Part 10

Hello my sweet readers

I know i am late this time to update my exams were going on and my health was not good but the wait is over here is the chapter.

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Hamad's POV

The room smelled of the crisp night air mixed with the faint aroma of cologne lingering on my skin. I had just stepped out of the shower, droplets of water still clinging to the ends of my hair. Dressed casually in a plain white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, I ran a towel through my damp hair before tossing it aside. My room was dimly lit, the warm light from the bedside lamp casting a golden hue over the dark wood furniture. The curtains swayed gently with the evening breeze sneaking in through the slightly open balcony door.

I walked towards the balcony, my footsteps echoing softly on the polished marble floor. Sliding the glass door fully open, I stepped outside, feeling the cool air against my skin. The city stretched before me in a sea of glittering lights and muted sounds, its bustling life a stark contrast to the quiet chaos in my mind. Pulling a cigarette from the engraved silver case on the small balcony table, I lit it with a flick of my lighter and took a deep drag.

The smoke swirled into the night air as I leaned against the wrought iron railing. I pulled out my phone and dialed Sharma. The phone rang twice before he picked up.

“Sharma,” I said coldly, exhaling smoke. “Mujhe Luna ke baare mein sab kuch pata lagana hai. Ab deri nahi chahiye. (Sharma, I need all the details about Luna. I don’t want any delays now.)”

Before he could respond, I cut the call, shoving my phone back into my pocket. My mind drifted to her, the girl who had unknowingly turned my world upside down.

Luna, kya kar diya hai tumne mere saath? Bas tumhare hi khayalon mein rehna chahta hoon. Tumhari woh aankhein, woh saadgi… in sab ne mujhe shikast de di hai. (Luna, what have you done to me? I only want to dwell in your thoughts. Your eyes, your simplicity… all of it has defeated me.)

I took another drag of my cigarette, closing my eyes as her face filled my thoughts. Her soft, kind eyes haunted me day and night, and her unassuming grace had carved a permanent place in my heart. Agar tum na mili toh… (If I don’t find you…) The thought was unbearable.

Suddenly, the sound of my bedroom door bursting open jolted me from my thoughts. I turned, only to be greeted by a sharp punch to my stomach. Stumbling slightly, I glared at the culprits—my friends Ibrahim and Haroon.

“Saale, kutte! Teri shaadi ho rahi hai aur humein bataya bhi nahi? Kamine, kaisa dost hai tu! (You dog! Your wedding is happening, and you didn’t even tell us? What kind of friend are you?)” Haroon exclaimed, laughing as he plopped down on the edge of my bed.

“Idiots,” I muttered, straightening up. “Itni der hogyi hai tum dono yahaan kya kar rahe ho? (What are you both doing here so late?)”

Haroon grinned mischievously. “Tere saath suhaagraat manane aaye hain! (We’re here to celebrate your wedding night!)”

Ibrahim added with a smirk, “Aunty ne call kiya tha. Unhe pata tha ki unka nalayak beta khud toh call karega nahi. (Aunty called us. She knew her useless son wouldn’t inform us himself.)”

I rolled my eyes and threw a pillow at Haroon, which he dodged. “You idiots know I’m not interested in this marriage. I’m only doing it for my mother.”

“Jo bhi ho, accept it,” Ibrahim said, leaning back against the headboard. “The one who always said ‘I won’t marry’ is getting married first. Irony, isn’t it?”

Turning to Haroon, I asked, “When did you come back from Russia?”

“Just three hours ago,” he replied, stretching dramatically. “Aunty called and said there’s a lot of preparation to do, so here we are.”

Before I could respond, a knock at the door interrupted us. “It’s open,” I called out. My mother walked in, her elegant silk scarf draped over her shoulder. She was the epitome of grace, her presence always commanding respect.

“Beta, dinner ka waqt ho gaya hai. Haroon, Ibrahim, tum dono bhi chalo. Sab neeche intezaar kar rahe hain. (Son, it’s time for dinner. Haroon, Ibrahim, you both join us. Everyone is waiting downstairs.)”

We followed her to the dining room, where the long mahogany table was set with fine china and silverware. The golden chandelier above cast a warm glow over the room, reflecting off the polished marble floors. Everyone was seated—Abeeha, Sidra, and the rest of the family.

As we ate, I noticed Sidra and Abeeha giggling. “Hmm, kya baat hai? Tum dono kya hansi mazaak kar rahi ho? (Hmm, what’s the matter? What are you both laughing about?)” I asked.

Sidra smiled innocently. “Kuch nahi, bhaiya. Bas soch rahe hain ki aapki shaadi mein kitna maza aayega. (Nothing, brother. We’re just thinking about how much fun we’ll have at your wedding.)”

Haroon smirked and said, “Shaadi = barbadi. Hamara dost barbadi ki taraf ja raha hai. (Marriage equals doom. Our friend is walking into doom.)”

Ibrahim playfully smacked Haroon’s head. “Beta, jab teri shaadi hogi, tab main bhi aise hi bolunga. (Kid, when you get married, I’ll say the same to you.)”

Haroon retorted, “Haan, chal chal, dekhi jayegi. Waise bhi, maine shaadi karni hi nahi. (Yeah, yeah, we’ll see. Anyway, I’m not getting married.)”

Ibrahim shot back with a grin. “Hamad bhi yahi bolta tha. Dekh rahe ho na? (Hamad used to say the same. See what happened?)”

“Bas, bohot ho gaya. Sab khana khao. (Enough. Everyone, eat your food.),” I said, my tone cold.

After dinner, my mother spoke up. “Hamad beta, kuch rasmein karni hoti hain shaadi ke liye. Main ummeed karti hoon ki tum sab kuch theek se nibhaoge. (Hamad, there are certain rituals for the wedding. I hope you’ll fulfill them properly.)”

“Maa, mujhe aapko ek baat batani hai. Kal mujhe France jaana hai. Ek badi deal finalize karni hai. (Mom, I need to tell you something. I have to go to France tomorrow to finalize an important deal.),” I said calmly.

Her face fell. “Shaadi mein sirf 15 din bache hain, Hamad. Tum yeh cancel kar do. (There are only 15 days left for the wedding, Hamad. Cancel this.),” she said firmly.

“Maa, main mehendi se pehle wapas aa jaunga. Aap bas baaki sab tayariyan kijiye. Main waqt par wapas aa jaunga. (Mom, I’ll return before the mehendi. You just focus on the preparations. I’ll be back on time.),” I assured her.

She sighed heavily but relented. “Theek hai. Par agar mehendi se pehle wapas nahi aaye, toh dekh lena. (Fine. But if you’re not back before the mehendi, you’ll see what happens.),” she warned.

I nodded, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air. After dinner, I turned to Haroon and Ibrahim. “Study room mein aao. Mujhe tumse baat karni hai. (Come to the study room. I need to talk to you.),” I said, walking upstairs.

Sifna’s POV

The stillness of the night was broken by the melodious Adhan for Isha, filling the air with peace and spirituality. I slowly opened my eyes, my heart stirred by the call to prayer. I turned to see Di cuddling close to me, her face serene in the faint glow of the bedside lamp. Gently, I shook her shoulder and whispered, “Appi, uth jayiye. Namaz ka waqt ho raha hai.” (Sister, wake up. It’s time for prayer.)

She stirred but barely opened her eyes, mumbling, “Bas do minute aur, Sifu.” (Just two more minutes, Sifu.)

I smiled softly, understanding her exhaustion, and said, “Theek hai, main wuzu karke aati hoon. Aap tab tak so lijiye.” (Alright, I’ll perform ablution. You can rest until then.)

Dragging myself out of bed, I wrapped my scarf around my head and made my way to the bathroom. As I entered, I whispered the supplication:

بِسْمِ اللَّهِ. اللَّهُـمَّ إِنِّي أَعُـوذُ بِـكَ مِـنَ الْخُـبْثِ وَالْخَبَائِثِ.

Bismillah. Allahumma inni a'udhu bika minal-khubthi wal-khaba'ith.

(In the name of Allah. O Allah, I seek refuge in You from all evil and malevolent beings.)

The cool water from the tap refreshed my senses as I began my wudu (ablution). Each step felt like a cleansing not just of my body, but also my soul, preparing me for the intimate connection with Allah through prayer.

I started by washing my hands three times, ensuring every part was thoroughly cleansed.

I rinsed my mouth three times, letting the water wash away the remnants of the day’s words.

I sniffed water into my nostrils three times, purifying my breath and senses.

I washed my face three times, feeling the cool water wash away any exhaustion or tension.

I washed my arms up to my elbows three times, starting with the right, then the left.

I wiped my head with wet hands, moving from front to back and back again.

I cleaned my ears, using my index fingers for the insides and my thumbs for the backs.

I washed my feet up to the ankles three times, ensuring every toe was cleaned. Finally, I used my little finger to wipe between my toes.

I concluded with the supplication:

أَشْهَدُ أَنْ لا إِلَـهَ إِلاّ اللهُ وَحْدَهُ لا شَريـكَ لَـهُ وَأَشْهَدُ أَنَّ مُحَمّـداً عَبْـدُهُ وَرَسـولُـهُ.

Ash-hadu an la ilaha illallahu wahdahu la sharika lahu wa ash-hadu anna Muhammadan abduhu wa rasuluhu.

(I bear witness that there is no deity worthy of worship except Allah, and I bear witness that Muhammad is His servant and messenger.)

The act of wudu felt deeply spiritual, a reminder of the Hadith of the Prophet (PBUH):

"When a Muslim performs Wudu, his sins fall away from his body, even from beneath his nails."

Returning to the room, I found Di stretching and waking up slowly. She smiled at me, her eyes still heavy with sleep, and asked softly, “Are you feeling better now, Sifu?”

I nodded, feeling lighter and calmer. “Haan Di, ab bilkul theek lag raha hai. Ab aap wuzu kar lijiye.” (Yes, Di. I’m feeling much better. Now you should perform ablution.)

She nodded and left the room, while I spread the prayer mat and began my salah. In the first sajdah (prostration), tears welled up in my eyes, spilling onto the mat. My heart felt heavy with the weight of my prayers, and I whispered, “Ya Allah, I know You are testing me, but I feel like my strength is fading. Mere Rab, ab bardasht se bahar ho raha hai. Himmat de mujhe, mere Moula. Mere gunahon ko maaf kar, mujhe apne kareeb rakh.” (My Lord, this is becoming unbearable. Give me the strength to endure, my Master. Forgive my sins and keep me close to You.)

My sobs grew louder as I poured my heart out to my Creator. The weight of my struggles seemed lighter as I raised my hands and completed my prayer.

When Di returned, we prayed together. Her serene recitation of the Quran filled the room with peace, and I found solace in her voice. After we finished, I crawled to her side and asked hesitantly, “Di, kya mai aapki godh mein sir rakh sakti hoon?” (Di, can I rest my head in your lap?)

She smiled, pulling me close. “Bacche, yeh puchhne wali baat hai? Aaja.” (Child, do you even need to ask? Come here.)

I rested my head on her lap as she began reciting the Quran. Her voice was a balm for my restless heart, each word wrapping me in its comforting embrace.

After a while, I sat up and softly said, “Di, mujhe aapki shaadi mein jaana hai. Lekin Abbu ne mana kar diya hai. Bola hai, tum shaadi mein shareek nahi hogi.” and there will be destination wedding so i cant come (Di, I want to attend your wedding, but Father has forbidden me. He said I can’t be a part of it.)

Her face darkened momentarily before softening with determination. “Bacche, shaadi yahin ghar mein hogi. Tum kahin nahi ja rahi ho, aur tum zaroor shareek hogi. Main sab sambhal lungi.” (Child, the wedding will take place here at home. You’re not going anywhere, and you’ll definitely be a part of it. I’ll handle everything.)

Her words filled me with hope, and I hugged her tightly. “Di, maine Allah se dua ki thi agar mujhe shaadi mein shareek hone diya gaya toh main shukrane ki namaz padhungi. Ab mujhe woh namaz padhni hai.” (Di, I prayed to Allah that if I was allowed to attend the wedding, I’d offer two units of gratitude prayer. Now I must pray.)

She chuckled, kissing my forehead. “Ja, padh le. Aur aaj sirf tu aur main dinner karenge apne kamre mein.” (Go ahead, pray. And tonight, it’s just you and me having dinner in our room.)

Feeling light and happy, I performed my shukrana (gratitude) prayer, thanking Allah for His mercy and blessings. The connection I felt with Him during these moments filled me with strength, preparing me for whatever lay ahead.

After finishing my shukrana (gratitude) prayer, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace. Di soon returned, carrying a tray of food. The aroma wafting in the air instantly made my stomach rumble. However, I noticed something odd about the dishes and asked curiously, “Dida, aapne bahar se khana mangwaya?” (Did you order food from outside?)

She smiled sheepishly and replied, “Haan, maine tumhare liye order kiya hai, aur mom dad  ke liye bhi.” (Yes, I ordered for you, and for Mom and Dad too.)

She gave me a reassuring look and said, “Don’t worry, meri cutiepie. MaineMaine unke liye bhi khana mangwa diya hai aur dining table par serve bhi kar diya hai. Ab bas unhe kha lena hai.” (Don’t worry, my cutiepie. I’ve ordered for them too and served it on the dining table. They just need to eat.)

Relieved, I smiled and asked, “Achha, toh kya order kiya hai, dida?” (Okay, so what did you order, Di?)

She smirked mischievously and said, “Guess karo, maine apni little chipmunk ke liye kya mangwaya hai.” (Guess what I ordered for my little chipmunk.)

My eyes narrowed playfully as I asked, “Kahi fast food toh nahi mangwaya?” (Did you get fast food?)

She chuckled and replied, “Khud khol kar dekh lo. Tab tak main plates lekar aati hoon.” (Open it and see for yourself. I’ll bring the plates in the meantime.)

Excited, I quickly unwrapped the food packaging. My eyes lit up when I saw the variety laid before me: spicy steamed momos, rasmalai, pasta, pizza, and spicy chicken wings. Each dish was one of my favorites! Di returned with plates just as I hugged her tightly, saying, “Thank you, thank you, thank you so much, dida! I love you!”

She laughed and hugged me back, “Calm down, meri jaan. Tumhara khushi dekh kar main khush hoon.” (Calm down, my love. Seeing you happy makes me happy.)

After placing the plates down, we sat and began eating. I recited “Bismillah” before taking my first bite, savoring the taste of every dish. As I reached for a rasmalai, my eyes darted mischievously to Di’s plate. I quickly grabbed one of hers and stuffed it in my mouth.

She gasped dramatically, “Yaar, Sifna! Yeh toh unfair hai. Maine tumhare liye poore do boxes rasmalai ke laaye, aur tum mere plate se kha rahi ho!” (Hey, Sifna! This is so unfair. I brought you two whole boxes of rasmalai, and yet you’re eating from my plate!)

I grinned and said cheekily, “Par Di, aapko pata hai na, mujhe rasmalai kitni pasand hai.” (But Di, you know how much I love rasmalai.)

She shook her head, smiling as she watched me enjoy the food. After a while, she cupped my cheeks lovingly and said, “Main waada karti hoon, ab koi tumhe hurt nahi karega. Main tumhe hamesha protect karungi.” (I promise, no one will hurt you anymore. I’ll always protect you.)

Her words filled my heart with warmth, and I hugged her tightly once again.

After we finished eating, she leaned back with a mysterious smile and said, “Sifna, mere paas tumhare liye ek gift hai. Guess what it is.” (Sifna, I have a gift for you. Guess what it is.)

Excitement bubbled inside me, and I started guessing, “Umm… mujhe nahi pata, dida. Batao na!” (Umm… I have no idea, Di. Tell me!)

She smiled and handed me a small box. When I opened it, I gasped. It was a brand-new phone! I stared at her in shock.

“Dida, yeh kyun laayi aap? Aapko pata hai na, jab mujhe zarurat hoti hai, main aapka phone use kar leti hoon.” (Di, why did you buy this? You know I just use your phone whenever I need it.)

She placed a hand on my shoulder and said firmly, “Sifu, tum 12th mein ho aur tumhare finals aane wale hain. Tumhe ek apna phone chahiye, aur isme koi excuses nahi chalenge.” (Sifu, you’re in 12th grade and your finals are approaching. You need your own phone, and I won’t take no for an answer.)

Her thoughtfulness brought tears to my eyes. Hugging her tightly, I said, “Aap duniya ki sabse best behen ho, Di. Main aapko bohot pyaar karti hoon.” (You’re the best sister in the world, Di. I love you so much.)

She smiled, kissing my forehead and said, “Aur main tumse bohot pyaar karti hoon, meri chhoti si chipmunk.” (And I love you so much, my little chipmunk.)

The night felt magical, filled with love, laughter, and the unbreakable bond we shared. For the first time in a long while, my heart felt light, and I silently thanked Allah for blessing me with a sister like Inayah Di.

Inayah’s POV

The soft voice of my baby sister, Sifu, nudged me out of sleep. “Dida, wake up. It’s time for salah.” Her words were gentle, but there was a hint of urgency in her tone.

I stirred lazily, still cocooned in the warmth of the blanket, and murmured, “Just two minutes more, Sifu.”

She sighed, her patience like that of an elder despite being the younger one. “Okay, thik hai. I’ll perform ablution first. You can rest until then.” Her voice was soft, but I could hear the underlying determination.

I smiled faintly in my half-asleep state and sank back into the comfort of my dreamland, my mind floating between the edges of sleep and wakefulness. Moments later, I heard the faint sound of running water from the bathroom and then the delicate creak of the door. Forcing my eyes open, I saw her stepping out, her face glowing with the light of wudu, her hair slightly damp around her forehead.

She looked at me with a gentle smile, but I could feel her inner struggles radiating. That was Sifu—always calm on the surface, even when she was hurting. Seeing her like that stirred something within me.

Dragging myself out of the bed, I yawned and stretched before heading to the bathroom. I whispered the dua before entering:

“بِسْمِ اللَّهِ. اللَّهُـمَّ إِنِّي أَعُـوذُ بِـكَ مِـنَ الْخُـبْثِ وَالْخَبَائِثِ.”

(In the name of Allah. O Allah, I take refuge with You from all evil and evil-doers.)

The cool water touched my skin, waking me fully as I performed ablution. Each step felt like a purification of my soul—washing my face, hands, and feet, wiping over my head, and finally saying the dua after wudu:

“أَشْهَدُ أَنْ لا إِلَـهَ إِلاّ اللهُ وَحْدَهُ لا شَريـكَ لَـهُ وَأَشْهَدُأَنَّ مُحَمّـداً عَبْـدُهُ وَرَسـولُـهُ.”

(I bear witness that there is no deity but Allah, and I bear witness that Muhammad is His servant and Messenger.)

The spiritual connection that came with wudu was unexplainable—a cleansing of not just the body but the heart and mind.

As I stepped back into the room, I froze. Sifu was in sujood, her shoulders shaking as she cried. Her sobs were muffled but heavy, the kind that came from a place of deep pain and helplessness.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I watched her. My little sister—my baby—was breaking, and I couldn’t bear to see her like that. I quickly performed my salah beside her, my heart heavy with emotion.

As I finished, I raised my hands in dua, my voice trembling as I whispered, “Oh Allah, my Almighty Lord, give me the strength to make my sister happy. She’s struggling, but You are the only one who can heal her. Forgive us, for we are sinners, and guide us on the right path. Protect her heart, Ya Allah.”

When I turned to her, she looked up with red, tear-streaked eyes. Her voice was soft but carried so much vulnerability as she said, “Dida, can I put my head on your lap?”

My heart broke into a thousand pieces. I immediately opened my arms and said, “Isme koi puchne wali baat hai? Aaja.” (Is this even something to ask? Come here.)

She nestled her head in my lap, her tears soaking through the fabric of my dress. I began reciting the Quran softly, letting the words soothe both of us. Her breathing gradually steadied, her small frame relaxing against me.

After a while, she hugged my waist tightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Di, mujhe bhi aapki shaadi mein jaana hai, par abbu ne mana kar diya hai. Kehte hain, main shaadi mein shareek nahi ho sakti.” (Di, I want to attend your wedding, but Dad has forbidden me. He says I can’t be part of it.)

I felt a rush of anger mixed with disbelief. “Mera matlab hai, what do you mean you won’t come with us?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm for her sake.

She hesitated, then said, “abbu keh rahe hain ki destination wedding hogi.” (Dad says it’s going to be a destination wedding.)

I raised an eyebrow, scoffing slightly. “Oh, wow. Shaadi meri hai, aur destination mujhe pata hi nahi?” (Oh, wow. It’s my wedding, and I don’t even know the destination?)

I cupped her face gently, wiping away the fresh tears that spilled over. “Suno, bacha. Shaadi yahin, is ghar mein hogi. Hum kahin nahi jaa rahe. Aur tum bilkul shaadi ka hissa banogi. Main sab kuch sambhalungi.” (Listen, my child. The wedding will happen here in this house. We’re not going anywhere, and you will absolutely be part of it. I’ll handle everything.)

Her face lit up, and she hugged me tightly, burying her face in my shoulder. “Di, maine Allah se dua maangi thi ki agar mujhe aapki shaadi mein shareek hone ka mauka mile, toh main 2 rakat shukrana salah padhungi.” (Di, I prayed to Allah that if I get the chance to attend your wedding, I’ll offer two rakats of gratitude prayer.)

I smiled, kissing her forehead. “Toh jao, shukrana ki salah padh lo. Uske baad hum dinner karenge—sirf tum aur main.” (Then go, offer your gratitude prayer. After that, we’ll have dinner—just you and me.)

When she tried to protest, I placed a finger on her lips. “Shhh, no words. I’ll handle everything. Tum bas apna dua poora karo.” (Shhh, no words. I’ll handle everything. You just fulfill your prayer.)

As she left to pray, I headed downstairs. Tonight wasn’t about anyone else. It was about my Sifu and making sure she felt loved and protected. I would move mountains if it meant bringing a smile to her face. This was my promise to her—and to myself.

After I went downstairs with determination. I knew Sifu needed this evening to be special, and I wasn’t going to let anything ruin it for her. Picking up my phone, I dialed our favorite restaurant and ordered all of Sifu’s favorite dishes: spicy steamed momos, pizza, pasta, rasmalai, and chicken wings. I also ordered a proper meal for my parents, knowing they’d complain if they were left out.

While waiting for the food to arrive, I decided to address a more pressing issue. I picked up my phone again and scrolled through my contacts until I found Hamad’s mother’s number. Taking a deep breath, I pressed call.

After three or four rings, she answered, her voice warm but slightly surprised. “Asalamualaikum beta, kaisi ho aap?” (Peace be upon you, dear. How are you?)

I greeted her back, “Walaikum asalam aunty, asalamualikum  Alhamdulillah. Ma thik hu  Aap kaisi hain?” (Peace be upon you too, aunty. All praise is to Allah, I’m fine. How are you?)

“Main bilkul theek hoon, beta,” she replied kindly. (I’m absolutely fine, dear.) “Mujhe lagta hai ke aapke ammi aur abbu ne shaadi ke baare mein baat ki hogi.” (I believe your parents must have spoken to you about the wedding.)

I hesitated, then said, “Ji aunty, mujhe shaadi ke baare mein bataya gaya hai. Isiliye maine aapko call kiya hai. Mujhe aapse ek request karni hai.” (Yes, aunty, I’ve been informed about the wedding. That’s why I called you. I have a request.)

Her tone turned curious. “Bolo beta, kya request hai?” (Tell me, dear, what is your request?)

I exhaled slowly and said, “Aunty, maafi chahti hoon agar meri baat se aapko bura lage, lekin mujhe destination wedding nahi karni. Main apni shaadi apne ghar mein karna chahti hoon.” (Aunty, I apologize if my words upset you, but I don’t want a destination wedding. I want my wedding to happen at my home.)

There was a moment of silence, and my heart raced, wondering if she’d agree. Finally, she spoke, her voice soft and understanding. “Theek hai, beta. Agar tum apne ghar mein zyada comfortable ho, toh destination wedding cancel kar dete hain.” (Alright, dear. If you’re more comfortable in your home, we’ll cancel the destination wedding.)

Relief flooded through me. “Shukriya aunty, shukriya.” (Thank you so much, aunty, thank you.)

She added, “Lekin beta, kuch rasmein hoti hain jo karni zaruri hoti hain.” (But dear, there are certain rituals that must be done.)

“Woh sab theek hai, aunty. Jo rasmein hain, main poori karungi.” (That’s perfectly fine, aunty. I’ll fulfill all the rituals.)

After ending the call, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. But another storm was waiting—I had to talk to my parents.

I went to their room and found them sitting and talking, their expressions lighthearted, unaware of what I was about to say. Dad greeted me warmly, pulling me into a hug, but I stayed stiff, not returning the gesture.

Before he could say anything, I announced firmly, “Aaj ke baad Sifna koi kaam nahi karegi. Aaj ke liye maine khana bahar se mangwa liya hai, wo bas khaliye aap log. Aur kal se ek maid aayegi ghar ka kaam karne.” (From today onwards, Sifna will not do any work. I’ve ordered food for tonight; just eat it. From tomorrow, a maid will handle the household chores.)

Their faces reflected utter shock. Dad frowned, his voice rising. “Toh tum ab humare saath dinner bhi nahi karogi? Us manhoos ke liye apne maa baap se door ho rahi ho?” (So, now you won’t even have dinner with us? You’re distancing yourself from your parents because of that cursed girl?)

The word “manhoos” ignited something fierce in me. My voice shook with anger as I shouted back, “Manhoos nahi hai woh!” (She’s not cursed!)

Dad stood, his tone equally loud and commanding. “Chilao mat, baap hoon tumhara!” (Don’t shout! I’m your father!)

I stepped forward, my voice unwavering despite my trembling hands. “Aur aap yeh mat bhuliye ke main aapka khoon hoon. Aapse zyada gussa hai mujhe. Dobara usse kisi bhi naam se bulaya na, toh bhool jaungi ke aap mere maa baap hain. Sirf ussi ke liye chup hoon main, warna…” (And don’t forget that I’m your blood. I’m angrier than you are. If you call her any name again, I’ll forget you’re my parents. I’m only silent for her sake, otherwise...)

My dad’s eyes narrowed, but he stayed silent. I continued, my tone resolute. “Aur haan, yeh jo bhi faisla liya hai maine, woh final hai. Meri behen meri shaadi mein zarur aayegi. Agar usse kisi ne roka, toh shaadi rok dungi. Maine Hamad ki ammi se baat kar li hai—shaadi isi ghar se hogi.” (And yes, the decision I’ve made is final. My sister will definitely attend my wedding. If anyone tries to stop her, I’ll cancel the wedding. I’ve already spoken to Hamad’s mother—the wedding will happen in this house.)

Leaving them stunned, I stormed out of their room. My heart ached for Sifu. How could they say such things about her? She had endured so much, and I wouldn’t let it continue.

Soon, the doorbell rang. I opened it to find the delivery boy holding the food I’d ordered. I took it, carefully plating the dishes for my parents on the dining table. Even after everything, I couldn’t let Sifu know they had to serve themselves—she’d feel guilty, thinking she caused trouble.

After ensuring everything was set, I carried the rest of the food upstairs. This evening was ours, and no one would ruin it. As I walked into the room, I saw her sitting on the bed, waiting for me with a soft smile. My resolve solidified—no matter what, I’d protect her. Always.

I returned to our room, balancing a tray of food in my hands. The soft clinking of plates drew Sifu’s attention. She sat cross-legged on the bed, her eyes lighting up as she saw me approach.

“Di, what’s this?” she asked, her voice carrying a mixture of curiosity and excitement.

I smiled, setting the tray down on the bedside table. “Your dinner, baby doll,” I said casually.

Her sharp eyes scanned the dishes. Something about them caught her attention, and her brow furrowed. “Di, did you... order food from outside?”

I hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yes, jaan.” (Yes, my love.) “I ordered food for you—and for mom and dad, too. So don’t worry about them, okay? Just enjoy your meal.”

She seemed relieved but couldn’t hide her curiosity. “What did you order?”

I raised an eyebrow and teased, “Guess first.”

“Pizza?” she asked, her voice hopeful.

“Hmm… close. Keep guessing.”

“Momos?”

“Maybe,” I replied playfully.

“Hurry, Di, just tell me!”

I chuckled at her impatience, pulling out the plates and opening the containers one by one. Her eyes widened with excitement as she took in the spread. Steamed spicy momos, cheesy pasta, gooey pizza slices, crispy chicken wings, and a dessert box filled with her favorite rasmalai.

Sifu gasped, clapping her hands together like a delighted child. “Di! You got all my favorites!”

I laughed at her enthusiasm, but before I could say anything, she lunged forward and hugged me tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you so much!”

I hugged her back, my heart swelling with love. “Calm down, jaan,” I said softly, smoothing her hair.

Sifu quickly sat back, her eyes gleaming with happiness. She whispered, “Bismillah,” (In the name of Allah) before taking her first bite. Watching her eat, I couldn’t help but smile. Moments like these reminded me of how much she deserved to be happy, especially after all the hardships she’d endured.

Suddenly, Sifu reached over and mischievously grabbed a piece of rasmalai from my plate. I gasped in mock horror. “Sifnaa! That’s mine!”

She giggled, her mouth full, and shrugged. “Di, you know how much I love rasmalai. Sharing is caring!”

I pouted dramatically. “Not fair, baby. I got two whole boxes just for you!”

She only laughed, clearly enjoying herself. Seeing her smile melted away any frustration I had felt earlier.

As we continued eating, I cupped her cheeks gently and said, “I promise, meri jaan, no one will ever hurt you again. I’ll make sure of it.” My voice cracked slightly, but I meant every word. She hugged me again, and I silently prayed to Allah to give me the strength to keep my promise.

After dinner, I wiped my hands and pulled out a small box from under the bed. “I have a surprise for you, baby. Guess what it is!”

Sifu tilted her head, trying to think. “Umm... chocolate?”

I shook my head, smirking. “Nope, better than chocolate.”

“Better than chocolate? I can’t think of anything better than that!”

I handed her the box with a smile. “Open it and see for yourself.”

She tore the wrapping paper eagerly and gasped when she saw what was inside—a brand-new phone. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

“Di! Why did you get this for me? You know I always use your phone when I need one!”

I placed a hand on her shoulder and said, “Sifu, you’re in 12th grade now. Your final exams are coming up, and you need your own phone to study and stay organized. No excuses. It’s yours.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she hugged me tightly, whispering, “Di, you’re the best sister in the world. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I smiled through my own tears and said, “And you’re my everything, Sifu. Always.”

As we cleaned up and prepared for bed, I felt a deep sense of peace. No matter what challenges lay ahead, I knew one thing for sure—I’d protect my sister with everything I had. For her, I’d move mountains.

I am sick but becuz of your that much love i got encouraged to write

I dont know  may be it was lil boring chapter  but comment your fav part.

How was the entry of Hamad’s bestfriends.

Kis kis ke mun mai pani aaya khane ko dekhkar.

Shaadi ka intizar kis kis se nahi horraha and also comment your fav food

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