Chapter 6 - Zehra Burhani
1552 Words
Zehra Burhani
Some people enter your life loudly.
They arrive with excitement, attention, and emotions impossible to ignore.
But some people enter silently…
like morning light slipping slowly through curtains.
You do not notice the exact moment your darkness begins fading.
You only realize one day that your heart has started feeling lighter again.
That was how Zehra Burhani entered Burhan’s life.
Quietly.
Gently.
Without trying to.
A few days after Sakina’s wedding conversations ended, life slowly returned to normal for Burhan.
Office targets resumed.
Lasalas Club remained loud and alive.
Weekend cricket matches continued.
BBQ picnic plans returned again.
Outwardly, everything looked exactly the same.
But inwardly, Burhan still carried a strange emotional emptiness after Sakina’s wedding card.
Not heartbreak.
Not sorrow.
Just a soft unfinished feeling.
Like standing at a railway station long after a train had already left.
One Thursday night, after everyone inside Lasalas Club had almost fallen asleep, Burhan lay scrolling aimlessly through w******p. Random statuses. Random groups. Random forwarded videos nobody actually watched completely.
And then suddenly…
his thumb paused.
An unfamiliar number.
Zehra Burhani
For a few seconds, he simply stared quietly at the profile.
No photograph.
No makeup selfies.
No dramatic quotes.
Only a simple display picture of clouds floating across a pale Karachi sky.
That was all.
And strangely…
Burhan found it calming immediately.
There was something peaceful about people who did not constantly try to be noticed.
He opened the profile again.
Still just clouds.
No hidden poses.
No attention-seeking captions.
No carefully edited beauty.
Only sky.
Somehow, that simplicity stayed in his mind longer than expected.
Burhan smiled faintly to himself.
Then he remembered Sakina’s words:
“My brother’s wife’s sister is still single.”
So this was her.
He placed the phone beside him for several minutes without messaging.
Truthfully, he was tired emotionally.
Not broken.
Just cautious.
He no longer wanted forced conversations or complicated emotional confusion.
And honestly, he expected nothing serious from this interaction either.
Maybe a few polite messages.
Maybe formal introductions.
Then life moving forward normally again.
Still…
something about the quietness of her profile made him curious.
Finally, before overthinking too much, he typed:
“Assalamualaikum. Sakina shared your number. I’m Burhan from Abu Dhabi.”
Then he locked the phone immediately and placed it beside his pillow as if the message itself carried danger.
No reply came that night.
And strangely, Burhan felt relieved.
The next morning began like every other morning at Lasalas Club.
Alarm sounds.
Bathroom queue politics.
Tea boiling in kitchen.
Someone searching for missing socks dramatically as if international robbery had occurred overnight.
But something felt different inside Burhan.
Lighter somehow.
While ironing his office shirt, he unconsciously checked his phone twice.
Nothing yet.
Yusuf noticed instantly.
“Oho,” he smiled suspiciously while making tea.
“Why are you checking your phone like stock market investors?”
Burhan laughed casually.
“Nothing.”
“Dangerous word,” Yusuf replied wisely.
Everyone laughed.
By afternoon, Burhan completely forgot about the message while handling office pressure. Client visits. Sales targets. Endless phone calls. Meetings beneath exhausting Abu Dhabi heat.
Then around 3:15 PM, while sitting inside his parked car outside a hardware market in Mussafah, his phone vibrated softly.
Unknown number.
He opened w******p.
“Walaikumassalam.”
A few seconds later another message appeared.
“Sakina told me about you.”
That was all.
No extra excitement.
No unnecessary friendliness.
Simple. Respectful. Calm.
And strangely…
Burhan liked that immediately.
He smiled unconsciously before replying.
“Hopefully she only told good things.”
Several minutes passed before the reply came.
“Mostly.”
Burhan laughed softly inside the car.
Small humor.
Dry humor.
Unexpected.
For the rest of the day, he found himself smiling randomly for no reason.
Nothing dramatic had happened.
No romantic conversation.
No emotional moment.
Yet something peaceful had quietly entered his routine.
That night, after dinner, Burhan sat near the Lasalas Club balcony window replying slowly to Zehra’s messages while cool Abu Dhabi air drifted softly between towers outside.
The conversation remained simple.
Where are you from?
How long in Abu Dhabi?
What work do you do?
How is Karachi weather?
But unlike many conversations Burhan experienced before…
this one felt easy.
No pressure to impress.
No emotional performance.
No unnecessary flirting.
And Zehra herself spoke very gently.
Not timidly.
Not coldly.
Just thoughtfully.
She never forced conversations longer than needed.
Never asked attention-seeking questions.
Never behaved overly available.
In fact, sometimes she disappeared for hours without explanation.
At first, Burhan found that unusual.
Then later he learned why.
Zehra was pursuing her bachelor’s degree in Karachi.
Assignments.
Classes.
Family responsibilities.
Studies.
Her life remained busy and grounded.
And somehow, Burhan respected that deeply.
Unlike many people who lived permanently online, Zehra seemed emotionally present in real life first.
Days slowly became weeks.
Weeks slowly became months.
And somewhere between ordinary conversations and random check-ins…
a quiet attachment began growing.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Like rainwater slowly filling empty spaces unnoticed.
Burhan started looking forward to her messages.
Morning suddenly felt fresher.
Tea tasted better somehow.
Even Abu Dhabi traffic irritated him slightly less.
One morning while driving toward office beneath soft sunrise colors, Burhan caught himself smiling alone after reading her simple message:
“Don’t skip breakfast before work.”
He shook his head laughing softly.
How could one ordinary sentence affect mood this much?
At office, even Rajesh noticed the difference.
“You look unusually alive today,” he said while checking invoices.
Rizwan looked up instantly.
“Pakistan update?”
Burhan threw paper ball toward him laughing.
But truthfully…
something inside him really had changed.
Not because he had fallen in love suddenly.
But because Zehra’s presence made life feel softer.
And softness is dangerous for lonely hearts.
Some nights they spoke very little.
Some nights conversations stretched until nearly dawn.
They discussed everything slowly over time.
Childhood memories.
School stories.
Books.
Faith.
Family gatherings.
Dreams they never told others properly.
Burhan spoke about Abu Dhabi life honestly for the first time with someone outside Lasalas Club.
The exhausting sales targets.
Summer heat.
Loneliness hidden behind humor.
Pressure of building future while watching parents grow older back home.
And Zehra listened beautifully.
Not interrupting unnecessarily.
Not pretending to solve everything.
Just listening sincerely.
That alone comforted Burhan deeply.
Meanwhile, Zehra shared stories of Karachi life with equal honesty.
University chaos.
Rainy evenings near sea breeze.
Family dinners stretching late into night.
Her mother calling her repeatedly while she studied.
Sometimes during voice notes, Burhan could hear distant Karachi sounds behind her voice. Family conversations. Pressure cooker whistles. Children laughing somewhere in background.
Those small sounds strangely comforted him.
Karachi no longer felt like another country.
Through Zehra, it slowly began feeling emotionally familiar.
One rainy evening in Abu Dhabi, Burhan sat alone inside his parked car after work while rain tapped softly against windshield glass. Old music played quietly through speakers.
His phone vibrated.
Zehra.
“Rain here too today.”
Burhan smiled instantly.
“Looks like weather also doing long-distance friendship.”
Several minutes later her reply came.
“Maybe.”
Such a small word.
Yet Burhan reread it twice for no reason.
That was becoming dangerous now.
He had started noticing small things.
Waiting slightly longer for her replies.
Checking phone more often.
Feeling disappointed when conversations ended suddenly.
One night, while everyone inside Lasalas Club slept deeply, Burhan remained awake staring at their chat silently.
A strange realization slowly entered his heart.
He felt peaceful around her.
Completely peaceful.
No confusion.
No emotional pressure.
No need to pretend stronger or happier than he truly was.
And perhaps for the first time in many years…
Burhan felt emotionally understood.
Not fully.
Not perfectly.
But enough to make loneliness hurt less.
The following weeks deepened everything quietly.
They started sharing ordinary moments naturally.
Photos of tea.
Random roads.
Funny market incidents.
Sunset skies.
Nothing overly romantic.
Yet somehow, those ordinary exchanges carried intimacy slowly growing beneath the surface.
One Sunday morning, Burhan took Lasalas Club roommates for early cricket near a public ground. After the match, while everyone ate hot South Indian breakfast together laughing loudly, Burhan casually clicked a photo of steaming chai beside cricket bats.
Without thinking much, he sent it to Zehra.
Her reply came almost instantly.
“This looks peaceful.”
Burhan stared at the message longer than necessary.
Because somehow…
that sentence perfectly described what she herself had become in his life.
Peaceful.
Months continued passing.
And unknowingly, both Burhan and Zehra slowly became emotionally important to each other.
Not lovers yet.
Not officially anything.
But far beyond strangers now.
Somewhere in between friendship and love existed a delicate place where both of them quietly stood together…
without fully admitting it yet.
Sometimes they disappeared for days due to work or studies.
Yet the moment conversation resumed, comfort returned instantly.
No formalities.
No awkwardness.
As if somewhere during those countless late-night conversations, two distant hearts had already begun recognizing each other quietly across borders.
And every morning now, when Burhan woke inside noisy Lasalas Club beneath humming air conditioners and scattered mattresses…
life no longer felt colorless anymore.
Because somewhere far away in Karachi…
someone had unknowingly brought his smile back.
- Writer
