One evening, as he lights the lamps at the saint’s grave, he sees a figure at the gate. It’s Imaan. Older. Gray-streaked. But her eyes are the same.

Hasan leaves the haveli. He walks barefoot for three days to the shrine of a forgotten Sufi saint. There, he prays not for union—but for her safety. “Ya Khuda,” he whispers, “if loving her is a sin, then punish me. But don’t let her light go out.”

She turns and walks away. He watches her go. And then he turns back to the grave, raises his hands, and prays—not for himself, but for her.

Imaan never married. She opened a school for orphaned girls, teaching them the Quran and poetry. She never speaks of Hasan.

Hasan is now a faqir (wandering mystic) at that same shrine. His hair is long. His clothes are torn. People whisper he has the noor (divine light) on his face.