The morning was warm and soft. A gentle breeze carried the fresh smell of summer vegetables growing in the garden. Tomatoes, mint, and little green chilies were peeking out from their plants.
The sunlight danced on the leaves, making the whole place look alive.
Hannah sat on the old wooden bench under the guava tree. She hugged her knees, staring at the ground. Her grandpa, wearing his light cotton kurta, slowly walked over and sat beside her. His face was full of concern.
"Grandpa... I don't know what's happening to me," Hannah said, her voice low and heavy. "I feel... stuck."
Hannah let out a shaky breath. She picked a small mint leaf from the pot next to her and rolled it between her fingers.
"Look at me, Grandpa. It's been three months since I graduated. And still... nothing. No direction. No plan. I don't even know what to do anymore."
Grandpa patted her hand gently.
"My dear, slow down. Tell me properly, what's hurting you?"
Hannah's eyes filled with tears. She quickly wiped them away and gave a bitter laugh.
"Just look around, Grandpa. Mom's interview is today — she's getting more chances to show her paintings. Soon her art will be in the National University gallery. It's such a big thing. Laila Api is teaching as a professor. Amina works online and earns well. Arfa just got married — she'll go to the office with Jeeju. And Safira is getting ready to study abroad."
She paused and looked away at the vegetable patches, her voice breaking.
"And me? I'm just sitting here. Useless."
Grandpa was silent for a moment. He watched a small butterfly land on a tomato plant. Then he looked back at Hannah, his eyes kind and wise.
"You are not useless, my dear," he said softly. "You are just... in your waiting season. And that's okay."
Hannah sniffed and shook her head.
"But Grandpa, I'm scared. What if I never find my way?"
Grandpa smiled warmly and touched her head.
"Even the seeds your mother planted needed time, didn't they? Before you see a flower, there is a lot of work happening under the soil. Your time will come too. Trust your journey, beta."
Hannah looked at him, her heart a little lighter.
The garden felt even more alive now — as if it was quietly agreeing with Grandpa's words.
**************************************************
The room was big and rich, filled with soft golden furniture. Heavy curtains hung from tall windows, and a grand king-sized bed sat in the middle. The sheets were silk, a deep shade of blue, and a thick velvet blanket was thrown over Haris.
A sharp line of sunlight slipped through the small gap in the curtains, falling straight across Haris's face. It touched his sharp jawline and messy black hair, making him look breathtakingly handsome even in his restless sleep.
But Haris wasn't peaceful. His forehead was damp with sweat. His hands gripped the blanket tightly.
"No... no! Open it! Let me out!" he mumbled in a broken voice, tossing and turning.
"Aahhh... please, open it!" he cried out louder, his chest heaving.
"Let me go! Let me go!" Haris almost shouted, his voice filled with helplessness.
In his nightmare, cold iron chains wrapped around him. Strange figures, faceless and dark, were dragging him somewhere — toward a blazing fire. No matter how hard he struggled, the chains only tightened.
Suddenly, Haris jolted I , gasping for air. He sat up straight, the blanket falling off him.
His heart was racing. He rubbed his face with both hands, trying to shake off the fear. A small frown stayed on his forehead as he looked around the beautiful room, now glowing warmly with morning light.
But no luxury, no sunlight could wash away the empty feeling sitting heavy inside his chest.
Haris sighed deeply and leaned back against the soft headboard, staring blankly at the ceiling, lost in his broken dreams.
A soft knock came at the door.
"Sir, it's 8:00 already. You are getting late," the manager called politely from outside.
Haris ran a hand through his messy hair and cleared his throat.
"Alright, I'm coming," he answered in a low, rough voice.
He pushed the blanket aside and stood up from the bed. His bare feet touched the cold marble floor, and he shivered slightly.
Without wasting time, Haris walked toward the washroom. The big wooden door creaked as he pushed it open.
Inside, the washroom was just as grand — white marble tiles, a wide shining mirror, and a glass shower cabin.
He turned on the shower, stepping under the warm water, letting it wash away the bad dreams and the heaviness from his heart.
After a few minutes, he stepped out, fresh and clean. Water still dripped from his black hair as he wrapped a soft white towel around his waist.
He opened his wardrobe and pulled out a sharp black suit.
The suit fit him perfectly, making his tall, lean figure stand out even more.
He wore a crisp white shirt underneath and began buttoning it slowly, his fingers calm and steady.
Standing in front of the mirror, he adjusted his tie.
The soft morning sunlight coming through the window touched his face — his sharp jawline, deep eyes, and slightly wet hair — making him look effortlessly handsome.
He picked up his watch from the side table, fastened it around his wrist, and gave one last look at himself in the mirror.
Ready for the day, Haris walked toward the door, his face calm but distant.
**************************************************
Hannah stood in front of the tall mirror in her room. The big mirror was framed with tiny golden lights that made the whole corner glow warmly.
She wore a soft light pink skirt that fell around her ankles like a dream, paired with a fitted black top that hugged her perfectly.
Her brown hair, silky and smooth, cascaded down her back. Her big brown eyes sparkled under the soft lights, making her look effortlessly beautiful.
Safira walked in, her hands full with some painting brushes, and stopped mid-step.
Safira walked in, her hands full with some painting brushes, and stopped mid-step.
"You look so pretty," Safira said with a big smile, admiring her.
Hannah smiled a little and turned to the side, looking at herself carefully in the mirror.
"Hmm... but is this the right one? Or should I wear the red one?" she asked, holding the skirt lightly in her fingers.
"This one is perfect," Safira nodded quickly, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
Hannah adjusted her top a little, still looking thoughtful.
Safira tilted her head. "What were you talking about with Mom last night?" she asked casually.
"Nothing. It's a secret between us," Hannah teased, giving her a playful wink.
Safira frowned a little. "You seem worried these days... Take care of yourself, okay?" she said softly.
Hannah gave a small laugh and shook her head. "Right now, you are the one worrying me. Go finish your work, Safira!" she joked, trying to push her away gently.
Safira giggled and then stood up, brushing imaginary dust off her jeans.
"I have an idea," Safira said suddenly, her eyes shining. "Make a painting under an umbrella. Show people from all five provinces of Pakistan wearing their cultural clothes. Paint the umbrella green, like our flag. Let it act like a canopy — showing that our country protects us all."
She paused, thinking deeper.
"And in the background, draw thunder and stormy clouds... so it feels like the flag is giving us shelter from the troubles outside."
Hannah turned slowly to look at her, completely stunned.
"How... how do you know?" Hannah asked, her voice almost a whisper.
Safira smiled brightly, like it was the easiest thing in the world.
"I just know," she said, and skipped out of the room, leaving Hannah standing there — surprised, touched, and maybe a little emotional.
Hannah stayed still, staring at the door where Safira had just disappeared.
Slowly, she turned back to face the mirror.
Her reflection looked different now — not just a pretty girl in a pink skirt and black top — but a girl carrying so many silent dreams and fears inside her.
She touched her necklace lightly, lost in thought.
"How did she know?" Hannah whispered to herself, her voice almost lost in the quiet room.
The soft lights around the mirror flickered gently, like they were listening to her silent worries.
A small, sad smile touched Hannah's lips. Maybe sometimes the people who love you... can see the things you are too scared to say.
Taking a deep breath, Hannah straightened her shoulders and gave herself a tiny, determined nod in the mirror.
No matter how lost she felt inside, she would find her way.
She had to.