Chapter 44

When Rafey came home from the office in the evening, he noticed that Uswa was unusually silent. Even while bringing him coffee, Uswa’s eyes were downcast, and after setting the coffee on the table, she went back to the kitchen. Rafey’s heart sank as he noticed Uswa’s behaviour. She always greeted him with a smile and an eager recount of her day. Something was definitely wrong. Instead of drinking his coffee, Rafey followed her into the kitchen to see what was keeping her so busy that she didn’t sit with him.

Uswa was making pasta at that time. Rafey’s routine was to have coffee after coming home from the office and then have a light snack after freshening up. Usually, Uswa would prepare something only after he went to their room; otherwise, she would sit with him while he drank his coffee and recounted her entire day’s events.

Confused, he stood behind her. Uswa, unaware of his presence, got startled when he suddenly stood behind her.

"Kuch hua hai?" Rafey asked softly, concerned by her unusual demeanour.

(Has something happened?)

Uswa looked at him puzzled. "Kya?" she replied, trying to deflect.

(What?)

"Kya tum mujhse naraz ho?" Rafey could only think of this explanation. The last time Uswa wasn’t talking to him, it was because he wasn’t taking her to India, and now he had no idea what he had done.

(Are you upset with me?)

“Nahi toh,” Uswa denied and moved away from him to get something from the shelf.

(No, not at all.)

“Toh phir tum itni khamosh kyu ho? Meri taraf dekh bhi nahi rahi. Kya hua hai, Uswa?" Uswa looked at him in surprise. She hadn’t realized that Rafey noticed her so much. He had just come back from the office, and yet he immediately sensed that she was disturbed. She couldn’t believe that her silence affected him so much.

(Then why are you so quiet? You aren't even looking at him. What happened, Uswa?)

“Haan toh aap kya chahte hain main har waqt jokero wali harkat karu? Insan life mein mature bhi hota hai.” Uswa scolded Rafey instead, then pushed him away from the stove and continued to check on her pasta.

(So what, you want me to act like a clown? People mature in life.)

“Mature? Tum?” Rafey was even more confused. Where did this come from?

(You?)

“Haan toh aur kya. Pata hai aaj mummy ne kya kaha mujhse?” Turning off the stove, Uswa fully faced Rafey, first waving her hand in the air and then folding them on her chest.

(Yes, you know what mummy said to me today?)

“Kya kaha aunty ne?”

(What did Aunty say?)

“Keh rahi thi Uswa tum kab good news dogi, maine kaha mummy main konsa parhai kar rahi hoon jo achhe numbers lake apko good news doon.” Rafey smiled at her first statement but couldn’t help laughing at the next.

(She asked me when will I give her good news, so I said,'Mummy, I am not studying that. I'll give you good news by scoring good marks.')

“Ab aap kyu has rahe hain?” Uswa didn’t understand why he was laughing when she hadn’t even finished her story.

(Why are you laughing?)

“Nothing, continue,” Rafey said, stifling his laughter.

“Haan toh mummy kehne lagi main tumhari aur Rafey ki baat kar rahi thi, toh maine mummy ko di na good news ki apne abhi new deal sign ki hai. Toh mummy kehne lagi achha hai abhi tum koi good news mat dena, mature hona tab dena." By the end, Uswa's voice was almost breaking.

(Yes, so mummy said she was talking about me and you, so I told mummy the good news that you just signed a new deal. Mummy said it's good, and don't give any more good news now, get mature, then give me good news.)

"Ek toh pata nahi unhe konsi good news chahiye thi, uppar se woh har waqt meri intelligence pe shakk karti hain. Kehti hain Hyra se kuch seekho, aise tumhari tarah kuch bhi nahi bolti rehti. Ab Hyra kam bolti hai toh main kya karu? Theek hai phir, main bhi ajse kam bolungi, mature banke dikhaungi mummy ko.” Uswa was talking more to herself than to Rafey by this point.

(I don't know what good news she was expecting, and on top of that, she always doubts my intelligence. She says to learn something from Hyra. She never speaks like you. Now, if Hyra speaks less, what should I do? Fine then, I'll also speak less from now on, I'll show mom that I'm mature.)

“Uswa,” Rafey sighed deeply, then held her hand and made her sit on the chair near the kitchen counter, kneeling in front of her. “Pehli baat toh maturity ka kam bolne se koi lena dena nahi, Hyra aur tum ek hi braincell share karti ho, aur dusri baat woh uss good news ki baat kar rahi thi jo shadi ke baad har couples dete hain, jo Hyra ne di hai.”

(First of all, maturity has nothing to do with speaking less. Hyra and you share the same braincell, and second thing, she was talking about that good news which every couple gives after marriage, which Hyra gave.)

Uswa finally understood what kind of good news her mother had meant, and her eyes widened in surprise, her cheeks turning red.

“Aur teesri aur sabse important baat, khabardaar jo tumne apni koi bhi adat badli.” Rafey continued speaking without noticing Uswa’s expression.

(And third and most importantly, don't you dare to change any of your habits.)

“Ek baat tum apne dimagh mein baitha lo,” he gently tapped her on the head. “Tum jo ho, jaisi ho, hamesha aisi rehna. Tum janti ho na maine tumhe shadi se pehle pasand kiya tha, aur mujhe tum aisi hi pasand ho, tumhari baaton se hi mujhe lagta hai meri zindagi mukammal hai.”

(Keep this in your mind.)

(Be always like this. You know I liked you before our marriage, and I like you this way. Your long talks completes my life.)

“Main nahi chahta, Uswa, jin baaton ki wajah se maine tumhe pasand kiya hai tum woh sab badlo. Main chahta hoon tum hamesha aisi raho, aur jab humare... 4 5 good news ajaye, tab bhi aisi hi rehna. Koi zaroorat nahi mature hone ki.”

(Uswa, I don't want you to change a thing which makes me love you. I want you to be like this even... if we'll have 4 5 good news. There is no need to get mature.)

Without thinking, Uswa threw her arms around Rafey’s neck and hugged him tightly, sitting down on the floor with him.

“Arey,” Rafey was surprised; he hadn’t expected this.

“Aap bohot achhe hain.” Uswa said softly. “Pata hai Hyra mujhse puchti hai 'Uswa, Rafey bhai kaise jhelte hain tumhe?' Ab main ussey bataungi ki jhelne wali koi baat hi nahi, aap enjoy karte hain meri baatein."

(You are so kind.)

(You know, Hyra always asks me,'Uswa, how does Ravey bhai tolerate you?' I'll tell her you enjoy my antics.)

“Tum yeh Hyra ko bataogi?” Rafey, who was happy with Uswa’s hug, almost felt like hitting his head against the wall at her next statement.

(You'll tell all of this to Hyra?)

“Haan toh?” Uswa pulled away and asked.

(Yeah, so?)

“Uswa, husband wife ki baatein unke beech hi rehni chahiye. Yeh sab baat tumhe kisi bhi teesre se nahi share karni chahiye.” Rafey took her face in his hands and explained gently.

(Uswa, conversations between husband and wife should stay between them. You shouldn't share all these things with any third person.)

"Lekin, Hyra toh..."

(But, Hyra isn't...)

"Teesri nahi hai, janta hoon." Rafey completed her sentence. "Aur tum ussey apni sari baat kar sakti ho. Lekin humari baatein humare beech hi rehni chahiye. I'm sure Hyra bhi tumhe apne aur Hayder bhai ke barey mein nahi batati hogi... At least romance toh nahi batati hogi na."

(A third person, I know.)

(And you can share your problems with her. But our conversations should stay between us. I'm sure Hyra doesn't tell you about her and Hayder bhai... At least she wouldn't talk about romance, right?)

Rafey was patiently explaining things to Uswa once again. It was something he had to explain to her at least ten times, and she would forget every day.

"Hayder bhai bhi romantic honge?" Uswa completely ignored Rafey's point and focused only on this.

(You think Hayder bhai is romantic?)

Rafey now really did smack his head in frustration. "Zahir hai, tum khala aise hi toh nahi ban rahi na. Unka chorho, main keh raha tha..."

(Obviously, that's why you are going to be an aunt. Leave about them, I was saying...)

"Lekin main Hayder bhai ko romance karte hue imagine nahi kar sakti." Uswa was still stuck on the same topic. "Woh itne stoic type hain..."

(I can't imagine Hayder bhai as a romantic person.)

(He is so stoic type...)

Even Rafey couldn't help but imagine it for a moment, then he shuddered. "Wapas aao, apne pe wapas aao." Rafey interrupted Uswa.

(Come back, come back here.)

"Kaha?"

(Where?)

Rafey took a deep breath, deciding to steer the conversation back to them. "Hum apni baat karte hain." he said, cupping her face gently.

(Let's talk about us.)

"Konsi baat?" Uswa blinked, completely forgetting what they were talking about.

(What about us?)

Rafey smiled and stood up, pulling her up with him. "Tum kya bata rahi ki aunty kya keh rahi thi?"

(What were Aunty saying to you?)

"Mummy toh bohot kuch kehti rehti hain, kal hi keh rahi thi ki tum bhale jokaro wali harkat karti thi lekin raunak tumse thi ghar ki. Ab bataiye, tareef bhi aise kar rahi hain ki mujhe tareef mehsoos hui hi nahi, meri ankhon mein jo ansu arahe the woh wapas chale gaye aur...."

(Mummy says a lot of things. Just yesterday, she was saying that even though you used to do silly things, you brought happiness to the house. Now tell me, she's praising me in such a way that I didn't even feel the praise. The tears that were coming to my eyes went away and...)

"Good news, main good news ka keh raha tha." Rafey felt like he needed to knock some sense into his wife.

(I was talking about good news.)

"Us... uska kya?" Uswa’s demeanour suddenly softened, and her cheeks began to flush.

(Wh... what about that?)

Rafey placed both his hands on her shoulders and leaned closer. "Ab aunty good news ka puch rahi hain toh de dete haina unhe good news. Tum bhi unhe dikha dena tum immature hoke bhi sambhal logi iss zimmedari ko."

(Now Aunty is asking about good news, so let's give her the good news. You also show her that even though you're immature, you can handle this responsibility.)

Uswa's heart started racing, and she could feel Rafey’s warm breath, sending shivers down her spine. Her eyes darted away, unable to meet his intense gaze.

"Woh pasta..." Uswa mumbled, trying to make an excuse and moved towards the stove, her hands trembling slightly.

"Chorho pasta ko, mujhe meri Mrs chahiye." Rafey said, pulling her close. His voice was filled with love.

(Leave it, I want my Mrs.)

Uswa's blush deepened. She bit her lip, her shyness making it hard to respond. "Ra... woh..." she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. She tried to pull away, but Rafey held her firmly, yet tenderly. He left her no place to escape, making her hide her face in his chest in defence.

•••

Zara had said yes to her first marriage for the sake of her father. Back then, her yes had lacked any hint of happiness. This time too, she had agreed for her father's sake, but she couldn't tell if she was happy or not. Was some forgotten love finding its way back into her heart?

After much contemplation, Shahzaib also said yes.

No one at Burhan's place was happy with such a hasty decision, but this time, Burhan only thought about his daughter. Throughout his life, he had respected his elder brother's decisions, but now, when so much had happened to Zara, his elder brother hadn't even shown remorse. Jamshed's concern remained on his son, what if Hamshad did something to Faiq. Therefore, Burhan decided to focus solely on his daughter's happiness too.

•••

"Baba, aisi bhi kya jaldi hai? Hyra ki condition toh dekhein, aise mein shadi?" Hayder asked Hanif Mirza, bewildered.

(Baba, what's the rush? Look at Hyra's condition, marriage at this time?)

Earlier that morning, Minal had called Hanif Mirza. Minal wanted to arrange Zara's marriage to relieve her from the tension-filled environment. The constant gossip and family discussions in and around the house were wearing Zara down, affecting her health as well. Minal wished for Zara to break free from this stressful environment.

"Maine bhi kaha tha Minal se, lekin uske apne reason hain. Waise bhi shadi woh log chahte hain sadgi se karein." Hanif Mirza tried to explain to Hayder.

(I also told Minal the same, but she has her reasons. Besides, they want the wedding to be conducted with simplicity.)

"Haan, lekin hum apni taiyyari toh karenge na..." Hayder began.

(Yes, but we need to make our preparations too...)

Hyra silently listened to their conversation, agreeing with both of them. Hanif Mirza was right about opting for a simple wedding, but Hayder was also right that with her current state, Hyra couldn't even manage any household tasks, let alone prepare for a wedding.

"Hayder, Minal waise bhi kabhi mujhse kuch nahi mangti, apne sasural ke sarey masle apne tak rakhti hai. Aaj pehli baar kuch bol rahi hai woh, tum chahte ho main mana kardu ussey?" Hanif Mirza became quite emotional. Now, it was up to Hayder to decide if he wanted to upset his grandfather or not. Hayder glanced towards Hyra in his tired state, hoping she might have a solution to offer.

(Hayder, Minal never asks me for anything; she keeps all her in-laws matter to herself. Today, for the first time, she's saying something. Do you want me to refuse her?)

"Main promise karti hoon main koi kaam nahi karungi, phir toh theek rahega?" Hyra offered her solution earnestly, her gaze shifting between Hayder and Hanif Mirza. Hayder looked at Hyra with concern. He knew her condition demanded utmost care and attention, yet here she was, considering others' needs over her own.

(I promise I won't do any work, then everything will be fine, right?)

Hayder surrendered to her request, realizing there was no point in arguing further.

"Main Shahzaib se baat karta hoon, pata nahi usko itni jaldi chutti milegi bhi ya nahi." Hayder said. Relief spread across Hanif Mirza's face, and a faint smile returned to Hyra's lips at Hayder's decision.

(I'll talk to Shahzaib, though I'm not sure if he can get leave so soon.)

"Ek toh mere samajh nahi araha yeh larka waha job kar hi kyu raha hai? Australia mein aisa konsa asman se heera barasta hai jo pehle Ibtisham waha jake settle ho gaya aur ab yeh. Itni mehnat se yeh business kyu shuru kiya tha maine aur Asif ne ki humare bachhe bahar jake settle ho jaye?" Hanif Mirza was venting his anger. He was absolutely against Shahzaib going to Australia and doing a job there. Once before, Ibtisham had gone abroad, claiming he was going to gain experience, but he never returned to India and settled there instead. Hanif Mirza couldn't bear the thought of Shahzaib settling there as well.

(I don't understand why this boy is working there. Is there some special diamond raining from the sky in Australia that first Ibtisham settled there, and now he has gone too? Why did Asif and I work so hard to start this business if our children are going to settle abroad?)

"Baba, woh waha settle nahi hoga, ajayega wapas." Hayder knew why Shahzaib had gone to Australia. Now, he hoped that perhaps after this marriage, Shahzaib would return.

(Baba, he won't settle there. He will come back.)

"Main Kubra api ko call karke batati hoon." Hyra was happy, and immediately Kubra came to her mind.

(I'll call Kubra Api and tell her.)

•••

Kubra sat on the bed, her chin resting on her hand, a pillow clutched to her lap. Her eyes were fixed on Sarim, who was immersed in his laptop, fingers flying over the keyboard. She watched him intently, unsure of how to broach the subject on her mind.

Finally, Sarim closed his laptop and looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Kya hua?" He asked gently, noticing her pensive expression.

(What happened?)

Kubra shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "Kuch nahi, aap apna kaam kar lijiye, main disturb nahi karna chahti."

(Nothing, you do your work, I don't want to disturb you.)

"Tumhari khamoshi ne mujhe disturb kar diya hai, ab batao kya hua hai." Sarim chuckled softly, moving closer to her.

(Your silence has disturbed me, now tell me what happened.)

"Shahzaib ki shadi ki date fix ho gayi hai. Jaldi hi bhai ayenge card dene..."

(Shahzaib's wedding date has been fixed. Brother will come soon to give the invitation card...)

"Achha? Mubarak ho." Sarim told her happily, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

(Really? Congratulations.)

Hesitantly, Kubra took a deep breath and continued. "Main soch rahi thi shadi tak waha ruk jau?" She asked, her voice soft.

(I was thinking of staying there until the wedding?)

Sarim never let her stay there overnight. He would tell her that she could stay as long as she wanted during the day, he could even take her there every day if she wished, but she couldn't stay there at night.

"Dekhiye, shadi wale ghar mein bohot kaam hota hai, Hyra sab kuch akele kaise manage karegi iss condition mein. Main bas shadi tak..." Kubra was giving a detailed explanation.

(Look, there's a lot of work in a wedding house. How will Hyra manage everything alone in this condition? I'll stay just until the wedding...)

"Theek hai, ruk jana." Before Kubra could request further, Sarim spoke. It was the first time she was asking for something, that too so sweetly; Sarim had to agree.

(Okay, you can stay.)

"Thank you," Kubra's face lit up with relief and gratitude.

Sarim looked into her eyes for a long moment, a small smile forming on his lips. "Chalo issi baat pe mere liye coffee bana do, mujhe abhi office ka kaam bhi karna hai. Thori si bhi kami reh gayi toh bade papa gussa karenge."

(On this note, make me coffee. I have to do office work now. If there's even a little mistake, Bade Papa will get angry.)

"Abhi layi," Kubra nodded happily and quickly made her way to the kitchen, while Sarim returned to his work.

(Coming right up.)

In the kitchen, Kubra reached up to grab a mug from the shelf when a wave of dizziness hit her. She swayed slightly, and the mug slipped from her fingers, crashing to the floor. The loud noise brought a maid rushing into the kitchen.

"Bhabhi, kya hua sab theek hai?" Noura asked, concern evident in her voice.

(Bhabhi, what happened? Is everything alright?)

Kubra nodded quickly, trying to steady herself.

"Haan, theek hai, bas coffee banani thi yeh galti se gir gaya." She said, offering a reassuring smile.

(Yes, everything is fine. I just had to make coffee, and it slipped by mistake.)

"Coffee main bana doon?" Noura offered.

(Should I make the coffee?)

"Nahi, woh main bana lungi. Aap isko saaf kar dein." Noura nodded and began cleaning up the broken pieces.

(No, I'll make it. You clean this up.)

While Kubra held her forehead, wondering why she felt so low all of a sudden. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she focused on making the coffee for Sarim.

A few minutes later, she returned to the room with a steaming cup of coffee. Sarim was engrossed in his work. Not wanting to disturb him, Kubra quietly placed the coffee on the table beside him and moved away.

She walked to the glass door that led to the balcony, her thoughts drifting. The monsoon weather was in full swing, with the sky a canvas of dark, swirling clouds. The gentle patter of rain against the glass door created a soothing rhythm, and the cool breeze carried the fresh, earthy scent of rain-soaked soil.

Kubra watched as the rain poured down, the drops creating ripples in the small puddles that had formed on the balcony floor. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the coolness of the glass against her skin.

Sarim, glancing up from his work to search for something, caught sight of Kubra. She was wearing a simple red kurta shalwar, her loose dupatta draped casually around her neck. Her long hair flowed freely down her back, framing her face, which was free of any makeup. The natural glow of her skin and the red bangles adorning her wrists added a touch of elegance to her simplicity.

To Sarim, she was more beautiful than the weather outside. Unable to resist, he walked over and wrapped his arms around her from behind.

Startled, Kubra gasped and then shyly leaned into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his hug.

He rested his chin on her shoulder. "Barish mein jana hai?" he asked, his voice a gentle murmur in her ear.

(Want to go out in the rain?)

Kubra quickly shook her head. "Nahi! Mujhe barish nahi pasand."

(No! I don't like the rain.)

Sarim looked at her, confused. "Haan? Barish kissey nahi pasand hoti? Tumhara favourite season konsa hai?"

(What? Who doesn't like the rain? What's your favourite season?)

"Summer," She replied happily, causing Sarim to burst into laughter.

"Ajeeb ho tum. Summer kiska favourite hota hai?" Shaking his head, he asked.

(You're strange. Who likes summer?)

Huffing, Kubra pouted. "Mera favourite hai. Aur sabse best seaosn hai."

(It's my favourite. And it's the best season.)

Sarim continued to laugh, not taking her seriously. "Tumne shayad kabhi barish theek se enjoy ki nahi," he said, taking her hand. "Chalo mere sath, aaj tumhe barish se pyar karwata hoon."

(You probably haven't enjoyed the rain properly,)

(Come with me, today I'll make you fall in love with the rain.)

"Kaha?" Kubra asked, but he just smiled and said, "Chalo toh,"

(Where?)

(Just come,)

He led her out of the room, guiding her to the stairs. As they climbed, Kubra glanced back. "Apka kaam? Bade papa datenge."

(What about your work? Bade papa will scold you.)

Sarim shrugged nonchalantly. "Taha Bhai sambhal lenge."

(Taha Bhai will handle him.)

Sarim led Kubra out to the porch, a mischievous glint in his eyes. As they stepped outside, the fresh scent of rain filled the air, and the gentle sound of raindrops added a rhythmic backdrop to their steps. Kubra assumed he was taking her for a long drive in the car, but when she saw him heading towards a bike, her mouth dropped open in surprise.

"You're not serious!" she exclaimed, protesting immediately. "Sarim, main ispe kahi nahi ja rahi, iss weather mein toh bilkul nahi."

(Sarim, I'm not going anywhere on this, especially not in this weather.)

"Kuch nahi hota, ajao,"

(Nothing will happen, come on.)

"Beemar parh gaye toh?" She looked at the weather then again at him.

(What if we get sick?)

Sarim just smiled, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "Barish mein beemar hone ka bhi apna maza hai, trust me," he said, unbothered by her objections.

(Getting sick in the rain has its own charm, trust me,)

"But... mom datengi." Kubra asked, her worry evident in her voice.

(But... mom will scold us.)

Sarim laughed, handing her a helmet. "Mom sirf mujhe datti hain. Keh dunga tumhara mann tha jane ka, kuch nahi kahengi."

(Mom only scolds me. I'll tell her you wanted to go, she won't say anything.)

Kubra hesitated, still uncertain. "Sarim, yeh pagalpan hai."

(Sarim, this is madness.)

"Pagalpan hi sahi," he said, putting on his helmet. "Aao na ab,"

(Madness it is,)

(Come on now.)

With reluctance , Kubra finally gave in and put on the helmet. She climbed onto the bike behind Sarim, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. The engine roared to life, and soon they were riding out into the rain, the cool droplets hitting their faces.

As they rode through the streets, Sarim's laughter mingled with the sound of the rain, and Kubra found herself slowly relaxing. Despite her initial reluctance, the thrill of the ride and Sarim's infectious enthusiasm began to change her mind. The rain, which she once dreaded, started to feel refreshing and exhilarating.

The city looked different under the downpour, with the streets glistening and the usual hustle and bustle quieted by the weather. The world seemed to slow down, and for a moment, it was just them, the rain, and the open road.

Sarim took Kubra on a ride away from the city, heading towards a quiet, serene spot he knew well. The rain continued to fall, casting a gentle mist over the landscape. After a while, they reached a small hut where a vendor was selling roasted corn. Sarim parked the bike and smiled at Kubra.

"Mujhe aaj pata chala meri shadi ek sarfire se hui hai," Kubra said, her voice a mix of amusement and disbelief.

(Today, I realized I married a crazy person.)

"Sarfira sirf tumhare liye hoon," Sarim replied with a grin before heading over to the vendor.

(I'm crazy only for you.)

Kubra walked under the shed, trying to escape the rain. She was badly shivering now, her clothes soaked through, but she couldn't deny that she had enjoyed the ride. Watching Sarim interact with the vendor, she felt a warm glow inside despite the chill.

Sarim returned with two freshly roasted corn cobs, their warm, smoky aroma cutting through the cool, damp air. He handed one to Kubra, who accepted it with a grateful smile.

"Yeh lo, yeh sabse best hai," he said, taking a bite of his own corn. "Issey achha tumhe pure sheher mein nahi milega."

(Here, this is the best part,)

(You won't find better corn in the entire city.)

Kubra took a bite, the warmth of the corn spreading through her cold fingers. They stood there, side by side under the small shed, eating the roasted corn while the rain continued to pour around them. The taste of the corn, the sound of the rain, and the warmth of Sarim's presence made everything feel perfect.

"Yeh wakai bohot achha hai," Kubra admitted.

(This is really good,)

Sarim looked at her, his eyes filled with love for her. "I'm glad you liked it."

As they finished their corn, Kubra felt a new appreciation for the moment. She wasn't just enjoying the weather; she was falling deeper in love with her husband, who had turned a simple rainy day into a beautiful memory.

"Sarim,"

"Haan?"

(Yes?)

"Mujhe wakai mein barish se pyar ho gaya." She replied, her eyes meeting his. Making him smile big.

(I really have fallen in love with the rain.)

They stood there for a while, enjoying the rain, the corn, and the simple joy of being together.

Although, the next day, Kubra fell sick, and Azma scolded Sarim.

"Sarim, tum itne careless kaise ho sakte ho? Tumhare dimagh mein atey kaha se hain yeh sab idea? Barish mein bike pe jana? Seriously? Bechari beemar ho gayi tumhari wajah." Azma's voice was a mix of concern and frustration as she stood with her arms folded, glaring at Sarim.

(Sarim, how can you be so careless? What goes on in your mind? Going out on a bike in the rain? Seriously? Poor girl got sick because of you.)

"Mom, main theek hoon," Kubra interjected weakly, trying to reassure her with a feeble smile.

(Mom, I'm fine,)

"Woh toh mujhe dikh raha hai." Azma scoffs. "Achha tum issey doctor ke paas toh leke jao."

(I can see that.)

(Now take her to the doctor.)

"Apki daat khatam hogi tab leke jaunga na." Innocently, Sarim said.

(I'll take her once you're done scolding me.)

Azma shook her head, clearly frustrated. "Daat nahi rahi hoon. Bas dua hai tumhe aqal ajaye. Kubra, yeh toh hai hi aisa, tumhe samajhdari dikhani chahiye thi."

(I'm not scolding you. I'm just praying you gain some sense. Kubra, he's like this, you should have shown some wisdom.)

"Rehne dein, Mom, meri sharafat hai maine apko bata diya warna dad toh apko adhi raat mein dadi se chup ke movie ke liye le jate..." Sarim's voice trailed off as he couldn't bear to see his mother insulting him in front of his wife.

(Let it be, Mom, it's my honesty that I told you. Otherwise, dad used to take you to the movies secretly at midnight without telling dadi...)

Kubra's dark eyes widened in astonishment upon hearing Sarim's words. She lowered her head in embarrassment, feeling caught between her husband's frankness and her mother-in-law's disapproval.

"Tum..." Azma's frustration peaked, and she wished she had something in her hand to hit Sarim with. "Zyada mat bolo. Leke jao Kubra ko hospital."

(You...)

(Don't talk too much. Take Kubra to the hospital.)

"Ji, ja rahe hain. Chalo, Kubra." Sarim said, moving closer to hold Kubra's hand as he turned to leave.

(Yes, we're going. Let's go, Kubra.)

Kubra timidly withdrew her hand, feeling overwhelmed by the tension in the room. "Main... main tayyar ho ke aati hoon," she managed to say softly, avoiding eye contact with Sarim and Azma.

(I'll... I'll get ready,)

"Hum konsa date pe ja rahe jo tumhe taiyyar..." Sarim joked, trying to lighten the mood, but both Kubra and Azma glared at him, silencing him instantly.

(We're not going on a date that you need to get ready...)

"Main bahar wait kar raha hoon," Realizing his attempt at humour had backfired, Sarim nodded quietly and headed out to wait for Kubra.

(I'll wait outside,)

•••

Shahzaib's stance was that whether the wedding happened today or tomorrow, it didn't matter to him; he would take a maximum of one week off and come. However, he also wanted a simple wedding.

There was so little time and so much to do. They had a lot of preparations to make for the wedding. Kubra had already come to help. Yesterday, Ibtisham, Tabu, and Uswa also arrived, but Rafey couldn't make it yet and had said he would come a day before the wedding. Hyra didn't have many tasks assigned to her, and whenever she offered to help, Uswa would grab her hand and make her sit down.

"Dekho, mere dimple baby ke sath koi laparwahi nahi." Uswa would say in a commanding tone, and Hyra stayed quiet. As if Hayder wasn't enough, now Uswa was there too.

(Look, I won't tolerate any carelessness on my dimple baby.)

•••

They were packing for Zara's bridal itesm when Mahnoor (Kubra's uncle's daughter) spoke up. "Hyra, yeh tum ho? Itna bolti hui?"

(Hyra, is this you speaking so much?)

Mahnoor's sudden remark put a halt to Hyra's words.

"Nahi toh apko itni derr se Hyra ka clone bolte hue lag raha hai?" Mahnoor's comment seemed odd to both Kubra and Uswa as well, and Uswa asked.

(You think Hyra's clone is speaking until now?)

"Nahi, par pehle maine kabhi Hyra ki awaz tak suni nahi, ab hairat ho rahi hai." Mahnoor explained frankly. Before her marriage, Mahnoor often visited, which is why she knew Uswa and Hyra well. Three years ago, she got married and settled abroad with her husband and couldn't come to both Hayder's and Kubra's weddings. Now, she was fortunate enough to attend Shahzaib's wedding. Seeing Hyra, who usually sat quietly and only spoke to Uswa, talking so confidently and laughing openly today, she couldn't help but comment.

(No, but I've never heard Hyra's voice before. I'm just surprised.)

"Ab tum nazar laga do meri bhabhi ko. Masha'Allah, mere mayke ki rounak hai Hyra." Kubra said lovingly, pulling Hyra into a hug.

(Don't cast evil eyes on her now. Masha'Allah, she is happiness of my house.)

"Masha'Allah," Mahnoor said sincerely, smiling at the affectionate display.

Hyra, slightly embarrassed by the attention, tried to change the subject. "Yeh bari ka saman pack kar lein, warna aunty datengi."

(Should we pack these gifts now? Otherwise aunty will scold us.)

Mahnoor's phone rang, so she excused herself and left.

"Iss dress ki churhi kaha gayi?" Uswa asked as she was packing a green dress but couldn't find the matching bangle, so she asked Kubra.

(Where is matching bangles for this?)

"Yahi toh thi." Kubra said, also searching through the items.

(It was here,)

"Shayad andar ho?" Hyra suggested when they couldn't find the bangle.

(Maybe it's somewhere inside?)

"Main dekhke ayi," Uswa immediately got up and went inside to search for the bangle.

(I'll check,)

Suddenly, they heard a loud "Assalam-Alaikum!" echo through the house. Kubra and Hyra's heads turned, and they saw Shahzaib standing at the doorway, a broad smile on his face.

"Shahzaib!" Kubra exclaimed, and without a second thought, she ran to him, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug.

Shahzaib chuckled, patting her back gently. "Arey, tum toh aise ro rahi ho jaise main kuch mahine baad Australia se nahi, saalo baad border se wapas aya hoon." he teased.

(You are crying as if I am returning from a war after years.)

Kubra, tears streaming down her face, pulled back and smacked his arm playfully. "Aise bhai pe toh rona hi ayega jisne waha jake ek call tak nahi ki mujhe." She said, her voice choked with emotion.

(I'm crying because my brother didn't even call me once after shifting there.)

Shahzaib's expression softened as he wiped her tears away. "Sorry, yaar, kaam mein busy tha. Achha yeh batao, main mamu banne wala hoon?" He asked, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

(I'm sorry, I was busy with work. Alright, tell me one thing, am I going to be an uncle?)

Kubra was still crying but now laughed and nodded shyly.

Overwhelmed with happiness, Shahzaib kissed her forehead and pulled her into another hug. "Mubarak ho,"

(Congratulations,)

"Tumhe bhi," Kubra whispered, pulling away from him and wiping her tears.

(Same to you,)

"Assalam-Alaikum, bhai," Hyra stayed seated but greeted Shahzaib happily from her spot.

"Walekum-Assalam, Hyra, kaisi ho?" Shahzaib only glances at her for a moment, then respectfully lowers his eyes.

(How are you?)

"Main theek hoon, aap kaise hain?" Hyra replied with a warm smile.

(I'm fine, how are you?)

"Tumhare samne hoon," Shahzaib felt a profound lightness upon returning home. Sometimes, it's only after leaving home that one truly understands its value. The peace, the happiness that comes with being in one's own home, with one's family, is unparalleled anywhere else in the world.

(I'm in front of you.)

Shahzaib then turned his attention back to Kubra. "Baba aur bhai kaha hain?"

(Where are baba and bhai?)

"Baba namaz parhne gaye hain, aur bhai Dawar bhai ke sath kahi gaye hain." Kubra answered him.

(Baba has gone to mosque for namaz, and Hayder bhai also out with Dawar bhai.)

Same time, Uswa returned with the bangle, and upon seeing Shahzaib, she was also happy. Shahzaib had gone to Australia with them, but he lived in Newcastle while Rafey and Uswa resided in Sydney, which made it difficult for them to meet often.

"Assalam-Alaikum, Shahzaib bhai. Main aaj hi aunty se puch rahi thi aap kab ayenge. Bataiye kal haldi hai apki aur aap aaj arahe hain aise toh aap pe roop ayega hi nahi shadi wale din. Yaad haina, Kubra api, meri aur apki shadi ke time toh mummy kahi jane hi nahi deti thi hume ki nazar lag jayegi, roop nahi ayega. Mujhe toh itni fikar ho rahi thi apki, Shahzaib bhai. Aap itna late kyu aye? Apni hi shadi mein koi itna late ata hai kya?" Uswa spoke rapidly in one breath, then turned to Kubra for confirmation, who nodded immediately, prompting Uswa to address Shahzaib again, waiting for his response.

(I was just asking aunty today when you would come. Tell me, tomorrow is your haldi function, and if you come today like this, you won't have time to look good on the wedding day. Remember, Kubra api, during our wedding time, mummy wouldn't let us go anywhere, fearing the evil eye, worrying that we wouldn't look beautiful. I was so worried about you, Shahzaib bhai. Why did you come so late? Does anyone come this late to their own wedding?)

Poor Shahzaib didn't know what to say; Uswa's words had left him speechless.

"Eh... I ... Ab agaya na, tum ek kaam karna meri nazar utar dena ajayega mujhe roop." After a short while, Shahzaib composed himself and said in a light-hearted manner,

(Now I am here, you can remove the evil eyes of off me so I can look beautiful on my wedding day.)

"Haan theek hai," Uswa nodded and sat beside Hyra. "Main apki lal mirchi se nazar utar dungi, jaise dadi karti hain."

(Alright.)

(I'll do it with red chillies, like dadi does.)

Before Uswa could actually go and bring red chillies from the kitchen, Kubra spoke. "Sari baatein aise hi kar loge kya? Thakk gaye hoge na, jao fresh ho jao main tumhare liye kuch khane ke liye banati hoon."

(Will you keep talking like this? You must be tired. Go freshen up, I'll make something for you to eat.)

"Haan, thakk gaya hoon, itni durr se plane main hi toh urhake laya hoon." Shahzaib couldn't resist making a comment, and Kubra hit him again.

(Yes, I'm tired because I'm the one who flew plane.)

"Bohot hath chalne laga hai tumhara, larki. Bechare Sarim ke sath pata nahi kya karti hogi."

(You've become quite violent, girl. I wonder what poor Sarim must be dealing with.)

"Shahzaib," before Kubra could hit him again, Shahzaib darted away like the wind.

"Atey hi shuru ho gaya," Kubra said, looking at Hyra, who laughed in response. Both of them were genuinely happy to see Shahzaib's old antics.

(He just came here and started picking on me.)

At night, the dining table was a lively scene filled with chatter and laughter. Hanif Mirza watched over his grandchildren with a heart full of pride and joy.

•••

Later that night, Hayder and Hyra were in their room. Hayder handed Hyra her medicine, watching her carefully as she took it.

"Mujhse ab aur medicine nahi khayi jayegi," Hyra made a face, giving Hayder the glass to put away.

(I can not eat anymore medicine.)

Hayder smiled, sitting beside her and enveloping her in his arm. "Khani toh parhegi. Waise zyada pareshaan toh nahi kiya isne tumhe?" Hayder placed hand on her bump and asked.

(But you'll have to. Did he bother you today?)

Smiling, Hyra shook her head when she suddenly remembered Mahnoor's comment earlier in the day. She hesitated for a moment before speaking up. "Hayder, kya main bohot zyada bolne lagi hoon?"

(Hayder, do I talk a lot now?)

Hayder looked at her, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Matlab?"

(What do you mean?)

"Mahnoor api keh rahi thi main bohot bolne lagi hoon. Wakai bohot bolti hoon." Hyra explained, her brows furrowed in concern.

(Mahnoor api was saying I talk too much now. Do I?)

Hayder chuckled softly. "Haan bolti toh ho," He said, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

(Yes, you do.)

"Bura lagta hai?" Hyra's innocent question made it impossible for Hayder to control his laugh.

(It look bad?)

"Aap mera mazak bana rahe hain." When Hayder laughed, Hyra pouted and removed his hand from her. But Hayder quickly pulled her back into his embrace, encircling her in his arms once more.

(You are making fun of me?)

"Nahi mazak nahi bana raha. Bolti hui achhi lagti ho tum mujhe." He kissed Hyra gently on the head and answered her. Hyra's anger melted away like ice, and she buried her face in Hayder's strong chest.

(No, I am not making fun. I like it when you talk.)

"Thank you." Hyra's sudden expression of gratitude confused Hayder.

"Kis liye?" He asked.

(For what?)

"Apki wajah iss main iss Hyra se mili jissey main shayad kabhi jaan hi na pati. Mere chehre pe befikar muskan dene ke liye jo kabhi meri personality ka hissa nahi tha. Mujhe itni mohabbat dene ke liye jo mujhe pehle kabhi nahi mili." Hyra often thought about these things, but she had never voiced them until now.

(It's because of you that I met this Hyra, whom I might never have known otherwise. You gave me carefree smiles that was never a part of my personality. You gave me so much love that I never received before.)

Hayder looked at her deeply. What could he say? Hyra had taught him how to love.

"Ab tum aise izhar karogi toh mere liye khudko sambhalna mushkil ho jayega, biwi." His words sent a shiver down Hyra's spine, and Hayder's fingers began to tease her.

(I won't able to control myself if you confess like this, wife.)

"So jaye aap. Subah bohot kaam hoga." Hyra tried to push Hayder away, but he was much stronger than her delicate frame and didn't budge an inch.

(You should go to sleep now. There will be a lot of work in the morning.)

"Bohot tezz ho, Hyra, tum. Ek toh iss waqt izhar kar rahi ho, uppar se main kuch kar bhi nahi sakta." Hayder said, burying his face in her hair.

(You are vey cunning, Hyra. You have confessed at this time when I can't do anything.)

Hyra giggles softly. "Aap na... Bas karein."

(You... stop it.)

"Nahi kar raha kuch. Chalo, ab so jao. Warna kal tum aur tired feel karogi." Hayder raised his head and took off her glasses.

(I'm not doing anything. Come, sleep now otherwise you'll feel tire tomorrow.)

He then began arranging the pillows around her to make sure she was comfortable. He always took care of her little needs without her having to say anything.

Hayder turned off the light and laid beside her, after sometime of silence, Hyra called him softly. "Hayder,"

"Kya hua?" Hayder, whose tiredness was evident in his eyes, opened them with concern and looked at Hyra.

(What happened?)

"Main soch rahi thi woh sofa hatwa doon?" Hyra suddenly mentioned this left Hayder puzzled. Why was she thinking about the sofa at this time?

(I was thinking of removing that sofa.)

"Main toh kabse chahta tha yeh, tumhi dusra sofa leke ayi thi." Hayder replied mischievously and closed his eyes again.

(I always wanted it to be removed. You were the one who brought another sofa.)

Hyra didn't understand his words, so she ignored it and continued with her point. "Waha baby ka cot sahi rahega na."

(I think we should put baby's cot there.)

"Baby ke room mein cot hai." Hayder opened his eyes and looked at Hyra with confusion. Just a few weeks ago, he had decorated the baby's room, buying each item himself.

(There is a cot in baby's room.)

"Woh toh hai par zahir hai baby waha toh nahi soyega na." Hyra said. Hayder nodded, but Hyra's next words made his eyes widen in surprise. "Balki 10 saal tak baby mere paas hi soyega."

(I know, but obviously baby won't sleep there.)

(In fact, baby will sleep with me until he turn 10.)

"Kya? Baby 10 saal tak humare beech soyega?" Hyra nodded her head quickly. She was serious about it.

(What? Baby will sleep between us for 10 years?)

"Koi zaroorat nahi sofa hatane ki phir." He said to Hyra, closing his eyes again.

(There's no need to remove the sofa then.)

This time, Hyra fell silent. She thought Hayder might be angry. But for some reason, today Hyra really wanted to discuss about the baby, so she spoke again. "Achha, Hayder,"

"Hmm?"

"Hum apni beti ka naam Abeer rakhenge." She was looking at him in the dim light. Hayder always said he wanted a son, but Hyra wanted a daughter. How lucky her daughter would be to have Hayder as her father. He had always taken care of all his responsibilities so well. He was like a father to Kubra and Shahzaib. Hyra couldn't even imagine how much Hayder would love their daughter.

(We'll name our daughter Abeer.)

Hearing Hyra's words, Hayder again opened his eyes and gently stroked her head. "Theek hai, aur kuch?" His loving acceptance brought a smile to Hyra's face, and she shook her head.

(Fine, anything else?)

"Abeer Mirza achha sound kar raha hai waise," Hayder added.

(Abeer Mirza does sound good.)

"Hum na uske liye koi tutor nahi rakhenge. Aap hi parhaiyega ussey." Hyra suddenly remembered her childhood tutor who was very strict. Hyra used to cry by the mere mention of her. When Asim Mirza found out, he fired the tutor and Dawar started teaching Hyra and Uswa.

(We won't hire any tutor for baby, you'll teach her.)

"Lekin main daat ke parhaunga, marunga bhi." and Hayder remembered Hyra's complaint. How he used to hit her when he taught her maths.

(But I will scold while teaching, hit too.)

"Bilkul nahi. Ap bilkul bhi nahi datenge ussey," Hyra got angry. "Aur school se bhi aap hi pick kariyega ussey, hum bus wus nahi lagwayenge." Hyra was planning their future entirely. There was happiness in her voice, a slight smile was on Hayder's face as he listened to her, drifted to sleep.

(Absolutely not. You won't scold our baby.)

(And you'll pick and drop her from school, we won't send her on bus.)

•••

Throughout the wedding functions, Hyra was cautious. Becuase Hayder would take her back to their room to rest if he saw her even lifting a plate. Hyra couldn't even attend the baraat; the journey was too long.

After saying "qabool hai," Zara felt her inner turmoil subside. The few lingering negative thoughts in her mind and the doubts in her heart seemed to dissipate like smoke. As she walked towards the stage, seeing Shahzaib standing there made her feel as if lights of happiness were illuminating her path. Hayder Bhai had been right; sometimes, one must traverse difficult paths to reach their destination. Perhaps all these events in her life happened so she could realize just how important Shahzaib was to her. Perhaps even more important than life itself.

"Meri shadi mein main aunga barat leke." Zara glanced at Shahzaib sitting beside her and recalled his words from the past. He had kept his promise.

(I'll come there for my wedding with barat.)

•••

Zara sat alone on the intricately decorated bed in Shahzaib's room, her fingers nervously tracing the delicate patterns of the embroidered duvet. The room decorated with soft candlelight and fragrant flowers, each petal and flickering flame adding to the atmosphere of their new beginning. She had been in this room before, but tonight, everything felt different. The gravity of her new relationship with Shahzaib made her heart race with a mix of joy and nervousness.

The door creaked open, and her breath hitched as Shahzaib entered the room. His steps were slow, deliberate, and Zara's pulse quickened with each one. He had removed his sherwani coat, and now, in his simple shalwar kameez, he seemed even more striking in the dim, warm light.

He approached the bed and sat in front of her, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. The silence between them was thick, filled with unspoken emotions. Zara's eyes remained downcast, her shyness amplified by the intimate setting. The quiet stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity, until she finally gathered the courage to raise her head.

Shahzaib's gaze was intense, his light brown eyes reflecting the candlelight as he looked at her. She felt a shiver run down her spine, not from fear. Slowly, Shahzaib reached out and took her hand in his. His touch was gentle but firm, sending a jolt through her heart.

She lowered her eyes again, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. Shahzaib's voice, deep and stoic, broke the silence. "Zara yeh churhi, yeh mehendi, tumhari yeh taiyyari mere liye haina?"

(Zara, these bangles, this henna, all these preparations of yours are for me, right?)

Zara's heart fluttered at his words, and his touch, which was now tracing her bangles, creating a noise in still room.

"Pata hai, mujhe bohot shauq tha tumhe apni dulhan ke roop mein dekhne ka..." Shahzaib's confession made Zara blush, her heart fluttering with joy. But his next words clenched her heart.

(You know, I was very eager to see you as my bride...)

"Lekin ab woh dil nahi raha." Letting go of Zara's hand, Shahzaib stood up, his movements sharp and filled with tension.

(But now, that feeling is gone.)

Zara, who had just been dreaming of a beautiful future, now looked at Shahzaib with a shattered gaze. In that moment, Shahzaib seemed like a stranger—different from the playful and cheerful person she knew. The room that had felt warm and inviting now seemed cold and foreign.

"Change karlo," Shahzaib instructed her and turned away but stopped at the sound of Zara's voice.

(Change it.)

"Meri kya galti hai inn sab mein?" She asked. She had started to understand why Shahzaib was acting this way, but she needed to hear it from him.

(What is my fault in all this?)

"Tumhari galti tumhari khamoshi hai." Shahzaib turned back to her, his eyes flashing with frustration and disappointment.

(Your fault is your silence.)

"Toh main aur kya karti? Apne papa ke khilaf jati?" Zara still didn't understand how she was at fault. She had only followed her father's wishes and respected his decisions.

(So what should I have done? Gone against my father?)

"Mujhe sab batati, toh waqt rehte main Hayder bhai aur baba ko humare rishte ke liye bhej deta. Lekin tumne toh mujhe kuch bhi batana zaroori nahi samajha. Jab pehli baar hi tumhare rishte ki baat chali thi toh mujhe kyu nahi bataya? Agar main ussi waqt bhai aur baba ko bhej deta toh yakeenan phuppa uss rishte se zyada mere proposal pe tarji dete. Lekin tum khamosh rahi. Aur tumhari issi khamoshi ne meri mohabbat ka qatl kar diya. Koi umeed mat rakhna ab tum mujhse, Zara." Shahzaib's voice rose with each word, his frustration pouring out after being pent up for so long. Zara felt like her heart would stop under the weight of his words.

(You could have told me everything. I would have sent Hayder bhai and Baba to ask for our relationship in time. But you didn't think it necessary to tell me anything. Why didn't you tell me when the talk of your marriage first came up? If I had sent bhai and Baba then, Phuppa would have surely given more importance to my proposal. But you remained silent. And it was this silence of yours that killed my love. Don't expect anything from me now, Zara.)

"Toh phir mujhse shadi kyu ki?" she barely managed to hold back her tears and asked, her voice a mere whisper. But Shahzaib didn't reply. He turned away and walked out of the room, leaving Zara alone in the dim light.

(Then why did you marry me?)

The room, where she had been so happy just a moment ago, now felt suffocating to Zara. The candles seemed to flicker more dimly, the flowers losing their fragrance. She sat there, the weight of Shahzaib's words pressing down on her, tears finally spilling over as she realized the gravity of the situation. Her heart, once filled with hope and love, now felt heavy with despair.

Once before, in the wedding hall, Hamshad had publicly rejected her. And now Shahzaib, who married her and maintained her dignity in front of everyone, rejected her in the solitude of the room. And the pain she felt today from Shahzaib's words was far greater than the pain of Hamshad leaving her.

•••

Pata nahi yeh teeno bhai behen ki kismat kis pen se likhi gayi jo inki love story theek note pe start hi nahi hoti🥲

Kya matlab I'm the one writing their story? But main toh pen use karti hi nahi🐒

Anyways, how's the chapter?

Main toh aur long update likh rahi thi, but I promised an update tonight so yahi kafi hai warna late ho jayega.

-Ufaq