She hadn't said a word.
Not one.
Not when Hashim's gang left.
Not when Zaffar gave her a worried look.
Not even when Hamid awkwardly offered her a tissue for the dirt on her kurti.
She just stood there—silent, small.
And that silence?
It cut more than any punch Haffiz landed on me.
I glanced at her again.
Her eyes weren't teary. No.
But they held the kind of quiet that screamed too loud.
I took a breath.
Stepped forward.
"You okay?" I asked, soft. Almost hesitant.
She didn't answer.
So I did the only thing I could—I picked up her lunch bag that had fallen during the chaos and dusted it gently, like it was made of glass.
"Your mom would kill me if this went home with footprints," I said, forcing a slight smirk.
Still nothing.
I turned to Shanzay, who looked… shaken.
Her face was pale, brows still drawn. The shock hadn't worn off yet.
"She okay?" I mouthed.
Shanzay gave a tiny nod, then moved closer to Iman, clutching her hand tight like it was the only way to keep her grounded.
"She hasn't said a word," Shanzay whispered.
"I'll take her to the old library. You coming?"
"I'll be behind. Just… keep her close."
I nodded and gently placed a hand on Iman's shoulder. "C'mon. Let's get out of here before you start attracting reporters."
Her eyes flicked to me—just briefly. Then she started walking, slow, her shoes crunching on the gravel.
We hadn't even crossed the far edge of the park when I heard him.
"Iman," Haffiz's voice called out.
I stiffened.
She did too.
She turned halfway—but I stepped in, blocking her view before she could face him fully.
He looked different now. His shirt was torn, lip swollen, one cheek already bruising.
But his voice held something... hesitant. Regret, maybe. Maybe just guilt.
"Iman, I—"
"Don't," I said, flat.
He looked at me, eyes narrowing slightly. "I wasn't talking to you."
"And she's not talking to you."
"You don't get to decide that—"
"I do," I snapped, stepping forward.
He stepped too, stubborn. "You think fighting gives you the right—?"
"No," I said coldly. "But scaring her took yours away."
Haffiz flinched.
Behind me, I heard Shanzay inhale sharply—almost as if she hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath since the first blow landed in that fight.
"Go," I said. "Before you make it worse."
Haffiz hesitated. His eyes shifted from me… to her.
But she didn't look at him.
Didn't move.
Didn't blink.
He finally turned and left.
We walked the rest of the way in silence. Shanzay followed close behind, her hand still around Iman's. I could tell she was trying to be strong—for both of them.
Iman didn't speak.
But she stayed close.
As we entered the old library building—dusty, faded, with that comforting smell of old pages—I pulled out her lunch bag and waved it lightly in front of her.
"Bribery?" I said, raising a brow. "You talk, I hand over the samosas."
Her lips didn't move.
But her eyes met mine.
And this time… they didn't look through me.
Progress.