My dear Zuni,

The day after tomorrow, I am getting married again. And I miss you.

I don't want to get married—not now, not ever—but I am helpless. Everyone keeps telling me to "settle down." They want to see me married, to have children, to lead a life they deem "normal." And to make them happy, I have to do this. I have to get married.

Sometimes, I think of being selfish for once, but I can't bring myself to do it. I wish you were here to scold me—like you always used to—for being so self-sacrificing, so willing to bend myself to others' expectations.

But you're not here. And without you, there's no one left to stop me. No one to tell me to stand my ground, to be true to my heart.

I don't know if I'll ever be able to love Zarmina the way I love you. But I will try to be a good husband to her. I'll do my duty. I'll play the role everyone expects of me.

Yet, deep down, my heart aches with the truth: no one will ever take your place.

Sometimes, I want to cry out to Allah, to ask why He separated us—why He took you from me. But then, I stop. Maybe He has a reason, a purpose I cannot comprehend. Maybe He plans to reunite us in the Hereafter, in a place where there are no separations, no grief, no goodbyes.

I don't know when that time will come, but I'll wait for it. However long it takes, I will wait.

Living without you—it's unbearable. But I must endure it. This is my test, and my reward is you.

And, if Allah wills, soon—sooner than I dare hope—we will meet again.

Ashar placed the pen down and sighed deeply. Rising from his desk, he walked to the window. The cool night breeze brushed his face as he looked up at the stars.

"Ya Ar-Rahman," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Make her grave a garden of comfort for her."

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Meanwhile, in a quiet room...

Amena stood by the window, gazing at the moon. Its silver light spilled across her face, catching the faint melancholy in her expression. She didn't notice her mother, Nabila, enter the room.

"What's wrong, Amena? Are you feeling okay?" Nabila's voice was soft, but her concern was unmistakable.

Amena turned, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I'm fine, Amma. Just... looking at the moon. It's so beautiful tonight."

But Nabila wasn't convinced. She approached her daughter and placed a hand on her shoulder. "When you're quiet like this, it worries me. I feel like something's troubling you."

Amena leaned into her mother's embrace,...