HIJAAB WAALI
Don't love what you can't get

FOURTH PART

Events swept everyone forward at an alarming speed.

With a dominance that left them all breathless, Mrs. Ali ordered her servants in the day after they had returned back to their home. Money spoke loudly, after all, and as the house had been empty for only a little while the work was mostly small adjustments and decorating. The interior designers complained endlessly but work went on all the same.

With in no time at all, Zeest was being carried to her bridal room. It all happened so fast that she didn’t know whether to cry over her father’s death or to laugh at her wedding.

The room was brightly illuminated with powerful luminaries but the reflection of her angelic beauty clearly overshadowed the artificial brightness of the room. A gentle fragrance of lavender hovered all around the room. The room had silver gray walls and carpet was a backdrop to sapphire curtains and matching coverlet on the king-size bed.

The luxurious waterbed she sat on… was something she’d never experienced. Warm, watery mattresses adjustable with shape and contours of one’s body, it was covered with the midnight blue and silver gray silk sheets. The comforter was also of midnight blue, with several pillows encased in blue and silver gray alternated. The whole couch was beautifully decorated with evenly arranged strings of fresh red roses and jasmine, hanging from the roof to the corners of the bed, surrounding it completely.

Wearing golden brown, modern bridal Sharaara studded with heavy embroidery work, she was lost in her thoughts when she heard the bedroom door opening and then closing again with a slight ‘click’.

It was her bridegroom, her husband, her fate and her future.

She could smell his intoxicating male scent and a faint whiff of his after-shave. His jet black eyes were on her face but there was no warmth in their glittering depths. His eyes, his scent, the closed door were all disturbing enough, but there was something else, a feeling, which disturbed her far more.

He leaned against the door.

Moments passed, but he said nothing. She felt her whole body tense.

His handsome mouth thinned, and when he spoke his words were low and razor sharp.

“Congratulations ‘Miss. Wife’.” He said with a rigid jaw, glaring at her in acute dislike.

She then heard him laughing in a weird, dangerous tone.

“Raise your head.” His voice felt as cold as ice.

She didn’t know what do to do.

“I said, raise your head.” He shouted this time.

With an involuntary jerk, her lowered head raised upward, the veil of her bridal dress falling behind. Still, she had not enough courage to open her eyes and look at the man who was ‘supposed’ to be her husband.

“Stop this drama, and open your eyes.” His hammering tone almost knocked her senses off.

His voice made her eyes open, straining to make out his features in the dim light.

Through his flaming eyes, he could see the dilemma in her eyes... the fear and anxiety that was ripping her heart to shreds.

“First of all, let me assure you that this room is sound proof. You’re allowed to scream or shout or whatever but no one would be able to hear your cries.” He said mercilessly, his voice trembling with the intensity of his anger.

Her heart pounded, her senses alerted to a hidden danger that she instinctively knew she was facing.

“It’s just legal shit. Nothing else.” He continued his toxic speech.

“I won’t accept you as my wife ever.”

“Though religion asks me to take care of your rights, but I never ever do anything against my heart, and my heart doesn’t accept you.” He said in a cold-as-ice and hard-as-steel voice and then added.

“I won’t give you any rights. I hate every inch of your body, your soul and your whole personality. Don’t think I’m doing any kind of injustice. I think you were the main character in this drama and you fooled my mother by acting innocently in front of her. “

“I...I don’t know…” Gathering all of her courage, she opened her mouth to say something in her weak, trembling voice but it unlocked his animalistic anger and the storm, which had been gathering in his eyes exploded with a terrifying fury.

“Shut your sick mouth up.” He yelled with force. “How nicely you put it, huh?” He said caustically.

“Luckily, I don’t need you to boost my self-esteem. I am capable of controlling my basic instincts and this would be a marriage of just tongue and paper, nothing more. I am not hungry for your body. In fact your whole being is making me sick.” He made a disgusted face.

“I want to let you know that I don’t trust you. I want to let you know that, though legally and religiously you are my wife but I would never be able to your husband in anything other than name.”

The full implication of his words struck her like a sledgehammer. The stunned young bride sat speechless before her husband, her eyes wide open in disbelief.

“Only now I’ve realized the selfish plan of you and your father to occupy my property and wealth.”

“Seeesss” Her lips began to tremble violently as she heard her father’s name. Her patience was touching its final limits.

She wanted to scream, shout back at him and say, “You can call me whatever you want, but just don’t say anything about my father. He’s not in this world now.” But perhaps even her tongue and her lips were not helping her tonight. She couldn’t open her mouth.

Her breathing became labored, coming in harsh little pants, and her pulses faced like that of a frightened doe.

“May I ask why are you unhappy….”

She didn’t finish, for the sight of his mouth---thin with anger---warned her to watch her tongue. She was trying his patience and he was waiting for a chance to lose it.

Surprisingly, he didn’t shout this time.

“Oh yeah… want to tell you something.” He said as he walked to the refrigerator.

“I love some other girl.” He lifted a glass and filled it with cold water.

Zeest braced herself; afraid she just might go to pieces. It couldn't possibly be true

Her was heart pounding, body trembling, brain too numbed to feel anything.

“Every thing was so perfect. We were sure about our marriage.” Bringing the glass to his mouth, his emptied it at once.

“But then your father called my mother…it all seems like a pre-planned thing.”

The words were shot at her like bullets and she stiffened at once.

She wanted to ask what he was talking about?

He then fumbled with something in his pocket and took a cigarette case out.

She just sat there, paralyzed and stunned, helpless expressions crossing the young bride's face.

He pressed the cigarette between his dark lips and bent his head to show the flame to the fore end of his cigarette.

“You’re the killer of my happiness and comforts.” He blurted out, his voice thick and heavy with hatred.

“An obstacle between me and her.“ He added senselessly.

“Until now, I followed whatever my mother ordered me.” He dragged deeply on his cigarette, without looking at her for a second.

“But now I am free to do whatever I’ll want.” He inhaled deeply and then exhaled the smoke slowly through his nostrils.

“And I want my happiness back.”

“I will not touch you ever.” He turned to face her once again.

“Won’t you ask, why?” He first questioned and then answered without waiting for any response from her.

He laughed mercilessly.

“Simply because I don’t think of myself as your husband and never will.” He smiled cruelly at her.

“Oh yes! One more thing.”

He brought something out from his jacket’s pocket and threw it in her lap, without moving from his place.

“This is your ‘Moonh Dikhaai’,” He said aloud.

“Now, it’s another thing that I don’t have any intention to see your bitchy face.” He laughed sarcastically.

On this intense remark, her gaze lifted slowly to her husband.

His eyes were cold, lifeless, and ashamed. His lips curled as he said his final heartless words. She curled up even more, each word a blow to her heart.

“Now finish this wedding night drama and get some sleep and let me get some as well.” He moved toward the bed where she was sitting.

Scared as hell, her body moved back involuntarily.

A short, malignant chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. “Don’t panic. I won’t attack you, Miss. Wife. I told you I don’t want a relationship, and you won’t want to feel used. So there’s no point in starting something we’d both be sorry for.”

“Besides, I hate every inch of yours and of course that includes your Goddamn body too.”

She felt soiled and humiliated as if a thousand tiny insects were invading the very pores of her skin. She tried to answer, but all that emerged from her trembling lips was a painful sob.

“When I give myself to a woman, it will be willingly or not at all. Remember that, Miss. Wife!”

The fierce bitterness in his voice startled her.

She just sat there, transfixed.

“Move…move, leave my bed please.” He yelled again.

She bit her lips and swallowed, and just sat there, not knowing what to do and where to go. In her own room she felt like a caged animal; tears of frustration pouring down her cheeks.

“You don’t have to shed tears.” He jerked the cigarette in the ashtray and came to sit on the bed. “It’s me, who has suffered, not you!”

“I hate colicky women.” He commented and then grinned. “But hey, don’t I hate you already?”

“But…what was my fault?” She asked in a weak, shaky voice, tears flowing freely from her eyes.

Her sentence did it all.

“You … you poor, cheap, third class girl from a typical lower middle class Pakistani family.” He burst with an uncontrollable anger. “You made my mother stupid by these tears but… but don’t ever think I can ever get into your cruel wicked trap.“

“Get the hell out of MY bed NOW.” He yelled, gritting his teeth with force. “I need to get some sleep now.”

With trembling feet, she left his bed so quickly like some thousand-volt current was passing through it.

“Now, why don’t you stop shedding these crocodile tears and go and wash this damn ugly make-up of yours?”

His sentences made her think something. She must have looked awful with swollen, puffy eyes, tear-streaked face and dry, chapped lips.

“You can sleep on the sofa…” His next order came straight as he sank down on the bed carelessly, without even taking his shoes off. “I’ll be comfortable here on the bed.” He finished his last word and then closed his eyes, turning his back on her, like sleep was the most wanted thing for him right now.

Slowly, she reached in front of the big dressing table, taking her earrings off, one by one and then the rest of her make-up. Her shoulders shaking as the tears finally spilled out like a heavy rain. She wept uncontrollably but silently.

“Welcome to the real world, Zeest.” After the words were out of her mouth, she found her lips twisting in a rueful smile.
 

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“Bhabhi how was your wedding night?” Shaheryaar’s sister, Sarah winked naughtily as she met Aariz’s wife the next morning.

In answer, Zeest just lowered her head but said nothing.

“Ahemm…?” Sarah tried to find out any traces of desire left on her face, any clue of some passionate encounter and any hint of some satisfied glory…but this face was spotless, expressionless.

“Bhabhi…are you feeling alright?” Sarah asked, observing deeply.

“Yes…” She said in a broken voice. “It’s just that things happened so quickly.”

“Oh, I understand.”

Sarah gave her a nod of understanding. She thought she knew why Zeest was feeling like this. After all, it had not been even a week after her father’s death.

Perhaps, it was natural for Zeest to feel like that. She didn’t tease her anymore then.

“How’s my daughter?” A fresh chuckle came from the doorway, and they saw Mrs. Ali standing there.

“Aadaab”.

Bending her head slightly, Zeest took her right hand to her right brow, in the traditional gesture of Muslim-Indian family salute.

“Have a long life.” Smiling, Mrs. Ali caressed her lowered head with her right hand.

“You know daughter, you make me so happy.” Mrs. Ali took her hands lovingly into her own.

“Although, we never actually met before, but still it feels like I always knew you.”

She blinked her eyes but said nothing.

“You know I always wished for a daughter.” There was a touch of intense longing in Mrs. Ali’s voice. “But now I believe my dream has finally come true.”

Smiling affectionately, Mrs. Ali leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Only then she noted something.

“Zeest?” She asked, looking at her face. “You’re not wearing any Jewelry?”

She didn’t answer.

“Hmm?” Mrs. Ali wanted answer for her question.

“They... they were making me uncomfortable, hurting me.” She opened her mouth, while keeping her eyes low.

“You’re a new bride, daughter, and new brides don’t keep their wrists and ears empty.”

“So, don’t leave your hands without jewelry.” Mrs. Ali told her. “Married women are always supposed to wear them.”

On her word ‘married’ women, Zeest almost winced in pain. She wanted to ask if she was really married?

“I’ll go and get you a coffee.” She told her mother in law.

“Nah, you’re a new bride, a fresh one. You’re not supposed to start working by the next day of your wedding. You have your whole life for that. But not today.” She smiled.

The coffee smelled hot and fresh as Mrs. took two cups from the cupboard and filled them with coffee from the pot. She carried them to the bedroom where Zeest and Sarah were sitting.

Zeest picked up the cup and stared into the black liquid. Mrs. Ali and Sarah kept talking while she drank her coffee. After she was finished, she heard her mother-in-law saying.

“Breakfast is almost ready. Change your cloths and take a shower. We’re waiting for you at the breakfast table. Alright?” Mrs. Ali wanted her affirmative answer.

She stared at her and nodded.

“And Sarah,” Mrs. Ali turned toward the sister of Aariz’s friend. “You’re going to help me with the breakfast.”

“Why not Aunt, that’s why I’m here.” Sarah gave her a pleasant smile and followed her, closing the door behind her.

Zeest yawned sleepily and left the bed. She had not been able to sleep a single wink last night. With a deep sigh, she fished her toothbrush, toothpaste and soap out of her overnight case and shuffled, bleary-eyes and barefoot, toward the attached bathroom.

When she reached her destination, the door was closed. She hesitated. That probably meant someone was inside. As she raised her fist to knock, the door swung wide and she was face-to-face---rather, face to chest---with Aariz.

“Good morning,” He said, his voice deeply laden with humor and sarcasm. “Please, accept my heartiest congratulations for having such a wonderful wedding night. I’m sure you’d never forget it, would you?”

Her gaze snapped to his face. His hair was damp and lay in dark ringlets across his forehead. His eyes glittered like silver, and his lips were parted, displaying a cynical flash of teeth.

This magnetic man exuded such arrogant magnetism she found it difficult to keep from constantly blushing in his presence.

“Mother wanted me to take a shower.” She said, lowering her eyes. “She’s waiting for us at the breakfast table.”

One brow rose to meet the damp curls on his forehead.

“Why? Is she not satisfied yet?” He laughed shortly.

Ignoring his question, she went inside the bathroom, and locked the door.

A few minutes later, they were all sitting around the big breakfast table. Sarah had already left, after helping Mrs. Ali in arranging breakfast items.

There were juices, fruits, fresh bread, milk, cheese, pure butter, ‘Sheermaals’ and various Pakistani sweets.

“Aariz, tonight is your ‘Valima’ and Zeest needs to do some shopping for that.” His mother announced in a very casual tone.

“So?” His hand spreading marmalade on his toast stopped for a second.

“So, you two are going for shopping after your breakfast.”

“I’m sorry, I am not free. She can take someone else with her.” He gave his short answer, not wanting to talk further on the topic.

“You know that she doesn’t have any family except…” Mrs. Ali’s voice was a bit loud now.

“So what?” He asked rudely, chapping on his slice. “She’s not my headache.”

“She is your responsibility.” Mrs. Ali told him. “She lives in our home now.”

“Put her into some orphanage, mother. “ He said rigidly. “I’m sure they can take care of her better than I can.”

Zeest almost choked on her coffee.

So much insult... Was it her fate, or some exam from her Allah? She asked herself, trying her best to stop her tears.

“AARIZ!” His mother shouted, without caring if some of the servants could hear them. “Behave. I’m not going to let you do whatever you want.”

“You behave mother.” He shouted back. “And stop saying things like this. You make me laugh. You say you’re not going to let me do whatever I want?” His voice was shaking with the intensity of his anger.

“So far you’ve done whatever you wanted, but it’s my turn now. Yes, now I’m going to do whatever I’d want.” Finishing his sentence, he rose and left the room, kicking the door shut.

“I can’t let him act like this.” Mrs. Ali clenched her teeth. “Things can’t go on like this.” Her lips tightened.

But perhaps, Mrs. Ali was expert in hiding her feelings, as her features became normal instantly as she turned her face back to Zeest and said,

“If you’re done with your breakfast, then come with me. I’d show you our home which is ‘your’ home now.”

Silently, Zeest rose and followed her mother-in-law.

They passed handsomely furnished rooms, many of them obviously reserved for formal occasions, like the dining room, which hosted an incredibly long table and a sea of high-backed chairs. A young maid was polishing the already gleaming table and looked up and smiled when they passed.

Admiring the great interior decoration in her heart, Zeest walked down the hall and peeked into the room. The sitting room was beautifully appointed. It was decorated in antique furniture, mostly in the German mode, tastefully decked out in French laces and silks. Next to the dinning room was a lounge, with sumptuous furnishings, most of it expensive antiques and softened by carpet Zeest felt certain would cover your feet. There were less formal rooms, rooms for relaxing, with soft, plump sofas and chairs. It was all so impressive… and so quiet!

At ten p.m. sharp, their guests began to gather around. There were hundreds of seats, arranged neatly in the huge lawn of the house. Aariz had deliberately not invited many of his friends. He didn’t want them celebrating a marriage that held no meaning for him---and, while getting himself ready for the occasion, he was deeply depressed that what should have been the most joyous occasion of his life was only heralding a term of imprisonment.

When, after being done with her bridal make-up, Zeest entered the bedroom a while later, he was already there, finishing with his preparations.

He gave himself a detailed critical look, stopping for a moment in front of a mirror to straighten his tie.

“I...I want to talk…” She said, gathering all of her courage and power, as she sat on the edge of her bed, behind him.

His hand working on the knot of his tie stopped instantly.

“Shoot!” He murmured. Right now, his house was full of guests and he had to control himself, otherwise it was going to create some more problems.

“I…” She said in a trembling voice. “I know you didn’t want this. But believe me, I had no intention for our marriage either. It all happened so fast, so quickly. I didn’t even see you ever before you came to visit my father last week.”

“Whatever!” He sprayed the rich ‘eternity’ over his strong, masculine neck, without caring to give her a single glance.

“I pray that may Allah find the solution of your problem soon, and I’m willing to help you in this regard as much as I can.”

“You?” He laughed emptily. “You will help me?”

“Yes, I can.”

“How?” He was still smiling at her in a purely sarcastic way.

“I…” She said in a low voice, keeping her eyes on the carpeted floor, “I can talk to your mother about ‘her’.”

As she spoke, for the first time after his marriage, he felt a soothing wave of relaxation relieved him. Before that, he had been too stunned and horrified to realize exactly what was happening to him, and later, he had been so angry that adrenaline had carried him along, but now that it was allover, he needed some time to gather his thoughts and nerves.

Her point was genuine and it did make sense to him.

Perhaps, he thought, she was not happy with this relation either.

“What would you talk to her?”

“I’d tell her…that you have my full permission for your second marriage if you want.”

He sighed and turned slowly toward her. Wearing royal blue bridal suit, she was not looking so bad to him now like she was in the past.

His mind jubilated at her suggestion, his heart racing. At first, he couldn’t believe that she would allow him to do that so easily.

“Do you think you can convince my mother?” His eyes were on her face now, and the realization made her uncomfortable.

Slowly, she lifted her head, hair across her eyes, and peered wildly at a pair of highly polished black shoes, at slim long legs in smoothly tailored dark trousers, at an immaculately cut jacket, a crisp white shirt, a dark gray silk tie, and then at his hard face, a very hard face.

“Yes!” She lowered her eyes once again, finding herself unable to look into the fiery depths of his black eyes. “I’d try my best to convince her. But…”

“But?” His brows curved upward dangerously, his face tightened.

“It might take some time. We just got married.”

“I don’t need your permission for my second marriage.” He again turned his back on her. “I can handle my own matters very well.” Although his voice still felt cold, but his tone was not so rude like he had previously.

“I didn’t ask for your suggestion for my future.” He said expressionlessly.

“I was just explaining… “ She tried to say.

“You’ve got to quit doing this to me.” He said fiercely in a lowered voice that would not carry to his mother.

“We’ll hardly be a picture of newly wedded bliss if we’re constantly at distance.” She said, her voice deliciously low.

“I couldn’t care less what picture we make.”

“Your mother will.”

Zeest was hitting at his Achilles’ heel. And he knew he had too, her gesture confirmed.

“Pulling on an act doesn’t come easily to me.”

“We sometimes have to do things contrary to our nature.” She went on. “But surely being friends with me isn’t such an outlandish thought?”

It wasn’t.

Her suggestion that they be friends, though a sensible one held danger for him, for if he weakened on this, he might weaken on other things

“Very well,” He said, “I’ll not try to play it your way. Want me to get into your wicked trap?”

“I didn’t mean…”

“No need to explain” He cut across her again.

Scared of him and afraid of his behavior, “Mother...is waiting…

“I don’t care who’s waiting for us.” He gave her one last look. “I have already cared about everyone a lot.” Finishing his sentence, he left her alone in the room.

Throughout the gathering, Zeest tried her best to ‘appear’ normal. Only she knew what was going on inside her. Surprisingly, Aariz’s facial expressions were not that bad tonight. It was a pleasant change for his mother. Getting more than happy, and thinking that at least her son is trying to adjust and compromise, she introduced the newly wed couple to all of her guests.

It was all very boring for him. He was feeling really tensed and tired but he didn’t let anyone guess his feelings.

It was two a.m. at night, when Aariz was finally able to get a chance to sleep.

He sauntered in his bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt and loosening his tie. Only then he noticed ‘she’ was already there, sitting on the edge of his bed as usual. Twisting his lips to make a bad mouth, he turned his back on her.

Ignoring his act of ignorance, she looked at him almost against her will.

He was aggressively handsome; no sign of softness about him at all, and no sign of humor either.

“I am not going to obey my mother anymore. It’s enough.” He murmured painfully, almost as if he was talking to himself.

“Our holy prophet has said, ‘It’s forbidden for you to disobey your mothers and violate their rights.”

It was a totally unexpected comment from her, which surprised him, even shocked him. Slowly, he turned toward her.

Her heart began to beat vigorously. She swallowed hard, not knowing what he was going to do next.

His eyes narrowed to icy lights and he came forward grimly, rage on his face as she stood up and backed away, feeling the hard edge of the dressing table against her legs.

“Don’t…don’t hit me!” She had gone chalk-white; her black eyes enormous, filled with terror and it stopped him in his tracks as if he had met a brick wall.

“I don’t strike women, Miss. Wife.” He grated. “There are other methods of punishment.”

“No, I’d rather you hit me. I couldn’t bear it.” Her voice rose, her hands tightly clenched together, and he stopped again.

She stood watching him; tears like small drops of rain on her cheeks, sliding down the pale creamy skin in a stream of misery.

“This is my first and last warning to you, don’t ever try to indulge yourself into my personal matters.” He said, clenching his teeth. “You’re only going to be here for some days, so don’t interfere.”

“But I was just…”

“Go to bed now.” Aariz continued, not seeming to hear. “It’s your turn tonight.”

“Turn for what?” She wanted to ask but was too scared to open her mouth again.

Understanding her question from her eyes, he said. “You can sleep on the bed tonight. I’d sleep on the sofa.”

Without saying another word, she almost ran toward washroom to change. She was so worn out by tension that she just climbed into bed and closed her eyes. She drifted into sleep with an angry, handsome face with piercing black eyes uppermost in her mind. As she slept, she was totally unaware of the cold, hard eyes that glanced at her. Her thick black braid had fallen over her shoulder; her lashes were curling against her smooth cheeks, dark and lustrous as the thick hair that framed her face.

He’d once heard a funny thing that men wake up as good-looking as they went to bed and women somehow deteriorate during the night.

But this was also a woman.

She was beautiful, innocent looking, almost tragic as she rested on the bed.

Hating himself for looking at her like that, he settled himself on the sofa and made his mind a blank. Thoughts of Komal persisted. No one could control him unless he allowed it, and though he was Zeest’s husband, he was determined to remain his own master.

On this thought he fell asleep.


 

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This time when Zeest woke, her eyes opened normally and the pain was background noise. Looking around the room, she saw that it was kept dim by the opaque shades at the windows, but that the day outside was probably pretty sunny. Aariz was still asleep on the sofa in the room. She sat up slowly, stretching her shoulders and blinking away the sleep in her eyes. She had heard her mother-in-law’s voice, calling her.

As the sleep faded away, her mind filled with the memory of the night before. Aariz’s words again rang in her ears: "I don’t strike women, Miss. Wife.” He had grated. “There are other methods of punishment.”

How could he rattle her so badly with a few words and a disturbing glance? No one had ever affected her like this before.

She was still completely silent when they all sat down to lunch that afternoon. The tension at the table was unmistakable. Sparks flew every time she looked at Aariz.

“Do you need anything else, daughter?” Aariz’s father had asked.

“No, thank you, father.” She smiled soberly.

“Aariz, I think she is being shy, ask her if she would like to eat anything else?” His father threw a brief glance at him.

“My brain.” He almost stopped himself from saying and swallowed hard. This magician woman was slowly controlling and taking everyone into her trance. First his mother and now his father too, looked clearly impressed by her.

Impulsively, he turned his face toward her. Fire burned in the look he gave to her.

“No thank you uncle, I’ve already had enough.” She said, feeling guilty and ashamed.

She couldn’t help feeling sorry for him despite what he had done with her.

Hours later, Aariz and his parents sat in silence, each enduring the spicy Biryani and chick Karhaai in his or her own way. Aariz was stirring his spoon into his rice and chicken, eating very little.

“Zeest!” Mrs. Ali called her. “We’re waiting for you, daughter.”

“I’ll be there, mother.” They heard her voice from the kitchen. “Just giving a final touch to the custard.”

“She’s not supposed to work so soon.” Aariz’s father protested. “She’s a new bride.”

“I did tell her many times, but she doesn’t agree.” Mrs. Ali told him.

Mr. Ali shook his head in disagreement and ran his eyes from one end of the table to the other.

“Where’s my favorite mango pickle?” He asked.

“Umm,” Mrs. Ali replied between the bites, “If it’s not here, it should be in kitchen.”

“Aariz, will you go and get me that pickle?” His father asked, staring at him.

Without a word, Aariz left his chair and walked toward the kitchen.

There she was, working thoroughly, trying to do so many things at a time. One of her hands was busy with the grinder while the other was working with the juicer.

Apparently ‘unaffected’ by her presence and without showing any ‘external’ sign of his inner feelings, he entered the kitchen, and began to open different shelves and drawers in search of the mango pickle.
Although, both of them were standing side-by-side and adjacent to each other, each had the back toward the other.

When he stood beside her, there didn’t seem to be as much as room as she remembered. It took her a second to realize she was feeling the effect of her nearness, the breadth of shoulders.

Zeest’s face felt hot, and she found out her body was oversensitive to Aariz’s proximity. It had taken superhuman effort to pretend his presence hadn’t affected her. She shivered suddenly, and then edged away. Her eyes darkened, and her lips stretched into a tighter line as her mind came across with a flood of thoughts. Thoughts that said she found the idea of being close to him repulsive. But that wasn’t the reason of her withdrawal. She didn’t find him repulsive, and that was what upset her.

He searched and searched but didn’t find the object he needed. Frustrated, he muttered a curse under his tongue, which broke the deep, heavy silence between them.

“May I help you?” She offered, not looking toward him.

“Where’s that damn mango pickle?” He asked in a tight, crushing voice.

Without answering him, she open the right most shelf and brought the mango pickle out, handing it to him.

Aariz was transfixed at his place. How could she get so familiar with each and everything of his home in such a short time? She even knew where those small food items were placed and, here he was, living in the same house for last ten years and yet he couldn’t find them.

Very quietly, she gave him the jar. This was when his hard, masculine hand accidentally brushed her soft, feminine wrist.

The contact was electrifying. A tremor swept through her and Zeest experienced a strange, sweet torture at the contact. His scent filled her brain, fogging her mind.

Without even caring to say formal thanks, he turned back and left.

A few minutes later, she finally joined them for the dinner.

She was about to sit on the opposite chair present at the far end of the table when her father-in-law interrupted.

“Why there?” He eyed her deeply. “Your husband is here, you’re supposed to sit beside him.”

Feeling uncomfortable, she obeyed him silently although she took her seat far away from his, avoiding the possibility of his touch,

His father cleared his throat as he gazed up at Aariz, then back at Zeest.

“Aariz, you and Zeest have been awfully quiet this evening.” He smiled first at Aariz and then at Zeest.

A shadow of annoyance darkened Aariz’s features for an instant but he didn’t comment.

“Anything we can help you with?” His father asked again. “May be if you talked about it.”

Wow, how simple and plain they were. Ignorant, like they didn’t know what had gone through his heart?

“No!”

God, the last thing he wanted to do was to discuss Komal with them.

“Anything wrong?”

His father’s sentence made him laugh.

His mother raised her brow, frowning, staring angrily at her laughing son.

“What’s so funny in his question?” She asked.

“His words ‘any thing’ wrong made me laugh.” He replied, still smiling down at her.

“So? What’s wrong?” His father asked.

He swallowed hard, trying to control his anger.

“This.” He said sharply, pointing out toward Zeest.

Open mouthed, his parents stared at the newly wed couple, sadly shocked on his sudden remark.

He reddened more. “I hate this girl mother. I want to go out of this terrible house of yours and live with my love.”

“What?” His mother threw her spoon, dinner forgotten. “How dare you…”

“I am going to make her my wife. Whether you agree or not, and this is not me asking your permission. It’s me, announcing my decision.”

“Since when you’ve been able to decide about our family matters?” Mrs. Ali glared at him with clear disinterest.

“Komal is my personal matter…”

“Shut up!” Fury flashed in his mother’s eyes, and she abruptly stood. “I don’t want to hear her name again. I don’t intend to discuss her with you, Aariz. The matter’s settled.” Her sudden departure was followed by a difficult stillness.

Zeest felt badly for Aariz, but didn’t know what to say. His face screwed up in an effort not to shout or cry.

“Why…?” He began brokenly, and then clearing his throat, tried again.

”Why can’t my mother love me? What else does she want?” He almost sobbed. “She’s already ruined my life. She destroyed my hopes and spoiled my dreams.”

His unhappiness was so acute it was like a slap to Zeest.

“Son...” His father put his arm around him.

“She hates me!” He choked, “I know she hates me!” When he lunged away, his chair fell backward. Its clattering impact was followed speedily by the slamming of the front door.

With a heavy sigh, his father, too, got up. “I’d better go to him.”

Zeest wasn’t close enough to make out what they were saying, but she knew an argument was going on. As she neared, she could hear,

“But father, she stills thinks of me as some child.”

“No, she thinks you’re a mature, sensible man. That’s why she married you with your cousin.” His father said sternly.

“Okay. I didn’t go against her wish. Now, why she doesn’t respect mine?”

“If she respects your wish, she’ll be losing her respect for our family values.” His father tried to explain.

“I don’t give a damn to what values say if these values don’t care about my happiness.” Aariz said irritably.

Tension was continuously increasing day by day and Mrs. Ali’s hopes that Aariz could think about doing compromise with Zeest were beginning to fade away now. Their behavior toward each other was still very formal and strange, and although she didn’t know how they behaved in privacy, she could guess very well that both were ‘untouched’ by each other.

It was going to be a hopeless marriage, due to Aariz’s stubbornness. She thought painfully.

Well if he thinks he is stubborn, then I’m his mother, more stubborn than him. She thought and made her mind.


 

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Days passed by; sometimes sped and, sometimes ambled, but had never wandered in any labyrinth of walks, as their love for each other had always been shinning as the Northern Star. In this way, two months had gone by. In this period, Aariz never contacted Komal, as he was too afraid about her possible reaction toward his ‘forced’ marriage, but his heart had never stopped thinking about her for a single moment. With the passage of time, their love for each other grew to be more profound, more passionate and more intense, and at the same time, more absorbing.

It was exactly one month after his marriage when someone rang Aariz.

“Yes?” Unusually, his voice felt tired and painful.

”Aariz this is me, your Komal.” The voice was flawlessly mellow, enchanting and vibrant.

For some moments, he was breathless, speechless as well.

“Aariz?” She breathed, unable to control her excitement anymore.

“It’s a surprise for me.” He said thickly, his voice still didn’t showing any tinge of excitement or happiness.

She waited for him to say something.

“Well, here’s another surprise for you, a big one.” She told him, enjoying his ‘condition’.

“Eh… what’s that?”

“Aariz, I am in Pakistan, in your city Karachi.” Komal said excitedly. “I’m back.”

He was completely silent for few seconds before he spoke again.

“What about your parents?”

He heard Komal sighing loudly.

“I have left them.”

Her answer was short and quick.

“Le…left them?” He couldn’t believe her, forgetting for a moment that this was what they had decided.

“Yes. I revolted.” She said without much expression. “They refused to give me my happiness, I refused to obey them.”

“Komal...I…I’ve to tell you something.”

The words burst out like a despairing cry and there was silence for a minute before she said quietly.

“May I know what is that?”

“I…can’t tell you right now.” He whispered. “We need to meet.”

“But is everything alright?” Her voice was now shaking with some unknown fear.

“I’d tell you each and everything once we meet.”

He put the phone down and Komal sat looking at it, her hands coming to her mouth in an unconscious gesture of anxiety.

Something was probably wrong, and she had to find it out soon.

Two hours later, Aariz sat behind the wheel of his car. He cranked the engine and ground his teeth. With a jerk, his car raced toward Komal’s place and so did his heart.

When he reached there and rang her doorbell, his whole body was drowned in sweat. Luckily, the person who opened the door was Komal herself.

As he looked at her beloved, he forgot everything for a moment. She was far more beautiful than before, tall with lush brown hair that fell past her shoulders in gentle tumbles of curl, and her eyes were blend of black and brown.

Komal had just showered and changed into an amber silk dress, darker than her hair, lighter than her eyes, which glowed like jewels in long-lashed fringes.

His eyes captured hers and, for a moment, an unguarded spark of desire passed between them.

“I’ve missed you.” He said, the smile still flirting with his lips, though his voice sounded slightly strained.

“So have I,” She replied in the same tone, her own eyes never leaving his face.

As she stared at him, tears of longing rose and burned in her eyes and she shuddered as their eyes locked. He was even more strikingly handsome than she recalled, his hair curling damply over his forehead. He wore a plain white silk shirt with dark gray pants, which made him extraordinarily handsome.

“Would you like to come in for a while?” She asked, pointing out toward the main door of her uncle’s house.

“No, thanks!” He shook his head, biting his lip, his eyes at Komal, but his mind somewhere else.

“Worried about the future?”

He nodded and tried to say, “I…

“Hush” She shushed him, cat-like grin smiled shyly, showing a set of perfect white teeth through those moist and red lips.

“You don’t need to say a thing.” She said softly. “I understand everything.”

He smiled sweetly and looked at her gorgeous, silky and thick brown hair. It draped over her shoulders in rippling waves that cried out to be touched.

“Haven’t you heard that joke… that a woman worries about the future until she gets a husband.
A man never worries about the future until he gets a wife.” She broke into a soft wispy laugh.

“So keep some of your worries saved for the later times.”

As always, her laughter was enough to make him impressed by her beauty. He gazed interestingly at her brown eyes that sparkled when she laughed and a dimple that showed itself when she smiled.

Suddenly, another face emerged from somewhere and entered his mind, blocking Komal’s extra ordinary beauty. It was Zeest’s.

“I’ve to tell her, before I go completely mad.” He thought painfully and grabbed Komal’s hand with force, like if he didn’t do so, someone could take her away from him.

Komal was surprised by his sudden act. Aariz was almost pulling her toward his car.

Her own problems were forgotten as she saw his face, so tensed and weird at the moment. Without another word, he started the engine and pressed the accelerator with full force.

“Aariz! What is it, what’s the matter?” She frowned, puzzled as well as scared.

Aariz looked at her for a minute and then stopped the car at the side service road.

He then ran a hand through his hair, his face frantic.

“Aariz! Stop this now! Tell me what’s wrong before I go mad.” She grabbed his arm and gave him a little shake. To tell the truth her own legs were feeling weak because this was not Aariz at all. Something had happened and it had been bad.

“I…” He stammered, avoiding his eyes from hers. “I got married last month.”

For a minute Komal thought she hadn’t heard Aariz properly. She just stared at him, her eyes turning from brown to purple, color leaving her face.

“What did you say?” She just whispered the words and he looked at her in exasperation, his lips tightening.

“You heard me, Komal.”

The blood drained from her face

“You, you got married?” She stared in unadulterated horror at him. Her mouth hung open in undisguised pain and her eyes seemed to glaze with disbelief as she stared at him.

“My mother forced me to do so.” He said in a shaky voice.

Komal was silent for a long time and he just let her sit there quietly.

Holding back the tears, she breathlessly replied. “I…I don’t know what to say, what to ask.”

“You don’t have to say or ask a thing, Komal.” He turned his face toward hers. “I’d explain each and everything...”

“Do you have anything to explain?” She cut in quickly. “Is there anything left?”

“Believe it or not. It’s just a formal marriage and nothing else. I have not touched her and never will. I am still as pure and untouched as you left me. I don’t want to be called as her husband and haven’t accepted her as my wife.”

“You must surely be mad!” She almost jumped to her feet but the roof of his car prevented her from doing so. “How it’s possible?”

“Wait…” He murmured, keeping his voice as calm as possible. “Try to relax Komal. I’d tell you each and everything in detail.”

She closed her eyes tightly, but the tears squeezed through her lashes to run down her cheeks.

And then, slowly, gradually he told her everything, right from the beginning.

“You have every right to be angry and call me a thousand kinds of names.” He admitted, as he tried to read her expressions through her face.

“You told me how it would be before you left and you were right. I can’t live without you Komal, you’re my life.” He added softly.

His last sentence was followed by long, deep silence. From Komal’s lowered head, he was unable to judge her present emotional status. She just sat there, silently, biting her lips, playing with her nails. She wanted to scream as agony twisted and turned inside her.

At last, she raised her head. Turning her face to his, she forced a sad smile on her lips.

“Congratulations, obedient boy.” She said in trembling voice. “Have a very ‘blessed’ marriage with your ‘wife’.” Her voice, oh God, felt like a naked knife slowly cutting his carotid.

“What’s her name?”

He sighed, and twisted the key in the ignition, switching the car engine back to life.

“Why do you ask?” He asked, his voice low.

“Just curious.” She gave him an injurious smile.

“Zeest,” He said after a short pause and turned the car back toward her house.

“Wow,” Komal exclaimed in a clearly impressed tone.

Was it an artificial act or natural? He couldn’t guess.

“What does it mean?” She asked again.

“Life.” His short answer was quick and spontaneous.

“How does she look like?” Komal asked.

On her question, Aariz looked deeply into her eyes, trying to know what was going on inside her. But perhaps, she was expert in hiding her inner feelings.

“I didn’t even look at her thoroughly.” He said sternly. “But she’s just an ordinary girl, a rural one. She’s always wrapped in some veil even in our house. But even if she weren’t, I have no interest in her looks or whatever.”

She parted her lips to speak again but then closed them again.

The tension in the car, if anything, was more palpable. Aariz was aware of every move Komal made as he handled his car expertly………

“I can’t tolerate it anymore, Komal.” He said firmly, his tone solid. “You tell me what do I do now?”

Komal grinned and said,

“Be a Mom’s boy and start living with her happily.” Her tone was filled with sarcasm.

Aariz gazed at her deeply, but said nothing. He said no more and neither did she, aware of him eyeing her speculatively as they drove the short distance to her uncle’s house.

“I’m myself and I can make my own choices.” He said as they reached in front of her house.

“There’s no need for that now.” Komal said as she opened her side door and got out of his car, her voice devoid of any particular expression.

She walked back to her house in a daze.

“I'm so sorry for getting you all worked up like this.” She clamped down on her lower lip to stop its trembling.

“You’ve every right to be angry or to get mad or whatever you want.” Aariz said, looking at her through his glass window. ”But I’d like to say one last thing.”

Although she didn’t ask what that ‘last’ thing was, but she did stop at her place, turning her back to him.

“A guy who can leave his mother for a wife,” Aariz said in a gentle, sober voice. ”He can sure leave his wife too, if he finds some other better woman.”

Her feet trembled at his words. They did make sense but her ego didn’t allow her to reveal her honesty and appreciate him for what he’d said.

“Good night Aariz.” She said coldly, stopping at her silhouette. “I have to close this door now.”

She stood there as he backed off, and then stepping in, she closed the door.

Once inside, she remained there for a few moments afterwards, remembering what he had done, fixing it in her mind so she wouldn't ever forget.




 

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Only when she later spoke to Aariz on the phone late that night, had she managed to pull herself together.

“Aariz…” She was crying.

“Yes, Komal…my Komal, I am here, anything wrong?” Her fearful voice made his heart suffered.

“I...I can’t live without you Aariz.” Unable to control herself any longer, she emptied her heart at once. “I have to get you, Aariz. Mujhey, ‘Bus…Tum ko Paana Hai’.”

There was a unique desperation in her voice, which was very new and yet satisfying for Aariz as he heard her saying,

“I have become tired now, trying to understand myself, but you can’t be anyone’s, except me.”

“I’m yours.” He said firmly. ”All yours.”

“I am scared…I don’t know what would happen.” Komal’s words were spiced with fear, and she couldn’t stop shivering.

“Hey take it easy.” He told her gently. “Zeest had already agreed for my second marriage with you.”

“Really?” Komal said aloud, with mixed emotions of happiness and excitement. It was very unexpected news for her.

“How can you be so sure? What if---“

“Don’t,” He said sharply. “Let’s see what we’re faced with. Don’t borrow trouble. Everything will be all right.”

“But…first I want you to divorce her.” She said.

“Divorce.” He was silent for the moment. Although he and Zeest were not ‘practically’ married but he hadn’t thought about divorce yet.

“I’ll talk to her about that. Don’t you worry, OK?” He said, taking a shuddering breath.

“We’ll fight for our right, dear!” He assured her.

He sounded so sure; she wanted to believe him. She had to believe him.

That night, they talked for hours, each emptying his or her heart in front of the other. There were refreshing promises, everlasting hopes, storms of emotions, intimate confessions, future plans to exchange.

It was about five a.m. in the morning when Komal finally put down the receiver, feeling much better and relieved.

As she closed her eyes, warmth surged through her, and she knew suddenly that everything was going to be all right.


 

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For the next month, Aariz stayed clear of Zeest and she could never seem to make up her mind whether she was happy or sad about that.

Meal times were stilted affairs with no one saying very much. She rarely saw him smile any more. He remained aloof whenever she was around, always very brisk and businesslike.

By next week, the lack of rest and sleep began to paint faint shadows below her eyes, and they didn’t go unnoticed by her mother-in-law.

“Aren’t you feeling good, Zeest?” She asked at the breakfast table one morning, eyeing her critically.

“I’m…I am alright mother.” She said softly, her eyes low as usual. “It’s just that I have nothing to do.” She tried to smile.

“Why not,” Mrs. Ali’s eyes widened. “You can do whatever you want, daughter. Keep yourself busy.”

“I try…but “ She said in a low voice. “Servants do all the work. I’m just not used to that.”

“I understand.” Mrs. Ali sighed aloud. “It must not be very easy for you to adjust in city’s environment so soon, right?”

“Mother, I have lived in Islamabad for whole three years.” She told her soberly, a gentle smile playing on her lips. ”I did my graduation there.”

“Oh wow,” Mrs. Ali was truly surprised. “You’re a graduate?”

She nodded in answer. “I have also done some short courses in cooking, interior designing and decoration.”

“Well, that’s great.” Mrs. Ali was beaming from ear to ear. “Your hobbies are very positive and healthy.”

Blushing, she lowered her head and said, “Mother, I…I needed your permission.”

“Yes, yes,” Mrs. Ali asked, very much willing to co-operate. “For what?”

“Back in my village, I used to teach young children about Islam and ethics.” She told her in a soft voice, still keeping her eyes down. “I was thinking if I could continue that over here too.”

“That’s a very good idea.” Mrs. Ali was happy. “There’re many children in our neighborhood, and I’m sure their parents will be very willing to send their children for this nice purpose. We can also advertise in newspaper.”

“Thank you so much, mother.” Zeest said affectionately, her voice reflecting her true love for her mother-in-law. It was true that without her parents in laws’ support, she was not going to survive in this atmosphere where he… She couldn’t think more.

“In fact that would be a very good idea to keep yourself busy.” Her mother in law said, and at the same instant the door was flung open with a crash and Aariz appeared, his face dark with rage.

Zeest could see he was in his bad temper again---was that his usual mood or was that only because of her?

He glared across the room at her and his mother, and then threw a furious look at his mother.

“What the hell is going on here?”

He was fully prepared for his office, wearing a charcoal-gray suit, cream shirt and maroon tie.

Silence fell like a brick into the usual breakfast conversation, and both Zeest and her mother-in-law looked at him in surprise.

“I do not recall inviting you to breakfast, Aariz.” Mrs. Ali icily said. “You are forgetting your manners.”

Without giving her a reply, his face turned to Zeest and he ordered her harshly. “You leave this room at this very second.”

She was about to obey him when Mrs. Ali’s voice gripped her feet, rooting her to the spot.

“How dare you ask my daughter-in-law to leave?” Flared Mrs. Ali. “Sit down again, Zeest, take no notice of him.”

“We can’t talk about this in front of strangers!” He bit out.

Unable to take it any longer, Zeest managed to say properly, “Mother, I’m done with my breakfast.”

Finishing her sentence, she left the room quietly, leaving the mother and son alone.

“What do you want to say?” Mrs. Ali asked harshly, looking at her wristwatch.

“I wanted to talk about my marriage with Komal.” His tone was short and hard.

It took a superhuman effort for Mrs. Ali to maintain her patience on his question.

“This is no time and no place to discuss the matter at all.” She said, trying her best to keep her voice low in the morning time.


She glanced at her son who sat on the opposite end of the table. Seeing his intense and aggressive attitude, she tried to take it easy for now.

“Can you tell me only one fault or weakness you find in your wife?” She asked.

“I didn’t say she has weaknesses. It’s just that she’s not my ideal.” Aariz argued.

“Idealism is nothing.” She said casually. “It’s just a self-made imagination of your own mind. You can make Zeest your ideal. It all depends on you.”

Swallowing a curse, he nodded. “Yeah right, I could even think about that, if I hadn’t found my ideal already.”

“And who’s that?” She echoed innocently.

“Komal.”

For seconds, his mother just sat there, thinking if he could still talk about her this way.

“I’m not going to let you marry some out-of-community girl and that’s my last word on the subject. Please waste no more time now.” She wiped her mouth with the tissue and rose from her chair.

“You’ve spoiled my life, mother.“


His sentence was unheard by his mother as she slammed the door loudly behind her.

He just sat there, alone at the table. For some reason, he felt very isolated, very much alone for the very first time in his life.

He felt like a loser.

This was when Zeest entered the room, bringing fresh tea and coffee for him.

“The whole world has turned it’s back on me.” He said as if he was talking to himself.

“When you think the world has turned it's back on you, take a look, you most likely turned your back on the world.”

Although she hadn’t raised her voice but he heard what she’d said.

“Shut up!” He thundered.

“Tell me very quickly and very precisely just what the hell do you want from me! Because if you will continue these acts and gesture of yours, I won’t be responsible for my actions!”

But she’d already left the room. His question struck with the walls and echoed back to his already burning mind.



 

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Next week, Aariz heard the news that his parents were arranging a ‘Meelaad’ in their home. It was a surprise for him, as he hadn’t seen them arranging a Meelaad in years. For sure, ‘someone’ was behind this initiative.

Hundreds of people were invited to attend the wonderful religious gathering but what shocked him the most was his mother’s get-up, as he saw her on the ‘Meelaad-Day’.

He just couldn’t believe it. His mother, who never used to miss a single fashion cloth, was now wearing a sky blue, full-sleeved blouse and Saarhi with a matching scarf, which covered her hair completely, giving her a sober and modest touch.

Zeest actively took part in all the proceedings and celebrations of the religious gathering and won every heart in the end by reciting a wonderful famous ‘Naat’ in her equally wonderful voice.

“Faaslon ko Takkaluff hai Hum sey agar

Hum bhi be-bus nahin, Besahaara nahin

“Such a sweet voice she has.” Shaheryaar had commented, his eyes gleaming with appreciation for her.

“But it doesn’t make her acceptable for me.” Aariz replied, ignoring his comment as they both sat down on easy chairs in his lawn, after the Meelaad had finally finished.

“She’s not so innocent as you people think, may I add?” Came Aariz’s sarcastic reminder.

“And just what the hell do you think you’re?“ His friend yelled, expiring all of his breath. “Do you think you’re the only victim in this whole thing, huh?”

“No.” Shaheryaar answered his own question before Aariz could. “She is equally innocent. It was not ‘her’ wish to marry you. She just obeyed her father.”

“So, if you look at her with open eyes, you’d see that she’s has suffered more than you.“ Shaheryaar pointed out.

For a long moment, Aariz remained stunned and totally immobile.

“If she’s a victim, then why doesn’t she protest?” He asked icily, as he stirred cream into his coffee before answering. “I just don’t understand which kind of soil she is made up of. She never protests, never complains, and never shouts. Believe me Shaheryaar, she’s frigid, she’s ice.”

“Yes, and ice is ‘cool”. Shaheryaar smiled sadly. “It’s just her patience, my dear. If she doesn’t react in the same way, it only means that she doesn’t want to put herself on the same level with you. She doesn’t want to degrade herself.”

“Whatever,” His strong fingers closed around the delicate coffee cup until Shaheryaar thought he might crush it.

It was true, Aariz knew. Every time he cursed or disgraced her, her silence used to make him more uncomfortable, even embarrassed. She had never raised her voice in front of him and her calmness; her tolerance was something, which never gave him any chance to make any solid ground for accusing or blaming her. Sometimes, he really wondered if a woman could be so patient like she was.

“Aariz”

On this sudden call, both of them turned their heads back and found a man in his late fifties walking toward them with slow, short steps.

Aariz’s breath suddenly hitched in his lungs and his eyes widened as he saw his boss Mr. Nehal coming with a smile on his face.

“My boss is here.” He muttered, a mouthful of coffee scaled up his throat as he swallowed it too rapidly.

He got smoothly to his feet to greet him.

“Aariz, I was hoping to catch up with you here.” He told him, smiling. “Seems like you’re shocked?”

“Surprised, would be the more appropriate word, sir.” He replied, returning the smile.

“Excuse me Aariz, I must go now, Sarah would be waiting for me.” Shaheryaar reasoned pleasantly and left.

“Well, it’s first time that I saw your house.” Mr. Nehal exclaimed, looking impressed. “Looks pretty big for your family.”

“I agree sir. “ Aariz managed to say gently.

“Hey, I never met your wife. Is she home?” Mr. Omar was curious.

“Yes sir. Wait, let me call her.” Cursing him inwardly, Aariz rose and called Zeest.

As she approached them, Aariz could see his boss’s eyes narrowing over the way she dressed.

He knew his boss was a womanizer and to him, a girl like Zeest with her figure and hair, all wrapped and hidden in a coat and scarf, held no charm and attraction.

“This is Zeest,” Aariz made introductions.

“Your wife?” Mr. Nehal’s gaze rested on her for all five seconds as he murmured. “Pleased to meet you” and extended his hand toward her.

But neither him nor Aariz was prepared for what happened next.

She didn’t extend her hand in response, keeping it by her side.

Mr. Nehal’s hand remained in the air for few seconds then dropped with sheer embarrassment.

“I’m sorry sir.” Zeest excused gently. “My Allah says, it’s forbidden for a Muslim woman to shake hand with a man she’s not closely related to. I hope you don’t mind and won’t take such formalities too seriously.”

Then without waiting for his answer, she turned back.

Open-mouthed, Mr. Nehal stood at his place.

“I…I am sorry sir.” Aariz came forward, excusing on his wife’s behalf. “She is very conservative and backward woman.” Aariz lifted his shoulders in an apologetic gesture. “Being a rural girl, she is not familiar with the manners of high modern society.”

Mr. Nehal didn’t stay long after that. From his expression, Aariz could see very well that his mood had turned off.

As soon as he left, Aariz almost ran behind her. By the time he reached near his bedroom, his anger was at fever pitch. He wanted to lash out at her, and end this damn relation and kick her out of his house and his life.

He opened the door with a burst.

Inside, he found Zeest sitting in front of the dressing table, combing her hair.

As he reached near her, his expression became thunderous.

“You didn’t shake hands with Mr. Nehal?” His eyes hardened. “What the hell do you think you were up to?”

“Yes. I didn’t.”

“WHY?“ Unfortunately his ‘weakness’ was in front of him. Thick, long, straight, shiny and silky black hair that belonged to a very charming woman.

Hating himself for liking the sight, he turned his back to her and yelled. “I’m asking something.”

“I...I just couldn’t.” She managed to say with great effort, forcing herself to meet his eyes.

“Did you know its consequences? He’s my boss. You’ve probably made him angry? I could even lose my Job. “

Faced with the consequences, she replied, “I was not thinking about his anger. I was thinking what If I made my Allah angry? Allah stops me from shaking hand with a Na-mehrum.“

As she spoke, Aariz ordered himself not to be impressed by her religious knowledge and divine confidence but he was, damn it.

He struggled to keep his anger and panic in check; he gritted his teeth, clamped his jaws.

"While you live under my roof you will take order from me, not the other way around."

Sadness welled up inside her on his remarks. She felt as if a hand had clutched her heart. She couldn't breathe.

“And stop trying to ‘act’ in front of others.” He added without showing any mercy. “You only pose yourself. You’re an actor, a poser.”

“I am not a poser.”

“That is precisely what you are, Miss. Wife, a poser, a selfish creature. I knew it from the moment you laid your eyes on me. It was perfectly apparent.” His anger was crossing its final limits today.

Zeest hadn’t expected him to be so blunt, and she felt her eyes sting with moisture.

“You’re a dumb, illiterate person, who knows nothing about the manners and customs of city life.” He added in the same horrible tone.

“I'm not an illiterate person…” She didn’t speak but her eyes did.

“If you treat me like one, then I have no option but to be one. I don't want to be treated like an animal anymore. I just want to be the woman that I am.“ But the respect she had for her husband didn’t allow her to open her mouth in front of him.

Yet, she didn’t keep herself silent when he raised an objection against her religious principles.
“You’re ‘supposed’ to be my husband, my protector and defender. I’m your ‘respect’ …your ‘ego’… your ‘ghairat’…” As she spoke, she didn’t raise her eyes. “You should be happy that I didn’t put my hand in another man’s hand.”

“Shut up!” With unexpected violence Aariz flung back the chair and strode aggressively to the door of his bathroom.

“Don’t try my patience any further or I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

He then banned the door shut, leaving Zeest staring after him, nervous of the anger she had provoked.

She blushed fiercely. How could he be so cold, so indifferent? Fearful that her torment and yearning lay bare in her eyes, Zeest knew that she must get away, must run! If she didn’t go this instant, she’d be weeping in front of him, making more of a fool of her than she already had.

She left the room quietly in order to clean the kitchen. About twenty minutes later, when she returned to her bedroom, another incident, or to be more exact, ‘accident’ was waiting for her.

She was lost in her worries, when she opened the bedroom door and walked straight into Aariz.

“Oh!” It was a soft sound of delayed shock as she found her arms resting against the solid wall of his chest. She swayed backwards unsteadily, trembling from the unexpected contact with his warm flesh.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” His drawling voice lowered his pitch to a cold level.

She quickly sidestepped him and made way her inside the bedroom.

“Next time, it happens, I’m going to kick you out of my room forever.” His voice trailed after her.

“Damn the woman!” He didn’t think he had a particularly quick temper, but she could light his fuse faster than any female ever had.

She didn’t think that remark was worthy of response, so she closed the door on him. Yet, in the quiet of her bedroom, the encounter outside the door started her thinking about how many things they shared besides a common bedroom and bathroom. They ate at the same table, slept under the same roof, and drank from the same glasses. She had spent more time with Aariz under a variety of circumstances than she had with any one except her father. It was an unsettling discovery to realize how much he had become a part of her life in those few months.




 

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It was an Eid day. The first Eid after Komal had entered his life. His parents had gone to visit their friends and relatives and when they had asked him to accompany them, like he used to do in the past, he had clearly refused. Surprisingly, they hadn’t much insisted. All of his servants were on vacation and now when the dark night had finally arrived, his house seemed more silent than usual.

Special occasions like these traditional festivals are the moments when you remember your loved ones more than usual, miss them and your heart crave for them, wishing if they were with you. He had not received a greeting from Komal yet, which was making his heart ache and throb with longing.

Without Komal, this is the most boring and the most worst Eid I’ve ever experienced. He thought painfully.

Thinking about her, he went to sit on the veranda to gaze dreamily at the flickering stars and watch the moon splash its beam across the velvet black of the ocean. He leaned against the smooth white pillar on the veranda. It was ten o’ clock and all was finally quiet in his household. He leaned there, hands thrust deeply into the pockets of his white shirt rolled up his forearms and his feet crossed at the ankles.

The night was perfect, the sea breeze soft and balmy. It lifted the straight black hair from his wide, intelligent brow and made his scalp feel good.

Only then, he heard some voices, like those of children playing and laughing.

Something was up. He shifted his position to gaze down at the lawn of the ground floor.

For there, through the open door leading towards the lawn, stood some woman. She had her back to him.

From the window, he saw her playing, dancing with the children. She was dressed in a white Saarhi, but a white, silky veil covered her hair and upper body, presenting an interesting but graceful picture.

Suddenly she started to sway as though listening to some inner beat. Intrigued, Aariz continued to watch, unable to tear his eyes from the beautiful vision she made.

She swayed from side to side, her hands clapping in a rhythm.

Aariz wanted to know who was she and what she was doing in his house.

In between all those young children, she looked like a beautiful butterfly surrounded by several colorful flowers. Smiling, laughing, clapping, they were looking so cute, so innocent.

And then, her angelic face turned briefly to her right, giving him a quick glimpse of her beauty.

As he saw her face, he felt his entire body became covered in Goosebumps.

She was Zeest.

Her innocent grin was charming, though he hated to admit it.

This aspect of hers was very new for him, and this was the time, when he realized that he had never actually seen her in detail. The massive shield of hatred and anger had always covered his vision, never letting Zeest’s beauty enter his mind.

Suddenly, her veil dropped down to the floor.

He sucked his breath in harshly, his eyes unnaturally large in his face, his heart pounding erratically, unable to tear his gaze from the enticing movement of her well balanced and perfectly proportionate body.

He watched speechlessly, as her dark long hair was lifted in soft breeze and swirled about her head like a shimmering dark cloud. The whole scene looked like a picture moving in slow motion.

Zeest was so absorbed and drowned in her own wonderful world that she couldn’t notice it immediately, and after all, ‘no one’ was there except those innocent children and above all, she was inside her own home, her own boundary wall.

But ‘someone’ was definitely there, watching her, observing her unconsciously.

With his eyes open but mouth closed, he saw her for the very first time in great detail.

He had formed a picture of her in his mind: a typical conservative-kind of lady without any figure or shape, who doesn’t even know what does beauty mean and what does the word ‘fashion’ stand for. But ahead of him, was no conservative, backward lady.

She was a complete symbol of ‘touch-me-not’ for others when she was in her Hijaab. But now, without Hijaab, she was a dazzling symbol of ‘touch me” for him.

She was stunning. A totally unrevealed figure had been revealed to him now. He stared at her curvaceous body. She was sensual, attractive and glamorous inside that Hijaab of hers. Two more things of great attraction in her god-gifted body were her waist length jet-black shinning hair and big and provocative, very provocative eyes. Her skin was milky; her black hair was like sheer dark rainy clouds. With every swaying of her head, her black tress spread allover her scarlet face making her no less beautiful than a fairy.

Aariz’s blood heated up, catching him off guard. He found himself gazing at her hair, thinking that what it would feel like to thread his hands through her silky black hair. He was amazed at his own reaction to her.

As he saw her like this in her privacy, dancing before him with the innocent children inside her protected, sheltered home, Aariz felt a strange, weird feeling of dominance and uniqueness. He realized that she was so genuine, so real, and so original inside that Hijaab of hers and only ‘he’, as her husband, was capable of sharing this great beauty of hers.

No doubt, she was irresistible beneath her Hijaab.

“But, oh God, she’s beautiful.” A small voice inside his head said in irreverent amazement.

A hint of confusion darkened Aariz’s already dark black eyes and, nibbling his lower lip, he wondered why the mere sight of bare hair, on a woman he considered cold, was so distracting. How was it possible that this ice woman---always careful to display such rigid perfection in her elegant Hijaab and Abaaya---could have such a sensuous body, with that soft, silky fair skin and beautiful shape of those ups and downs of her body just begging to be touched and caressed.

A new feeling of possessiveness rose deep inside his heart. Yes, only ‘he’ had looked at her body like this. She had never given a single chance to any other ‘man’ to stare at her like this.

He continued to watch her, forgetting for the moment that this was the same girl whom he had cursed and hated the most.

Oh yes, no doubt he was ‘Aariz Ali’ but he was a ‘man’ too. He simply forgot to take his eyes away.

She had a body of a Goddess, sensual, very feminine.

Suddenly, one of the children screamed and this brought him back to himself from her.

What he was looking at?

He looked away and then looked back at her.

Then away again, and then back.

“Don’t look at her like this, you love someone else.” His mind warned him.

“So what? She’s your wife.” His heart whispered seductively. “Absorb her fresh beauty as much as you can, as you have every right to do so. You’re her husband; her beauty is only for you. She has kept it reserved and safe for you, only for you.”

He was not the only one affected by child’s scream, as Zeest felt someone’s eyes going slowly over her body and she felt a pang of alarm. Her body had burned with a thrilling awareness, almost as if…

Sensing something through her sixth sense, she turned suddenly, and bent down to pick her veil from the ground.

Quickly, he forced his legs to move, taking a stumbling step backward. But it was too late.

She saw him.

She saw him in a quick glance, as she lifted her veil from the ground. The realization made her skin break out in Goosebumps, and made her face flush.

Total blood of her body came to her face, as she put the veil back around her body and hair.

He was still there, watching her, hypnotized by her beauty and mesmerized by her charms.

She looked away and then looked back.

Then away again, and then back.

“You shouldn’t let him see you like this, he loves someone else.” Her mind warned her.

“So what? He’s your husband.” Her heart whispered teasingly. “Absorb his admiring glance as much as you can, as he has every right to do so. You’re his wife; your beauty is only for him. You have kept it reserved and safe for him, only for him.”

But she couldn’t take his eyes anymore. Unable to stand there, she ran. And then, as suddenly as she had appeared, she was gone, and it was like she had never been there at all so brief was her visit.

Suddenly, realizing he was still staring after her long after she’d disappeared from view, he closed the door of his room with force and got inside, the set of his jaw rigid.

Now, this was not the most boring and the most worst Eid, he’d ever experienced. Was it?





 

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Zeest was not shocked for what happened after a week. In fact she was already prepared for it.

While preparing for the party Aariz’s boss had arranged to celebrate the recent remarkable success in marketing, Zeest knew that Aariz was going to be furious about her wearing Hijaab in the party, and she disliked making him angry, but she couldn’t afford her God’s anger either.

“I’m ready.” She announced, turning away from the dressing table. “Shall we go now?”

Aariz looked at her, his gaze sharp and searching. She felt his eyes slide over her entire body.

Dressed in a maroon Abaaya and pink scarf, she was not at all presenting a picture of a ‘high-society’ party lady.

“What are you wearing?” His stare drilled into her.

“It’s ‘Hijaab’.”

“Whatever it is. Throw it away. I don’t want people looking at us like we’re aliens.”

“But, it’s an Islamic tradition. It’s an order of Allah and prophet.” She protested.

A shadow crossed his face, and then was promptly gone. “There you go again, trying to make me give a damn about what you think.”

“Could you please explain why?” Her voice trailed after him as he opened the bedroom door and stalked out. She thought he had left but he reappeared at the door once again, his eyebrows pulled together in a fierce scowl.

“I don’t make a habit of explaining myself to people I hardly know.”

“Does my wish mean nothing to you?” Suddenly, she found herself asking.

“You mean nothing to me, Miss. Wife. Can’t you get that into your conceited head?”

“I didn’t mean that.” She said, and opened the door to move outside.

His gaze narrowed dangerously, he reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her.

“You’re not going with me like this.” He finally announced.

“Jee?”

“Take this Hijaab or whatever off immediately.” He warned, his voice rumbling with restrained anger.

“Listen….”

“I said naa? I am not used to hear negative answers.”

“What’s wrong if I cover myself?”

“It’s a formal, luxurious get together.” He closed his fists, trying to control his temper. ”There’s a particular dress code for such parties.”

Anger made Aariz incautious, sweeping away any remaining thought of keeping himself calm.

“All of the ladies there will be showing their glories and their expensive dresses. What would my friends and colleagues think?” He cursed under his teeth. “Damn it,”

“And how would Allah react?”

“Whatever.” He raised his hand, signaling her to keep her mouth shut. “I don’t want to hear your religious stuff any more.”

She lowered her head but said nothing, did nothing.

“So you won’t take your veil out of your head?” His teeth snapped together, fury swamping every other thought and consideration.

He stepped toward her in a threatening manner and his large hand swallowed Zeest’s slender wrist.

She winced in pain.

“What do you think of yourself, huh?” His voice became snake-like, his face violet with anger, veins standing out on neck and forehead.

“I can’t take it off.” She said breathlessly.

“You wouldn’t dare.” He said in a low, deep growl.

Her lips trembled and a little gasp escaped her throat. “Please?”

“NO!” He replied with heavy irony.

“This is not your father’s house. We’re broad-minded people, not like your father…”

Hoarsely, she said. “I love my father, he was a great man and I’m proud of being his daughter.”

Her words stung Aariz like a whip. Suddenly, he couldn't stand it any longer. His fists raised threateningly, his face a fiery apoplectic red,

He rasped her roughly by the arms.

“Another word from you and I’m going to regret myself for breaking my own rules. I know you’re a woman but don’t take advantage of that.” He countered harshly.

“If you don’t like it here lady, I don’t see anybody chaining you to this house. Why don’t you just pack up your things and go back where you came from, wherever the hell that is. Believe me, nobody here will lift a finger to stop you.”

His angry words rang in her ears as clearly as if he stood right there, hurting her more than she wanted to admit.

“As long as you’re here, you’d have to follow my orders.” He added irritably.

“Islam says…”

“I don’t give a damn to what religion says!” He cut in, his dark eyebrows drawn into a frown.

“With what status and right you’re ordering me?” She managed to ask with difficulty.

She saw the muscles in his face tightened.

“I’m your husband.” Before he could stop his tongue, words slipped out.

A victorious smile brightened her face.

He had said what she always wanted to hear from his mouth.

He had admitted. He had confessed. However he had not accepted.

At the skeptical lift of her brow, his temper finally rose past boiling point. His anger exploded like a volcano. No doubt, Aariz was a big firestorm from one end of his body to the other. From what super hot brain of his, to his hard, burning heart, right down to his tiptoes, the man was pure fire.

His attitude sent a wave of fear through Zeest but she squashed it flat. Fear was contagious, like a disease. She was no longer afraid of him in ‘that’ way now. She was going to fight for her right with all her might, in any way she could.

He was her husband, not her God, after all.

Zeest swallowed to ease a sudden lump in her throat, then quickly tried to change the subject.

“I said take it off, NOW!” Aariz urged again, one last time.

The next moment, she found her wrist caught in a strong grip, and for the first time, she thought he was really going to hit her, hurt her physically. He sure was.

But he didn’t. Instead, he grabbed the corner of her scarf and was about to rip it away from her hair when his eyes met hers, closely, very closely.

She blinked, fighting sudden tears. “Please…don’t do this to me.”

"Please, I beg you. I'm willing to do anything you want.” She couldn’t stop herself from crying this time.

“Just don’t separate my Hijaab from me. It’s my identity, my ego. Don’t make me disrespectful… please?” Her tears started flowing and she couldn't continue.

There was something in her eyes, which froze him at the place. He couldn't look back into her eyes.

Almost automatically, his fingers left her scarf and he stepped backward.

“You’re not going with me like this.” His words felt like a slap.

“In that case,” She made her mind courageously. “I’m not going.”

“My pleasure.” He breathed in an unexpected gentle tone.

Her expression brightened. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how grateful I am!”

“Don’t thank me too soon.” He cautioned. “You haven’t seen my hospitalities yet.”

Shaking his head angrily, he left the room.

As he stormed out of his bedroom and slammed the door, Zeest knew it was useless to talk to him before he’d a chance to calm down.

She half expected to dream of her father that night, but it was another man who came to her in the dark.

Aariz, his black eyes more blacker with anger, glared at her, while images fast and furious, flew at her.

“Why don’t you just pack up your things and go back where you came from, wherever the hell that is. Believe me, nobody here will lift a finger to stop you.”

The cold words lashed at her, cutting to the bone, echoing over and over again in her head.

Moaning, she struggled against the viselike hold of the night, the pillow she managed to drag over her head doing nothing to block out the sound of Aariz’s voice.

Stop! She silently cried. “Stop bothering me!”



 

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The next few days passed in a blur.

But something had changed. Until now, only Aariz used to avoid her, but now Zeest too, tried not to come into his way, avoiding the possibility of meeting him day and night. They were typical husband and wife in front of the world but inside, in their privacy, they were completely strangers.

Life had become a bit more complicated.

Combing her fingers through her hair, Zeest looked out of the window and sighed coldly. She felt the sting of tears burning her eyes and blinked to keep them at bay.

Today, like the other days, was probably going to be the same. Perhaps, there was nothing new for her which life could offer, same typical daily routine, nothing else.

Enclosing her body in a navy blue Abaaya and a sky blue scarf, she decided and forced herself to walk around the house to view the entire, big mansion, which belonged to her ‘so-called’ husband.

As she rounded the corner and stood near the house looking into the back yard, she stopped, her breath caught and the look in her eyes was indescribable. The trees, the flowers, and just at the end a pond...the ducks swimming.

This is the life...my life...this is what I want. She thought then smiled at her own foolish thoughts.

Yes, it was like a dreamland, a fantastic wonderland. But all this beauty, all this charming dreamland looked so incomplete without the ‘prince’ of her dreams.

She walked to the outskirts of the property and noticed some wild roses growing there. She picked a few red ones, and a yellow one because, at heart, she was a hopeless romantic—

Did he really deserve to be called as her ‘dream prince’? She asked herself, when the only thing he seemed to do was to hurt her. In this beautiful but powerful house, she had been that tiny bird which has been trapped in a strong cage.

Without a doubt, she now knew this man’s nature. He was a slob, stubborn, shiftless, self-absorbed male. Would she ever know him? No, she didn’t know him, after all. He was tough, self-possessed and she could never see beyond the barrier of those crystal-clear eyes.

She then headed towards the front of the house to get an idea of the house’s anterior facing the huge, big Arabian Sea.

It was nearly five o’clock now, and cloudy. A fog was rolling in from the sea, and Zeest, out for a walk, hugged herself tightly in the Abaaya.

“Why she and Aariz were as different as …love and hate. Weren’t they?” She stared into the infinite depth of the sea.

“Hi”

She jumped, whirling to see the very same man standing before her.

“Everything okay?” He asked as though they were old friends and he had never cursed her a day in his life.

Speechlessly, she stared at him.

He looked fresh and immaculately handsome in short-sleeved navy blue shirt and cream-colored trousers.

When he turned back to regard her, she noticed that the breeze had brushed a strand of wavy hair across his brow. She had a mad impulse to smooth it back or to muss it further.

Zeest was horrified at herself. Had she gone insane? She couldn’t believe she was having such inappropriate thoughts about a man who was so strange and hard. The man was firmly lodged in her heart and in her mind, no matter how hard she might wish he wasn’t.

To her surprise, he sat down beside her. It took all her willpower not to glance in his direction. She tried to concentrate on what he was about to say soon.

“So…” He began conversationally.

She stared straight, keeping her breathing very slow, very calm---at least outwardly. His arm had brushed hers when he sat down. The tingling rush brought on by that light contact was still playing havoc with her equilibrium.

“I was pretty short with you earlier,” He said quietly.

It was hard not to look at him, hard not to comment, especially since he seemed to be willing to talk--- really talk.

Cautiously, she peeked in his direction.

A slow smile curved his lips. “What if I apologize?”

“No need for that.” She said, keeping her eyes fixed at the sea waves.

“I hope, now you know that why and how I’ve suffered. The intense pain, the burden has been so much….” He didn’t finish his sentence intentionally.

“If possible, you can share your burden with me.” She said thoughtfully.

“What do you mean?”

“Tell me about her.” Zeest asked, turning her gaze at the sea. “Who is she?”

His gaze veered back toward the sea, and he curled his hands into fists.

A stab of regret slashed her heart. She’d opened a painful wound of his past.

“It’s not that interesting story Miss. Zeest!” He said expressionlessly. His scent mingled with that of the sea, and even in her frustration at never getting straight answer from him, she found herself inhaling deeply, savoring his unique essence.

“I’m interested.” She whispered, speaking not with thought, but with feeling.

“You sure you don’t mind?” He asked at last as he turned toward sea, stretching out his long legs before him.

Her insides uncoiled. “I asked, didn’t I?”

“You never asked before.”

She looked back at him doubtfully. “I didn’t think you cared about my opinion.”

His compelling eyes narrowed, holding her gaze for a moment before he broke the contact and squinted out to sea.

“I’m trying not to,“ His lips twitched and a reluctant smile spread across his lips.

Zeest watched his profile and waited for a long time, but the continued silence began to wear on her nerves. She couldn’t bring herself to ask him why he didn’t want to care about her opinion? And she couldn’t understand his hesitancy.

“Well…I’m sorry. I can’t tell you much about that.”

Hardly able to coax her voice above a whisper, she asked, “May I ask, why?”

He surveyed the vastness of the restless water, but seemed to notice nothing in particular. “I have my reasons,“ He said in an odd tone. The set of his wide shoulders had always spoken loudly of confidence.

“Would you like to walk on the beach?” Aariz asked in a casual tone.

A small involuntary whimper escaped her lips. Surely this wasn’t happening. Surely, in just a few seconds, she’d wake up and find that she was dreaming.

A tremor of nervous anticipation shot down her spine. The last thing in the world she wanted to do to take a walk with this man. She wanted---no, needed---to get away, far away.

“We might walk right into the ocean and drown.” She managed to say.

His chuckle was strangely warm within the chilly cocoon of the fog.

“Your enthusiasm is inspirational. Miss. Wife.” He smiled roughly. “We’ll be able to see well enough. Trust me.”

Their eyes held briefly before he dragged his gaze away.

She eyed him critically, studying his face and then gave a disheartened nod.

As she walked beside him, his shoulder brushed her arm and the effect was electrifying. Startled, she moved quickly away---too quickly---stumbled and would have fallen had he not grabbed and steadied her, his face a study in patience.

“Thank you,” Zeest mumbled, her face a fiery red. “I…I’m usually not so clumsy.”

“No problem.” He flashed her a quick smile. “I understand.”

There was a brief silence and, for a moment, all they heard was the mysterious noise of sea waves crushing with rocks.

“I’m sorry about…. You know--- everything.” He murmured softly. “It isn’t my business how you live your life.”

She examined him closely. “You mean that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I am sorry.”

She sensed a softening in his attitude and decided to try for a compromise.

With a gentleness that seemed totally contradictory to this man’s iron strength, he said, “I want something.”

“I give you one!” She shifted her gaze ahead.

“What?”

“Permission.” She said, keeping herself very quiet. “For your second marriage.”

“Well,” He took a long breath so faintly; she felt it more than heard it. “It’s something else. I want your agreement, your permission for divorce.” He took a brief pause then announced his decision.

“I want to divorce you.”

She stopped and half turned. They both fell silent, gazing at each other.

“You’ll be free to go anywhere you want.“ He assured her.

His tone suddenly edged with steel. “And, I’d appreciate it if you’d allow me to handle my own life in my own way.”

She was listening to his voice, a compelling voice, darkly seductive in spite of disparagement, like black velvet over steel.

She heaved a sigh.

“So that’s what it was all about!” She thought.

Would she ever understand this man? She feared not.

She was supposed to get happy. Wasn’t she? He was at last breaking her prison, freeing her. But the whole thought of it felt very painful somehow and she couldn’t understand why.

Boldly handsome, he continued to gaze at her. “So, what do you say?”

“I have no right to ask you for something.” As she spoke, he could see her eyes glistening with fresh tears.

“But…I can convince your mother for your second marriage. Believe me, I can.” She told him in an assuring tone.

“In return, I just need one thing.” She added, now looking very seriously at him.

“And what’s that?”

“You will not divorce me.”

He glared at her, not believing what she was saying.

“I don’t want to disengage my name from yours. All I need, all I want… is your name, attached with my own.” She said in strange tone. “I’d leave your home and I assure you that I’d never come again in your happy life. In fact you and your wife would not see me again. But just don’t divorce me. Please!”

“Are you crazy or something?” He knew she was just getting emotional. It was impossible for a twenty first century woman to spend her life alone without a home, husband and children at her own choice.

But nothing was impossible.

After all, he thought, she was one of those typical middle class conservative eastern women; who are strictly taught to spend their whole lives with the names of their husbands who are supposed to be everything for them.

It was not a big deal, no bad business at all. There was no loss for him. In fact, according to her suggestion, he was going to get double advantage. First was his mother’s agreement, so he could not lose his parents and this house, and the second was Komal…he was going to get her, without any obstacle or problem.

He then shrugged his shoulders care-freely.

“You’re going to regret this.” He said thickly.

She looked up at the sound of his voice, so quiet, his eyes faintly amused. Maybe he was fuming inside.

They climbed the rest of the way in silence.

“Enjoy your holiday.” He stated softly as they parted, a great surprise for her.

“Thank you.” Her smile was relieved.

His eyes hardened.

“Just don’t get too comfortable.” He added with a warning growl.

Her smile vanished.

As she watched him disappear into the fog, she mumbled under her breath. “You’re stubborn, rude and proud, Aariz Ali.”

Inwardly her little voice said, “He may be rude, stubborn and proud, but unfortunately that doesn’t stop him from being heart-stopping attractive.”

As she returned to her room after he had left, his last remark came back to mind forcefully---“It’s not that interesting story, Miss. Zeest!”

He was wrong. He was a mystery she wanted badly to solve, and it disturbed her to realize she found him so intriguing. She was even attracted to his infuriating laid-back attitude.

Why couldn’t she seem to keep in the forefront of her mind the fact that she was bound to be hurt if she let herself care for him too deeply? She thought as she brushed the dust away from the cupboards of her bedroom, the next morning. These cabinets belonged to Aariz and deep glass shelves held the items of his interest. There were books, CDs, albums and some old files.

The cabinet doors were wide open; probably he’d forgot to close them. When she lifted the cloth away from the shelf, Zeest could see that it had been covering the photograph of a woman. Absently she picked up the golden frame and walked with it to the window that faced the open sea.

The woman appeared to be in her mid-twenties but her modern hairstyle was something really attractive. Her hair was dark brown, her eyes brown. She thought she was lovely in a full-figured way. She had generous lips and a soft-featured oval face.

Zeest knew at once that she was Aariz’s beloved, Komal!

Surprisingly, she didn’t feel any jealousy for this woman, only regret and grief.

Perhaps it was the loss of this woman that had done so much to him and had made him ‘this’ way.

“What are you doing?”

Zeest was so startled by the harsh male voice behind her she dropped the framed photograph. The glass shattered and, mortified, she sank to the floor to gather up the shards.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Came a deep demand from behind.

He caught hold of her arm and she jumped what felt like six feet into the air, her whole body tensing as if she had an electric shock.

She looked at the hand on her sleeve and then up into his frowning face.

Aariz said flatly, trying to control his temper. “I won’t warn you again. Leave my room and things alone.”

She glared at him, totally frustrated.

He talked on coldly, staring down at her out of those night-black eyes.

“Get away from here,” He ordered, pulling her upright. Annoyance sparked in his gaze.

“I---I’m sorry. I’ll replace the…” Her voice faltered and she blushed.

Tossing the broken pieces on top of the scattered remnants still in the frame, he eyed her for a heartbeat, his glance made enigmatic by the expansive fringe of his lashes.

She backed irritably away from him, so hot with the impotent feelings Aariz always aroused in her that she had no need of extra warmth.

She gulped spasmodically, ashamed of her fumbleness. His pain at the loss of his beloved’s picture was starkly evident in the coarse emotions she’d witnessed on his face.

Aariz grabbed his navy blue jacket from the sofa and swung it over his broad shoulder. His fresh, crisp white shirt, maroon tie and gray trousers looked superb.

He edged closer to her. She held her breath, not wishing to absorb the scent of him, and admitting with dismay that if he and ten other men were lone with her in an unlighted room, she would know instantly which one was Aariz.

“Get out, “ With a twisted contemptuous flash of teeth, he called.

“Get out!” He demanded coldly. “Go, before I do something I’ll regret.”

Dejected, she retrieved the crumpled cloth from the floor where she’d dropped it, deciding the safest course would be to stay out of Aariz’s way for the next days---days Zeest feared would be the most difficult days of her life.

She felt as if she’d been sealed up in a cold dank tomb, never allowed to savor life to its fullest.

As he left for his office that morning, she wanted to run behind him, to ask him what she’d done that was so unforgivable he should put up such a harsh, imperceptible wall. Her only sin had been to listen and care---and... love?

As she entered her bedroom, both her mind and body churned. He smelled as good as he looked. She reached down and took a pillow from the floor and held it to her face. Its scent was Aariz’s scent, a mingling of his perfume, shampoo and something else that was indefinably his own.

Pearls of tears appeared in her eyes and ultimately rolled down the beautiful cheeks.

Being in love was a dismal, painful business. She didn’t intend to allow it to happen to her.

Only it was too late. She had done what she promised herself she wouldn’t do---she had fallen in love with him, impulsively and thoroughly. Her heart told her that it was the real thing and would last forever.

This man had tapped emotions deep inside her that no one ever had.

That didn’t make her feel better, though. Nor did it solve anything. She still faced pain and disillusionment. Se knew better. A woman didn’t get that suffocating feeling in her chest or the twist in her gut if she wasn’t in love.

She should have known better than to get involved. She’d known what would happen. People who dabbled in unnecessary emotions deserved to get hurt.

She couldn’t see anything; the tears wouldn’t let her. She then decided something and carried holy Quran to the living room where she sat down to recite it in her musical voice.

The best weapon against the onset of depression was in action. So what if she was alone at this moment. So what if everybody had left her. Her Allah was there, like always, to listen to her, to ask what she wanted, to share her pains and sorrows. As her eyes touched the beautiful words, she felt a glorious wave of satisfaction and contentment went through her whole body, making her feel better, much better than before.




 

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“Aariz!”

As he heard his mother’s call, he just raised his head a little but didn’t reply.

“Zeest needs to go to her village today. There’re certain important matters to be decided regarding her father’s property.”

“So?” He asked harshly.

“So you are going with her.” His mother announced her ‘decision’ as usual without even asking for his suggestion.

“We’ve so many drivers. She can go with any one.” He replied, taking short sips of his remaining tea.

“Are you crazy or something? You want me to send her out of the city alone with our driver, another man?”

“Then you can go with her.” He said with clear disinterest.

“No. I can’t. I have my check up today with my doctor. I know you’re free today. You don’t have to stay there. She just needs to sign something and it won’t take more than an hour. So, you may return before night.” His mother told him his entire program in one long breath.

For some moments, he just sat there, thinking. At first, he wanted to refuse, but that was going to make things more complicated. If he had to get her mother agreed about his second marriage, he was definitely going to need Zeest’s support and help. That’s why, at this stage, he didn’t want to do anything which could disturb her even more.

“Okay, but tell her to get ready as soon as possible. We have to return before night.”

But Zeest was already prepared. When he reached the garage, she was there, waiting for him.

“Here,” He opened the car’s back door. “Climb in.”

His eyes flashed over her swiftly, taking in very aspect of her appearance in a second. She was wearing plain long coat of fawn color, her hair completely covered by a dark brown scarf as usual. He opened the car door and settled her inside, taking her case and dropping it on to the back seat, and she felt crushed by the swift, all encompassing glance.

He tried not to notice her but she had striking features. She was not very beautiful according to his personal criteria, but she was very attractive for sure. Gracefully covered hair, porcelain white skin, and big, black luminous eyes suited her perfectly.

Although hidden, she looked so exotic, so mysterious, but ah, so distant too. Her complexion glowed without make-up; her black eyes were alive as lightening on a hot, summer night. He’d just never realized how naturally feminine and lovely she was. The dimple that creased her cheek enchanted him. She was even lovelier than he’d thought last time.

She bit her lips together as he got in and started the smooth, powerful engine.

For a while, he said nothing, but as they sped on in smooth silence he glanced across her.

“Why are we going there?” His quiet inquiry startled her and her eyes met his, black and anxious.

“I have sold my property, including my house and farm.” She gave him a short answer.

She didn’t feel like talking. Inside, she felt sick. The car, for all its size, seemed to be enclosing her, pulling her close to him, to the male power of him.

She closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest. She felt like crying. She couldn’t believe that she was going to her ‘dreamland’ for the first time since her father’s death. Perhaps, this would be the last time she’d see her house, the same house where she had spent her childhood and had turned into an adolescent.

“What would you do with the money?’

She looked up at his unexpected question and he glanced across at her, a sidelong glance that made her sit up straight. He often used to look like that, shooting a glance at her with shimmering black eyes that seemed to strike at her nerve-endings.

“I’m planning to establish a religious school.” Again, her answer was short, giving him a clear indication that she didn’t want to talk more on the topic.

For the rest of the journey, they drove in silence.

It was about four a.m. in the evening when they finally approached the hills surrounding her village.

Aariz noticed that clouds were beginning to pile up on the horizon.

"It'll be a wet night," He thought.

About four kilometers into the hills, he turned off onto a side road cutting through a forest, and after a further ten minutes they came to the dirt track that led to the farm. They bumped along this for a while, then, crossing a ford over a stream and climbing up a low hill, they finally arrived.

Several children, who were very much happy to see their teacher and friend back, greeted them.

Zeest’s aunt, Mrs. Shah had bought her niece’s house. Zeest signed the property papers with in minutes. All of the villagers insisted a lot that they should stay longer, but of course, she had to leave soon. There was a danger of two storms. First, weather storm, and the second, her husband’s anger that was even more dangerous.

That’s why, she excused gently, and with tears in her eyes she followed Aariz to their car. He glanced at his watch, and without saying a word, started the engine. With a speedy jerk, their car moved forward.

“I…if you don’t mind.” She suddenly said. “I want to visit my father’s grave.”

He looked at her for few seconds but said nothing. Shrugging his shoulders, he just turned the car toward village’s graveyard.

Once they reached there, he slowly followed her to the spot where her beloved father was sleeping.

Reciting the Fateha with in five minutes, he looked at her and said, “I am waiting for you in the car.” He then turned and left, leaving her alone with her father.

Slowly making her way to her father’s simple grave, she hugged herself against the chill in the wind and stared down at the dates carved into the headstone that told so little about her father, the beginning and end, nothing more. Nothing of the type of man he’d been, nothing of the type of father he’d been to his only daughter.

“Why did you leave me alone?” She knelt down.

“Why?” She silently cried. “Why did you have to be so caring and loving? You made me addicted to love.”

But her only answer was the moan of the wind as it swirled around the tombstones.

Shivering at the haunted sound, she hunched her shoulders inside her coat, her hands as cold as stone.

She then recited different Quranic verses for him, as now; these were the only things that could give him eternal benefit.

After offering her prayers, she finally said ‘good bye’ to him with tears in her eyes. Memories were burning her body, making it impossible for her to stand there. Before it could become something unbearable, she turned and left. Taking short, tired steps, she opened the back door of his car and got in.

Without saying a word, he started the engine and their car moved out of the graveyard area. Leaning back in the seat, Zeest let her head rest on the curved top and turned her gaze out of the window. The mountains were shrouded in dark clouds, a gray mist hanging over the valley floor.

Suddenly, a raindrop pelted Zeest in the eye, and she flinched. In the next few seconds the clouds were spitting fat drops all about them. The tap tapping of the rain on the roof of the car was a soothing sound.

“I love to ride in the rain.” Aariz wanted to speak but couldn’t.

He slowed the car and reached the intersection with the highway. There was no traffic in sight and he pulled on to the road.

Only then Zeest saw a rapidly spreading dark line on the sky far beyond them.

“It’s storm.” She said aloud.

“What?” He was shocked and surprised. “How could you say that?”

“Look there,” She pointed out toward the front. “It’s approaching, we should better turn back.”

The threatened rain had arrived, together with strong gusts of wind that shook their car, flinging rain like pebbles against the windscreen.

“Are you crazy?” He clenched his teeth. “We’ve left your farm house a long ago, and there’s no time for getting back now.”

“This bloody thing had to come at this moment!” He cursed the storm.

”I...I didn’t mean to say that we should go back to my village.” Gathering her courage, she spoke. “I was talking about Mrs. Zaidi’s farm. That’s not very far from here, and we can go there for temporary shelter.”

“Mrs. Zaidi?” His brows curved upwards, frowns clearly visible on his forehead. “Who’s she?”

“She owns this neighboring farm, and she is a good family friend. She knows us very well. She lives here alone and her house does have a lot of room and space.”

He cast her a brief glance, but said nothing.

“Where is her house?” He stopped the car and asked. It was definitely dangerous to drive in presence of this rapidly approaching storm. He didn’t want to take that risk especially when he was in a completely strange place. He was even unfamiliar with the roads and the ways.

“There,” Zeest waved her hand to her right. There, he could see a large hut-like palatial house situated beautifully in between the lush green mountains.

It was a breath taking view.

Green meadows splashed with colorful flowers, unspoiled by human hands. This place truly had the feel of a rain-washed paradise. This house situated in the lush, green hills bordering the western edge of Zeest’s village looked absolutely wonderful. Built marvelously in ancient Victorian style, it looked very attractive, thanks to the willow trees surrounding the pillared three-story home.

As he looked at the beautiful architectural masterpiece, his features grew less harsh.

“It could be an ideal place for the ‘honeymooners.” He thought, and then smiled at himself.

“Honey moon, how cheap does that sound without my love, without my Komal.” He thought painfully as he re-ignited the engine of his Honda Accord and pulled it toward Zaidi’s farms.

With in two minutes, they were standing in front of the house. The nameplate on one of its main pillars showed the name, ‘Zaidi’s Villa.’

Leaning casually against his car, he crossed his arms over his chest and observed her dispassionately.

Zeest took few short steps toward the house then stopped.

He was not following her.

Slowly, she turned back to face him.

“We really should go inside.” She murmured.

“No, thank you, I’d rather not---“

“I’m not happier about this than you.” She said in a low tone. “But, we don’t have any other choice right now. This storm could strike us at any time and I’m partly responsible for you being here.”

She was right and it didn’t seem appropriate to argue on a genuine reason. Without saying a word, he lowered his eyes in a silent agreement. Leaving the car with in the farm field, he lifted out his travel bag and started toward the house. The path led deeper into a wooded area, still lit by the odd lamppost but gradually growing brighter as if the light were following their steady stride. A faint breeze rustled the branches of the full and green trees, whispering quiet evening sounds along with the birds that were still chirping in the distance.

Upon reaching the rather secluded entrance to the park in front of the house, he gently brushed a lock of his silky hair away from his forehead, placing his hands in his pockets. For a house so large, it didn't appear as if many people were inside. They passed through the gates of Tranquil Gardens and he took in a deep breath as his feet met the soft, wet grass. The air seemed almost fresher inside the park, as if he had left the boundaries of the city streets and entered into an untouched area of wilderness. He smiled to himself secretly; glad to have already discovered such a comforting environment. It seemed almost like something out of a fairytale.

"I think I'm going to like it here," He said to himself, softly, almost against his will but his words didn’t go unnoticed by Zeest.

“I used to spend hours here.” She said and fell silent as her beautiful eyes strayed again to the farm field around them.

With in seconds, they’d reached the cement steps, their footsteps echoing dully. She preceded him up the steps and paused in the hallway of the first floor.

“What a lonely, deserted place. It looks like a ghost house or something.“ He observed and laughed.

She ignored his comment and continued her steps towards the main door.

He followed her up the steps, his footsteps an echo of her own.

“Zeest, is that you?” An old feminine voice called impatiently as their footsteps moved closer to the door.

Zeest opened her mouth to make an affirmative answer but the voice spoke again before she had a chance.

“I can recognize you by the way you smell. Yes I can.” This time, the voice was trembling with mixed emotions.

With a loud sound, the door burst open, giving way to an old lady in her mid-fifties.

“Oh, my…”

“Zeest!” The woman cried aloud, thankful to see her. Rushing down the steps, she grabbed her by both wrists. “My child!” Tears came flooding in her eyes, as she hugged her passionately.

“Zeest!” The name was a soft cry of joy, full of tears and laughter, “Is it really you?”

“It’s really me, Auntie.” She answered, smiling decently.

As she hugged Zeest, her eyes met with Aariz’s and she nodded with happiness.

“Your husband?” Mrs. Zaidi’s eyes traveled from Zeest’s face to Aariz’s.

She nodded in silence.

“Masha’Allah, what a nice, handsome man.” She came forward to put a motherly hand on his head.

“I’d never forgive myself that I missed your wedding.”

“It’s alright, auntie.” She said smoothly. “It all happened in emergency. We hardly invited any guests.”

“I can’t believe I’m seeing you again.” Mrs. Zaidi said excitingly as she led toward the dinning room.

Once seated, she talked to Mrs. Zaidi about every thing she could recall at the moment, once again bringing all those refreshing memories back to life. Their conversation centered on family topics, her father’s memories and the work needed to be done to transfer all the property and money to Zeest.

Feeling totally bored by this typical aunt-niece conversation, he rose and left the room, thinking to check the storm from the house’s roof.

“Why did you sell your father’s house and property?” Miss. Zaidi asked.

“I didn’t need any of that now.” She said quietly.

“But that was your own property, your father’s savings.” Mrs. Zaidi’s voice had a worried tone.

“This is the only thing that interests me.” Zeest’s voice became sadder. “That it belonged to my father.”

How could she forget that ever? Those little games with her dolls, those little fights and disputes with her friends, heart-piercing memories. She was familiar with every corner of that house. After all, she was born and raised there.

“Your husband looks nice, very cute too.” Mrs. Zaidi smiled, trying to change the painful topic.

She didn’t comment on the remark. Instead, she just tipped her head back to the headrest of her chair and closed her eyes.

“But I guess he is not very talkative.” Her aunt added.

Zeest could see her aunt was impressed by Aariz’s personality.

“I’ll always keep wondering about his apparent ability to impress others so easily and rapidly.” She thought silently.

Their discussion was interrupted by footsteps on the stairs, and Zeest turned as Aariz emerged from the stairwell. His black glance rested briefly on her, then shifted to the dinning table. Yet, in that second, all her senses were brought to full awareness.

“The storm has almost arrived.” He said, his voice worried and tensed.

“Don’t worry, son.” Mrs. Zaidi told him, “Such storms are quite common here. I hope everything would be alright by the morning.”

“By the morning?” He raised his brows, and asked aloud.

“Yes…I’m not going to let you two drive in such a dangerous weather. It makes no sense at all to go out in this heavy rain and approaching storm. Besides, all roads will be blocked.”

Shaking his head with clear disappointment, he looked toward Zeest and said,

“I’m hungry.”

“Oh…” Mrs. Zaidi twisted her mouth into a semblance of embarrassment. “I’m sorry son; we were so lost in our talk.”

“It’s okay.” He tried to smile.

“You and Zeest sit her, I’d be back in few minutes.” Saying, she turned and left for the kitchen.

Zeest tried to sit there, but this unbearable, killer silence was more disturbing than ever. She thought she should better go behind Mrs. Zaidi to help her for the dinner.

A few minutes later, Zeest retuned and set the plates and cutlery on the table. With in seconds, the table had been set for three and Aariz sat down in front of one of the place settings to eat.

The dinner was delicious. It had freshly cooked Spinach Tarkari, pure Ghee Paraathas and fresh Milk Lassi. It was simple but nutritious.

“It’s been so long since I’ve sat down to a pure Pakistani farm meal, I’d forgotten how good it can taste.”

Before he could stop himself, words automatically left his mouth.

“I can understand that. Food in Karachi is great, but farm meals have their own taste and flavor.” Mrs. Zaidi said, shifting the plate of salad in front of him.

“So, I am desperate to see your beautiful babies. Both of you are so beautiful and attractive. I’m sure your children would not be less.” Mrs. Zaidi said with amusement, her eyes going from Zeest to Aariz again and again.

Their glances clashed across the table, and they finished the meal in silence.

When it had been consumed, Aariz leaned back in his chair, stretching with the contentment of a man whose stomach is full.

“The dinner is excellent; I never ate such a delicious meal in years. You are a great cook, Auntie.” Aariz laid down his spoon and said in an excited whisper. It was a sincere compliment from him with no attempt at flattery.

“I didn’t cook it, Zeest made it in such a short time.” Mrs. Zaidi said, smiling broadly at him. “I ‘m surprised you still don’t recognize the taste of her hand?”

His mouth took some seconds to close after hearing her statement.

However, his comment reached out to Zeest, stroking her senses like a caress. Her mind kept thinking of that old saying---The way to man’s heart is through his stomach.

“Water, I’m thirsty” Suddenly, his desperate voice drew Zeest’s attention.

When she saw him, she didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or laugh at his condition. A thin stream of milk-lassi was flowing from the corner of his mouth. His hands were all dipped in pure Ghee.

She poured the water in the glass and, with a tissue for him to wipe his mouth, she handed it over to him, barely managing to contain the smile that was playing with the corners of her mouth.

She then cleared the table and stacked the dishes in the sink.

“Men need attention, daughter.” Mrs. Zaidi told her sympathetically. The experienced woman had sensed the cold atmosphere between the newly wed couple. “If you’ll ignore your husband, he will definitely find some other woman.”

Zeest smiled painfully. “Will he? He already has someone in his heart.” She wanted to say but couldn't.

“I think you two should better sleep now.” Auntie announced once they were back to the room where Aariz sat, yawning.

“After all, two newly weds need more sleep than usual.” Mrs. Zaidi smiled naughtily, slightly tapping him on the shoulder. It was a gesture for him to stand up and follow her.

He swallowed but said nothing and just let her precede him toward the inner rooms.

Without further comment, Mrs. Zaidi mot