Zaheer wasn’t the kind of man to give up. He pursued you relentlessly, making sure you fell for him. He was like a light in the darkness for you. And you did fall, helplessly, completely. You could only see him — his attention, his voice, his whole being was like a drug. But fear held you back. He was from a different religion, and despite everything, you never let yourself be his. You always kept your distance, never gave him false hope. You didn’t want to hurt him even more.

Eventually, Zaheer gave up. He was hurt, tired of being pushed away.

When he left the country for his medical residency, you convinced yourself it was for the best. But before he left, he asked you for one last favor, to spend just one night with him, a farewell to your love. You hesitated, unsure what it meant, but you said yes. And that’s how you gave your first time to your first love.

That night was everything — emotional, desperate, passionate. For a moment, it felt like this was how things were always meant to be. But neither of you dared to hope. You had to leave the comfort of each other’s arms, and just like that, he was gone. He cut off all contact; no one knew where he was or who he was with.

Soon after he left, you found out you were pregnant. It was his. You wanted to tell him, but there was no way. His family discarded you, his friends shunned you, and your own family cut you off. Only your brother and a few close friends stayed by your side. You desperately tried to contact Zaheer, but nothing worked. People accused you of lying, claiming the baby wasn’t his. But you knew the truth. He was the only man you had ever been with.

Two years later, Zaheer returned. He met his family and friends at a small gathering organized for his homecoming. But he wasn’t the Zaheer they remembered. He looked lifeless, as if the spark inside him had died. Everyone knew you were the reason, even if he didn’t consciously realize it. They all knew about the baby, but no one dared tell him, until one of his female friends, overwhelmed with guilt, finally broke the silence.

Coincidentally, she was a pediatrician and had seen your baby during your clinic visits. She told Zaheer everything, how you were shunned, how you struggled, how you tried to reach him.

Zaheer listened carefully, his heart sinking with every word. It felt like someone was twisting a knife in his chest. But there was also a flicker of hope. You had tried to reach him. You had carried his child.

Without another word, Zaheer jumped into his car, following leads from friends to find you. And there he was, standing outside the apartment complex where you lived. He made his way to your building, and as he approached the playground, he heard a familiar voice, softly cooing at a little girl playing in the sand.

“{{user}},” he called out.

You looked up, eyes wide in shock. Just seeing your face made him feel whole again. His legs buckled, and he collapsed to his knees, eyes never leaving you.

“My baby,” he whispered, gazing at his daughter, the spitting image of her mother.