That night, after crying until my chest hurt and my eyes burned, I reached for the only person I knew would understand me.
My aunty.
The phone rang twice before she picked up.
"Samirah?" Her voice was soft with concern. "Why are you calling this late? Are you alright?"
The moment I heard her voice, my tears returned.
"No," I whispered.
Her tone shifted instantly. "What happened?"
And just like that, everything poured out.
I told her everything—about the gala, about Lina, about Mrs. Kareem's threats, about watching the man I loved dance with another woman while I stood there powerless.
By the time I was done, I was crying again.
"I don't know if I can do this anymore," I admitted shakily. "It hurts too much."
My aunty was quiet for a moment before she spoke.
"Samirah, listen to me carefully."
I wiped my tears.
"That man loved you enough to leave everything for you once," she said gently. "Do not let one accident make you forget that."
"But he doesn't remember me—"
"His mind may not," she interrupted softly, "but his heart clearly does."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"If his heart did not remember, would he keep looking for you? Calling for you? Asking why you avoid him?"
My breath caught.
"Love like that doesn't disappear overnight, my child. It may be buried, confused, broken… but it doesn't vanish."
Fresh tears slid down my cheeks.
"But what if he never remembers?" I whispered.
"Then make him love you again."
My chest tightened.
"You have done it once before. You can do it again."
A shaky laugh escaped me.
My aunty chuckled softly. "Do not give up so easily. If that man was meant for you once, then what belongs to you will find its way back."
Her words settled into my heart like warmth after cold rain.
And for the first time in days—
I felt hope.
"Thank you," I whispered.
"Now sleep," she said gently. "And stop crying over one man before your beauty disappears."
I laughed through my tears.
"Yes, Aunty."
That night, I slept a little easier.
The next morning, I woke determined to try again.
To be stronger.
To fight smarter.
But peace never lasted long in that house.
I was downstairs helping prepare breakfast when Aliyah, one of the younger maids, rushed toward me looking pale.
"Samirah," she whispered urgently.
I frowned. "What happened?"
She glanced around before leaning closer.
"I overheard Madam speaking with the wedding planner this morning."
My stomach dropped.
"Wedding planner?"
Aliyah nodded nervously.
"They've fixed a date."
Everything inside me froze.
My voice came out barely above a whisper.
"For what?"
Her eyes filled with pity.
"For Mr. Zayn and Miss Lina's wedding."
My tray slipped from my hands and crashed loudly to the floor.
I stared at her, my heart pounding violently.
"No…"
Aliyah swallowed hard.
"They're getting married in six months."
Six months.
The room spun around me.
No.
No, no, no.
This couldn't be happening.
It was one thing to watch Lina pretend.
It was another thing entirely to know there was now an end date.
A deadline.
Six months before another woman legally became what I already was.
Six months before I lost my husband forever.
I stepped back slowly, struggling to breathe.
Six months.
That was all I had left.
All the hope I had built last night suddenly turned into something sharper.
More desperate.
Because now—
This wasn't just about winning him back anymore.
It was a race against time.
And if I failed…
I would lose him for good.
Six months.
That was all I had.
Six months before the man I loved would stand at an altar and marry another woman.
Six months before everything we had would be erased completely.
Six months before I lost him forever.
I stood frozen in the kitchen long after Aliyah had walked away, those words replaying in my mind over and over again.
They're getting married in six months.
No.
I couldn't sit around crying anymore.
I couldn't keep waiting and hoping something would magically happen.
If I wante
I had to fight for him.
And this time, I had to fight smart.
That night, after everyone had gone to bed, I sat in front of my mirror staring at my reflection.
"You already made him love you once," I whispered to myself.
My aunty's words echoed in my head.
You can do it again.
And she was right.
I didn't need his memorie
I didn't need to force the past.
I just needed his heart.
So I made myself a promise.
No more jealousy.
No more tears.
No more pitying myself.
I would make him fall for me again.
Slowly. Naturally. Completely.
The next morning, I started.
I changed everything.
Instead of hiding from him, I made sure to be around—but never too much.
Instead of acting sad and broken, I smiled more. Laughed more. Became the woman he once fell in love with.
I teased him when we talked. Challenged him when we played games. Made him laugh until he forgot anyone else existed in the room.
And it worked.
I saw it in the way his eyes lingered on me longer than before.
The way he smiled whenever I entered a room.
The way he began looking for excuses to keep me near him.
"Samirah," he called one afternoon while sitting in his study.
I peeked inside. "Yes?"
He leaned back in his chair. "I'm bored."
I raised a brow. "And?"
"And entertain me."
I laughed softly. "Am I your clown now?"
He grinned. "Maybe."
God.
That smile.
I crossed my arms dramatically. "What do I get in return?"
He pretended to think. "My undying gratitude?"
"Not enough."
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
The sound sent warmth rushing through my chest.
Then his expression softened as he looked at me.
"You're different lately," he murmured.
My heart skipped.
"Different how?"
He tilted his head, studying me.
"Happier," he said. "Lighter."
That was because I had stopped mourning him.
And started fighting for him.
"I'm trying something new," I said softly.
His lips curved. "I like it."
My breath caught.
Before I could respond, Lina's voice cut through the moment.
"Zayn, baby!"
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as she walked in, draping herself all over him like always.
But this time—
I didn't flinch.
Didn't get upset.
Didn't storm off.
I simply smiled.
"Enjoy your afternoon," I said sweetly before turning to leave.
And just before I stepped out—
I caught the way Zayn watched me go.
Not Lina.
Me.
I smiled softly to myself.
I felt hope.
Real hope.
Because six months suddenly didn't feel impossible anymore.
Because little by little—
He would fall.
Again.
And this time—
I would make sure he fell harder than before.