Just care.
She looked at him for a long second.
And for the first time—
She didn't feel trapped.
She felt… safe.
Meanwhile, far away, Arif sat alone in his small room.
He had heard about her marriage.
He had seen the pictures.
Hena looked peaceful.
That hurt the most.
Because she deserved peace.
And he had never been able to give it to her.
"I was too late," he whispered to himself.
Too late to become someone worthy.
Too late to fight.
Too late to stay.
Regret sat heavily in his chest.
But he didn't call.
He didn't message.
Because loving someone sometimes means accepting you no longer belong in their life.
He chose silence.
Even if it broke him.
That night, Hena sat on the bed, staring at the ring on her finger.
This life wasn't what she had planned.
But maybe…
It wasn't punishment either.
From the other side of the door, Naim paused.
He looked toward her room quietly.
He cared for her deeply.
More than he had expected.
But he never asked the one question that lingered in his heart.
Was she happy?
Or was she simply adjusting?
He decided he would wait.
Because love should never be forced.
It should be earned.