Bayaan Café | Tape #12 — “Those Meetings That Say Nothing — Yet Change Everything”
The rain had finally stopped,
but there was still moisture in the air —
as if some words had remained damp, unspoken.
That corner of Bayaan Café still glowed,
where Nilofar and Hammad’s silence sat —
in the shape of two faces.
And then, from the other side,
a new face entered —
wearing a light blue jacket,
a grey scarf wrapped around her neck.
She didn’t walk fast,
but every step she took
seemed to collide with a destined moment.
She had returned — Hamnaaz.
But this time,
there was no envelope in her hand.
No questions.
No answers.
Just a smile — still… yet sincere.
The café clock struck 6:45.
Hamnaaz looked around —
the same tables,
the same walls,
the same soft music…
but something had changed.
Then she noticed —
an empty chair,
the one Altaaf used to sit on.
She pulled out the seat across it — and sat down.
There was a time she’d think ten times before sitting here.
Today, she didn’t think even once.
The waiter came near and asked,
“Order, ma’am?”
Hamnaaz replied softly,
“That tea… the one I never used to order.”
The waiter smiled — he understood.
Just then, Altaaf appeared outside.
Even after getting drenched in the rain,
his eyes burned —
as if something inside had been boiling for too long.
He stepped into the café… and froze.
Hamnaaz was sitting there —
for the first time, not waiting… just being.
Altaaf slowly walked toward her.
He was about to speak —
but Hamnaaz raised her hand to stop him.
“This time… I’ll speak first.”
Altaaf stopped.
Hamnaaz took a deep breath,
as if turning a long, forgotten page:
“We kept thinking about so many things…
that we forgot how to live.
I tried to find myself in your silence —
and lost myself instead.
But today, I just want to say this…
If you stay the same,
then I’ll become the same too.
Not incomplete… but true.”
Something trembled in Altaaf’s eyes.
He felt as if a long-held breath was finally about to escape.
“And what if we get lost again?” he asked.
Hamnaaz smiled.
“Then this time, memories won’t come looking for us —
we’ll invite them ourselves… over tea.”
The café’s corner now looked faintly pink —
perhaps the reflection of Nilofar’s night suit
still floated on the walls.
Hammad looked that way — she was smiling.
Nilofar said softly:
“See… some stories return.
Some people too.
But the most beautiful thing
is when the heart comes back as well.”
Bayaan Café — Tape #12: The Final Moment
The café clock struck 7:00.
Soft music played all around,
gentle silence filled the air,
and countless unfinished stories lingered in the room.
Somewhere in a corner,
a new story was being written —
not on paper,
not in a notebook —
but silently, between two breaths.
“Sometimes, when two people sit together in silence,
time doesn’t stop —
it just freezes…
right where they’re meant to begin again.”
📍Tagline:
“Some memories never return…
They just stand still —
waiting for someone to relive them again.”
Bayaan Café – In the Shadow of Morning
(The next part in Nilofar and Hammad Zafri’s story)
The morning dew still clung to the café’s windowpanes.
From the branches of the gulmohar tree outside,
the first rays of sunlight filtered through —
as if some very old prayer had just been accepted.
Nilofar opened the door with a faint smile.
Her hair was tousled,
sleep still lingered in her eyes,
but her face glowed with a calm, rare light.
She walked softly to the counter,
switched on the lights,
and entered the kitchen of Bayaan Café —
as if, like every morning,
she was stepping into another world.
Just then, the doorbell chimed softly —
and Hammad Zafri walked in.
He wore a black hoodie and a light grey scarf;
his eyes held that same old peace,
but his lips carried a new restlessness.
“Good morning, Nilofar…”
his voice carried the fatigue of night —
and the impatience of something unspoken.
Nilofar turned, smiled faintly,
“You’re early today, Mr. Zafri.”
Hammad pulled out a chair
and chose the same corner —
the one from where he could see her
without disturbing her.
“Last night… I saw your poetry post,”
he said quietly.
“‘Sometimes we don’t want to return to a place,
but to a person’ — that was yours, wasn’t it?”
Nilofar’s hands paused for a moment.
She turned on the coffee machine,
but didn’t answer.
“I know, Nilofar…”
Hammad’s voice softened as he stepped closer,
“This café isn’t just a café for you —
it’s your diary.
Every wall has your silence stuck to it.”
He placed an old fountain pen on the table —
the same one Nilofar once used in her diary.
“This is yours.
I found it in the corner of the terrace.”
Nilofar’s eyes grew moist.
She had never given him that pen —
but maybe love had guided it back to him.
“Sometimes, things return… uninvited,”
she whispered.
In that corner of Bayaan Café,
two silences now sat together —
one that had lived there for years,
and another that had just arrived.
But both needed each other.
“Nilofar…”
Hammad looked at her,
“Can I come here every morning?
Not just for the coffee… but for you?”
Nilofar’s eyes drowned in his question.
The silence took a deep breath —
then turned into a reply on her lips:
“Yes… but every morning,
you won’t just get coffee.
Some old wounds return,
warm and bitter —
you’ll have to drink those too…”
Hammad smiled faintly.
“Then I’m ready to drink them — if they come from your hands, Nilofar.”
The sun had now climbed higher.
The café walls glowed golden.
And for the first time,
Nilofar felt —
maybe the café was no longer empty.
Hello beautiful readers,💞💞💞😊😊
I’m Afsana Wahid, the writer of this story. 🌸
No matter which country or corner of the world you’re reading from —
I’d truly love to hear your thoughts.
Please send me a message or leave a comment and tell me how you felt about this story.
Your words mean the world to me!
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