Puranay Rastay ✓

chapter ‣ 24

"I love you so much, Aqib."

Instead of a love confession that I prayed would mingle with my blood and become a part of me, an ice cold awakening poured into me instead.

Aqib?

All my life I had waited to hear those words, and when I finally had, they weren't even directed at me.

Was I just a stand in for Aqib? I wondered. Just a replacement? A body?

Indifference plagued me, numbing all the centers of my heart which would usually leap with excuses and reassurances, more often than not, pleading for me to forgive and forget. For so long I had been patient, for so long I had given her space to grieve and mourn, and to work through her past. I had held her when she cried for him, I had whispered comforting words to her when she would grow silent. I had trampled upon my own feelings to value hers. I had let another man, a dead man, enter into our marriage, and far too often direct the trajectory of our life. But no more.

"Aqib?" I questioned.

"Khaled," she uttered, realizing her mistake. "I'm sorry, I didn't—"

A knock on my side of the car broke through the moment. An MP glanced in through the window.

"Sir?" I rolled down my window.

"Why is your car parked here? Are you okay?" His beige military uniform contrasted with the thick trees surrounding us. His eyes fell on Rida. "Is that your wife?"

"Yes."

"Do you have your nikahnama with you?"

"What?" Annoyance laced my tone.

"Do you have your nikahnama with you?" He repeated.

Late night, parked car, a couple in a car. Understanding came to me, but that did nothing to diminish my annoyance.

If only he knew the opposite was happening here!

"She's literally in her Walima dress," I exclaimed.

Military was sacred in our country. Those who swore to protect the Islamic state, and would die as martyrs in its service, were often given far more respect than others, regardless of how low the rank.

I had never spoken to a military police officer in that way, but at that moment, I didn't care.

"Drive off," the MP said before walking back to his post.

"Gladly."

I flicked the indicator and pulled the car back onto the road. An inexplicable anger was slowly slithering into my veins, bringing along thoughts and whispers I never expected to entertain.

"Khaled?" Rida whispered, her hand looming near my arm.

"I don't want to talk right now," I said in a low tone, fearful that her touch would undo me.

I watched her mouth open, as if she wanted to say something, but she closed it and turned away, not speaking for the rest of the way.

Once we reached home, there were questions of where we had been, to which I truthfully confessed that we had stopped for paan.

"Next time, do inform us before you set out on your adventures," Mama said, "We were growing nervous, anything could have happened this late at night."

Something had happened, but it had no visible evidence.

"Baji, you live in Cantt. it's perfectly safe!" One of the aunts commented, driving my mother's attention away from us.

I took this opportunity to slip out of the flat and up to the roof, leaving Rida to interact with the guests. She was better at distracting herself with others anyway.