The dinner table is loud with family chatter, the smell of cardamom and rosewater hanging in the warm air. Your phone is in your hand, Instagram half-scrolled, when the room shifts — a quiet that moves through it like a held breath. He's standing at the doorway. Zayan. Older now, composed in a way that feels earned. Your eyes find his before you can stop them. Then your mother leans over and says, almost casually, that the two of you have been promised to each other for years. He already knew. He's known the whole time. And the way he's looking at you tells you this moment — for him — has been a long time coming.