Chapter 1: Seen

She stared at the phone screen for a long time.

No new messages.

The last one she sent still showed “seen.”

Ayesha placed the phone beside her and looked at the ceiling. The fan spun slowly, making a soft ticking sound, as if counting something she could not measure anymore. Time, maybe. Or patience.

In the next room, her baby had finally fallen asleep after crying for nearly an hour. The silence that followed should have felt peaceful. Instead, it pressed against her ears, heavy and unfamiliar.

She didn’t cry.

Not anymore.

Somewhere between waiting and being ignored, she had forgotten how.

She turned her head slightly, glancing at the door. It remained half-open, just the way she had left it. She always kept it that way—open enough to hear the baby, closed enough to pretend she had some space of her own.

Her eyes moved back to the phone.

Still nothing.

A part of her wanted to pick it up again, to check if maybe the network had failed, or if somehow she had missed a notification. Another part of her—quieter, but growing stronger—told her not to.

If he wanted to reply, he would have.

The thought didn’t hurt the way it used to. It settled inside her, dull and familiar, like an old bruise.

Earlier that day, she had called him five times.

The first time, she smiled while the phone rang, already imagining his voice on the other end.

The second time, her smile faded a little.

By the third, she told herself he must be busy.

By the fourth, she stopped making excuses.

By the fifth, she simply listened to the ringing until it cut off, her face blank, her fingers cold.

When he finally arrived hours later, he didn’t mention it.

Didn’t ask why she called.

Didn’t even look at her properly.

He walked in, tired and distant, dropped his bag, and asked, “Is there food?”

And like always, she said yes.

Ayesha closed her eyes now, remembering it.

The way she had stood in the kitchen, reheating the same meal she had prepared with care earlier. The way she had waited for him to say something—anything—while he ate.

“How was your day?” she had asked softly.

“Fine,” he replied, without looking up.

That was all.

No questions. No interest. No pause.

Just fine.

Her eyes opened again.

The ceiling hadn’t changed. The fan still spun. The silence still lingered.

But something inside her felt… different.

Not broken.

Not even sad.

Just… tired.

A soft sound came from the other room. The baby stirred.

Ayesha got up immediately, her body responding before her thoughts could. She walked quietly across the room and pushed the door open a little more.

The baby shifted in the small bed, her tiny hands curling into fists before relaxing again.

Ayesha stood there for a moment, watching.

This—this was real.

This small, breathing life that depended on her.

Not unanswered messages.

Not empty conversations.

Not a man who walked past her like she was part of the furniture.

She adjusted the blanket gently and stepped back.

When she returned to her room, the phone was still lying where she had left it.

Face up.

Silent.

Waiting.

She walked toward it slowly.

For a second, her fingers hovered above the screen.

Then, instead of opening the chat, she pressed the power button.

The screen went black.

The room felt quieter after that.

Not heavier.

Not emptier.

Just… quieter.

Ayesha sat down on the bed again, but this time she didn’t look at the phone.

She looked at her hands instead.

They were dry. Slightly rough. Tired.

She rubbed them together absentmindedly, then let out a small breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

Maybe this was how it started.

Not with a big decision.

Not with anger or tears.

But with something small.

Something almost invisible.

She lay down slowly, turning to face the wall.

For the first time in a long time, she didn’t wait for the sound of a message.

Didn’t listen for footsteps.

Didn’t expect anything.

And somewhere in that quiet, unfamiliar stillness—

Something shifted.

Not outside.

But within her.

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