~~~
The reception which was scheduled for two days after the wedding was a blast. The whole wedding week in fact was something Zoha had never experienced before. This wasn’t how marriages were celebrated within her family or anywhere in the countryside. She hadn’t even known that the elite did it so differently, with such extravagance and entertainment. It was the first time she’d been to a luxury wedding, and it felt more like a grand party with extraordinarily fancy dresses and a lot of glitter and glamor, and the bride and the groom hardly sat on the stage at all.
Maya was springing from one corner to the order, chatting and laughing and drinking a little too much of the margarita mocktails that were served on silver platters. Maybe she was nervous about the wedding night and was simply trying to steer herself off the anxiety, Zoha thought. She didn’t dare try to approach her about the matter though, not after what Hisham had said to her. It was hard as it is to brush off the words and the tone and then his brief revelation of odd vulnerability, to venture into the ‘horrors of the marital bed’ was the last thing she’d wanted. It's a pleasure for the married, another of their mutual friends had amended without a beat to the comment made by the first one. You’d be crazy to think there wasn’t a group of friends present at the wedding and not discussing the bride's impending loss of virginity. It’s essential, if you must know.
The glamour tore her from the misery of her own thoughts, but once the car sped off taking Maya and Habil to their new home, it returned to her in a rush - the pang in her chest, the burning confusion and the suspense of her own future.
Standing there along the gravel path with a few other friends and close relatives of Maya, she didn’t know what the heaviness in the pits of her stomach was about. That is, until her eyes caught him across the lawn, with a few other guys and Zill being among them, staring back at her. Pursing her glossed lips, she turned and stalked off in the other direction to gather her stuff and call home. If Hisham hadn’t said what he did to her in the hospital, if he had instead felt what she did, if he had been a decent guy, maybe she’d have passed him shy glances if they’d still met here, maybe they’d have shared some stolen moments. Maybe he’d have even made her some promises. But it’s all a little too perfect to be real, isn’t it? Romantic love after all is nothing but a fantasy, isn’t it? And Zoha knew that’s what the heaviness was about. She wanted that fantasy. She was secretly hoping for it. Like every other girl does. In reality though, she will end up with the match her family had decided for her, probably the man she’d never even seen, let alone know. In reality, men only desire sexual intercourse, they want nothing to do with emotions and feelings.
In the end, dreams fall apart and hopes crumble. And so girls who build up walls and present them as unavailable, girls who have eyes only for the man selected by their parents right from the beginning, are the girls on the right path, are the girls who rock life.
And that display of emotion? It had nothing to do with her. Zoha knew it was his past sins or mistakes or...murders even, that was getting back at him. But nothing to do with her, she was sure.
***
Her mother attended the reception with her because it wasn’t as loud as the wedding was, since there was no concert and was instead quiet and serene, with only the buzz of people talking in the air.
That very night after the function, Zoha bid her goodbyes to everyone, hugged Maya for long, and then they got on the train and were back home in the countryside by noon, leaving all the glamour and the hubbub of the wedding week behind.
×××
He'd meant it in a good way, while also wanting to scare her off with it. But he hadn't meant anything wrong … or he hoped it wasn't wrong. He really wanted to do what he said he did, but not force her into it. He wanted her to enjoy, take pleasure, and want him back. He wanted—
Surely it wasn't merely physical attraction, was it? No. It couldn't be. You don't pine after people you're only physically attracted to, you don't think about them all the time. You don't ache for them.
And Zoha…
Well, the very echo of her name painted his heart with red. There was already so much of what he couldn't have. Every minute spent in the same premises as her urged him to pull his hair out. But all he was left to do was to catch glimpses from afar.
But of course, he was a despicable man, and deserved to rot in hell. He deserved to die alone.
If only there was a way back. If only the haze could ever part.
He had never wanted to turn back before. He didn't know someone would ever make him want to. But there he was now, getting drunk in the darkness of his room, trying to wash the images away from his mind, trying to resist the urge to drop the act, leave everything and go home. And for once, live a little.
There was no way he could do that though. So much was at risk. One wrong step and he'd bring the senator down, he'd land himself dead in a corner where nobody could ever find him, he'd let the dogs of the elite roam around free, more dominant than before.
The traffickers had his trust. He was one of them and he had to be very vigilant, very alert. He shouldn’t let emotions take over his senses. And maybe he should just settle with a one-night stand, maybe that’s why he was so frustrated. He just needed to get laid.
Had it not been for the very unusual and astonishing disclosure of illegal events carried out through a wide network, that too by one of its prominent members, Hisham would still have been working his days in the police station. But as fate had it, the senator's arch rival - a former minister - blurted out his misery under the spell of the alcohol one fine evening, although he said later he'd been very aware of what he was doing. Coming to the senator was the safest option he had, despite the two of them having an antagonistic relationship.
A couple of years ago, the minister's son had died in a terrific accident, causing immense grief to the family he'd left behind. Except, it wasn't just an accident. According to the minister, his son, who was a district commissioner, had gotten a whiff on his father's corrupt affairs. It was a very brief confrontation and the minister had believed he'd convinced him of his clean hands. Only he hadn't. His son had apparently been going around collecting evidence, but not as discreetly as he'd thought. The other members of the circle soon found out that they were being tailed and the moment they did, they immediately had him killed.
The minister was grief stricken and livid when he discovered the truth of his son's death. Though acting shrewdly, he didn't let on that he knew of his partners' betrayal and began plotting against them in his head.
Once he'd spilled his guts to the senator after careful consideration on who to open up to, a plan was formed by the two in mutual consensus.
Hisham was the replaced heir of another family-loving member of the circle, whose actual son was taken hostage and threatened to be executed if the member didn't co-operate.
Sahil had grown up in the country overseas and had only occasionally visited over the years. He'd been involved in illicit affairs himself but always had the back of the mayor that kept him from going behind the bars. He had decided to move to his homeland in order to venture into new grounds, just for the thrill of it. And therefore, he was introduced by his father into the world of trafficking, be it humans, money or drugs.
Habil's father was a bureaucrat, and while not being actively involved in the affairs himself, he was aware of all that transpired and did nothing to put a stop to it for his own personal political gains.
The plan was to expose the bank statements to a financial agent, bring to light the unexplained assets and deposits of a top-level government official, and thus, eventually put fire to the underworld monarchy.
Hisham had his role in mind, the entire well-crafted plan was spread in front of him. What he didn't know was that the doom would come so soon.
×××
She had no idea how it happened, but all of a sudden her YouTube feed was flooded with baby videos; how toddlers keep the mothers awake all night, funny baby and dad moments, funny baby moments, funny twin moments, pregnancy transformation, pregnancy vlogs, cats giving birth and whatnot. All she had done was watch one video from her suggestions, and voila!—there sprung up an entire marathon of them! They even began showing up on Facebook and Instagram in no time.
And so in a burning desire, she decided she wanted one. She simply did. She wanted a baby.
So she turned a deaf ear to the word going around the house regarding her wedding preps, because she knew everyone would be expecting her to come barging up to them and demand they put a stop to it, say that she wasn’t ready, say that it was too early. She therefore pretended that she was completely oblivious to the entire thing. Because she couldn't just say that she did infact want to get married, because she wanted babies, could she? Besides, if they wanted her to know she was getting married, they should tell her square-on. Why all these discussions in hushed voices? She said it herself she might be ready right after Maya’s wedding, didn't she? So why these qualms that she might object?
What Zoha didn’t know was that it wasn’t the idea of getting married itself, but to whom they were snitching her up with that they secretly doubted she might object to. And she found that out one evening, when she’d come down from her room after taking a class - she was taking her master’s degree online from a virtual university - and decided to eavesdrop on the elders talking in the drawing room. She could hear her aunts and uncle from the other cottage in there too.
So it was really happening. They were really marrying her off. Two months after her best friend got married, she was going to be as well.
And then she caught the name, the phrases, strings of words.
“I told Nofil … "
“...applying for a break at work … "
“...he’ll take her to the markets…"
“...get their ring sizes. Nofil can…"
It was Nofil they were talking about. No other name. There was no other name she heard coming from them. Nobody else they associated her with. It was Nofil Bhai, for god’s sake! Surely, they can’t be serious!
Deciding to confront them right then and there, she stepped in and immediately a hush spread across the room. All heads turned to take her in, but her eyes were solely for her father.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what, lovebug?” Raza said instead. “You said it yourself that you'd be ready after your friend.”
“But Uncle Raza, you didn’t tell me you had Nofil Bhai in your minds!”
“Oh, honey, we had him in our minds from the very start. You didn’t think we’d marry you off and send you away from us, did you? It couldn’t have been any of your cousins because they're just like your brothers. But Nofil is not. Why, do you have any objections?”
She couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it. How could they set her up with Nofil after making it abundantly clear to everyone that she was their sister? She didn’t care if Nofil wasn’t a cousin, he was still family, and she had been pretty sure it wouldn’t be anyone from her family. And now, all of a sudden she was told that it had been Nofil all along.
Panic washed over her and she almost staggered. Overwhelmed, she swiveled and dashed out of the room. She needed to think, clear her mind and just think. How could this happen? Could she let this happen? Would she? Did she have any choice? Surely, her doting family would listen to her when she’d explain. Surely, her opinion would matter.
She was about to grab the knob and head out of the cottage when the door opened and Nofil stepped in. Suddenly wary of his presence, she stared at him. Had he come to be a part of the discussion? Did he know? Did he know?
“Did you know?” She demanded stiffly, not bothering with any greetings.
“Know what?” He asked casually, closing the door behind him and already starting towards the drawing room.
“Don’t pretend, Nofil Bahi,” she raised her voice and brought more bitterness into it, “you know what I’m talking about!”
He turned to face her, taken aback by her tone. As he stared at her, comprehension slowly dawned on him, and Zoha saw as his expression changed from shock to puzzlement to apprehension to remorse. “Yes, yes I did.”
“Since when?”
“Zoha, it do-”
“Since when?” She pressed, her tone biting.
“Since I was ten.”
Her eyebrows flew up, outraged. “We weren’t even here then! We were in Up-North. How could you-”
“Yes, I know,” he took a step towards her, his face a mask of strain, “but it was decided you won’t marry out. They basically engaged us as kids.”
“And you knew! Nobody told me! You didn’t tell me. All this time-all this time…” she broke off as Hisham’s words began ringing in her ears. Everyone would want to get laid with you. Including your cousins. So that’s what she was. A sex tool. She had no feelings of her own, did she? Nobody could have bothered to ask for her opinion on her own marriage, ask her what she thought of the guy they had in mind? And then they professed their love.
“You’ve been thinking about me in that light all this time.” her voice lowered, and then she raised her eyes to regard him with an accusatory, sharp gaze. “All this time, you’ve been thinking about sleeping with me!”
“For God’s sake, Zoha!” He cried out, scandalised, “Where did that come from?” Taking a step towards her, he tried in a plactating tone, his eyes full of panic and distress, “I never tried anything inappropriate with you, hell, I never even corrected you from calling me bhai! How could you say-”
But she wasn't listening. She didn’t care. Shaking her head vigorously, she darted to her room, ignoring his pained calls behind her back. She needed to think. She needed to process what was happening.
×××
She had been expecting it to be a stranger. Someone she didn’t know. Someone she expected to bond with over time. The excitement of getting to know a new person, she’d been looking forward to it. But it wasn’t someone new. It was Nofil. A guy she’d known all her life, a guy she’d been calling her brother. And now she was expected to marry him.
The signs she’d picked up that day in the living room were right. Hisham was right.
Or was he? Why did she have to think of him anyway? He was just a bad memory that mattered no more. Why did she keep thinking of him?
Perhaps it was the last expression, the very last words shared. The hurt, the rueful smile. It was like she’d glimpsed into his real self, the person he was behind the many covers. The person she’d witnessed with Batool. It was the person who cared. And it changed everything. She no longer knew what to make of him, what to think and where to place him in her life. His reminder was a sore ache, an if-only wish. She knew though, if she didn’t happen to run into him again, he’d be out of his mind soon enough, she’d forget who he was. As if he’d never existed. And that’s what she was hoping for.
But what was making her cry?
She spent days locked up in her room, crying, rebuking herself for crying and then crying again. There was nothing wrong with marrying Nofil. She just didn’t see it coming. It had taken her with great shock, with great disbelief. Perhaps it was the hurt of not being told, of being kept in the dark. Of being deceived. Whatever it was, it made her not want to go out and meet anyone. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, about anything. All she wanted to do was wallow in her sadness, cry and when enough tears were shed, wonder what’s so wrong in marrying Nofil.
Her father came many times, her mother did, Raza and Abbas did. Nofil did too. Even Mujtaba rang countless times. But she shut everyone out. She ate snacks hoarded up in her drawers and filled her stomach with food only when everyone was asleep in the middle of the night. She knew she was keeping everyone on the edge, she felt the strain in the air, but in her misery, talking to anyone about the "betrayal" was a strenuous task.
When enough days passed and her energy gradually began seeping back into her, she felt better. She thought more rationally, and realised she had to address the matter. She couldn’t keep them hanging like this. Her decision wasn’t made, she didn’t know if she should even make one without talking to anyone, without listening to what they had to say. So she left the door open one day, and waited to see who’d be the first one to come.
It was Nofil.
He stepped into her room when she yelled at him for knocking, and averted her gaze to the window, her chin raised. He cleared his throat, fidgeted awkwardly and then closed the door.
She waited as he walked further in and perched down on the couch beside her.
None of them spoke for a while. Zoha kept glancing at him from the corner of her eyes and he kept opening his mouth and then closing it again. She could sense he was nervous and stressed, and also at a loss of words.
“Hey," he said at last, inching towards her, "talk to me. Please."
"You're here to talk, so you talk." She said curtly, without bothering to spare him a glance.
“Well what is it, Zoha? Is it me?" He rushed in a sudden desperation, "Does the very idea of being with me upset you that much?”
She turned her head to look at him and blinked. He was in a state, with his hair disheveled, scruffy jaw and the skin under his eyes dark. It seemed like someone had been giving him a hard time. Perhaps it was her. Or could be people at work. Who knew with men?
“Just say the word and I’ll back out. Look," he peered at her, "I don’t want to force you into this, okay. I would never, and...if—if you like someone else, or you think you can’t survive with me...Just say it. But at least talk, tell me what’s wrong. You know it’s hurting everyone, it’s hurting me, your silence is. Your father and your uncles think I might have done something or said something to hurt you, they’re demanding what that is and I can’t bloody think what it could be!" He thrust his hands into his hair and shook his head. When he spoke again, his voice was low. "I know I don’t deserve you...I know my place. And if you don’t want to marry me then it’s completely fine. It’s fine. It is. But please, at least tell me what I did wrong. Did I really hurt you?”
“Yes, you did." She said, "You hurt me by not telling what everyone was thinking, by considering that the decision about my life wasn’t important enough to bring into my knowledge. By thinking about me that way all this time, without letting me know. You know what impression it’s giving me? … That he was right. That I'm really just—just some good-looking girl everyone wants to...wants to get laid with, including all my cousins and everybody else who I’ve always thought of as a brother.”
“God, Zoha," there was that look of bafflement on his face again, "I can’t believe this. Who's right? Who said this to you? Tell me!" He demanded as anger sparked in his eyes.
She shrugged and looked away. “Just some guy from college...I was being nice, I helped him ...and might have smiled. He got the wrong impression and advanced on me...He said all this when I pushed him away.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?" He insisted. "Why didn’t you tell me? I thought we were pretty good friends. Did you tell Mujtaba?”
“You don’t relay incidents of harassment to your family! It’s indecent and mortifying, and besides they always end up blaming the victim.”
“No, they don’t." Nofil shook his head, sounding anxious. "We don't. Wouldn’t have if you confided in us. Whatever could have given you the impression otherwise? We always stick up for you Zoha, don’t we? Ahmed, Haroon, Mujtaba Safeer Bhai and the others, you’d see how we’d have marched to that guy and punctured his eyes right then and there!"
“I don’t want you to puncture his eyes!” she exclaimed, flabbergasted.
“Puncture his balls then."
“No! I’m a nurse, I can’t stand seeing anyone hurt, Nofil Bha-" she broke off, aware of what she was going to say, "I mean... just—just Nofil—or, yeah. Whatever.”
The corners of his lips curled up into a thin, rueful smile. He said after a pause. “You know, since they told me what you are to me, what it means, what it entails... I-I’ve seen you as mine. Someone who’s my responsibility, mine to take care of, mine to cherish and love."
Love? So is love real after all? Does it exist?
Perhaps it does then.
Just not with the person you wanted with though, or thought with.
“Why do you think they always sent me to check up on you?" He was saying, peering at her face. "Why do you think I always came running? It’s not that you’re beautiful, Zoha, it’s you; your spirit, your craziness, your laugh, your prescribed medicines even though it’s not your place to do that," Zoha smiled, her eyes prickling, and he carried on, "your room, your perfumes, your fried food, your clothes, you saying you want to work in the kitchen but secretly you really don’t, you forcing all the men to do things your way, your comical faces and eyebrow wiggles. It’s you, Zoha. The complete package.”
“Come on," she scoffed, forcing herself to not cry, "you make me sound like I’m someone special.”
“That’s because you are special. To all of us. To me. And I agree that you were supposed to know of it right from the beginning, just like I did, you should have been told, but you weren’t. So is there a way we can make up for it?” He sounded hopeful and keen.
“Maybe." She shrugged when she said after a pause. "I’ll think about it.”
“Right," he nodded, "and just to let it out there, just to be explicit, to be more formal perhaps...Will you marry me, Zoha?” His gaze was intense, sparkling with unsaid emotions and longing.
She raised her chin. “I’ll think about it too."
"What?" His eyes went wide and he looked crestfallen, and then he collected himself. "Right, I mean, of course."
"You can’t just downright say yes." Zoha provided nevertheless. "You have to have some dignity."
"Of course."
She carried on. “You have to expect a ring on your finger. And then say yes when you get one."
“Ring." He echoed, sounding thoughtful. "Right. I’m on it.”
Zoha watched Nofil with a small smile and color coating her cheeks as he sprang to his feet and dashed out of her room.
The decision was made.
×××
Hello ;)
Can you guess where the story is going?