Chapter 8 - The Display Picture
1468 Words
The Display Picture
After the engagement ended, life inside Abu Dhabi did not suddenly become lighter for Burhan.
People imagined heartbreak loudly. But his heartbreak arrived quietly.
It came in the form of silence.
Long silences after office hours. Silent dinners inside Lasalas Club. Silent drives beneath Abu Dhabi’s yellow streetlights. Silent mornings where even tea no longer tasted the same.
For weeks, Burhan moved through life like someone emotionally exhausted from carrying invisible weight for too long.
At office, things had changed too.
Rizwan had resigned and returned to India permanently.
The Trade Team that once felt like friendship wrapped inside work no longer existed in the same way.
Now only Burhan and Rajesh remained.
More reporting. More targets. More pressure. More management meetings.
Earlier, Burhan carried leadership naturally because laughter existed between responsibilities.
Now work simply felt heavy.
Even Rajesh noticed the difference one afternoon while they sat inside the office pantry drinking machine coffee.
“You’ve become quiet these days,” Rajesh said carefully.
Burhan forced a small smile. “Just tired.”
But he wasn’t tired.
He was emotionally disconnected from life itself.
At Lasalas Club, evenings continued normally around him.
Someone watched cricket loudly. Someone argued over tea powder. Someone laughed during video calls with fiancées and families back home.
Life continued.
But Burhan increasingly felt alone even among fourteen people.
Sometimes late at night he watched his roommates smiling softly during phone calls with people they loved.
And then he would quietly walk back toward his mattress, place his phone beside him, and stare at the ceiling for long time without sleeping.
Not because he missed Saarah.
But because somewhere during all the emotional chaos, he had lost peace itself.
And strangely…
after the breakup, he had stopped speaking to Zehra too.
Not intentionally.
Just slowly.
Perhaps guilt created distance. Perhaps confusion did. Perhaps fear.
Because now Burhan finally understood something dangerous:
Zehra had never been “just a friend.”
And that realization frightened him more than the breakup itself.
Days passed.
Then weeks.
One Thursday night after returning exhausted from work, Burhan sat alone near the apartment window while most roommates remained downstairs eating shawarma.
The city outside glowed quietly beneath warm desert air.
Abu Dhabi nights always looked beautiful from the fourteenth floor.
Silent towers. Blinking red aircraft lights. Cars flowing like rivers beneath street lamps.
Burhan unlocked his phone absentmindedly and opened w******p.
Mostly out of habit.
Old chats appeared one after another.
Office groups. Family messages. Trade reports.
And then…
Zehra.
For few seconds he simply stared at her name without opening the chat.
A strange nervousness entered him unexpectedly.
Then slowly…
he clicked.
And immediately noticed something different.
Her display picture had changed.
For the first time since knowing her, Burhan saw her face clearly.
Not sky. Not flowers. Not random scenery.
Her.
Simple. Elegant. Peaceful.
No heavy makeup. No dramatic pose. No attempt to impress anyone.
Just Zehra standing beneath soft evening light wearing a pale blue hijab while wind moved slightly through one side of it.
And somehow…
the photograph carried the same feeling her presence always gave him.
Calmness.
Burhan kept staring at the screen longer than necessary.
Then suddenly he smiled.
A real smile.
The kind that had disappeared from his face for months.
Without overthinking further, he typed:
“You look pretty.”
The message delivered instantly.
And for few terrifying seconds, Burhan regretted sending it.
Too direct. Too obvious.
He almost deleted it.
But before he could, her reply arrived.
“Thank you :)”
That small smiley somehow softened his entire evening.
And then another message appeared.
“You disappeared.”
Burhan leaned back slowly against the wall.
He stared at the sentence quietly.
Not accusing. Not dramatic.
Just honest.
For several moments he didn’t know what to reply.
How could he explain the emotional storm of past months? The broken engagement. The confusion. The loneliness.
Finally he typed:
“Life became complicated.”
Three dots appeared immediately.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Finally:
“Are you okay now?”
Burhan smiled faintly.
Not because he was okay.
But because someone still cared enough to ask.
That night, they spoke for nearly three hours.
Not dramatically. Not romantically.
Just honestly.
And something between them changed quietly during that conversation.
Earlier, they used to speak like companions.
Now they spoke like two people slowly removing emotional walls.
Burhan told her things he had never admitted openly before.
How lonely the engagement had made him feel. How guilty he felt hurting his parents. How sometimes he questioned whether he was emotionally difficult to love.
And Zehra listened patiently.
Never interrupting unnecessarily. Never judging.
Sometimes she replied with only small sentences.
But somehow those sentences reached places inside Burhan where loud advice never could.
After that night, their conversations returned naturally.
But this time…
everything felt different.
Warmer. Closer. More dangerous emotionally.
Burhan started waking up happier again.
Morning tea inside Lasalas Club somehow tasted better. He laughed more during office conversations. He even started cooking again occasionally.
One Friday morning Abdul bhai looked at him suspiciously while Burhan prepared omelettes in kitchen.
“You’re smiling too much these days.”
Burhan laughed immediately. “No reason.”
But everyone in Lasalas Club knew.
Somewhere… someone had returned into his life.
Days slowly became emotionally attached to her presence.
If Zehra disappeared for few hours, Burhan checked w******p more often than necessary.
If she replied late, his mood shifted slightly.
If she laughed during voice notes, his entire evening became lighter.
And somewhere inside Karachi, the same thing was quietly happening to Zehra too.
One night during conversation, Burhan asked casually:
“How’s university?”
Zehra replied:
“Tiring.”
Then after few seconds:
“But talking to you makes stressful days softer.”
Burhan reread the message several times.
Because no one had described his presence so gently before.
And perhaps that was the moment he truly understood:
This was no longer friendship.
Weeks later, one morning during office reporting, Burhan suddenly noticed a small notification on top corner of his phone screen.
“Zehra’s Birthday Today.”
The meeting continued around him.
Sales reports. Targets. Market updates.
But Burhan’s attention had already disappeared elsewhere.
The entire day he remained strangely nervous.
Because for the first time in his life, he wanted to do something emotionally brave.
Not message.
Call.
An actual international call.
By evening he had already prepared sentences repeatedly inside his mind.
Simple sentences. Normal sentences.
Yet after dinner, when he finally sat alone near the Lasalas Club balcony holding his phone…
his hands still trembled slightly.
“What if she doesn’t answer?” “What if this feels strange?” “What if I ruin everything?”
For several minutes he simply stared at her contact.
Then finally…
he pressed call.
The international ringing sound echoed softly against his ear.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then suddenly—
“Hello?”
Burhan froze completely.
For few seconds he forgot every sentence he had prepared all day.
Her voice sounded softer on call. More real. More dangerously close.
“Uh… happy birthday,” he said awkwardly.
And immediately Zehra laughed softly.
Not loudly.
Just enough to calm his nervousness slightly.
“You sound terrified,” she teased gently.
Burhan laughed too.
“Maybe little.”
Outside, warm Abu Dhabi wind moved softly across the balcony while distant traffic glowed beneath city lights.
And slowly…
conversation became easy.
They spoke about childhood birthdays. Family traditions. University life. Office stress. Karachi weather. Abu Dhabi heat.
Minutes became one hour.
One hour became nearly two.
And somewhere between those hours, silence stopped feeling awkward completely.
It started feeling intimate.
At one point, Zehra became quiet after laughing at something Burhan said.
The silence stretched softly between them.
Burhan could hear his own heartbeat now.
And suddenly, without planning it properly…
he spoke.
“I think…”
He stopped.
His throat suddenly felt dry.
Zehra waited quietly on other side.
Burhan closed his eyes briefly.
Then finally whispered honestly:
“I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”
Silence.
Not uncomfortable silence.
The kind of silence that changes lives quietly.
Burhan’s chest tightened painfully while waiting.
For few terrifying seconds he genuinely believed he had destroyed everything.
Then finally…
very softly…
Zehra answered.
“Yes.”
Just one word.
Small. Gentle. Almost trembling.
But that single word somehow crossed oceans, politics, visas, fear, and distance all at once.
And somewhere that night…
“without governments knowing, without borders agreeing, without the world paying attention”
two hearts quietly chose each other.
Neither of them fully understood yet how difficult the road ahead would become.
But somewhere between Abu Dhabi and Karachi…
"destiny had finally spoken aloud."
- Writer
