It wasn't deliberate. No one ever wants to be termed as the culprit who's responsible for pushing their own wife into the pool on a cold winter's night. The mere thought of it all sounds preposterous. But he's afraid he doesn't have a case to win here, judging by the absolute speed at which things have unfolded, all within a five-minute time frame.
Farjaad's tracking her wet steps all the way from the exterior of the home to their bedroom. He's following along, attempting to summon apologetic words out of his mouth, needing to clear his stance but failing to do so. He sure as hell can't devise a witness to attest to his innocence, even when he so desperately needs to prove to his wife that this unfortunate incident is of her own doing, because he knows Umeed will never listen once her version of court decides he's guilty.
The last thing he recalls, prior to her foot slipping and him fishing her out, is their argument pertaining to Café business dealings. He was struggling to get her to understand the importance of timely vendor payments. To not be so trusting of employees around her with the deposit. But all of that seems completely bizarre now because her skeptic mind was probably already overworking itself to pin this on him as one of his revenge games. No matter how hard he tries now, he can never win this.
So he remains panicking in this ill-fated predicament. Because stood across from him is Umeed. Shivering. Dripping. Undergoing ten different stages of shock, anger, and betrayal altogether.
He doesn't want to admit it, but he's actually afraid of her forthcoming temper. Equally concerned at her catching a fever, considering the chilling temperature of the water she was submerged in. He wants to step forward to be of aid, but instead paces even further back seeing the ferocity with which she's throwing down clean towels in an effort to try and dry herself.
Umeed makes notice of his retraction. She's furious, but she doesn't hesitate to pitch him the angriest possible glare she can commit to, making her disdain at his backpedal known. She follows by falsifying a prolonged cough, and Farjaad knows his wife all too well to understand she's only doing this as a means to fault him even further. So he immediately picks up the largest bath sheet he can acquire from the mountain she's compiled onto the floor and strives to wrap her tiny self into its warmth.
"Umeed, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, please aik baar baat toh sun lo", he sincerely pleads, his expression sympathetic to her situation, as his lips come together to assert a genuine apology.
"Khabardaar" she warns. "Kareeb nahi aana mere. Baat bhi matt karain aap mujhse" she shouts, failing to relent to his ways as she easily spins herself out of his self-concocted cocoon.
"Ab tumhara pair phisal gaya toh isme meri kya ghalti thi?"
His query is valid, and yet he regrets expressing it the moment the words leave his tongue because the dramatic tension already so visibly stricken within the room, sparks up a whole new degree as Umeed conveys, "MERI KYA GHALTI? Aap ka bas chale, toh mujhe doobne ke liye chorh dete wahaan par. Mujhse peecha churaane ka iraada tha bas aap ka".
"Khuda ka khauf karo Umeed!" Farjaad snaps, his head between his hands.
He looks at his state of himself, clothes soaked, teeth chattering, watche ruined, and wishes to send her a legitimate reminder of following through on his promise of being there for her always, not processing a second thought as he took a dive into the water immediately to seeing her plunge earlier.
Thus, he kindly retells, "Fauran tumhaare peeche kood gaya tha."
"Sab samajh aa raha hai mujhe Farjaad Khan Bahadur". Her head is swaying, brows creased together, eyes narrow as if she's made the world's boldest discovery when she looks at him.
