The Same Evening at the Bakery – A Few Days Later
The cold had grown sharper than before.
Outside, a white sheet of snow lay spread over everything—
the roads, the trees, the rooftops—
as if the world had decided to fall silent.
Inside the bakery, wrapped in the warmth of the oven,
the air felt faintly sweet…
and painfully quiet.
As if even this place
knew how to hold sorrow.
Zoboriya stood near the counter.
A cup of coffee rested in her hands,
thin steam rising slowly into the air—
yet not even that warmth
could soften the heaviness
settled deep in her eyes.
Memories That Refuse to Let Go
It had been a year since they arrived in Canada.
The house, the narrow lanes, the old haveli—
she had left them all behind.
Everything.
All for one reason.
Abuzarr.
A name that, even in memory,
splintered her heart into countless pieces.
The Return of the Past
Once again,
those familiar images surfaced—
Abuzarr’s smile,
the comfort hidden in his words,
and those moments when she had, without hesitation,
placed her entire life
into his hands.
She had trusted him
with a certainty that left no room for doubt.
The Truth of Betrayal
Zoboriya pressed her lips together, gently.
How many times had she whispered to herself—
Forget it. It’s over now.
But the heart does not listen.
Her thoughts echoed with the question
that never stopped hurting—
Why did you hide it, Abuzarr?
You were married.
You had a daughter.
And me?
I wasn’t even a name in your story.
The Day Everything Fell Apart
The day the truth surfaced,
Zoboriya collapsed—
like a tree torn violently from its roots.
But what followed
was even more merciless.
The Second Blow
The boy she had called a friend,
the one whose shoulder had carried her tears…
became the reason
her life unraveled completely.
He created a false video
and dragged her dignity
through the dirt
before everyone.
And Zoboriya—
who no longer had the strength
to fight,
to explain,
to scream her truth—
walked away in silence,
leaving everything behind,
and came to Canada
with her parents.
The Bakery — Her Refuge
In this small town,
she had believed that new faces,
new weather,
new streets
would erase the past.
But the truth was cruel—
wherever she went,
Abuzarr’s memories
followed her like a shadow.
She stirred her coffee slowly
and looked out the window.
The layers of falling snow
seemed to whisper—
If forgetting were so easy,
why would you still be here?
A Mother’s Quiet Strength
A familiar warmth rose behind her—
“My child…”
Zoboriya turned.
It was her mother.
Her eyes held nothing but love—
no questions,
no judgment,
only shelter.
She pulled a chair closer
and sat beside her.
“Still thinking about the same things today?”
Zoboriya allowed a faint smile.
“Ammi…
The heart isn’t easy to explain to.
This city has changed,
but the part of me that broke…
is still standing exactly
where it fell.”
Her mother wrapped her fingers around Zoboriya’s hand.
“Some wounds do not heal with time,” she said softly.
“But Allah always has a plan.
Your life was never meant to stop here.”
Abuzarr’s Name
In that moment,
Zoboriya’s eyes closed on their own.
Her heart whispered, almost inaudibly—
Abuzarr.
There was no anger left in the name.
Only love—
the kind that had exhausted her
while she was still breathing.
Silently, she spoke within herself—
If only I could forget you.
If only my breath would stop remembering your name
after your betrayal.
But love doesn’t disappear
just because we want it to.
What Was Yet to Come
Outside, the snow continued to fall.
Inside, for the first time,
Zoboriya opened her heart
just a little
before her mother.
She had no idea
that in the days ahead,
the same small bell on the bakery door
would welcome a stranger—
someone who would begin to write
a new path
on the torn pages of her heart.
Another Morning in the Same Bakery
Snow fell throughout the night.
By morning,
the town lay buried
beneath a white blanket.
As always, Zoboriya arrived early
and took her place behind the counter.
The hiss of the coffee machine,
the scent of fresh bread,
the cold drifting in through the window—
everything had become routine.
The Door Bell
Tun.
The door opened.
A rush of cold air entered,
and with it,
a new face.
He looked about twenty-five or twenty-six—
tall, composed,
a camera hanging from his neck,
snow dusting his coat.
He walked in slowly,
as though absorbing the place
for the first time.
When he reached the counter,
he paused.
Then, in a gentle voice, he said—
“Could I have the table by the window?
And… a black coffee, please.”
Zoboriya glanced at him.
There was a quiet stillness about his face,
as if he had already spoken volumes
without uttering a word.
“Yes,” she replied softly
and began preparing the coffee.
The First Question
When she placed the cup before him,
he was still watching the snowfall outside.
“How long has this bakery been here?”
“Just a year,” Zoboriya answered.
“A new city. A new beginning.”
He smiled slightly.
“That’s good.
Some places may be new,
but they carry old souls within them.”
For the first time,
Zoboriya studied him carefully.
“Are you just visiting?”
He hesitated before replying—
“You could say that.
I take photographs…
of places
where people leave their sorrows behind.”
Silent Recognition
His words struck something deep inside her.
For the first time,
Zoboriya wanted to lower her gaze before a stranger—
because it felt
as if he had already read her soul.
The Stranger’s Name
After his first sip of coffee,
he said quietly—
“By the way…
my name is Ehsan.”
Placing his camera on the table, he asked—
“And you?
Do you run this bakery alone?”
Zoboriya remained silent for a moment.
Then, quietly—
“Zoboriya.”
And she turned her gaze back to the window.
An Unfamiliar Beginning
The stillness returned to the bakery.
Outside, snow continued to fall.
Inside, steam continued to rise.
But that day,
for the very first time,
Zoboriya felt that even a stranger’s presence
could make the weight on her heart
feel just a little lighter.
She did not know yet—
whether Ehsan was merely passing through,
or the one who would begin writing
an entirely new story
inside her broken world.
🔹 What Will Happen Next in This Story?
This story will move forward in a slow, emotional healing arc rather than instant romance.
In the coming parts:
Ehsan will return to the bakery, not every day, but often enough to become familiar.
He will never force questions about Zoboriya’s past — his silence will feel safer than sympathy.
Zoboriya will begin to heal not because she falls in love, but because someone finally sees her without judging or owning her pain.
Abuzarr’s chapter will resurface briefly, not to reopen wounds, but to give Zoboriya closure.
Love, if it comes, will come with dignity, patience, and faith, not desperation.
This is a story about becoming whole again before choosing someone else.
🔹 What Is the Lesson of This Story?
This story teaches that:
Love does not excuse deception.
Betrayal can break a person, but it does not define their worth.
Healing begins when pain is acknowledged, not erased.
Not everyone who enters your life is meant to stay forever — some come to restore what others destroyed.
Silence, respect, and patience can be deeper forms of love than promises.
Above all, it reminds readers that Allah replaces loss with wisdom — and wounds with strength.
🔹 Next Short Part (Mini Chapter)
A Quiet Return
Two days later, the bell rang again.
Zoboriya looked up before she realized why.
It was Ehsan.
He shook the snow from his coat, smiled briefly, and took the same seat by the window — as if it had always been his.
She prepared the coffee without asking.
When she placed it in front of him, he said softly,
“Thank you.
I wasn’t sure you’d remember.”
Zoboriya nodded.
“Some faces stay.”
They sat in silence for a while.
Outside, people hurried through the snow.
Inside, time slowed.
Ehsan finally spoke,
“You don’t have to talk.
I come here because it’s quiet.
And because quiet places don’t demand explanations.”
Zoboriya felt something loosen inside her chest.
Not happiness.
Not love.
Just relief.
And for the first time in a long while, that felt enough.
🔹 Thank You Message for Readers (End Note)
Thank you for reading.
This story is written for anyone who has loved deeply, lost painfully, and is still learning how to breathe again.
If these words touched you, stayed with you, or reflected a part of your own journey — then this story has already found its purpose.
Your presence here means more than you know. 🤍
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