In the soft-lit drawing room, the evening wore on with a kind of quiet tension. The chatter and clinks of teacups had died down, and now it was just Daniyal, Haya, and Asmara sitting in the room. Daniyal leaned back in his chair, his expression calm but his eyes thoughtful, as if weighing his words carefully. Haya sat beside her mother, her hands folded in her lap, her nervousness from earlier fading into the background as the conversation shifted into more serious territory.
Asmara, ever gracious, was in her usual spot on the couch, a soft smile on her face as she watched her future son-in-law. She had always liked Daniyal, admired his confidence, his sense of responsibility. He was the kind of man she felt secure about marrying her daughter off to, someone who could offer stability and
