**Scene 1: Milestone Moonlight – Thirty Days of Ubaid**
The house was steeped in the profound quiet of deep night. Ubaid, swaddled and content after a feed, slept soundly in his bassinet beside the bed. Haroon lay on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, staring at the ceiling fan's slow rotation. Maryam nestled against his side, her head on his shoulder, tracing idle patterns on his chest. A sense of peaceful exhaustion, tinged with awe, filled the room.
**Maryam (whispering):**
"Thirty days, Haroon. Can you believe it? Our little moon has been lighting up our world for a whole month."
*She glanced at the bassinet, Ubaid's chest rising and falling rhythmically in the dim nightlight.*
**Haroon (turning his head, kissing her hair):**
"Feels like a lifetime and a heartbeat all at once. Look at him... perfect." His voice was thick with emotion. "Dr. Samina said his weight gain is excellent at the check-up yesterday. Alhamdulillah."
**Maryam:**
"Alhamdulillah," she echoed softly. The unspoken shadow of Ammi's absence lingered, but the tangible miracle of Ubaid softened its edges. "The *chilla*... it's winding down. Only ten days left. It feels... different without Ammi guiding it, but Rimsha..." Her voice caught. "She's been Ammi's hands, her heart."
**Scene 2: Planning Blessings – The Aqeeqa and an Auntie's Crown**
**Haroon (propping himself up on an elbow, looking down at Maryam):**
"Speaking of the *chilla* ending... we need to plan Ubaid's Aqeeqa. For a boy, two healthy male goats." He stated it practically, the policeman outlining necessary steps. "I've already contacted a trusted, humane butcher. We can schedule it for the day after he completes forty days. A simple gathering here, just family, close friends? Bismillah before the sacrifice, distribute the meat as Sadaqah to the needy, and keep some for a feast."
**Maryam (nodding):**
"Yes, that sounds right. Simple and meaningful. Ammi would have insisted on the best goats..." A wistful smile touched her lips. "But Haroon... while we plan this blessing for Ubaid, my heart keeps turning to Rimsha." She shifted to look at him directly. "These forty days... she hasn't just *helped*, Haroon. She's carried us. Carried *me*. Through the grief, the exhaustion, the learning... She gave up her own routine, her sleep, her study time without complaint. She's poured herself into Ubaid and me."
**Haroon's expression softened instantly, understanding dawning.**
"You're right. Completely right. That girl... she's moved mountains. The Aqeeqa is for Ubaid, a Sunnah, a thanksgiving to Allah. But *we* need to give thanks to Rimsha. Properly. Tangibly. What do you think she'd appreciate? Something beyond just words?"
**Maryam (her eyes shining in the dim light):**
"Something that says we *see* her. We see her sacrifice, her love, her dedication. Something that honors not just the aunt, but the young woman who put her life on hold." She paused, thoughtful. "But first... I just need to *see* her. It's late. She pushes herself so hard, studying after we sleep. I want to check on her. Will you stay with Ubaid?"
**Haroon (gently squeezing her hand):**
"Of course, meri jaan. Go. Give her a hug from me too, if she's awake."
**Scene 3: The Scholar's Slumber – A Portrait of Sacrifice**
Maryam slipped out of bed, pulling on her soft robe. She padded silently down the hallway to the guest room Rimsha now inhabited. A sliver of light spilled from under the door. Maryam pushed it open gently.
The sight that met her stole her breath.
Rimsha was slumped forward at the small desk Haroon had moved into the room. Her head rested heavily on an open, hefty economics textbook. Her cheek was pressed against a complex diagram of supply and demand curves. One hand still loosely clutched a highlighter, its cap off. Her other arm was flung protectively over a tablet showing a paused lecture video. Scattered around her were notebooks filled with dense, meticulous notes – some handwritten, others printed from her AI study apps. An empty mug sat nearby, the dregs of Kashmiri chai staining its bottom. The glow of the laptop screen illuminated the profound exhaustion etched on her young face, even in sleep. Dark smudges underlined her closed eyes.
*She's studying Mughal fiscal policy at 2 AM after making sure Ubaid and I had dinner, the house was tidy, and the laundry was folded,* Maryam thought, her heart clenching with a mixture of overwhelming love and piercing guilt. *She's burning her candle at both ends, fueled by love and duty, trying to be everything for everyone.*
**Scene 4: Tucking in the Torchbearer – A Sister's Benediction**
Maryam moved with the silent reverence of someone approaching sacred ground. She carefully pried the highlighter from Rimsha's slack fingers and capped it. Gently, ever so gently, she slid the heavy textbook out from under her sister's cheek, closing it with a soft thud. She minimized the lecture on the tablet and put the laptop to sleep, plunging the room into near darkness save for the streetlight filtering through the curtains.
Rimsha didn't stir, only sighed deeply, her breath evening out into a more peaceful rhythm now that the hard surface was gone. Maryam gazed down at her – the little sister who had become her rock, her unexpected lifeline in the chasm of grief and new motherhood. She saw Ammi's determination in the set of Rimsha's jaw even in sleep, Ammi's selflessness in the sheer exhaustion.
Maryam bent down. With infinite tenderness, she brushed a stray strand of hair from Rimsha's forehead. Then, she leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the same spot, imbuing it with all the gratitude, love, and apology words could never fully convey. *You carry her light, choti. You carry us.*
She pulled the soft throw blanket from the foot of the bed and draped it carefully over Rimsha's shoulders, tucking it around her like she tucked Ubaid in. She stood there for a moment longer, watching her sister sleep peacefully, finally free from the weight of textbooks and responsibility. Silently, she walked to the door, flicked off the overhead light, and slipped out, closing the door softly behind her.
**Scene 5: The Weight of Witness – Haroon's Humbled Heart**
Maryam returned to their bedroom. Haroon was sitting up now, Ubaid cradled against his chest, gently rocking. He looked up as she entered, his eyes questioning.
Maryam walked to the edge of the bed, her face illuminated by the soft nightlight, her expression a complex tapestry of love, sorrow, and profound awe. She didn't sit down immediately.
**Maryam (her voice hushed, thick with emotion):**
"She was asleep... at her desk. Her head was on her economics book. Highlighter in her hand. Lecture video paused on her tablet. Notes everywhere... AI summaries, handwritten points... Her laptop was still on. She looked... Haroon, she looked *exhausted*. Like she'd poured every last drop of herself onto those pages."
*Maryam's eyes welled up.*
"I took her books away. Covered her with a blanket. Kissed her forehead... turned off the light."
*She met Haroon's gaze, her voice dropping to a near whisper.*
"She's giving us everything. Not just chores, Haroon. Her *youth*. Her sleep. Her studies. Her peace. For us. For Ubaid. Because Ammi isn't here... and Rimsha decided she would *be* here, in every way that mattered."
Haroon listened, his gaze fixed on Maryam's face, then drifting towards the hallway as if he could see the scene she described. He looked down at Ubaid, so small and dependent in his arms, then back at Maryam, picturing Rimsha collapsed over her books. The sheer magnitude of the young girl's sacrifice – the silent, uncomplaining dedication – hit him with the force of a physical blow.
He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. His throat tightened. His eyes, usually so steady and composed, glistened unmistakably in the low light. He swallowed hard, looking down again at Ubaid, then back at Maryam, shaking his head slowly. The tough, capable SSP, the pillar of strength, was rendered utterly speechless by the quiet heroism of a nineteen-year-old girl asleep over her textbooks. The depth of his gratitude, his respect, and his fierce protective love for Rimsha in that moment was too vast for words. He simply reached out his free hand to Maryam, pulling her close, holding his wife and son, humbled and awed by the extraordinary sister who watched over them all. The Aqeeqa plans could wait; this moment was a silent prayer of thanks for the unexpected guardian angel sleeping down the hall.