I was sitting at the table in my office at my workshop, talking to a designer on a project about how I wanted it to be, who was standing beside me, while the manager, Jawaria, was standing in front of me against the table.
In that moment, the resource person entered the room, still standing close to the door and said something to Jawaria.
"....... arrived to pick, ma'am", I overheard and looked up from the file placed in front of me on the table.
"Mr. Mustafa has arrived to pick you up, Ma'am", Jawaria said humbly with a sweet smile.
"Okay... I'm coming", I said with a smile while slightly nodding.
As I walked out of the workshop after seeing everyone off, the warm sunlight hit my face, and the sound of birds chirping filled the air. He was waiting for me in the car at the gate, opened the door of the passenger seat from the inside for me.
I sat beside him, and he pressed the accelerator, and the car started to move smoothly.
"How was your day?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.
"Good.... Well, great", I replied, feeling a sense of relief wash over me.
"Okay... What are we having for lunch? Are you craving something?", he asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.
"Yes, please, even I just had a sandwich but I still have an appetite for something", I said, my stomach rumbling slightly.
He chuckled and asked, "okay... What do you want to have? What are you craving?"
"Something sweet... Maybe a cake or something..." I replied, my mouth watering at the thought.
"Or maybe an ice cream.. yeah definitely an ice cream", I added, feeling a thrill of excitement.
"Okay, anything else", he asked, his voice filled with amusement.
I shook my head, and soon, he stopped the car near a cafe.
"Shall we?", he asked with a glint in his eyes.
I shook my head while knitting my brows.
He got attentive.
"I'm really tired. Can't you bring everything here?" I asked, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me.
He turned to me, his worried eyes fixed on me, held my hand in his, "Yeah, of course, anything you want", he said, while moving a hair strand off my face.
"What is happening with you? You've been feeling tired a lot lately. Are you okay?", he asked, his voice filled with concern.
I looked away, my eyes searching for excuses. "No, nothing. I'm fine", I said while trying to brush off his concern.
"I think we should go to the doctor after that", he said trying to insist.
"No, no. There is no need for that. I'm fine. It's just..... I couldn't, I couldn't sleep well last night", I said, trying to convince him.
His concerned eyes fixed on me, looking for a clue to believe that I was actually fine.
"Just drop me off at home after that. I'll take a nap. I think I need that", I continued, feeling a yawn building up.
"Don't worry, I'll be okay", I assured.
"Okay, as you say", he said.
"Enough of this conversation, I want ice cream, man", I said teasingly, trying to lighten the mood.
He smiled, "okay, just a moment", and went into the cafe.
As he dropped me at home, and went back to his office, I changed my dress and slid into my lounge gown, feeling the soft fabric against my skin, and went to bed to get some sleep. The cool sheets enveloped me, and I drifted off to sleep, lulled by the sound of the air conditioner humming in the background.
In the evening, I was sitting on the couch in the living room, when I heard the creaking sound of the main gate and the sound of the tyres of his car entering the house.
He parked the car, I got up, opened the entrance door, and the warm glow of the porch light illuminated his face. He entered home, he placed his laptop bag, on the stool near the entrance.
"Are you going somewhere again?", I asked curiously, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Yeah. I'm taking your car. The oil needs to be changed, the tank probably needed to be filled. Moreover, on the way back, I'll get it service too", he said, his eyes scanning the room.
"Okay.. They called me. Everyone is asking about our arrival. I told them that we can't come today. we'll leave tomorrow in the morning. What do you say?" I said, feeling a sense of uncertainty.
"If you say we can leave tonight?", he asked, his voice filled with determination.
"No, I think we should rest today. We'll leave tomorrow", I replied, trying to sound convincing.
"Okay. Whatever you say" he said.
"Have you packed everything", he asked while looking at the packed suitcases.
"Yeah, almost. Maybe a thing or two would be left. I'll do it afterwards", I replied, feeling a sense of relief.
He nodded, " Okay, I'm going. I'll be back after about an hour or half".
"Mustafa!", I called out his name. My voice barely above a whisper.
He got attentive and turned to me.
"I need to go to salon. Can you take me afterwards?" I asked, feeling a sense of excitement.
"Of course. Whatever you say", he said. "Be ready. When I'll be back. I'll take you", he added, his eyes sparkling with affection.
I nodded and he went. As he left, I sat on the couch again, scrolling through reels, and then I thought of him, how he'd been busy, working for me, doing chores for me throughout the day. He must be hungry now, I left my phone on the couch, got up and went to the kitchen.
I opened the refrigerator, take out some frozen chicken and some ingredients and light the stove to make his favorite chicken karahi. The aroma of spices filled the air.
As I was garnishing the dish, something clicked in my mind, "maybe we should leave tonight", I thought, feeling a thrill of excitement. I took out the disposable tupperware container, took out the chicken karahi in it, left it on the shelf and rushed to the bedroom.
I took everything needed, packed the suitcases and bags.
"Atif", I called out the caretaker.
He rushed to me, "Please take these bags and suitcases into Mustafa's car", I said, trying to contain my excitement.
I took my wallet, hand bag, my shawl and placed it on the backseat while he arranged the suitcases and the bag in the trunk.
"You can take off from today. I'll inform when we'll be coming back", I said to Atif, feeling a sense of freedom.
"And tell Atiya too that we'll not be here for some days", I added, trying to sound casual.
"Okay, ma'am. Have a joyful vacation", he said smiling, his eyes sparkling with happiness.
"Thankyou", I said while nodding, feeling a sense of gratitude.
He left and the phone started ringing in the lounge. I picked up the call.
"Hi, mom!", I said while walking up the stairs, the cool marble floor beneath my feet.
"Hi, how you have been?", she asked, her voice filled with concern.
"Good", I replied while locking the windows, the sound of the locks clicking into place.
"I just got to know that you'll be leaving tomorrow morning, it's good. We'll have lunch together", she said, her voice filled with excitement.
"Uhm, there's a slight change of plan. We'll be leaving tonight", I said, while locking the terrace door, the clinking sound of the keys and the shutter sound of the lock, was the only sound that could be heard in the home other than me.
"That's good. Everyone have been waiting for you guys", she said, her voice filled with relief.
"It's just me saying. Mustafa doesn't know about it. I didn't tell him yet. He isn't at home. I'll talk as he gets home", I replied, feeling a sense of guilt.
"Still I've to go to salon, then we'll leave directly from there", I added, trying to sound calm.
"Okay, have a safe journey" she replied while I put all the keys in my drawer and lock my bedroom too, the sound of the lock clicking into place.
"Inform me when you leave", she added, her voice filled with concern.
"Okay, I'll... Allah Hafiz", I hung up, feeling a sense of relief.
I tossed the phone again on the couch and turned to kitchen, cover the lid of the tupperware, wrapped some tortilla in a paper and wrapping bag and place them on the dashboard of his car, so he could have it on the way, the sound of the bag rustling in the silence.
I was coming back enter the home, meanwhile, the main door unlocked, I turned to have a look, it was him, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.
"Shall we?", he asked, his voice filled with excitement.
"I'm thinking of something....", I said, trying to sound casual.
He got attentive.
"Maybe we should leave tonight", I added, feeling a thrill of excitement.
"Okay, whatever you like... I'll park your car then we can leave in mine", he replied, his voice filled with enthusiasm.
I entered the home, took my phone, my charger and the keys of the entrance. Meanwhile, he entered home after parking my car inside, I handed him over the keys.
"Where are the suitcases and bags?", he asked while looking around, his eyes scanning the room.
"Everything is in your car. I asked Atif to put them in your car", I replied, feeling a sense of accomplishment.
"Okay, I'm going to lock everything up", he said and turned to walk to the stairs, his footsteps echoing through the hallway.
"Wait, I've locked everything, just these two doors remain; the entrance and the main gate", I replied instantly, my voice filled with a sense of urgency.
"So, shall we?", he asked again, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
I nodded, and we walked out of the home, the cool night air enveloping us, and the sound of crickets filling the silence.
He locked the entrance door, and the main gate, the clinking sound of the keys and the shutter sound of the lock, was the only sound that broke the stillness of the night. While I walked towards his car, parked outside, the gravel crunching beneath my feet.
The cool night breeze hit me, carrying the scent of blooming flowers and the distant hum of the city. I sat on the passenger seat, feeling the soft leather beneath me, and he took the driving seat, started the car, and we went off into the night, the stars twinkling above us like diamonds.
The city streets were quiet, the only sound being the hum of the engine and the occasional hooting of a distant car horn. We drove in comfortable silence, the tension of the day melting away with every passing moment.
After driving for 5 minutes, he stopped the car in front of the salon, the bright lights of the building illuminating the dark surroundings.
"Here we arrived," he said, his voice breaking the silence.
"I'll be back in 20-25 minutes," I said while taking my bag from the backseat, the soft rustle of the bag's fabric filling the air.
"Okay, I'll be waiting here," he replied.
I got out of the car and stepped into the salon, the warm aroma of hair products and the hum of chatter enveloping me like a cozy blanket. The sound of laughter and the click of scissors created a lively atmosphere, making me feel at ease.
After about 35 minutes, I emerged from the salon, feeling refreshed. The cool evening air hit me, making me shiver. He was still there, in the car, waiting for me, his eyes fixed on the salon door. He opened the door from inside, and I slid into the passenger seat, feeling a sense of comfort and familiarity.
"You're early! I thought you'd take more time," he said while I placed my bag on the backseat, the soft thud of the bag hitting the seat echoing through the car.
"You look great. These wavy hair suits you," he added, his eyes scanning my face, making me blush.
I smiled, feeling a flutter in my chest, and picked the shawl from the backseat. The soft, fuzzy texture of the shawl felt comforting as I wrapped it around me, the warmth of the heater enveloping me like a hug.
"By the way, I made something for you for dinner," I said, my voice filled with excitement, as he turned the heater on a higher degree, the warm air caressing my skin.
"Really?" he asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement, making my heart skip a beat.
"Yup...., Chicken karahi, your favorite!" I replied while picking the tupperware from the dashboard, the savory aroma of the karahi wafting out.
He picked the tortilla, took a small portion of it, had some chicken karahi, made a bite, and then had it, his eyes closed in appreciation.
"Oh! The aroma! The taste! Everything's great!" he said, his voice filled with sincerity, making me beam with pride.
"If I hadn't tasted food made by you, I must've thought that it'd been ordered from a restaurant," he added, his voice filled with admiration.
"I'll take that as a compliment," I replied while raising a brow with a smile.
"Infact, it is. Have a try!" he said, while moving forward the tortilla to me.
"No, I don't need... I'm feeling full," I replied.
As we continued our journey, the soft song playing in the background created a soothing atmosphere, making me feel drowsy. The dark landscape whished by outside my window, the occasional flash of headlights illuminating the car, making me feel like we were in our own little world. He drove smoothly, his hands confident on the steering wheel, making me feel safe and secure.
After about an hour, we were moving through a dark area with trees on both sides, the only sound being the creaking of the trees and the occasional hooting of an owl. The darkness outside made the car feel like a cozy cocoon, making me feel snug and protected.
"Mustafa, I need to use the restroom," I said, breaking the silence, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Okay, there'll be a petrol pump nearby. We'll stop there," he replied, his voice calm and reassuring.
He stopped the car at a petrol pump, the bright lights illuminating the dark surroundings, making me squint.
"Let me see first. You wait here," he asked and got out of the car.
After a moment, he came back and opened my side of the door. "Come," he said, his voice gentle.
I went out of the car, removed the shawl from my shoulders, and he took it from me. The cool night air hit me, making me gasp, as I got out of the car.
As I came out of the restroom, The cool night air rushed in, sending a shiver down my spine. He wrapped the shawl around my shoulders, his fingers brushing against my skin.
"Do you need anything from the tuck shop?" he asked, his voice concerned, making me feel cared for.
Uh-huh... It's too cool outside", I replied.
"Let's get back in the car. Or you'll get cold", he said while opening the car door for me.
I sat in and he took the driving seat. As we continued our journey, the soft song playing in the background lulled me to sleep, the warmth of the car and the gentle motion of the vehicle making me feel like I was floating on a cloud. I changed to a knee-to-chest position with my eyes closed, feeling the warmth of the car and the gentle motion of the vehicle, my feet touching his hand, as he rested his arm on the armrest.
He felt the chill from my feet, touched my feet again with the back of his hand, and then he stopped the car, pulled the short blanket from the backseat - which he always kept in his car for me, placed it on me, the softness of the blanket feeling heavenly on my cold feet. He placed the back of his hand on my forehead and brushed a kiss on my head, his lips warm and gentle, making my heart melt.
And then, he started driving again, with his one hand on the steering wheel while the other, he placed his palm on my feet, his fingers curled to hold them, the warmth of his hand feeling like home in that cold night.
I opened my eyes, watched him drive, and he noticed my gaze, turned to me, his eyes sparkling with amusement, making me feel like I was the only person in the world.
"You up!" he said, his voice low and husky, making my heart skip a beat.
"You need anything?" he asked further, his voice filled with concern, making me feel cared for.
"Uh-huh... But I need to use rest room again", I replied.
"Okay! Just a minute or two. There'll be something nearby", he said.
I nodded.
"Something's stuck in my mind?" , he said.
I looked at him with a question in my eyes.
"You're feeling cold. Your feet are freezing despite the fact that heater is on", he asked, his voice filled with concern.
"I don't know... ", I replied while looking away, avoiding his gaze.
"What you had for the dinner?", he asked. "What you ate after that icecream?", he asked further.
"Mustafa!", I called his name, my voice just above a whisper.
"Well.. you didn't.... Okay..", he said. "Now we're having dinner", he added while stopping a car infront of a restaurant.
"I don't want anything. I told you before. I don't have an appetite", I replied out of frustration.
"But you need it. Probably your BP is dropping", he insisted.
"But I don't want it. I'll have it when I feel like it", I said, feeling like being lectured for nothing.
"You need it or you'll faint as your BP is dropping", he said.
"Fine. Do whatever you want", I said angrily and got out of the car.
He got out of the car and we entered the restaurant, the bright lights and the aroma of food hit me like a wave, making my stomach tingle with hunger. The warm atmosphere enveloping us, making us feel like we were in our own little world.
As we sat at the table, he was looking at the menu, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"What do you want to have?" he asked, his eyes meeting mine.
I sighed and rolled my eyes, my anger and frustration boiling over, the sound of the restaurant's background noise fading into the distance.
"Order something", he said.
"Do whatever you want", I said while simmering with emotions and stood up.
"I'm going to restroom", I added while leaving the shawl at the chair.
"Let me come with you", he said humbly, picked my shawl and started walking after me.
As I got out of the restroom, he tried to wrap the shawl around me, his fingers brushing against my skin.
"Don't you dare try to get close to me," I said, warning him, while taking the shawl from his hand, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Till we get to bed," he said teasingly, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
"No, you'll not be going to sleep beside me. Find yourself somewhere else," I replied angrily, my heart racing with emotions.
"If only you could sleep without my touch," he replied teasingly, his voice low and husky, making my heart skip a beat.
"Let's see then", I said and walked towards outside.
"Where are you going?", he asked while walking after me.
"To the car", I replied, my voice short.
"What about dinner?", he asked further.
"I don't want to stay here. I'll have it in the car", I replied.
He opened the car door and I sat in the car. As he closed the door, he went inside the restaurant and after a moment, came out and sat beside me in the car.
After a while, the waiter arrived with the food, handed over everything to Mustafa. As he handed me my plate, looking at Alfredo pasta, my anger dissipated, the aroma of the pasta hitting me like a wave, making my stomach tingle with hunger. I took a bite, and oh, it was heaven, the flavors exploding in my mouth. He knew my love for pasta, and I couldn't stay mad at him, my heart melting with love and affection.
The scent of fresh earth wafted through the air, as we reached his farmhouse. He got out of the car, while I turned, grabbed my bag from the backseat. He opened my side of the door, took the bag from my hand as usual, and moved forward his hand for me to hold.
I rolled my eyes, and brushed past him while ignoring his hand. He smiled and started walking behind me. The farmhouse's creaky wooden floorboards groaned beneath our feet, as we entered through the entrance door.
I was making my bed to go to sleep when Mustafa entered the room with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He stood there, looking at me.
"What is it, Mustafa?" I asked annoyingly.
"That's the question you need to be asked?" he replied, his voice low and husky.
"I'm going to bed," I said, getting into bed.
He nodded teasingly.
"Are there any other rooms, Mustafa?" I asked with frustration.
"I swear no," he said.
"The bed is big; it's not a problem for me. But if you can't control yourself, then I'm all for it," he said with a mysterious smirk.
I picked up the cushion from the bed and threw it at him. He chuckled and got into bed.
"You'll only see this in your dreams," I said while lying down.
"It's cold; you can lay close to me to keep warm," he continued.
"Mustafa, sleep peacefully!" I said, closing my eyes.
After a while, as I was sleeping, I heard a noise from outside through the window—a soft rustle against the pane. I woke up. Thinking it might be a cat, I turned to sleep again. I don't know why but I couldn't sleep; the sheets felt cold, the room too quiet.
I got up, sat on the bed, and looked at him, deep sleep humming in his breath. I picked up my phone—its screen a cold glow— and then something came to my mind. I placed it back on the side table, the wood solid under my fingers, turned close to him, slightly removed the blanket between us, and slid down near him.
As I lay beside him, the cotton cool at first, I closed my eyes to sleep; and then he suddenly but gently wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer while his eyes still closed. My forehead rested against his neck, his skin warm and familiar.
"Don't you dare think that we've made up," I said while nestling in his arms.
He nodded. "Okay, I won't!" he said, brushing a kiss on my forehead.
"Now, sleep peacefully," he added, while his grip around my waist tightened and I drifted off to sleep.
In the morning, as I woke up, I slightly opened my eyes to find him sitting in front of me on the divan lying beside the bed, watching me as I slept. The morning light streaming through the window highlighted the sharp angles of his face.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Nothing," he replied, his voice soft.
"Are you watching me like a pervert?" I said, getting up.
He smiled and looked down.
"Can't I watch my wife while she's sleeping?" he said, looking at me, his voice low and gentle.
I rolled my eyes, "Ahh, not again..." I said, getting out of bed, the wooden floorboards creaked beneath my feet.
As I walked past him, he held my hand, and I looked back at him. He gestured for me to sit beside him, and I sat.
"Look at me," he said.
I looked up at him.
"I know you're hiding something from me," he continued, his eyes searching mine.
I looked away, trying to hide it.
"It's been days... I can see there's something in your eyes; I can read it, but I don't know what... but there's something," he added, his voice filled with concern.
"There's nothing," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, and got up, and went straight to the bathroom, leaving him there on the divan.
At night, I was searching for him, eager to escape the farmhouse with him. When I spotted him, he was sitting in the terrace with his aunt, a soft shawl draped over his broad shoulders, the dim lights casting a warm glow on his features.
The scent of blooming jasmine wafted through the air. I stood close to the entrance, my eyes locked on him.
"Mustafa... You got some time?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, while slightly gesturing outside.
"Yeah, sure! Come here," he said, his deep voice resonating through the air as he removed the shawl's edges beside him, inviting me to sit beside him in his arms.
"I don't want to..." I said while starting to sob silently, overwhelmed by hormonal fluctuations as he couldn't understand.
The sound of my own ragged breathing was the only sound I could hear, until he got up and walked toward me.
He strode through the other entrance, his footsteps quiet on the wooden floor, and then suddenly scooped me up in his arms effortlessly.
I was stunned by his sudden grasp and then melted into his warm embrace. The warmth of his body enveloped me, and I felt my tension melt away as he pulled me close and started walking towards outside.
"Can you see the waterfall? Isn't it beautiful?" he whispered in my ear, as he stopped near the window.
"Yeah! I want to go there," I said, my voice filled with excitement.
"Okay, sure," he said, his chest vibrating against mine as he spoke.
As he carried me outside, the cool night air enveloped us, carrying the scent of damp earth and leaves.
I became conscious that everyone was looking at us, their faces a blur as they admired the intimate moment we shared.
I dug my face into his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin, and forgot everything around us. The world narrowed down to the two of us, suspended in this moment.
After a while, a mischievous glint sparked in my eyes, and I held the neckline of his shirt with my teeth, looking up at him with a playful smile.
He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and asked while winking at me, "Are you hitting on your husband?"
"Shouldn't I?" I said, raising an eyebrow, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Oh! I'm all for it...," he said, his lips brushing against my cheek and down to my neck, sending shivers down my spine.
I giggled and playfully jabbed at his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt.
He smiled and kissed my forehead, the touch sending a flutter through my heart.
Meanwhile, we reached the embankment of the waterfall and sat down on the grass. He enveloped me between his arms, my head naturally finding its place on his shoulder, my upper back resting against his chest, as we looked at the waterfall, taking in the serene, peaceful environment.
The sky above was a canvas of twinkling stars, and the sweet scent of blooming flowers wafted through the air, mingling with the earthy smell of damp soil.
Then he asked, ''Can I ask you something?'', his warm breath whispering against my ear.
I nodded, feeling the gentle vibration of his chest as he spoke.
''What happened back there? You started sobbing out of nowhere,'' he continued, his deep voice filled with concern.
I sat straight, between his arms and turned to him. ''I've been feeling overwhelmed since evening because there's a lot of people back there,'' I replied.
''Why didn't you tell me about this?'' he asked while taking my hands in his, concern filling his voice.
''I've been looking for a way out to spend some time with you alone, despite the fact that I've been pushing you away for days," I said and looked down.
''I'll always be there for you... even if you throw me out the door, I'll come to you through the window,'' he replied.
''You're the only thing I want in this life. I don't want anything except us,'' he added, his lips brushing against my hair.
When we reached back to the farmhouse, he stepped onto the front porch. The cold air bit my cheeks.
"Everyone's still up," I said, hearing the low hum of chatter from the lounge.
"Seems like it," he replied, opening the front door, while the hinges of the door groaning.
"Let's join them!" I suggested as we stepped inside. The heat pressed against my skin after the chill outside.
"Are you sure? You just started feeling better," he said, closing the door behind him.
"Yeah, of course. I'm good. Don't worry," I replied, shrugging his coat off my shoulders.
"As you say," he said, giving up.
"Oh, the lovebirds are here," Mohsin teased and everyone smiled as we entered the lounge, firelight dancing across their faces.
"Aye, Mohsin! Look around," I said, gesturing to the elders in the room.
Mohsin pressed a finger to his lips and smiled mysteriously, as if to say he'd be quiet, while his eyes crinkling at the corners.
Mustafa slid his arm around my waist, pulled me close, and said, "Well, I don't know about her. But I'm obsessed with my wife," before brushing a kiss against my temple.
I rolled my eyes, slipped out of his grip, placed his coat on the armrest and said, "Yeah, like you had been left to tease me," then sat on the single couch. He pulled the hassock, placed it beside me, and sat there while smiling mysteriously.
"We were going for a walk. Would you join us?", Mohsin asked me, already bouncing on his heels.
"I'm tired. You guys go. Have fun!", I replied to him while reclining on the couch, I shoved a cushion under my head on the armrest — the fabric was cool against my cheek — and let my eyes drift shut.
"Okay", he said with a thumbs up, while I snuggled under the mustafa's knee-length coat. It smelled like him — and something warm I couldn’t name.
"Well, we aren't going to ask you to join. Since you're on your wife duty," he teased Mustafa
"Mohsin!", I called out as he teased Mustafa, waggling his eyebrows.
"Okay, okay. I'm going", Mohsin replied with his hands up, backing away with a grin.
"You'll be on such duty soon! I'll make sure of it," Mustafa replied as he caressed my hair.
"Well, have a look at yourself first. You're probably gonna get sue for the child marriage", Mohsin shot back.
"Seriously Mohsin!", I said while tossing a cushion at him. It hit him on the chest with a soft thud. The polyester filling barely made a sound.
"Child marriage? Nah. If I ever gonna get sued... It would be because of my obsession for her", Mustafa replied calmly.
"Seriously? I'm done with both of you!", I said as I surrendered. The coat slipped off my shoulder, and Mustafa immediately tugged it back up, tucking it around me.
"But look how tiny she is!", Sunny piped up from the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. “How she accommodate on that couch so easily".
"Yeah, you just had been left!", I said while rolling my eyes.
"Well, I'm just stating facts", sunny replied with a shrug but he was fighting a smile.
"For the record, she’s older than both of you in every way. So behave accordingly", Mustafa replied.
Mohsin snorted. “Whipped.”
“Completely,” Sunny agreed.
As everyone went out, the front door opened and closed with a gust of cold air. The elders’ chatter with Mustafa turned into a low murmur like distant radio static.
His fingers moving through my hair, the fire crackling and popping. My eyelids grew heavy from the warmth, the weight of his coat, and the rhythm of his touch. I fell asleep there.
His POV:
"Is she alright? Her social battery has been low today." his aunt asked, trying to see if he knows the truth or not.
"Yeah, she just got overwhelmed because of the crowd here," he replied while kissing his wife's shoulder.
"Why weren't you by her side? Where had you been? How could you neglect her?" she pressed, curiosity and concern in her eyes.
"I just got busy with the management and the boys in the yard," he said.
"Can I neglect her? I can't even breathe without her. I just thought she needed some space," he continued, his throat tight.
"Now, I think I was wrong", he added while caressing his wife's hair.
"Okay! But take care of her. She needs you more now," she advised him.
"Now? Did something happen?" he interrupted.
"No, nothing. I'm just saying... She's emotional... you know it," she said, trying to cover up, but something clicked in his mind.
"I'll be upstairs. You take rest too," she added as she tapped his shoulder — a light, warm weight — and left. Her footsteps faded on the stairs.
Meanwhile, he sat there, the fire casting shadows that crawled across the floor. His eyes fixed on the dark grain of the wood, mind searching for clues. Then he began piecing everything together:
How tired she was when he picked her up from work. How cold she felt during the drive even with the heater on. The fights she picked, how emotional she'd been, how she constantly needed sleep. And then he looked at her, sat infront of her on the coffee table while watching her sleep. The rise and fall of her chest under his coat. The way her hand rested protectively over her stomach, even in sleep.
Something clicked, and he realized everything.
He leaned back and smiled with quiet happiness. Contentment washed over him. _So that's what you've been hiding from me,_ he thought.
He held her hand carefully not to wake her up, as it was rested against her face, and brushed a kiss across her knuckles.
And then he rested his elbows on his knees, his eyes fixed on her. _That's the reason for the confusion and fear, I've been seeing in your eyes,_ he thought. _Oh! You've been carrying all of this alone._
He then slid his hand down to cover hers where it rested against her stomach. Barely a touch. Just enough to say _I’m here. I know. You’re safe._
_I’ll wait,_ he decided, pressing his lips to her hair. _I’ll wait till you make the decision… and tell me._
___________________________________________________________________
He slid his arms behind my back — one under my knees, one bracing my shoulders — and picked me up. The sudden lift startled me awake. For a moment my eyes fluttered open to the dark ceiling, but his shirt smelled like clean laundry, and I closed my eyes again, exhaling as I snuggled into his chest.
He carried me to the bed. The mattress dipped as he lay beside me, the sheets cool against my legs. I turned into him by instinct, resting my head in the hollow of his shoulder. His skin was warm. I fell asleep again while he tugged the blanket up around us, the soft _shh_ of fabric the last thing I heard.
In the morning, pale light was cutting through the curtains when I woke. He was sitting on the divan beside the bed, elbows on his knees, watching me sleep. I looked at him and then rolled onto my back, the pillow rustling under my hair.
"Have you made it a routine to watch me sleep from there?" I asked, my voice rough. I stretched my arms overhead.
He smiled, looking down at his hands. "Well, if you don't know, I've got a really pretty wife," he said as he stood. The divan creaked as his weight left it.
"So?" I questioned as he sat beside me. The mattress sank under him. His hands pressed into the bed right under my armpits, caging me in.
"So, I think there's nothing wrong with a husband being obsessed with his wife," he replied. His breath was warm on my cheek before he started kissing me, down the line of my jaw to my neck.
"Aye! Mustafa!" I called out, giggling, my voice breaking. I turned onto my side away from him, but I was still between his arms, trapped by the heat of him.
He kissed my hair — it still smelled like the shampoo — then slid his arms between my waist and the bed. The cool sheet slid away as he turned me onto my back again. His forearms were solid against my sides.
"Are you comfortable here?" he asked, his eyes searching my face. "I mean, do you miss home?" he added, quieter.
"Yeah. I'm good. But yeah, I'm missing home..." My voice trailed off. "But it's important to be here," I finished.
"Okay then, we're going home now," he said with certainty. His hand was already reaching for my hair catcher on the nightstand.
"No, Mustafa. Today's the main event — we can't go," I said, catching his wrist. His skin was warm, pulse steady under my fingers.
"Let it be. We can go home. Let's get freshened up. Meanwhile, I'll pack," he said while turning to get up. The bed shifted.
I held his arm. "I have a better solution." He stilled and looked at me, then placed his hand on the bed beside my head. The scent of his soap was right there.
"Let's attend the event, then we can go back at night after it's over," I said, my hand sliding down to rest on his arm below the elbow. His muscles tensed under my palm.
"Okay, as you say. But today I'm not gonna leave you alone. Know that before," he said. His voice was soft but it wasn't a request.
"Yeah, even if I throw you out of the window," I said while smiling, remembering our conversation from yesterday.
"Yes, even if you throw me out of the window", he repeated after me with a smile.
As I came out of the washroom, the air clung damp and cool to my skin. My eyelashes were still wet, sticking together in tiny spikes, and my face felt tight and clean, smelling faintly of rose soap.
"Mustafa! I’ve been thinking about something," I said, standing in front of the vanity. I scooped up moisturizer. The cream was cool and slippery under my fingertips, smelling faintly of freshness.
"What is it?" he asked while packing things in the suitcases placed on the bed.
"We were supposed to stay here for a week and now we’re leaving. Everyone will ask the reason. What are we going to tell?" I muttered, dabbing at my under-eyes while applying bb cream.
"Of course, the truth!" he replied. I could hear him rifling through drawers, the soft rustle of fabric. While I steadied my hand and brought the mascara wand to my lashes. The smell hit sharp and chemical.
"What truth, Mustafa?" I taunted, turning just enough to catch his reflection behind me.
"That my wife isn’t comfortable here," he replied, innocently, oblivious to the heat rising in my chest.
The wand froze mid-stroke. "Seriously! How come I couldn’t think of it?" I snapped, and tossed the mascara into the makeup bag with a dull clatter against the vanity.
"Right?" he teased, and I could hear the smirk in his voice.
"I’m gonna kill you for real, Mustafa!" I said, my jaw tight, my pulse throbbing behind my ears.
"Oh, I’m ready to be killed by these delicate hands of yours," he replied in his flirty tone, and I could picture him leaning against the wardrobe.
"Mustafa!" I called out, sharper this time.
"Janan!" he answered back in that slow, loving drawl, the snap of the suitcase latch cutting through the air as he closed it.
"Come to your senses already. You’re not going to say this to anyone," I said, wiping my fingertips on a tissue. It was rough against my skin.
"Okay, then what are we going to say?" he asked, his eyes smiling, his shadow falling over the vanity as he came closer. Inches apart, I could smell his cologne now — mixing with the scent of my makeup. I forgot everything even to breathe. I turned instantly to the vanity.
"Come up with something else," I said, picking up the lipstick while trying to stay in my senses. The lipstick was smooth and creamy, the wax slick as it slid over my lips.
"But don’t you dare tell anyone that I’m the reason for our departure" , I added while trying to stay mad at him.
"Don’t worry. We’ll say that I have some meetings to attend," he replied, smiling.
"Is it good?" he asked.
I gave a short nod.
"I’m placing these suitcases in the car. Here’s the one with today’s event dresses for both of us," he said, pointing to the duffel on the divan.
"Someone will see you, and then the interrogation will start," I said, rolling my eyes. Distant music from today’s event drifted in through the window.
"I’m taking it from the back door, and everyone’s wandering here and there for today’s event," he replied, trying to assure me, his voice already drifting toward the hallway.
"Okay. Whatever feels right to you," I shrugged, and the silk of my dress whispered against my skin as I moved.
"Hi!" I said as I spotted Aunt Husna in the kitchen. The air smelled of brewed tea, soft sunlight spilling across the marble counter.
"I’ve been waiting for you to wake up. Come sit with me," she said, pointing to the dining chair beside her. Her voice was low, warm, like the steam rising from her own cup.
"Something happened?" I asked as I sat beside her at the dining table, the wooden chair cool against my legs.
"No, I was just worried about you. You must be hungry now," she said, gesturing to Parveen to set the table.
"To be honest, I’m starving," I replied with a smile, my stomach giving a quiet rumble.
"I’ve been instructing Parveen for your breakfast," she said as Parveen placed a plate in front of me. It looked like a whole platter: grilled chicken still sizzling faintly, its edges charred and smoky, boiled eggs with a soft sheen, ruby-red berries, sliced banana, and fresh cucumbers. A tall glass of orange juice sat beside it.
"Aye! Thank you!" I said to Parveen. She nodded and smiled, the scent of citrus from the juice drifting toward me.
"Please, join me," I asked Aunt Husna.
"No, dear. Bon appétit. We all just had our meal an hour or two ago."
"Don’t you think it’s a lot for me?" I asked, looking at the plate.
"No, not at all," she said, smiling as I took a slice of cucumber.
"I think you need it now," she added, patting my hand resting beside the plate. Her palm was warm, grounding.
I looked at her, stunned. "Um... how?... I mean what?" I said, trying to collect my thoughts, the fork felt heavy in my hand.
"I know," she replied with a smile, her eyes soft but sharp.
"How? How do you know that?" I asked, turning to her fully, the fork clattered against the plate as I set it down.
"I’ve been observing you since yesterday," she replied.
"Am.... Am I that obvious?" I asked, my eyes searching for an answer, my throat dry.
"Maybe," she said, but it sounds like a yes.
"Uff, then Mustafa must’ve noticed too!" I said in a worried tone, my voice a little shaky.
"No, he didn’t," she tried to assure me.
"Are you sure?" I asked, picking at the edge of the tablecloth.
"Relax, I’m sure of that," she assured, her thumb brushing over my knuckles.
I nodded, staring at the plate. The steam from the chicken had mostly faded, leaving the scent of herbs.
"Why haven’t you told him yet? If I may ask!" she asked.
"Of course you can... It’s just... I don’t know if we’re ready for it or not. Most precisely if I'm ready or not. I don't know... I haven’t made any decision yet," I replied, confusion clear in my voice.
"Look, you’re like my own daughter. Don’t be scared. Take your time, think, and make a decision. Then talk to him about whatever you decide. Okay?" she advised, her voice full of affection. She tucked a hair strand from my face behind my ear, her fingers gentle.
"You think he’ll understand?" I asked, pushing a berry around with my fork.
"Of course. He loves you more than anything. He’ll understand," she said, getting up from her chair. The chair leg scraped softly against the floor.
I turned to the table, looking at my plate, lost in thought for a moment. "Know that since the moment I realized your situation, I’m so happy for both of you," she said, kissing my head. The faint scent of her jasmine perfume clung to my hair as she walked away.
I took a berry, leaned back on the chair, and stared at the plate, lost in thought. Meanwhile, Mustafa entered the kitchen. His footsteps were soft against the tile, walked behind me, kissed my head, and sat at the head chair close to me. The chair creaked faintly under his weight.
"Is everything alright?" he asked, resting his hand on the dining table.
I blinked once to say yes and slid my fingers into his hand. His skin was warmer than mine. He kissed my hand, looked up at me, and I squeezed his hand, my nails digging into his skin. He didn’t flinch. His other hand reached to hold my face, his palm covering my cheek, and I melted into his touch as if I’d found my peace.
"I need some fresh air," I said, my voice quiet, tucking the hair from my face behind my ear. "Can I have this breakfast out there?" I asked, pointing to the lawn at the back of the kitchen.
"Sure," he said.
He picked up my meal, walked to the mesh table on the lawn, and set it down. The warm winter sunlight hit my skin, golden and soft, cutting through the chill.
He opened his arm, gesturing for me to sit beside him. I sat beside him, leaned back in his arms, and rested my head on his shoulder, his jawline close to my head. I could hear the steady sound of his breathing. His touch was warm as he slid his arm around my waist, enveloping me in his embrace.
I looked up at him, my head still on his shoulder, then kissed him just above his jawline, and he melted into that kiss as he closed his eyes, his breath catching.
"It's good that you exist," I said.
His grip around me tightened as brushed a kiss on my hair, his lips lingering for a second longer. "You make it worth existing for!", he replied, his voice low, tingling in my ear.
The makeup artist smoothed the sari at my shoulder, her fingers careful around the fabric. The black net was soft and sheer on my arm, as I wore a half sleeves blouse, while the silver tilla work on the black sequins glinted quietly whenever I shifted, like stars caught in thread.
Meanwhile, I heard a knock at the room’s door. I turned to look as Mustafa stepped in a monochrome formal outfit: a dark grey turtleneck clinging softly to his neck, black dress trousers sharp at the crease, layered with a long black coat that brushed against his knees and black loafers. The clean, woody scent of his cologne reached me before he did.
"Am I in the wrong room?" Mustafa teased, his voice low and amused.
"Mustafa!" I called out.
"I mean, who’s this girl? Do you know her?" he asked, glancing at the makeup artist.
"Your lawfully wedded wife", I replied, gesturing the makeup artist to leave. "The one who legally owns 50% of everything you own", I added while raising an eyebrow as I tried to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks.
"100%... 100% of everything, including me," he said, stepping forward.His hand was warm as he held it out.
"Allah Allah," I said as I slid my hand into his while his grip was steady.
"Wait a minute. When did you get time to twin with me?" I asked looking up at him as he pulled me close gently.
"I always make time when it’s about you!" he replied, and leaned down slightly, inhaling the jasmine and musk of my perfume, eyes closed for a second like he was memorizing it. The warmth of his breath grazed my temple.
“Everyone’s waiting for us downstairs,” I whispered, my voice thin against the quiet between us. My cheek grazed slightly against his jawline. My fingers flattened against his chest, feeling the steady, fast thud of his heartbeat through the fabric of his shirt. My finger tips trailed down—over the center of his chest, lower to his stomach, each movement slow and deliberate.
“We can’t be late,” I continued while my other hand found his, our fingers intertwining. I wrapped myself into his arm as he slid his hand behind my back, our fingers still locked together.
“Mustafa,” I moaned. He tightened his grip, and I pressed myself against his chest. The warmth of his body seeping through me.
"They won’t start the ceremony without us,” I managed, but the words felt distant, drowned out by the warmth of his lips moving from my cheek to the curve of my neck.
“I can’t hold myself back anymore,” I surrendered, my voice low and frayed. My hand found the back of his neck, fingers curling into the dark hair there, pulling him closer.
“Stay in your senses. Help me stop. We shouldn’t do this now,” I said, my voice barely steady.
He kissed my shoulder, the warmth of his lips a brief counterpoint to the cool air on my skin, then pulled me into a tight hug. I pressed against his chest, and I could feel his heartbeat slowing.
“Take a deep breath,” he murmured against my hair. His voice was low, and steady.
He eased back just enough to look at me, his eyes searching mine—checking, waiting. When he saw my nod, he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, barely more than a whisper of touch.
Then he took my hand. His palm was warm and dry against my fingers. I followed him to the window, and he pushed it open, and the evening air rushed in—sharp, clean, carrying the faint scent of wet earth and distant rain. It hit my face, a clean slap against flushed, overheated skin.
“Breathe in,” he said. I drew in the cold air, feeling it expand in my chest, sharp and clean.
“Breathe out,” he continued. The breath left me slowly, carrying the heat and the tightness with it.
“Better?” he asked, his thumb brushing slow circles over my knuckles.
I nodded. The air filled my lungs without a hitch now, and the frantic thud in my chest had quieted to a slow, even beat.
"Shall we?", he asked.
I nodded and wrapped my fingers around his bicep.
“Woah! It’s so cold out here,” I said as we stepped out into the lawn decor. Fairy lights glimmered overhead, and the damp grass gave off that sharp, earthy scent of late evening.
“Let me,” he said, gripping the plackets of his coat to take it off.
“Don’t… It’ll ruin the outfit,” I said, placing my hand over his to stop him.
He paused, smiled, and gave a slight nod.
After a while, “Mustafa!” I called out as he stood with the boys. I pulled the corner of my sari’s pallu forward and wrapped it around my back against the chill.
“You need something?” he asked, his arms opening toward me. His hands wrapped around my elbows, the rough net of the sari catching slightly under his palms.
“No, I’m just going inside for a while. I can’t take this cold anymore,” I said.
“Okay! Let me take you,” he said as he took off his coat.
“No, there’s no need. I was just telling you so you’d know,” I replied and he draped the coat over my shoulders. The warmth trapped in his coat seeped into my skin instantly, carrying his woody cologne with it.
“When I say I’ll take you, then I will,” he insisted, and held out his hand.
“Okay,” I said, sliding my hand into his, and we walked inside the farmhouse.
The moment we stepped in, I moved to the fireplace. The sequins on my sari dazzled in the golden glow, throwing tiny sparks across the stone. Heat sank into my chilled skin, and I sighed.
“Do you smell that?” I asked, heading toward the kitchen. He followed behind me, smiling.
The counter was full of catering trays dressed with all kinds of desi food. I picked up a kebab and took a bite.
“It’s really delicious,” I said, offering him the rest. He took it from my fingers and ate it while watching me taste other dishes.
“You know, this morning I was craving something different,” I said while he light the stove. So I won't feel the chill.
“You could’ve told me. I would’ve arranged it for you,” he replied.
“But Aunt Husna made breakfast specially for me. I couldn’t refuse,” I said, as I shrugged off his coat from my shoulders and placed it on the dining chair.
“And just so you know, when we get home, I’m having French toast. I’ve been craving it since morning,” I said, taking another bite.
“Well, we can have it now,” he replied.
“Seriously? Here? At this time? How?” I asked, looking at him.
He nodded. “Well, you’ve got your chef right here,” he said, rolling up his sleeves.
“It’s iconic. We left the event so you could play chef for a while,” I said, perching on the counter beside the stove.
“With you, everything in my life is iconic,” he said, pulling ingredients out of the fridge.
It was almost 3 in the morning when we reached home. I entered the house barefoot, shrugged off my coat, and placed it on the couch before heading straight to my room.
He entered the house after parking the car, holding my heels in his hand, and placed them near the entrance door.
I casually threw my phone onto the mattress and positioned the pillow near the footboard on his side of the bed. I lay on my stomach, parallel to the footboard.
He entered the room behind me, and a warm smile spread across his face as he caught sight of me. He kissed my head and sat on the bed across from me.
We started talking, and I shared gossip I'd heard at the family gathering, while he filled me in on what was happening there. Our laughter and giggles filled the room, and we lost track of time.
"Can you guess how long we've been talking?" he asked. "Without looking at the time," he added.
"I don't know. How long has it been?" I asked.
"Two hours. It's been two hours," he said with a smile.
"Seriously!" I exclaimed, my eyes widening in wonder, and my lips curling into a sweet smile as I blushed.
He nodded and said, "These two hours could turn into three, four, or five. I can listen to you all day long."
"Sometimes I talk a lot, and then I realize I'm talking too much, so I try to refrain myself," I said.
"Never do that in front of me. You can talk to me about anything, anywhere, anytime",he said.
"Even if I'm not around, I'm just a call away. I'll listen to you," he said, his voice filled with sincerity.
"Okay," I replied, looking out the window.
The sky was starting to dawn, and the light was peeking through the windows. The cool breeze was blowing, the leaves were rustling in the wind, and the chirping of the birds filled the atmosphere.
"It's so peaceful, isn't it?" I said. "You know, I love this peace," I added.
"I know," he said, his voice calm and gentle.
"Okay, do one thing. Lie back and close your eyes," he said, kneeling on the ground near the bed.
"While your eyes are closed, listen to the rustling of the wind through the leaves and the chirping of the birds, and then tell me how you feel", he added.
"Okay," I said with excitement, and he brought his cheek close to my temple.
"Breathe in," he whispered, his voice calm and gentle.
"Breathe out."
"Breathe in", his voice barely above the whisper.
"Breathe out."
"Breathe in."
"Breathe out."
"I could fall asleep in this peace," I said, bursting into giggles and turning my face to the opposite direction.
"Despite the fact that I've been sleeping for hours on our way home," I added.
A warm smile spread across his face, and he kissed my hair, and then placed his pillow parallel to mine and lay beside me, sliding his arm around my waist and pulling me close. My forehead rested against his cheek, and my hand was on his chest.
As she slept on his shoulder, her warm breath brushed his chest and the faint scent of her shampoo — something clean, like rain — filled his senses. He texted Atif to come inside, since he was in the garage. Atif came, and Mustafa gestured for him to come in silently.
"Where did you take her?" Mustafa asked in a low voice, the words barely above a whisper. While Atif stood to his right, against the cool leather of the couch.
"To the doctor!" he replied.
"What doctor?" Mustafa questioned abruptly, the sharpness cutting through the quiet.
As Atif told him the address, the words hit Mustafa like ice water. He realized it was her gynecologist’s clinic.
"That's it, you can go," Mustafa said, his voice flat. His mind started running through a hundred possibilities, each one heavier than the last. Then Aunt Husna's words started echoing in his mind, soft but relentless:
_She's confused... but she's more scared... Keep an eye on her before she makes a decision and regrets it later._
He looked down at her. The sadness was visible in his eyes while she slept peacefully on his shoulder, her eyelashes dark against her pale cheek.
He pressed his lips to her forehead — soft, warm, lingering — and inhaled. "What did you do to us?" he thought, closing his eyes, drowning in the fragrance of her shampoo.
After a while, his phone vibrated, the sound harsh in the silent lounge as it started ringing. He silenced it and placed it on the coffee table placed infront of him. But the screen kept lighting up, flashing white against the dim room because of back-to-back calls.
He carefully shifted her weight, his arm steady under her back, and laid her on the couch. The blanket whispered as he pulled it up to her chin. Her feet were still in her heels, the leather cold against the fabric. He covered her gently, then picked up his phone and went into the room, the door clicking shut softly behind him.
When he came out, he closed the door with a soft thud, drew all the curtains in the lounge, the room fell into muted gray light and he went to the kitchen.
"Do you need something, sir?" Miss Zareena asked, as she got attentive on his presence.
"Yeah. Make some soup/broth or something healthy for the lady," Mustafa said, his voice low than he intended.
"I'll be out for an hour or two. I'll try to come back soon, but if she wakes up before I get home, stay alert", he continued
"Make sure she has everything she needs, and if necessary, call me immediately," he added.
She wanted to ask about the lady's health, but Mustafa's off mood and the hollow sadness in his eyes stopped her, and she couldn't ask him.
"I'll stay attentive, don't worry," she replied softly, and Mustafa went to his study room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.
