Riwayat- Pt 9

*****

5 hours since she last saw him, 5 hours since she boarded her flight and now found herself in the familiar airport in an all too familiar place.

She was back home.

Then why didn't it feel like it?

With steps that weren't ready to move, she booked a cab and in 25 minutes, saw the mansion in which she was born and brought up standing high and mighty ahead of her.

An unsettling feeling kept her heart from whispering even the smallest words of longing and as she finally got out of the car and stared at her suitcase for a good few seconds, a loud yell had her flinching in both surprise and fear.

Turning around, she found Murad running as though a hungry lion had been left behind him, his face looked tired and worn out, as though he had not taken time to relax for even a second. Before Zaahira could even blink, she found herself trapped in between her brother's arms, being suffocated or coddled, she had no idea.

"M-Murad, ch-chod, ch-chod!"

She hit his back, trying to separate the koala of a man from herself but stopped when she felt something wet seeping through her top and onto her shoulder. Blinking a few times, she registered the way he quivered and realized that he- Murad Malik was actually crying!

"Allah, kya hua tujhe? Ro kyu raha hai? Everyone is fine, aren't they?"

Zaahira panicked, making the worst scenarios in her mind and to her surprise, Murad let go off and hit the back of her head making her groan at the sudden pain.

"Yeh kya harkat thi?"

She too hit him on the chest while he glared at her with so much intensity that she sobered up pretty quick and gave him a puzzled and concerned look.

"Murad,"

She cupped his cheeks, wiping away the tears that weren't stopping their flow.

"Kya hua hai? Bataye ga nahi toh kaise chalega?"

He shrugged off her hands and took a step back. Puffing his cheeks, he crossed his arms across his chest and looked away, clearly showing that he was more than naraz.

"2 din. I told you to call me, theek hai, you didn't. But you didn't bother replying to those texts from me and everyone else. Mera call nahi toh kam se kam mama baba ka toh utha leti. Pata hai how worried we all were? Mama almost lost it, protesting that we should book a flight to come and check up on you. And in the end, the last thread breaks when your phone is switched off. How can you be so irresponsible? Apna nahi toh humara hi khayal kar leti!"

He yelled towards the end and Zaahira felt herself drowning in guilt. Too lost in her own problems, she hadn't once bothered to check on her family. But then again, she wasn't entirely at fault.

Hearing Murad's loud voice, the rest of the members too came out of the mansion and as Zaahira's eyes looked at her parents, she noticed how her silence from the other end had bothered them. Both looked as though they hadn't slept for days. Her eyes connected with Mahira's and her mother was quick to bring her daughter in her embrace.

Mahira sobbed in Zaahira's shoulder who too teared up upon seeing her mother's emotions so open. It wasn't a daily occurrence for Mahira Malik to show her weakness so openly.

"Alhumdulillah, theek toh hai na tu? Phone kyu nahi answer kar rahi thi? You know how much we tried to reach you? Ek baar bhi-"

"Mama, I'm fine, I promise."

She kissed Mahira's forehead, assuring her that she was indeed fine- as fine as she could be.

Zayn followed suit and Zaahira didn't know what to make of the neutral expression on her father's face. He was a man of charms and silly jokes but on seeing him so serious and sober, Zaahira felt more guilty if that even made sense.

"Baba..."

She whispered and the next second, had herself wrapped around her father's protective embrace. The moment the familiar warmth surrounded her form, Zaahira felt all her dams breaking in the form of tears. The last two days had left a great impact on her mind and heart and she found herself clinging to her father and crying like a baby.

Zayn tightened his hold around his daughter. The way she was crying made dread settle in the pit of his stomach but he stood strong, giving her the comfort she was unconsciously seeking for.

"Shh, mera bacha. You're fine. You're home."

Am I though?

Zaahira felt her heart ask. Ignoring her conflicted self, she snuggled closer to her father but the peaceful bubble was broken when Zameer's familiar voice boomed around.

"Trip se toh jaldi aa gayi, lekin humare liye gifts layi ya nahi?"

His attempt to lighten the mood was met with a smack on his head by his mother, a glare from his father and a not-so apologetic smile from Zaahira who had clearly come empty handed in the gifts section.

Dua and Zaviyar took their turns to hug their niece who clearly looked troubled but had covered it up with a smile.

Zaahira squealed in joy when she found Darya standing at a distance with Damurrah perched on her hips. The little boy giggled on seeing his khala's expressions and made grabby hands. Zaahira was quick to take action on his gestures and smothered his face with kisses, making him squeal just like she had not moments ago but in an even cuter way.

Zamurrad stood beside his wife and offered her an amused smile on seeing the way his son was behaving.

"His most favorite person in the world has finally made an entry."

He teased Zaahira who only stuck her tongue at her jiju.

"Excuse me? I'm already a holder of that spot. Yeh kya har hafte log badal rahe ho mister?"

Zameer interjected as he narrowed his eyes at his nephew who ignored him and played with his khala's hairs. Zameer frowned at being ignored so blatantly and tried to take him away from Zaahira only to be met with a loud sound of protest and a smack on his stretched palms.

Ignoring the dramatic expression of betrayal on Zameer's face, Zaahira turned to look at Murad only to find him gone. Hurt settled in her heart but she quickly soothed herself by promising to make it up to him.

"Zaahira, beta, had something gone wrong during the trip?"

Dua couldn't help but ask. Zaahira stilled for a second, wanting to spill everything that happened yet cleared her throat and gave an unconvincing smile.

"Abhi bahot thakan ho rahi hai. I'll explain everything later, promise."

*****

The later had surpassed 2 days.

Zaahira sat in her room, lost in her thoughts, unknown to herself with the way her mind counted the remaining 5 days.

Her family had been patient, they didn't bring up the topic even though she knew how worried they were. She just wanted to break the news as calmly as she could but nothing seemed a calm way to break such a chaotic news.

Everything felt messed up, way too tangled than she'd like to admit.

Zaahira walked up to her dressing table and found something she didn't know she had taken with herself.

A rose petal.

Now dried with the wait and with the loss of its home and source of nourishment.

The faded red colour was a complete contrast of the blood red that had lay spread across the mattress- his mattress.

A smile tugged at her lips remembering him and what he had told. She could still feel the warm fingers caressing her hair, the soft kiss that was placed on her forehead and the way his words staked a claim so rightfully, that she couldn't bring herself to deny it.

She had fallen.

Somewhere, sometime, she didn't know.

What she did know was that Dilawar Kazim was a name she was now tied to- gladly.

Destiny was not a game, neither was it a coincidence. It was all written centuries ago, before the creation of him and her. If she was to be his and he was to be hers, then that's the best journey that could ever be written.

Preferably, her most favourite too.

"Appi?"

A small knock on her door made her blink away her daze. She kept the petal in the drawer and turned around only to see a disheveled looking Murad standing by her doorway.

Zaahira raised an eyebrow at his gesture.

When did he learn the meaning of 'knocking'?

"Waha kya khada hai? Andar aa!"

She gestured for him to come in while sitting in the center of the bed with her legs crossed. Murad looked anywhere but at her and did as he was told. Zaahira frowned at his antics and as he sat on the edge of the bed, she hit him at the back of his head, earning an irritated groan from him.

"Nayi naveli dulhan kyu bana hua hai? Why so formal?"

Murad sighed, still not looking up from his fingers. Perching his glasses higher on his nose, he closed his eyes and with a determined breath, spoke out loud.

"I'm sorry!"

Zaahira suppressed a smile at his actions. Scooting closer to him, she patted his cheeks and ruffled his hair.

"You're forgiven- only if you get me a new wrist watch."

Murad gasped at the demand and turned around to face her. Scowling at his big sister, he combed his hair with his fingers and protested,

"Wrist watch? Madam, mere mahine ki pocket money khatm ho gayi hai."

"Toh faltu cheeze kyu khareedte ho?"

"Faltu? Those biographies are not faltu!"

"Padaku kahi ka. Kabhi toh books se aage dekh liya kar. I'd have been happy agar tune bola hota ki you have spent it all buying useless stuff."

"Why would I need useless stuff?!"

Zaahira groaned in annoyance and fell flat on her back on the bed. Rubbing her face, she tsked in disappointment at her all too mature and practical brother.

"Oh, aur waise sab neeche dinner pe bula rahe hai tujhe."

"The hell?"

Zaahira sprinted out of the bed and walked out of the room but not before glaring at Murad who was already smiling sheepishly. Zaahira raced down the stairs and she could hear Murad's footsteps not far behind.

"Mil gayi fursat?"

Mahira raised an eyebrow at her children who had finally made an entry at the dining table.

Zaahira gave an apologetic look to her mother who shook her head at her.

The dinner table felt complete. Everyone passed food from one corner to the other along with stupid jokes and loud laughters. Zameer tried stealing from Darya's plate but was met with a straight look from Zamurrad and instantly, the former acted as though he was fetching the apple from the tray beside Darya's plate.

Zaahira played with her morsel. She had made up her mind and was currently busy biting the insides of her cheeks while her knee bounced in anxiety. How do you break such a news as though it were a piece of cake?

But then again, a piece of cake often ended up making the whole Malik house a war ground. Who'd conquer the last piece of the tasty delicacy? Only the worthy.

Zayn looked at his daughter in worry. She was playing with the food with a far away look on her face. Her eyes gleamed with worry and he couldn't help but ask,

"Zaahira, is something bothering you?"

Silence.

Numerous pairs of eyes turned to look at Zaahira who was suddenly made the centre of attention. Feeling like a fawn that was thrown to the wolves, Zaahira blurted out words that even her own mind couldn't take time to properly process.

"I am married!"

*****

Dilawar paced in his room, a slight feeling of unease had roused in his stomach and he was having a hard time suppressing it. Running a hand through his hair, he slumped down on the bed with a frustrated look.

His hands found his phone and unlocking it, he went to check the texts and the calls, hoping to find the name he was searching for but to his misfortune, her's was nowhere to be seen. Trying to ignore the worst outcomes of the fact that she had still not reached out to him, he closed the phone and tossed it back on the pillow.

"Oye hoye..."

A whistle was heard and so was Yazan's annoying voice that held a teasing lilt. Ignoring his cousin like always, Dilawar looked at his hands, as though trying to read the lines leading to his- their future.

"Majnu ne Laila ka intezar bilkul aise hi kiya hoga."

Dilawar felt a pat on his shoulder and took in a deep breath, trying his best to collect all his patience in order to endure his annoying piece of cousin.

"Waise, bhabhi ne call kiya?"

He stressed the word 'bhabhi' more than necessary and Dilawar rather than feeling the familiar annoyance, felt his heart releasing a sigh so relaxed and sweet, that he himself feared for his sanity.

"Nahi."

His curt reply made Yazan grin even wider than he already was. Dilawar glanced at him once and rolled his eyes, hoping to punch him in the face due to the expression he was currently wearing.

"Haye, koi nahi. Jab tak woh waha hai, tab tak main unki post fill kar deta hu. Chalega na ji?"

He batted his eyelashes and that was the last straw for Dilawar. Picking up the pillow, he started hitting the 29 year old man who behaved like a 7 year old toddler, making Yazan screech hysterically.

"Saale, abhi ke abhi nikal mere kamre se."

"Haan haan, ab toh aap hume nikalenge hi yaha se. Bhabhi jo mil-"

"Is mahine paise nahi chahiye?"

In an instant, Yazan bowed obediently and left with a professional smile and a curt salute.

Dilawar groaned lowly and laid on his back on the bed. Folding his arms under his head, he stared at the ceiling and closed his eyes, hoping to take a quick nap and shorten the time of his longing.

Before sleep could knock on the door of his mind, his phone rang beside him and he lazily opened his eyes, thinking of it to be another one of those company calls.

Not looking at the caller id, he answered the call and kept it beside his ear, expecting the typical songs to play as soon as he pressed the green button.

"Hello?"

Dilawar blinked a few times, shaking his head, he pulled the phone away and looked at the screen only for his gaze to widen.

It was his zojah!

"Assalamu alaikum."

He answered once the initial shock had wavered off- not completely.

Zaahira replied meekly from the other side and a part of him was suddenly alert, all negative thoughts of the way her energy seemed so dim made themselves known and he had to physically restrain himself from firing questions of concern.

"Zojah, tabiyat theek hai na?"

He asked, hoping to keep his tone casual and cover the dripping worry. Silence settled on the other side and as he was about to ask something more, an unfamiliar male voice spoke.

"Woh theek hai, lekin agar apni khairiyat chahte ho toh kal ke kal apne ghar walo ke saath Zaahira ki family se milne ke liye aa jaana."

And then the call was cut abruptly.

Dilawar stared at the blank screen for a few seconds. Little by little, the cloud of confusion cleared and rage settled in. Had he been threatened?

Gripping the phone tightly in his grasp, he closed his eyes and took deep breaths. Once, twice and then when everything clicked into place, he came to the conclusion that it might have been a member of Zaahira's family.

And the fact that he didn't sound pleased made Dilawar's feet tap anxiously on the ground. Shaking his head, he quickly got up from the bed and walked out of the room in search of his parents.

Never had he imagined meeting his in-laws in such a manner but then again, many unexpected things had happened in his life in less than a week.

Without knocking, he walked into his parents room and to his luck, his mother was knitting something while his father was looking through some papers.

Mushtak glanced at his son and raised an eyebrow while Ruqayyah stopped her knitting and gave him a smile, silently asking him to come in and sit beside her.

Dilawar cleared his throat and not wanting to beat around the bush, asked or maybe informed his parents of the family trip tomorrow.

"Zaahira ki family ne kal unse milne bulaya hai."

*****

Standing in front of the huge mansion, Dilawar gulped when anxiety settled in. The mansion had been decorated like a bride, something he found weird and slightly worrisome. His parents stood beside him in front of the gate that was soon opened and he was greeted with numerous new faces.

Each held a neutral expression apart from the three females- two elderly and one who seemed close to Zaahira's age. The men who stood in front of him scrutinized him from top to bottom, each looked intimidating and by the way they narrowed their eyes at him, he feared that his confidence that had never once shaken would be swallowed whole.

Straightening his cuffs, Dilawar didn't let his nervousness show on his face and offered a small smile to everyone present in front of him. He was adorned in the traditional pathani white suit with a brown chadar covering him from the shoulder to past his back.

A man who shared slight resemblance to his zojah walked forward. His eyes held a cold glint in them and Dilawar clearly understood the reason behind such a welcome.

He somehow deserved it.

Who would open their arms wide and open someone who forced their daughter to marry someone she didn't even know properly?

Though, clearly, Dilawar wasn't to be blamed completely, he still endured the coldness of the man's gaze without wavering a bit.

"Assalamu alaikum."

Dilawar greeted with a polite smile and to his happiness, the man replied back but without a hint of hostility. A woman appeared beside him who gave a side-eye to the man, probably his wife and then turned to look at Dilawar with a smile- calm and welcoming but with a hint of cautiousness.

"Mahira Malik, aur yeh mere husband, Zayn."

She introduced herself and him and Zayn didn't bother saying anything else. Mushtak and Ruqayyah then introduced themselves and everyone seemed to have calmed down even if it was just by a little.

"Andar aaye na."

Mahira invited them in and the rest of the family members cleared the way. On their way inside, all the others were introduced. Dilawar felt the once cold air melting by a huge gap. His eyes stared at the huge crowd, hoping to find the familiar face he was yearning for.

A hand was placed on his shoulder and he looked at his side only to find a young man glaring at him.

Dilawar raised an eyebrow at him, slightly amused and slightly concerned. The boy had introduced himself as Murad, his zojah's younger brother-

Aur saale-jija ka rishta toh hota hi hai thoda khatta meetha.

"Kise dhundh rahe hai?"

"Tumhe kya lagta hai?"

Murad rolled his eyes at the reply and scoffed before crossing his arms across his chest.

"Zahir si baat hai, Katrina Kaif toh rehti nahi hai yaha par ki use dhoondhenge."

Dilawar frowned and mumbled under his breath,

"Meri zojah dikh jaye wahi bahot hai."

"Zojah kaun?"

Murad questioned with a cold tone. Who was this zojah now?

Dilawar couldn't help but chuckle. Ruffling the boy's hair, he whispered to him as though it were a huge secret.

"Humare yaha, zojah ka matlab hai-"

"Bhai, aap use rehne de. Yaha aa kar baithe."

The woman whom he recognized as Darya spoke. She gave a glare to Murad who quickly shut up and walked away but not before making eye contact with Dilawar as though saying 'I'm watching you'.

Dilawar shook his head at the measly acts and sat on the plush sofa. His parents were busy conversing with Zayn and Mahira, even though he did feel all the males keeping a keen eye on him.

"Beta, yeh lo."

Dua, Zaahira's tayi ammi, forwarded a cup of steaming tea and a tray filled with a bunch of snacks that was placed on the table ahead was forwarded towards him. He offered her a small smile that was met with an even wider one from her and he politely accepted the cup, sipping it silently while internally praying to find the face that had haunted the peace of his heart and soul.

"Seedhi si baat karunga Mushtak sahab, kehne ko toh aapne jo kiya woh kisi bhi kaide se sahi nahi tha."

Zayn spoke with a no-nonsense tone. It was clear how the situation had upset and angered him and yet, there he sat with a calm expression, hoping to resolve the situation without bringing any harm to anyone.

Mushtak could only smile apologetically because if he were to explain the reasons behind his actions, it would take ages to even understand the first half of it.

"Zayn sahab, zyada kuch saaf saaf nahi keh sakta. Bas itna kahunga ki jo bhi hua woh halat ke tareeko se theek nahi tha, bache bhi kaafi khafa the aur aap ko toh khair is baat ki khabr tak nahi thi. Maafi zaroor mang sakta hu is baat ki. Lekin, ek guzarish hai, jitna waqt lena hai le le, lekin humari bahu ko apni marzi se hi humare yaha bida kariye ga."

Stunned, Zayn blinked a few times. He had expected a lot of things. Arrogant words and ways to ignore an utmost needed apology.

Clearing his throat, Zayn could only give a curt nod to Mushtak who offered a smile of understanding. Mahira placed a hand on her husband's shoulder. His eyes met hers and a silent conversation was exchanged.

"Waise, Zaahira hai kya?"

Dilawar almost kissed his mother's feet when she asked the question whose answer he was dying to know.

Dilawar's gaze met Darya's who wiggled her eyebrows making his eyes go wide. Feeling a blush creeping at the tip of his nose, he coughed a few times and looked away.

"Paani pi lo."

Zaviyar spoke for the first time. His cold glare had vanished somewhere in the midst of the conversation and was now looking laid back and relaxed. Dilawar gave him a nod and took the glass of water, gulping it down in one go.

"Apne kamre mein hai."

Darya spoke on behalf of her chachi. She looked back at Dilawar who was now avoiding her gaze at any cost and a wide smile took over her lips.

He was way different than what she had portrayed him to be.

"Dilawar."

Zayn called out, making the man go stiff in nervousness. Swallowing the gulp that had formed in his throat, Dilawar looked at Zayn who for the first time offered him a small smile.

The Malik clan exchanged silent words and soon, Zayn got up from his place and gave a pat to Dilawar's shoulder.

"Jao, le aao apni zojah ko."

Dilawar's eyes widened upon hearing his statement, but more so, he blushed like a boy who had received a smile from his crush when he heard the word 'zojah'.

Ya Allah, khair kare uski jiske dil mein mohabbat ne dastak de di.

"Jaye jaye bhai, upar se left mein hai. Last wala room."

Zameer teased his brother-in-law who looked ready to flee at any given second.

Dilawar didn't meet anyone's eyes and casually strolled in the direction narrated by Zameer. As he reached the last step, the booming laughters from the living room made him chuckle in embarrassment.

He soon found himself face to face with the door who had involuntarily kept his zojah captive. Kept her away from him.

Mustering up the courage, he knocked a few times on the door before the familiar voice gave him the permission to enter.

Twisting the door knob, he saw Zaahira sitting on the edge of the bed, her back was to him and as he took the first step, her nervous rant made him halt.

"Murad, kya ho raha hai neeche? Baba Dilawar ko zyada cold shoulder toh nahi de rahe na? Maine bola tha unko ki he isn't bad. Itna serious interrogation karne ki kya zaroorat hai? Didn't I mention that I like him? Ahh! Bol kuch abhi!!"

She took a pillow and screamed in it, not realizing that her words had sent Dilawar to a short term paralysis. He gaped at her back, eyes wide and heart out of control. Even his stubborn brain had gone mute!

"Aise izhar karogi toh dil ka dawra pad jayega, zojah."

Zaahira bit the pillow, her eyes closed in sheer self-loathing. Tightening her grip on the soft material, she slowly- too slowly turned around to come face to face with her husband of a few days.

Dilawar suppressed his shock and took his sweet time to enjoy how his zojah's face turned red like that of the hibiscus which he had planted at the back of his haveli. Her doe eyes stared at him almost hazily, a glint of disbelief in them was visible to him even from afar. Her hands clutched the pillow, bringing it closer to herself and as soon as she realized that he was actually standing in front of her, she cautiously brought the pillow up and hid her face in it.

"Just my freaking luck.."

He heard her mumble to herself.

Closing the door softly behind him, Dilawar walked into the room and sat beside her. He watched her, waited for her to remove the pillow from her face with a smile on his face.

Dilawar watched in amusement when Zaahira moved the pillow a little down, to take a peek whether he had gone away or not- the trouble was that she focused towards the doorway and not beside herself.

He heard her sigh and put the pillow away but just as she turned, he raised an eyebrow at her shocked face and she quickly tried to reach out for the pillow once again.

"Nah ah, itni soni shakal hai aapki, ise humse chupane se tauba kar le, begum."

He took hold of her hands that were outstretched to take hold of the pillow and pulled her to himself. Zaahira shrieked at the sudden force and fell against his chest with an 'oof'.

She mumbled incoherently under her breath and pushed her head deeper into his chest, not ready to face him as of now. Dilawar's smile turned into a pleasant grin as he felt her pulling her hands away from his grasp and wrapping them around his torso. His hands wrapped themselves around her waist and the two waited, for one to speak or maybe, just to sit in the silence that now felt right.

Them in each other's embrace felt right.

Being so close to each other felt right.

The nikah that they were initially against of felt right.

Dilawar raised one of his hands and smoothed her black curls. They were tangled with each other in the toughest of knots and he slowly eased his fingers through them, combing her slightly rough hair with ease.

He leaned down and placed a kiss on the crown of her head. Once, twice, and then he felt it- a shy kiss where his heart was. He was sure she could hear the abnormal rhythm, one that was trying to match the heart in his zojah's chest.

Releasing a deep sigh, he tried to clear his thoughts and held her more tightly.

"Waise, humare beech ek izhar hai jiska jawab dena baki hai, nahi?"

**********

Hold up! 4700+ words, now now, who's gonna treat my fingers?!

Haye, mere bache, they're making me cry and squeal and ahh! Dilawar miya, I might steal you if this keeps going.. Zaahira apna dekh le gi..

Now about the ship names, people, did you see my profile? Dilara so happens to be my name and if someone where to see it after reading those comments, they'd think that I named myself after this couple..(not that I mind, but that wouldn't be too authentic, would it be?)

So let's choose from the ones that I personally liked,

'Zahwar' or

'Dil-Zaar'

***********