(Past In Pakistan)
Months had passed since Baba's passing.
Life had slowly begun moving again.
The house still missed him, but the silence was no longer the same silence. People had returned to their routines. Conversations had returned to the dining table. Laughter visited the house every now and then.
Only one thing had changed.
Whenever someone mentioned the future...
Their eyes no longer turned toward Baba.
They turned toward Zoya.
That week, the house had been unusually busy.
Her cousin, Pashma, was getting married in just a few days.
Relatives came and went from morning until evening. Wedding clothes covered the sofas, jewellery boxes lay open on the tables, and every conversation somehow ended with marriage.
Zoya helped whenever someone asked.
The rest of the time...
She quietly disappeared into her room.
Late that afternoon, she sat at her study table with her laptop open.
Several university websites filled the screen.
Scholarships.
Admission deadlines.
Language requirements.
Every now and then she noted something down in her notebook before moving on to the next page.
A gentle knock interrupted her.
Before she could answer, the door opened.
Pashma stepped inside.
Zoya looked up and smiled politely.
"I thought you were still with the mothers."
"I was," Pashma replied, walking into the room. "I escaped for a while."
She stopped beside the study table and looked at the laptop screen.
Her eyes narrowed.
"Universities?"
Then she looked at Zoya.
"What are you doing?"
Pashma glanced from the laptop screen back to Zoya.
"Universities?"
Zoya quietly closed the screen halfway.
"Just looking."
"Looking at what?"
"Admissions."
Pashma frowned.
"Admissions... where?"
Zoya hesitated for a moment before answering honestly.
"In different countries."
For a second, Pashma simply stared at her.
Then she laughed.
Not loudly.
Just enough to make Zoya realize she wasn't taking her seriously.
"You're serious?"
Zoya nodded.
"I am."
Pashma pulled the chair beside her and sat down.
"I've just come from Auntie's room."
She tilted her head.
"Do you know what they're talking about?"
Zoya smiled faintly.
"Wedding shopping?"
"No."
Pashma watched her carefully.
"They're talking about your marriage."
The smile disappeared from Zoya's face.
"My... marriage?"
Pashma nodded casually.
"Everyone thinks it's time."
For a few seconds, Zoya said nothing.
Her fingers slowly tightened around the notebook lying on the table.
"It's only been a few months since Baba..." she whispered.
"I wasn't expecting this so soon."
Pashma shrugged.
"Life doesn't stop, Zoya."
"Everyone gets married."
"Your brothers are married."
"Your sister is married."
"I'm getting married next week."
She smiled.
"Now it's your turn."
Zoya lowered her eyes.
"I don't want to get married right now."
Pashma raised an eyebrow.
"Then what do you want?"
Zoya looked toward the closed laptop.
"I want to study."
"More?"
"Yes."
Pashma couldn't help laughing.
"You've already studied enough."
"I haven't."
"I want to continue."
"And after that?"
"I want to go abroad."
The room fell silent.
Pashma's smile slowly faded.
"...Abroad?"
"Yes."
"For my studies."
She looked at Zoya as though she had heard something unbelievable.
"You actually think your family will send you abroad?"
Zoya didn't answer.
Pashma leaned back.
"You know what your problem is?"
"You dream too much."
Pashma folded her arms.
"You really think life works that way?"
Zoya remained quiet.
"I've been hearing this 'I want to study' for years." Pashma let out a small laugh. "Tell me honestly... how much more do you want to study?"
"As much as I need to."
"And then?"
"I'll build my career."
Pashma shook her head.
"Career."
She repeated the word as though it were something amusing.
"You know what I think?"
Without waiting for an answer, she continued.
"I think you're running after something that doesn't even exist."
Zoya looked at her.
"I've seen girls like you before. They keep saying, 'Just a little more... just one more degree... just one more dream.'"
"And then one day they wake up and realize they're thirty."
She smiled.
"By then, the good proposals are long gone."
Zoya stayed silent.
Pashma leaned a little closer.
"I'm saying this for your own good."
"No one waits forever."
"When a girl's age keeps increasing, people stop looking for a daughter-in-law."
"They start looking for someone who will simply agree."
She paused deliberately before adding,
"Then it won't matter whether he's divorced... a widower... or already has children."
"At that point, you'll have to compromise."
The words settled heavily between them.
For the first time, Zoya looked away.
Not because she believed them...
But because they hurt.
Pashma noticed.
She mistook that silence for weakness.
"So don't let good proposals slip away while you're busy dreaming about another country."
Zoya took a slow breath.
Then looked back at her.
"I've never looked down on marriage."
Her voice remained calm.
"I simply don't think it's my time yet."
Pashma smiled faintly.
"And who decides that?"
Zoya answered without hesitation.
"I do."
For a brief moment...
Neither of them spoke.
The room grew strangely quiet.
Then Pashma gave a short laugh.
"You've changed."
"I don't think so."
"You have."
She stood up from the chair.
"The old Zoya would've never said something like that."
She walked toward the door before stopping.
Without turning back, she said,
"Let's see how long this confidence lasts."
"The whole family won't think the way you do."
She opened the door.
"And one more thing..."
This time she looked back over her shoulder.
"No prince is coming to take you abroad, Zoya."
"Real life is different."
The door closed behind her.
The room fell silent once again.
Zoya didn't move.
Her eyes slowly drifted toward the half-closed laptop.
The university website was still open.
For a long moment...
She simply looked at it.
Then, almost unconsciously, she whispered,
"Ya Allah... if this path is good for me, open it for me. And if it isn't... then place peace in my heart before You close it."
She closed the laptop gently.
Outside, the sounds of wedding preparations continued.
Inside her room...
Another battle had quietly begun
Time moved on.
The conversation with Pashma was never mentioned again.
At least...
Not in front of Zoya.
She slowly convinced herself that perhaps Pashma had misunderstood whatever she had overheard.
Perhaps it had only been casual family talk.
Perhaps...
No one was actually thinking about her marriage.
Life settled back into its usual rhythm.
Every morning, she searched university websites.
Every evening, she noted down scholarship deadlines, admission requirements, and language programs in a notebook that had slowly become filled with plans.
Whenever someone entered her room, she quietly closed the laptop.
Not because she was doing anything wrong...
But because she already knew no one around her would understand.
Three months passed.
One quiet evening, Zoya sat at her desk, comparing two universities.
A notebook lay open beside her.
Several scholarship pages filled the screen.
She was so absorbed that she didn't hear the footsteps outside.
A gentle knock came.
Before she could answer, the door opened.
Little Musa peeked inside.
"Zoya..."
Zoya looked up immediately.
"There you are."
He smiled.
"Grandma is calling you."
Zoya returned the smile.
"Okay."
She reached forward and gently pinched his cheek.
"I'm coming."
Musa nodded happily and ran back down the hallway.
Zoya closed the laptop.
She slipped the notebook into the drawer and stood up.
Without thinking much about it, she grabbed a packet of chips from the table.
As she stepped out of her room, she smiled to herself.
She assumed everyone was gathered for evening tea.
Nothing unusual.
Nothing serious.
"Mom?"
She stepped into the room with the same casual smile.
"You called me?"
The words faded before they were fully spoken.
Her smile disappeared.
The room was full.
Her mother sat quietly against the headboard.
Both of her brothers were there with their wives.
Her elder sister had come as well.
Her maternal uncle.
His wife.
Another aunt.
Even two of the family's eldest elders sat together near the window.
No one was talking.
Everyone was waiting.
Zoya stopped at the doorway.
A strange heaviness settled in her chest.
She wasn't a child anymore.
She knew exactly what it meant when elders gathered like this...
And then called only one person into the room.
Slowly...
The memory of Pashma's words returned.
"They're talking about your marriage."
For a brief second, she wished only one thing.
If Baba had been here...
The thought disappeared as quickly as it came.
She lowered her eyes.
Quietly walked forward.
And sat down where they pointed.
No one spoke immediately.
The silence itself felt like the beginning of a decision.
For a few moments...
No one spoke.
Zoya kept her eyes lowered, her hands resting quietly in her lap.
She could feel every pair of eyes on her.
Then the eldest among them finally broke the silence.
"Zoya,"
His voice was calm.
"We've all gathered here because we want to discuss something important."
She nodded respectfully.
"Yes."
He continued,
"Your father is no longer with us."
The words were spoken gently...
Yet they landed heavily on her heart.
She lowered her head a little more.
The uncle went on.
"All your brothers and sisters are married now."
"Everyone has their own families."
He paused before adding,
"Your brothers have responsibilities now."
"They have their wives... their children..."
"They'll have to look after their own homes."
"We can't expect them to keep worrying about their younger sister forever."
Every sentence felt like another stone placed upon her chest.
She remained silent.
Not because she agreed.
But because she still respected the people sitting before her.
Another uncle picked up the conversation.
"Your mother wants the same."
"So do your brothers."
"We've also found a very respectable family."
"They're relatives."
"We know them well."
"They know us."
"There couldn't be a better proposal than this."
Several heads nodded in agreement.
One of the aunties smiled warmly.
"You'll be happy there, In shā' Allāh."
Another elder looked towards everyone.
"So..."
"I think we should choose a suitable date today."
"So the preparations can begin."
Almost immediately...
The conversation shifted.
"When should we keep the wedding?"
"After next month?"
"No, the weather will be much better before that."
"What about after Eid?"
"No, too many weddings happen then."
Dates.
Months.
Preparations.
Everyone had begun discussing her future...
As though she had already agreed.
As though the decision had already been made.
No one had asked her.
They had only informed her.
Zoya slowly tightened her fingers together.
Her heartbeat grew louder.
She knew...
If she stayed silent today...
She might never get another chance to speak.
Taking a slow breath, she finally said—
Softly.
Without raising her head.
Without raising her voice.
Still within the limits of respect.
"I... don't want to get married yet."
The room fell silent.
Every conversation stopped.
Even the ticking of the clock suddenly seemed louder.
Everyone looked at her.
For the first time...
The decision they had been making...
Spoke back.
They had listened patiently until now.
Then one of the uncles' expression hardened.
"So this is what all that education has taught you?"
"We didn't educate you so that one day you would stand in front of your elders and argue with them."
Another elder added firmly,
"We gave you permission to study because we trusted you."
"Not so you could start making decisions against your family."
An aunt shook her head in disappointment.
"This is exactly why people say too much education changes girls."
"They stop listening."
"They begin deciding everything for themselves."
Another uncle looked directly at Zoya.
"We never imagined you would speak like this."
"We thought you understood your family's values."
"But today..."
"...you've disappointed us."
Before Zoya could answer, her mother spoke through tears.
"Do you know what people will say?"
"They'll say we educated our daughter so she could stand against her own family."
"They'll say we gave you too much freedom."
"They'll say we couldn't raise our own daughter."
The eldest uncle raised his hand, bringing the room back to silence.
"Enough."
"If education has brought you to this point..."
"...then perhaps we made a mistake by allowing it."
"You will not go abroad."
"And this discussion ends here."
The voices refused to settle.
One after another...
Everyone had something to say.
An elderly aunt looked at Zoya with disbelief.
"What exactly do you think you'll find abroad that you can't find here?"
Another added,
"Girls who leave their homes alone forget where they belong."
A third shook her head.
"We never imagined we would hear such words from a daughter of this family."
One of the uncles looked at her with visible disappointment.
"Do you think your father would have approved of this?"
The question struck her heart.
For a moment...
She closed her eyes.
She wanted to answer.
She wanted to tell them that the last meaningful conversation she had ever had with her father was about her future...
That he had been the one urging her not to stop living...
But she didn't.
Some memories were too sacred to defend in an argument.
She kept them between herself and Allah.
Another uncle spoke, his tone firmer than before.
"Listen carefully, Zoya."
"This family has always lived with dignity."
"We don't send our daughters alone to foreign countries."
"And we will not become the first family to start doing so."
Her elder brother finally spoke.
His voice was low.
"But firm."
"Enough, Zoya."
"Don't make this more difficult."
Her eyes slowly turned towards him.
She searched his face...
Hoping to find even the smallest sign that someone understood her.
She found none.
Only disappointment.
Another elder drew a deep breath before delivering the words everyone seemed to agree with.
"If you choose this path..."
"...then understand its consequences."
"If you walk out of this house against your family's decision..."
He paused.
His eyes remained fixed on hers.
"Then do not expect this family to stand behind you."
Another voice followed immediately.
"If you leave for another country against our decision..."
"...consider that you have chosen your path, and we will choose ours."
The room became frighteningly still.
They believed the warning would be enough.
They believed she would break.
They believed she would apologise...
...and quietly agree to the marriage.
Instead—
A tear rolled silently down Zoya's cheek.
She stood up.
Not in anger.
Not in defiance.
Only because her trembling legs could no longer keep her seated.
She looked at the people she had loved all her life.
Then, with a voice barely above a whisper, she said,
"I can never choose a life without my family."
She swallowed the lump in her throat.
"You are my mother... my brothers... my elders."
"No decision I ever make can erase that."
Her eyes filled once more.
"If one day you decide to distance yourselves from me..."
She lowered her gaze.
"...I will still remain connected to every one of you."
"Because relationships are not ended by one heart alone."
"I will continue praying for all of you..."
"...even if one day you no longer pray for me."
Silence.
No one had expected that answer.
Not a single person.
The silence lingered.
For the first time that evening...
No one seemed to know what to say.
Then, from the corner of the room, one of the aunties let out a faint, sarcastic laugh.
"So..."
She folded her arms.
"Let's suppose, just for a moment, that everyone here agrees."
Her eyes settled on Zoya.
"You don't want to get married."
"You want to study abroad."
"Fine."
She smiled faintly.
"Now tell us..."
"Who is going to send you?"
Another aunt chuckled.
"Do you even know how much studying abroad costs?"
"Or have you only dreamed about it?"
Someone else added,
"Your father is no longer here."
"Your brothers have their own families now."
"Do you really expect them to spend that kind of money?"
The room grew quiet again.
It wasn't a question asked to understand her.
It was asked to bring her dream back to reality.
To make her realise how impossible it sounded.
Zoya lowered her eyes.
She thought for a moment.
Then answered honestly.
Zoya lowered her eyes for a moment.
Then, very quietly, she spoke.
"If the money that would be spent on my wedding..."
She paused.
"...was spent on my education instead..."
Her fingers tightened around each other.
"...I think it would be enough."
Silence.
The room became so still that even the ticking of the wall clock seemed louder.
No one had expected that answer.
It wasn't emotional.
It wasn't disrespectful.
It was simply... practical.
One of the uncles broke the silence first.
"That money was never meant for this."
"It was saved for your wedding."
Another elder nodded.
"A daughter's wedding is her parents' honour."
"It isn't money to be spent on sending a girl alone to another country."
An aunt looked at Zoya with disappointment.
"You're talking as if marriage is a burden."
Zoya immediately shook her head.
"It isn't."
"I have never believed that."
"I only believe..."
She looked down once more.
"...that every journey has its own time."
"My time for marriage hasn't come yet."
"But my time to study has."
Her words changed nothing.
The room grew restless again.
Voices rose over one another.
"She's become stubborn."
"This is what happens when girls are given too much freedom."
"Enough discussion."
"We've already decided."
Finally, the eldest uncle stood.
His voice carried the weight of finality.
"We have listened to you."
"Now you will listen to us."
"You will not go abroad."
"And this proposal will not be refused."
"If you still choose to go against your family's decision..."
He stopped for a moment before saying the words everyone in the room understood.
"Then understand this clearly..."
"The day you leave this house for another country against our decision..."
"...consider that you have chosen your own path."
Another elder completed the sentence.
"And from that day onward..."
"...do not expect this family to stand with you."
No one interrupted.
Some lowered their eyes.
Some silently agreed.
Others hoped those words would frighten her enough to make her surrender.
They believed...
She would apologise.
She would cry.
She would finally give in.
Instead...
Zoya slowly stood.
Tears rested in her eyes, but her voice remained gentle.
She looked first at her mother.
Then at her brothers.
Then at every elder sitting in the room.
"I can never choose a life without my family."
Her voice trembled.
"You are my own people."
"No matter where I live..."
"...or how far I travel..."
"...that will never change."
A tear slipped down her cheek.
"If one day you choose to distance yourselves from me..."
She smiled sadly.
"...I will never distance myself from you."
"I will always remain your daughter..."
"...your sister..."
"...your niece."
"And I will keep praying for every one of you..."
"...whether you accept me or not."
No one spoke.
There was nothing left to say.
Zoya quietly wiped the tears from her face.
Then turned...
And walked out of the room.
No one stopped her.
The door closed gently behind her.
Inside the room, the discussion continued.
Outside...
For the first time in her life...
Zoya realized that sometimes the hardest step toward a dream...
Was not leaving your country.
It was walking away from a room where the people you loved could no longer understand your heart.
That night, no decision was officially announced.
No wedding date was chosen.
No agreement was reached.
But something invisible had changed forever.
A distance had been born.
Not between strangers...
But between people who loved one another...
Yet could no longer walk the same path.
To be continued...
Regards,
ZK💌