A Short Story
For as long as Sanna could remember, her favorite place in the house had been the front door.
Even as a little girl, barely old enough to walk, she would make her way to the entrance, push the door slightly open, and stand there, watching the world outside.
She loved the bustle of the street.
People hurried past on their way to work. Children chased one another, shouting and laughing. Dogs wandered through the neighborhood, occasionally breaking into noisy fights. Vendors called out to customers, and bicycles rattled along the narrow road.
There was always something happening outside.
And Sanna loved watching it all.
Throughout the day, no matter what she was doing, she would return to her favorite spot. She would stand quietly behind the half-open door, observing the world with curious eyes and a gentle smile.
Every morning, after the household’s prayers, the door would open.
And it would remain that way until evening, when her Abbu returned from his shop.
The neighbors had grown accustomed to seeing the beautiful little girl standing at the doorway.
Some smiled at her. Others waved as they passed.
Sanna always smiled back.
One afternoon, while watching the neighborhood children play cricket, Sanna noticed a new boy among them.
He seemed particularly energetic, running from one end of the street to the other, shouting instructions and arguing cheerfully with the other children.
Everyone called him Nick.
He must be new to the neighborhood, Sanna thought.
A few minutes later, the cricket ball rolled toward her house and stopped near the doorstep.
The new boy came running after it.
As he bent down to pick it up, he noticed Sanna.
He smiled.
“Hi! I’m Niket. My parents and friends call me Nick. What’s your name?”
Sanna looked at him and smiled.
“Why don’t you come and play with us?” he asked.
She said nothing.
Nick waited for a moment, then shrugged cheerfully.
“Well, maybe next time!”
He picked up the ball and ran back to his friends.
Sanna watched him go.
She liked his colorful shirt.
And so began a peculiar friendship.
Whenever the cricket ball landed near Sanna’s house, Nick came to retrieve it.
And whenever he came, he found something to say.
Sometimes he talked about school. Sometimes about his friends, his teachers, or the trouble he had gotten into at home.
He told her about his parents, his favorite subjects, and his dreams.
Nick always had something to talk about.
Sanna listened.
Whenever he asked her a question, she responded with her familiar smile.
Nick didn’t seem to mind.
Days passed.
And then the days turned into years.
The neighborhood changed slowly. Some families moved away, others arrived, and the children who once ran barefoot through the streets began growing into young men and women.
Nick grew taller.
His voice deepened, and a faint, rather funny-looking beard appeared on his face.
But some things remained unchanged.
The children still played cricket in the street.
Sanna still stood at her doorway.
And somehow, the cricket ball seemed to find its way to her doorstep more often than ever.
It was almost always Nick who came to fetch it.
His conversations had changed, though.
He now spoke of examinations, careers, universities, and distant cities. He talked about things that sometimes seemed far removed from the little world Sanna watched from her doorway.
She listened with the same quiet attention.
Her father, however, was not always pleased.
“Why does Sanna spend so much time standing at that door?” he would ask irritably.
Her Ammy would defend her.
“Let her be. She likes watching the street. Besides, the door is only half-open. What harm is there?”
Then she would add, almost casually:
“When Sanna realizes it’s time to close the door, she’ll close it herself.”
As Sanna grew older, her mother also began reminding her to keep her hijab properly draped.
“You’re growing up now,” she would say gently. “Remember to cover yourself.”
Sanna would adjust her scarf and return to her place.
Life inside the house was not always peaceful.
There were difficult days, whispered conversations, and moments when the family seemed to withdraw from the world.
Once, a terrible argument over gambling ended in a man’s death, and Sanna’s brother was sent to prison on a murder charge.
For days, the house was filled with grief, anger, and uneasy silence.
Yet the door continued to open each morning.
And Sanna continued to stand there.
Watching.
Listening.
Smiling occasionally at the world outside.
One afternoon, Nick arrived with particularly exciting news.
“Sanna, I’ve decided what I want to do!”
She looked at him.
“I’m going to become an engineer. I’ll go to college, get a good job, and who knows? Maybe one day I’ll even go to America!”
He laughed at the thought.
“Imagine that! Me, living in America!”
Sanna smiled.
Nick leaned against the doorframe.
“What about you, Sanna? What do you want to do with your life?”
She looked at him quietly.
“Don’t you have any dreams?”
Her smile remained.
Nick shook his head with a grin.
“You never tell me anything!”
He picked up the ball and ran back to the game.
Sanna watched him disappear among the children.
Then, silently, she prayed.
God, please grant all of Nick’s wishes.
Not long afterward, Nick received admission to an engineering college.
The day before he was to leave, he came to Sanna’s house.
She was standing at the door, as usual.
“Well, Sanna, it’s finally happening. I’m leaving tomorrow.”
She looked at him.
“College! A new city, new people, a completely different life.”
He paused.
“I’ll miss this place. The cricket games, the neighborhood, everyone…”
He looked at her and smiled.
“And I’ll miss talking to you.”
Sanna lowered her eyes for a moment, then looked toward the street.
From inside the house came her mother’s voice.
“Who’s there?”
Nick straightened immediately.
“Ammy, it’s me! Nick. Mr. Sharma’s son.”
“Oh, Nick!”
“I’m leaving for college tomorrow. I thought I’d come and take your blessings before going.”
“May God bless you, son. Study well and make your parents proud.”
“Thank you, Ammy!”
Nick turned back toward Sanna.
“Well, goodbye, Sanna. Take care of yourself.”
He waited for a moment.
She smiled.
Then he walked away.
And Nick was gone.
For the first time in years, the street seemed strangely different to Sanna.
The children still played cricket. Vendors still called out to customers. Dogs still chased one another through the neighborhood.
Nothing had really changed.
And yet, something had.
Sanna found herself looking down the street more often.
Whenever she heard the sound of a cricket bat striking a ball, she would glance toward the children, almost expecting to see Nick among them.
Sometimes, she imagined him running toward her house, laughing and calling out something about his latest adventure.
But the ball rarely came to her doorstep anymore.
She knew he would return during his college vacations.
And he did.
Whenever Nick came home, he gathered the neighborhood children and organized cricket matches.
He was older now, taller and more confident, but he still played with the same enthusiasm.
And somehow, the ball continued to roll toward Sanna’s door.
Nick would come to retrieve it, and their conversations would resume as though he had never left.
He told her about college life.
About his hostel, his roommates, his professors, and the endless examinations.
He talked about computers, programming, and the fascinating things he was learning.
Sometimes he described places she had never seen and experiences she had never imagined.
Sanna listened.
Everything sounded so different from the world she knew.
But she never spoke about herself.
Occasionally, Nick would interrupt his stories and question her.
“Sanna, do you ever go anywhere?”
She smiled.
“What do you like doing? Reading? Music? Anything?”
Another smile.
“Do you like anyone?”
He watched her face.
She glanced away.
Nick laughed, though not quite as freely as before.
“One day, Sanna, you’ll have to answer at least one of my questions.”
But that day never came.
Years passed.
Nick completed his engineering degree and prepared to begin his career.
One evening, he returned to the neighborhood.
The children were playing cricket, but this time he did not join them immediately.
Instead, he walked straight toward Sanna’s house.
She was standing at the door.
“Sanna, I need to talk to you.”
There was something different in his voice.
She looked at him.
“I’ve finished college. I’ll be starting my job soon. I won’t be able to come here as often.”
He paused.
“And I can’t keep coming back to this street, pretending I’m here only to play cricket with the children.”
Sanna lowered her eyes.
Nick took a breath.
“You know why I come here, don’t you?”
She remained silent.
“I like you, Sanna. I’ve liked you for years.”
He waited.
“I don’t know what you think of me. You’ve never told me anything. Not once.”
He glanced toward the street before continuing.
“And I know things aren’t simple. Our families are different. Our religions are different. Our customs, our traditions… everything.”
He looked directly at her.
“But I’m willing to fight for you.”
Sanna stood motionless.
“I can talk to my parents. I can try to convince them. I can face whatever comes.”
His voice softened.
“But I can’t do it alone.”
He stepped a little closer.
“You have to tell me something, Sanna.”
She looked at him.
“Do you care for me? Do you want us to be together? Are you willing to stand beside me?”
The sounds of the street continued around them.
Somewhere nearby, children shouted over a disputed cricket run.
A bicycle bell rang.
A vendor called out his wares.
But at the doorway, there was silence.
Sanna stood between the open door and the world outside.
She did not step back into the house.
Nor did she step forward.
Nick waited.
“Sanna, please. Say something.”
She looked at him with the same familiar smile.
He searched her face for an answer.
There was none he could understand.
For a long time, neither moved.
Finally, Nick lowered his eyes.
“I don’t know what else to say.”
He turned and walked away.
Sanna remained at the door.
The days continued to pass.
Nick began his career.
His visits to the neighborhood became less frequent.
Then came the news that his parents had arranged his marriage.
The wedding date was fixed.
The neighborhood buzzed with excitement. Friends and relatives arrived, preparations began, and the Sharma household filled with activity.
A few days before the wedding, Nick was seen playing cricket with the neighborhood children.
The neighbors laughed affectionately.
“Look at him! He’s getting married, and he’s still playing cricket with the little ones!”
“That boy has a heart of gold,” someone remarked. “He hasn’t changed at all.”
Nick smiled at their teasing.
During the game, the ball rolled toward Sanna’s house.
He went to retrieve it.
She was there.
Standing at the doorway.
For a moment, they simply looked at one another.
Then Nick spoke.
“Sanna, I’m getting married.”
She remained silent.
He swallowed.
“There’s still time, you know.”
She looked at him.
“If you say something now, things could still change.”
He waited.
“Sanna, for God’s sake, say something.”
She stood quietly behind the half-open door.
Nick looked at her for a long moment.
Then he bent down, picked up the cricket ball, and walked away.
The wedding day arrived.
The neighborhood was alive with celebration.
Music filled the streets. Drums beat loudly, trumpets blared, and relatives danced as the wedding procession slowly made its way through the neighborhood.
Nick sat upon the decorated wedding horse, dressed in his wedding attire.
His face was solemn.
As the procession approached Sanna’s house, the music grew louder.
Sanna stood at her usual spot.
The door was half-open.
The procession moved past.
Sanna shut the door.