"Bete, nikah wo paak rishta hai, jisme Allah husband aur wife ke dil me ek doosre ke liyea Mohabbat, izzat, aur ehtaram dal te. And you cannot fight it. Aap dono ke nikah ko ek hafta hua, lekin ek doosre ke saath rehna ek dum alag baat hai." I let out a long breath, leaning my back against the bed frame. It was yet another shaadi class where baba tells me dos and don't in a relationship.
"Main dua karunga ki Allah tum dono ko sabr de, ek doosre ko samajh ne ki toufeek de." Baba continues, working on braiding my hair.
"Ameen," I mutter because that is exactly what I want. Sabr and sukoon in my life.
"You will have to learn to put Imran before you, Maryam." He continues. "I know all your life I've taught you something very different but given the circumstances, you both were tied under, it is very important you think of him before yourself. It's not going to be easy, beta. You'll have to work towards keeping this relationship going."
"Ji, baba," I whisper and wait for him to tie the band at the end of the plait. He smiles at me through the mirror, a teary smile that somehow manages to awaken the boulder in my throat. I get on my knees and spin around to give him a hug. More like seeking reassurance for myself. I keep my hands in the air to not ruin the henna the artist has spent hours on and press my cheek into his chest.
"I love you, baba. And I'm going to miss you."
"I'm going to miss you too, mera chanda." He says, patting the back of my head. "Ab tak aap sirf mera ghuroor the. Kal ke baad, aap officially Imran ka ghuroor, uski izzat, uska support banne jare. You've never let me down. And I know you'll only make him proud."
Tears started to fill my eyes at the mere thought of going away from the man I've been with ever since I popped out of Ammi's womb. Only Allah knows how I'm going to live my life without him. Before I burst into sobs in front of him, I pull away completely. Flashing baba with a fake strong smile, I get to my feet and amble out of his room.
A loud breath leaves my mouth, as I try to calm down and collect my bearings before going to my room where Saira and Rehana baji were probably waiting for me. Yes, they had planned a girls-only night as though everything happening the past week was normal. And that everyone was happy and can't wait to celebrate our unexpected wedding.
"Bete, do you need anything?" Ammi inquires as I pass by the living room to reach the staircase.
"Nahi," I refuse and ascend the stairs slowly. I see Rehana baji make her way down with a glint in her eyes. When she reached where I was, she stops me and whispers something I was not sure I heard correctly.
"Imran is waiting for you in your room." Baji squealed in my ear.
I blink. Once. Twice. "W-what?"
"He is here. And he wants to see you. Now." She emphasized.
"Where is he, again?"
"In your bathroom."
"What?!"
"Shhhh!!" She clawed at my forearm, giving it a harsh squeeze in order to stop me from screaming.
"What is he doing in my bathroom?!" I whisper yell and shoot a glance over my shoulder to make sure Ammi is out of our hearing range.
"Waiting for you. What else?"
"Oh really? Wait, let me just go and–"
"Before you barge in and throw a fit at the poor guy, let me tell you, Saira is sleeping on your bed. So make sure you guys keep it down."
"What do you mean by 'keeping it down?' It's not like we're gonna–"
"I don't wanna hear it." She raised a palm to stop me from probably saying 'we're going to have mad sex in the bathroom and bring the wall down the very first time. When she continues her descent, I inquire feeling panic rise inside of me.
"Where are you going?"
"Downstairs to put Muaz to sleep." She shrugs. "Don't wanna third wheel the two of you. And since you guys are nikahfied, I don't really have to give a damn about what you do, right? So, enjoy!" I gape at her, my jaw hitting the floor as she sends me a sly wink and disappears down the living room.
Before mustering up the courage to face him, I spare myself a minute and think this through.
Why is he here? The first question struck me.
What does he want?
I did have an idea that the grooms love to sneak out at night to meet their to-be wife from my friends. And the reason why they did this was for fun. Plain and simple.
But with Imran, I really couldn't tell.
I refuse to believe he's here for what Rehana baji just blabbered about. I think I know him that much to say he's not that kind of a man. Horny and desperate. Yet, I couldn't be sure. Even if he was here for anything of that sort, all I'll have to do is scream at the top of my lungs or slap him in the face. If that doesn't work, knee him down there.
Yes! I nod, feeling much more confident and collected than before. With slow steps, I make my way toward my room and slowly push the door open. Sure, Saira was fast asleep on the bed. The room was empty with no sign of Imran. But the open window and the light coming from behind the bathroom door sent my heart racing.
'If he wants to talk, hear him out.'
'If he wants to do more than just talk, kick him out.'
I chant mentally, taking cautious steps in the direction of the loo and pushing the door open.
"Heyyy," Imran greets me with a grin, from where he sat at the pot with the seat down.
"Hi,"
"Khairyat?" He asks, squirting some of my hand cream between his palms.
"Uhhh. . .Haaaann," I drag the word a bit, trying to figure out what he's doing here.
"Main bhi theek hoon."
"I didn't–"
"I know, that's why I said it on my own. By the way, this cream smells amazing. I'm going to buy one for myself too." He says, moving to stand on his feet. Suddenly the place felt a lot smaller than it was, due to his large frame right in the middle of these four walls. "Shut the door," Imran said, with a sudden change of tone in his voice.
"No." I refused, meeting his gaze.
He does not say anything for a second. Instead, walks towards the sink and puts the hand cream back into the basket under it. His long and muscled arm comes around me to grab the handle of the bathroom door and push it shut behind us with a mild thud.
Because he was leaning in, I was able to catch a whiff of his scent. And, boy did my mouth water in response. I gulp down the drool that had collected in my mouth when his unnerving gaze fixes itself on me. Imran steps away and rests his hip against the countertop.
"Why are you here?" The sound of my voice reached our ears. He does not answer immediately but after a pause of almost a minute.
"I don't know," Imran says finally, with a sigh.
"How can you not know?" I scoff. "You seem to know everything."
"No, I– " He stops abruptly, pushing his fingers through his hair, and sighs again. I sense his eyes on me before feeling his palm cup the side of my face. Big and warm.
"What are you doing?" I ask both him and me.
"I don't know," He says again, and leans down to rest his forehead against mine. My heart rammed in my chest so loud I could bet he heard it. I clamp my eyes shut tight. His hot breath fanned my face, sending jolts of electricity into my skin.
I didn't know if he was going to kiss me. I didn't know what I'd do if he kissed me. And I certainly didn't know why the only thing I could imagine now was his mouth on mine.
I was ready to push him away but my sick cowardly self decided to use the excuse of my henna to stay rooted in my spot. I was so ready to move away had I not been caged between him and the door behind me. Pay high attention to the irony.
His thumb started to move against my skin. It was drawing circles on my cheek.
"I am sorry. I am so sorry to whisk you away like this," He uttered. "But I have to, so you don't break when everything falls apart, Maryam. I want to be there for you, baby. Always and forever."
My head moves in a nod, even though he made absolutely no sense in my mind. Maybe this is what getting cold feet before D-day meant. Maybe he was losing confidence and second-guessing the entire thing. Second guessing, what I never thought would ever be, 'us'. From his sudden behavior change, that is the only thing that struck my mind.
Why would you not call me at 11 PM anymore?
Why did you not visit us when your entire family did?
Why have you been avoiding me until now?
All of these questions suddenly began to swirl in my mind. Reached the tip of my tongue but never left my mouth. My eyes flutter open when I feel his thumb come to a halt.
Imran was withdrawing his hand and stepped away from me. I could tell I was frowning the whole time from when he pulled the bathroom door open and walked out quietly tiptoeing across the room to reach the window.
Spinning on his heel in an abrupt motion, he puts his palms on either side of my face. His gaze warmed me with such intensity I'd never felt before. And just like that, he was leaning in.
I hold my breath, watch him come closer and closer, and quickly shut my eyes when all of it was too much to take in. As though I was free-falling from the sky and waiting for the hard ground to hit me. His soft lips make contact with the tip of my nose in a peck and I was melting due to the warmness they held.
"I love you," He whispered. His smile is the last thing I see before he climbs out of the window and jumps. A faint thump reached my ears but I had no energy left in me to move an inch.
My henna-coated pointer finger touches the spot he just kissed, delicately tracing the skin where his lips were only moments ago. I stand there in a daze trying to wrap my head around what just happened until Rehana baji comes into the room and shakes me back to life.
"Kiya hua?! Why are you standing here?" She asked, trying to keep her voice down.
"Huh?"
"Did Imran leave?"
"Haan," I blink rapidly, taking baby steps toward the foot of the bed. My legs quivered for some reason unknown, as I lowered my body onto the mattress.
"What did he say?" She asked, settling down beside me. "Or should I ask what did he do?"
"He. . .he said he loved me. And that. . .he was sorry for taking me away." I mumble.
"Taking you away?" She retorts, to which I bob my head. "As in, away from Uncle and Phuppo?"
"I guess,"
"How boring," Baji tsked. "You guys are no fun."
That night, sleep was far away from me. As much as I tried to change sides, adjust the duet above me and push myself into the dark pit of sleep, my mind quickly comes up with something new to fret over.
First, it was this house I spent my entire life in. Created dozens of millions of memories with my friends and family to cherish. Next, it was my room, I'd spent so much time designing and decorating. Starting from the bookshelf to the color of the rug placed in the center of my room.
Then, I'd worry about how my life will take a complete 360 after tomorrow. I will be living in someone else's room, under someone else's roof. I'll have to ask permission for going out, for staying in, for eating out with friends, for going to movies, or whatever. I'll have to report back to Imran about every single thing I do. And keep an eye on him at the same time.
In mere 24 hours, I was going to be a daughter, a sister, plus a wife and a daughter-in-law. And I believe, all of this is enough to shoo sleep away.
The morning of 7th January came in a rush. I was woken up, showered, fed till my stomach hurt, and met baba in his room before taking off to the salon to get ready for the night.
There too, I was hurried into my wedding gharara chosen by Imran himself, as though it was ready to elope if I didn't put it on. It was well past Maghrib when I was forced into a chair so the stylist could do my hair and the artist could do my makeup.
Because I sat facing the mirror, I couldn't stop watching myself get ready. I couldn't escape the harsh reality that all of this was happening. I couldn't come to terms with the fact that I was now Imran's. I couldn't believe Baba had made me sign the nikah papers in a matter of hours.
Before I knew it, my stomach began to churn at an awfully fast rate. My hands turned sweaty and clammy as I held the armrest in a tight grip.
"Ma'am,"
My breathing turned labored and soon, I was hyperventilating.
"Ma'am, please stay still. It's ruining your eyeliner. I'll have to redo the entire eye makeup, ma'am." The artist said in an attempt to stop me from flapping my lids so much.
I shake my head violently, not giving a damn at the sound of disapproval she made. My temples suddenly began to hammer, sending tremors of pain through my head.
"Stop it," I was panting and heaving as though I'd run a marathon. "I can't."
"Ma'am please," She said but all that reached my ears was the voice of baba asking me to marry Imran.
"Stop." My hand clutched my hair and tugged at the roots. "Please, I can't."
"Listen–"
"I can't do this."
"You need to calm down–" A voice started to speak but I was not having it. I stand on my feet, feeling my body sway a little, and toss whatever was placed on the vanity table in front of me.
"Stop, I said!"
"Maryam," His voice calling my name reached my ears. And just like that, tears welled up in my eyes even before I turned to look at him.
"Imran," I uttered as he made his way toward me. My gaze finds his eyes and I'm shaking my head fervently. "I can't do this, Imran. Please–"
"Shhh, it's okay."
"I'm sorry. Mujhse nahi hoga. Please, baat ko samjho. I wasn't ready. And I'm still not ready for any of this." I say with desperation. "I'll talk to baba. I'll tell him it's not you, it's me. It's his coward of a daughter who couldn't fulfill his death wish. I'll convince him. I'll take the blame for everything from both sides. I won't drag you into this. I'll tell everyone it was me, that it was my fault the rukhsati got canceled. I'll do it."
Strong arms engulf me in an embrace. His grip on me was tight yet gentle. His chest was hard yet comforting. Imran caressed my hair, leaned down to whisper sweet nothings in my ear.
The longer he held me, the calmer I felt. The tension seemed to leave my body. The throbbing in my head and the churning in my stomach started to fade until all I could hear was the sound of his heart beating in my ear. I felt the never-seen-before panicky side of me go away and the usual collected Maryam khan was back to where she belonged.
"Water?" He asked softly when I raised my head to glance at him.
Something was not right.
Mumbling a 'no', I continue to stare at him with narrowed eyes.
"Let's sit you down," Imran takes my hand in his and leads me to the chair I was sitting in before turning into the female version of Hulk. "Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked crouching in front of me on the ground.
Not paying much attention to his question, I began to examine him. He had the same eyes he had last night. The color of his hair was also the same, raven dark. His cheekbones appeared to higher than usual, jaw chiseled and defined as though–
A gasp of realization left my mouth. I raise my finger to his chin, dragging it all the way up to his ear. Even the usual locks of hair that would fall on his ear lobe were missing.
"You've had a haircut. And you also shaved your beard clean." I mused, liking the feel of his cool skin under my fingertip.
Apparently, his new look was more important than my little freak show.
"Don't you like it?" He asked in an uncertain tone.
"Ummmm, I can't really say. I've always seen you sporting your facial hair. This will surely take time for us to get used to."
"Who's 'us'? I'm only asking about you. Do you like it?"
"I. . .guess?"
"I'll take that as a no. Remind me to throw the razors and trimmers away." He says, earning a mere twitch of my lips. Raising his right hand, he snapped his fingers and a salon worker appeared with a glass of water in her hands.
Imran takes the glass from her hand and brings it to my mouth. Keeping my eyes locked on his, I take one gulp after the other and chug down the whole thing in one go. Handing the glass back, he gently taps the cuff of his plain white kurta to wipe off whatever water had dropped onto my chin.
"I can't agree with canceling the ceremony tonight." He starts. "It's not the guests I'm worried about but it's Uncle. I am not trying to blackmail you in any way, Maryam, lekin, I'm as helpless as you are." I bow my head, staring at my fingers resting in my lap. I knew this was inevitable, but hearing it from someone else made it sting harsher.
"I can only buy you time, baby." He continues. "Take however long you want to reach the hall. I can tell them to slow your makeup down. We can drive around the city to kill time. Or you can drive around on your own if you don't want me with you. Or even sit in the car right outside the venue until you tell me you're ready."
There was a softness in his voice that had a soothing effect on me. I was not panicking or even shaking in the slightest with Imran sitting right in front of me. He understood me and was willing to help without giving false hope. And at the moment, nothing could be as relieving as that.
"I'm ready," I utter.
"Itni jaldi?" He amused. "No, no, no. You need to relax and breathe. Let all of this sit-in and only after that we're leaving here."
"I'm ready, Imran." I affirmed.
Imran gives me a slow nod of his head and gets to his feet. With one tilt of his head the hair dresser, the makeup artist and the girl who bought us water rush over to me. Two of them immediately get back to work while the youngest one of them begins to clean the mess I've made. Instant guilt and humiliation surged through me.
"I'm sorry," I say to the trio who regard me with a smile.
And that was all it took for things to go back to normal. Imran settled in the chair to my right, and swiveled in my direction so he was directly facing my right side. I felt warm tingles dance on my skin as a result of his gaze.
Another lady whom I recalled to be the receptionist appeared behind him. A sick smile plastered on her face as she approached his chair
"Sir, aapka bhi kuch. . ."
"Nahi," He refused curtly. She nods in understanding and walks away only to come back a couple of minutes later.
"Sir, if you want I can–"
"Nope." Imran's gaze never leaves me as he dismissed her without ever looking her way. Again.
From the mirror, I notice the hands of the wall clock cross another 5 minutes before she reappears. A chuckle escapes my mouth which I cover with a fake cough.
"Sir–"
"Fix my hair. Agar tumhare fingers mere baal ke ilawa, mere forehead, mere neck ya kahi bhi feel hue, to anjaam acha nahi hunga." He threatened her, still staring at me. While I was busy gauging her reaction.
With a muffled sound of excitement, she slightly clapped her hands and began working on his hair. More than my makeup, I was interested in the way she set my husband's hair. Combing, gelling, spraying and combing some more before holding the mirror for him to acknowledge.
Not bothered by the fact that she standing with a proud smile, I watch him bounce his brows at me from the mirror.
"Kaisa?" He asks.
"Nice,"
"That's it?" He makes a cute face. "Just nice?" I cast him a quizzing look after which he speaks up again.
"My wife doesn't like your work. Do it again." I was left gaping at both him and the stylist who was shooting deathly glares my way. While Imran sat back in the chair as relaxed as ever.
I watch her redo his hair with curios eyes. It was almost funny that I was more interested in his look than in what was happening to my face and my hair. After a couple of minutes of work and Imran bounced his brows.
"Now?"
"Acha hai. Good." A shy smile appeared on his face.
"Good?" He blushed and quickly got to his feet after I nod in affirmation. "Thanks. I'll uh, go put my sherwani on. Please, don't run away."
"I won't," I chuckle and turn my attention back to myself. "How much more time?"
"Almost there, maam. Just the final touches." She tells me. I see the end result after she backs away completely not before giving me a hand to get on my feet. I take a moment to examine myself in the mirror, admiring the pearl-embellished aqua organza dupatta with its heavy borders. The back bodice faetures a hand-embellished neckline with touches of crystals and stones. The sleeves feature a cutwork organza border along with a fully hand-embellished motif for the sleeves. The shirt fell right above my knees where the heavy work pants adorn my thick fat legs. They'd left my hair open, parted from the side and styled them into lose curls. They also had me wear all kinds of jewelry, staring from the necklaces to the mang tika, jhoomar and thick bangles that weighed a kilo each.
I leaned into the mirror, examining the dewy makeup they'd done. Making sure to keep it light with cut crease eyes, tinted lips and highlighted cheekbones to compliment the attire. I was fixing the big fake nose ring when Imran walks in. On seeing me stand, he halts. I notice his jaw fall open as I spin around to face him, drinking me in, and making me look away from his heated gaze.
In my head, I ask him how I look like every other girl does to her man. And in return, I got a heartwarming smile, a nod of approval, and a 'gorgeous' in return.
In reality, Imran ambles towards me, cups the side of my face in his palm, and slowly leans in to kiss my nose.
"You're beautiful,"
Not, 'you look beautiful.'
I can live with that, yes.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I drop my gaze to his chest. With our attires in the same colors, I realized we were twining. His sherwani too was in cream color with golden thread work all over. Just like mine. He had a high neck collar that complimented his high cheekbones and the red pocket square acted like a cherry on top of a white cake.
"Waise, how do I look?" He asks instead, adjusting his collar.
"Umm,"
"Let me guess, dashing." Here we go again.
"No," I roll my eyes.
"Sexy,"
"Nahi,"
"Jaw-droppingly breathtaking," I was left caught up in his bright smile and shining eyes which caused me to miss the beat. "Yesssss!!! I knew it."
"Uff!" I roll my eyes again, lift my gharara and begin to walk around him.
"Ek second, ek second. Kidher?" He asks quickly coming to stand in front of me and block my way.
"Outside, where else? Did you forget we have our wedding to attend?"
"Meko to yaad hi nahi tha. I was just trying to look like a groom without putting the effort to." He sassed, then shook his head. When he offered me his right hand, I joke.
"Chillar nahi hai,"
"Haha! So funny, oh my God, Imma die out of laughter." He deadpanned. "Tumhara sense of humor theek karna is my number one priority starting now."
"Listen, mujhpe jokes marna hai na to main nahi aari tumhare saath. Go find someone else." I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest and turning away from him.
"Nahi chahiye koi aur meko." He smiles. "It's only you." I screw my lips to the side, not wanting to give in so early.
"Tu chahiyea, tu chahiyea, sham o subha tu chahiyea. Jitni dafaaaaaaa zid ho meri, utni dafaaaaaaa tu chahiyea." Imran sings.
"Tumhari singing voice theek karna is my number one priority starting now." I mock.
"Jo karna hai karlo. I'm all yours. Lekin abhi ke liyea," he gestures to his raised hand. "We're getting late. Bhaiya called me twice already, thinking I've kidnapped you."
A chuckle leaves my mouth as I slide my hand into his palm. My breath hitches when he leans down and pecked my knuckles before we make our way out of the salon.
👰🏻🤵🏻
So, how was the chapter?
Sorry for going MIA on y'all. Just that I've been very very sick these past days. And I needed time and energy to get these words down.
I really hope you liked the update. Can't wait to see all of your reactions in the comments below.
Until next time,
~𝒅𝒊𝒉𝒂