Dayyan’s mind churned with a mixture of irritation and concern. He had intervened because he felt it was his responsibility, but he was also aware of how his actions might have seemed overbearing. He struggled to balance his desire to respect Fariya’s independence with his need to address the situation.
When they finally arrived at home, Dayyan parked the bike and dismounted. Fariya followed, her expression still tight with frustration. They walked towards the entrance of the house, each lost in their thoughts. The morning’s earlier conversation seemed like a distant memory, overshadowed by the new layer of tension added by Dayyan’s abrupt intervention.
As they entered the house, Asmara greeted them with a warm, if somewhat weary, smile. “How was the ride?” she asked, her eyes darting be
