Heart rates. One random day in her high school biology class, Umeed had learned about the normal adult heart rate range: 60 to 100 beats per minute. This can be further elevated due to stress, anxiety or other physical factors like exercising or heavy physical activity.
She was surprised she remembered it, considering she struggled to recall what she studied for her university finals six months ago. But a bigger surprise was how she felt a heart race against her hand, in a notably abnormal rhythm.
Her hand was pressed against his chest.
Farjaad.
While her hand felt the frenzy beneath them, her eyes were struck at the face that was a little too close to hers - staring down at her intently, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, strands of his wet hair making its way to his forehead, a contrast against the usual gelled back look she's used to. Her eyes instinctively drifted downward from his intense gaze, and in response, his lips parted slightly, probing her to mirror the act. As her gaze made its way back to his, she searched for something she couldn't quite define, but something she was sure she felt.
Farjaad felt as if he was on the brink of combustion, his entire being consumed by the intensity of her unwavering gaze. Her lashes fluttered innocently, her parted lips subtly heaving with each breath. The sight of a water droplet tracing a path from his hair to her lips captivated his attention, he wondered if they were always so pink and plump, were they this alluring all the times she had used it to reprimand, huff and scowl at him? Thoughts raced through his mind, contemplating the different ways in which he could assist her in wiping away the glistening droplet.
He sucked in a sharp breath, overwhelmed by the severity of the need he felt.
Umeed's gaze flickered away, unable to withstand the eyes that were getting darker by the second. As she grasped onto his biceps with her other hand, a reflex as she acknowledged, she couldn't help but notice the solid, well-defined muscles beneath her touch. She could tell he worked out, quite a lot. Umeed felt like she could get used to the feeling of her hands wrapped around his biceps.
Farjaad snapped out of his reverie when Umeed averted her gaze, instantly chastising himself internally for allowing his thoughts to stray into dangerous territory. He sensed warmth spreading across his chest, glancing downward to discover a small spill from the drink she held tightly in her cupped hands, pressed against him. Reluctantly, he cleared his throat, silently urging Umeed to step back. They stood in awkward silence, the weight of their newfound awareness of each other making it difficult to break eye contact or look away.
"T-tumhe yeh, g-girna giraanay kay alawa kuch bhi aata hai?" asked Farjaad, finally breaking the silence, his voice struggling to maintain composure.
Men should consider silence way more than they seem to do.
The softness in Umeed's eyes was replaced with the rage that exists more often than not when she is in the vicinity of this man the moment she heard him talk. Stepping forward, she forcefully placed the cup onto the small teapoy beside the couch, causing Farjaad to flinch involuntarily.
"Aur aapko theek se chalna nahin aata kya?"
"Excuse me-"
"Agar menay aapko nahin bachaya hota tou yeh ek din mein dusri baar gir rahay hotay aap. Khud tou giray huwe hai, dusron ko suna rahay." Umeed's voice carried a tremor, her hands longing for the warmth they had felt just moments before, much to her displeasure.
Farjaad's mouth hung open. "Tumnay mujhe bachaya? Tumne?"
"Jee Bilkul." Umeed nodded.
"Tum toofan ki tarah meray paas aa gayi thi menay tumhein sambhala hai!"
"Tou aap bhi tou phisal rahay the, me nahin pakarti tou aap khud ko sambhal paatay?"
Farjaad parted his lips to respond, but hesitated, struck by the unexpected intensity of her seemingly jestful words. He could not fathom why his mind took him to the night at the cafe from weeks back, as he stood there gaping at her unable to produce a sound.
Umeed stood there for a few moments, her eyes fixated on his face, blinking at regular intervals. She felt overwhelmed by everything that just happened to catch up to her as Farjaad delayed his counter-argument, something that would have kept her mind off of things she had to confront herself about, or rather feelings.
Umeed stood in silence for a few moments, her gaze locked on his face, her eyes blinking at regular intervals. Farjaad's delayed rebuttal allowed the whirlwind of emotions to catch up to her, a distraction that, under different circumstances, might have taken her mind off of the need to confront what she needed to after what had transpired.
Overwhelmed, she stormed out of the room, leaving Farjaad to gaze down at the small patch on his chest—a remnant of the little fist that seemingly possessed the power to make his heart pound. Closing his eyes to dispel the sensation, he realized he now had rather questionable images of her face, so near to his own, her features that he'd fixated on just moments before, etched vividly in his mind.
Farjaad sighed, burdened by the weight of it all.
A sudden call from the designer, raising concerns and queries about some of the wedding outfits, prompted Nighat and Maryam to make a quick trip to the boutique. Meanwhile, Umeed remained behind to sort out the guest lists and handle other technicalities regarding the decorations. As she worked in the lounge, seated on the floor with her notepad, diligently jotting down notes, she knew this was a distraction she greatly appreciated to push aside the thoughts that had been weighing on her mind earlier.
However, the respite was short-lived as she heard footsteps behind her. Turning around, she saw Farjaad enter the lounge. He made his way around the teapoy and settled onto the three-seater sofa beside her. Umeed observed his movements as he casually placed the laptop along with some documents on the table and began to adjust his now-dry hair, not sparing her a glance. As his fingers effortlessly ran through the strands, his biceps flexed under his snug black tee, which appeared slightly undersized. She couldn't help but wonder if he shopped in the kids' section, all the while finding it difficult to divert her gaze from him.
She mentally cursed every decision she had made that had led to the moment in his room earlier.
The moment Farjaad glanced at her, Umeed averted her eyes, albeit with great difficulty. She found herself gripping the pin a little too tightly as she tapped the nib on the notepad in stress, her mind consumed by the image etched in her mind. His presence seemed to deplete the air in the room, and it was a first for her.
"Kya dekh rahi ho?"
Umeed jumped a little on her seat hearing his voice cut through the silence in the room. She cleared her throat as she stared at the page in front of her like nothing else existed, the pen on the verge of breaking under her hold. "K-kuch bhi tou nahin."
"Mujhay dekh rahi thi na tu-"
"Me kyun dekhne lagi aapko?" " Umeed shouted, denying his accusation before he could finish his sentence. Glancing up, she saw Farjaad crossing his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes at her with suspicion. Instantly, she looked down, biting her lip nervously—a movement that did not escape Farjaad's notice.
It was his turn to get flustered.
Farjaad picked up his laptop and started typing aggressively, not before taking a sharp breath, and licking his lips involuntarily. He could not help but cast sidelong glances at her every few seconds, the sight of her lower lips caged in between her teeth bothering him a great deal.
Farjaad wasn't particularly proud of the new additions to his list of life's concerns. The list included his mother and sister, along with certain actions of theirs he didn't approve of, as well as issues within the firm. He also worried about employees who seemed to underperform, prompting him to instruct Ms. Mehak to prepare termination letters in advance while he reviewed their cases. Ms Mehak herself was another concern, given his awareness of his mother keeping in touch with her to stay updated on what he was up to.
A toofan-e-badtameezi and her caged lips had never been his concern—until that fateful moment nearly an hour ago. As someone accustomed to handling numerous technicalities, Farjaad expected himself to have answers to this puzzle. However, he was surprised to find himself at a loss. He couldn't comprehend the sudden shift or understand why such trivial matters about an immature girl were affecting him to this extent, the man who had dealt with more intimidating people and situations than most were likely to encounter in their lifetimes.
"Aap yahan kyun baithay hai?" Umeed questioned, interrupting his train of thought.
Farjaad replied, still staring at the Excel sheet on the screen; "Kaam kar raha hun."
He noticed Umeed looking up at him through his peripheral vision, her eyebrows furrowed, and he realized he had stopped typing—or doing any kind of work—for quite some time. His eyes darted all over the screen as he tried to come up with an appropriate response. Before he could, she spoke.
"Lekin aap tou study mein baith kay kaam nahin kartay?"
He tilted his head at her. "Ms Umeed, yeh mera ghar hai." he enunciated, raising his eyebrows. "Me jahan bhi baithkay kaam karun, aapsay matlab?" He saw Umeed's eyes widen at how he went back to his old ways of addressing her and felt the need to reaffirm his authority. "Aur aap abhi tak gayi nahin yahan se?"
Umeed nodded in submission at his response, and suddenly, he regretted every word he had ever uttered. He hated how visceral she made him feel.
"Jee me bas isiliye puch rahi thi kyunkay Mimi mujhsay kehti thi aap yahan concentrate nahin kar patay. Aapko akelay baithna hota hai."
She was right. He knew it deep down. Especially in this moment, there wasn't a truer statement than that.
"Baaki aap yahan baithein, apnay kamray mein baithein baahir porch mein Niyaz gaarhi dho raha hai aap uskay bonnet pe baith jaayein mujhay kya?" Umeed argued, looking up at him confidently now. "Aur me chali jaungi apna kaam hotay hi. Bas decorations ka kuch dekh rahi hun, mujhay bhi koi shauk nahin hai yahan aapkay saath baithnay ka. Chup chaap kaam karein, mujhsay baat karnay ki koshish na karein."
Farjaad was offended; "Haan mujhay bhi mazeed apna sar khapanay ka shauk nahin hai. Aur menay nahin baat tumnay shuru ki thi."
"Oh hello? Baat aapnay start ki thi. Me tou yahan chup chaap baithkay apna kaam kar rahi thi!" Umeed rolled her eyes. The audacity of this man.
Farjaad tilted his head, his voice tinged with concern. "Banta hai mera puchna, tum mujhay dekh jo rahi thi! Mujhay kya pata ab kaunsi nayi khatarnak saazish chala rahi ho apnay dil-o-dimaag mein tum meray khilaaf?" He feigned fear, his eyes widening in horror.
"Pehli baat tou yeh hai kay me aapko dekh nahin rahi thi." Farjaad couldn't help but have a questioning look on his face at her response. Umeed continued; "Aur dusri baat yeh hai kay meray zehen mein jo bhi chal raha tha woh kam-az-kam aapsay mutalliq nahin tha isiliye aap befiqr rahein."
Farjaad jabbed his finger at her, his tone firm. "Jo kuch bhi tum soch rahi ho na, usay apni hadd tak rakhna. Jaakay Maryam ki kaan bharnay ki zarurat nahin hai." Leaning back on the sofa, he continued in a mocking tone, pulling a face. "Farjaad dance karega mehendi par!"
Umeed was taken aback by how animated he looked.
"Dekhein agar aapko dance karna nahin aata tou seedha seedha bol dein, apni insecurity ko gussa mein tabdeel kar kay mujh par nikaalnay ki zarurat nahin hai."
He leaned forward, visibly angry pointing his fingers once again; "Umeed-"
Umeed mirrored his actions. "Aap ungli kisay dikha rahay hai—Aah!" Her words were abruptly cut off as her hand accidentally struck the glass of water positioned just beyond her notepad. It toppled onto the table, dampening his documents.
Farjaad instinctively moved his laptop out of harm's way, swiftly placing it on the couch before reaching for his documents. Meanwhile, Umeed startled, leaping back on the floor in fear, her hands instinctively covering her mouth in shock.
He took a moment, holding the papers, trying to accept the reality of their destruction before lifting his eyes to look at her. She met his gaze with an innocent yet nervous smile playing on her lips. However, his expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he glared at her suspiciously.
"Th-thora sa paani hi tou gira hai, kaunsi qayamat aa gayi hai?" She grinned, gesturing with her hands.
Farjaad didn't move, his expression deadpan.
Umeed gulped, shaking her head ever so slightly. "Nahin?"
"Niyaz!" Farjaad called out, his eyes unwavering. Niyaz arrived in a few seconds, and with a quick glance at the scene in front of him, he knew the two had started another fight. "Jaldi saaf karo yaar yeh." Farjaad ordered, and the former nodded, leaving to fetch a cloth.
Umeed acknowledged her mistake and felt a desperate need to make amends, realizing these might be some of his important files. She considered herself fortunate that the glass fell in the opposite direction; had it ruined her notepad, she would have most likely cried. Meanwhile, Farjaad sat there, trying his best to maintain his composure as the list of ways in which Umeed had unsettled him over the past few hours seemed endless as if it had no end in sight.
Adding to the misery, she was sitting right next to him, barely five centimeters away.
As soon as Niyaz was back, Umeed took charge of the situation. "Rehne do, menay giraaya na, me hi saaf karungi. Laao, do." she said assertively. She took the cleaning cloth from him, setting her notepad aside on the couch. Then, she passed the fallen glass to Niyaz before he left.
"Waisay jitna bara ghar hai na aapka, utna hi chhota dil hai." taunted Umeed, as she grabbed the papers, wiping them vigorously.
Farjaad lunged forward. "Kya kar rahi ho stupid insaan?" He gazed at the absolute wreckage of the papers he had toiled days and nights on. "Sab kharab kar diya hai." he whispered, his voice barely audible amidst the devastation.
"Kapra nahin maarna tha?" Umeed asked, clueless.
Farjaad covered his face with his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. He felt absolutely overwhelmed at how Umeed had been overstepping and consuming the entirety of his life —once meticulously organized. He was even more frustrated with himself for his inability to muster anger towards her, despite the havoc she had wrought in his usual Farjaad Khan Bahadur style.
Yeh larki kya chiz hai?
"Accha me istri karkay laati hun, sookh jayega ha-"
"Bas!"
There was no way he could take this anymore. Farjaad couldn't take her anymore. He felt like he would combust if he spent a minute more with her in his house. "Me tumhein ab iss ghar mein mazeed bardaasht nahin kar sakta."
"Hein?"
He stood up, gesturing for her to get up as well. "Utho-"
"Kyun?"
"Utho!"
"K-kyun kahan jaana hai?" asked Umeed, shrinking into her sitting posture.
"Me tumhe tumharay ghar chhorhkay aa raha hun."
"Kya matlab sirf paani giraanay pe aap mujhay ghar se nikaal dengay?"
"Utho!" He strode towards her, seizing her wrists and pulling her upright.
Umeed screamed, resisting his pull. "Nahin!"
Farjaad paid no heed to her protests, using all his strength to guide her out of the lounge. Despite her screams and resistance, he remained determined, dragging her along.
Meanwhile, Niyaz stood in one corner of the hallway, observing the chaotic scene with amusement, unnoticed by the duo.
***
"Sirf paani giraanay pe aapnay mujhay ghar se nikaal diya kitnay berehem hai aap!" Umeed whined, getting out of the car earning a glare from Farjaad.
"What? Tumhe andaaza bhi hai tumhari wajah se aaj, ek din mein, chand ghanton mein, mera kitna nuksaan huwa hai? Aur kitni baar huwa hai?" Questioned Farjaad, as Umeed stood outside, resting her hands on the window.
Farjaad was in no mood to let it go. "Pehlay mera phone, phir meray documents, aur jo tum mujhay gira giraa kay meri haddi pasli bhi torh rahi ho uska kya?"
Umeed huffed in anger, unable to counter that. Farjaad lifted his chin, signalling for her to leave. She kicked the car in frustration, only to hurt herself in the process. With a yelp, she jumped up and headed towards the gate. Farjaad couldn't help but chuckle silently, careful not to let her see.
Umeed could be adorable.
Shut up, Farjaad.
Umeed's hand hovered over the switch of the doorbell on the pillar attached to the gate. Glancing back, she saw Farjaad in the driver's seat, engrossed in his phone. It was late afternoon, and a warm breeze brushed against him, tousling Farjaad's hair, a stray strand falling onto his forehead.
She knew he was caught up in work matters. Umeed pressed her lips together, trying to suppress a smile of adoration as she recalled how this apparent business tyrant had been reduced to something akin to a clown at her hands today— and how... that seemed to be the case pretty much always when he was with her.
Umeed turned with a little jump and strolled back to the car, announcing, "Koi doorbell ka jawaab nahin de raha, mujhay lagta hai ghar pe koi nahin hai!"
"Tou call karo na, tumhein kisi kay hawalay karkay jaunga."
Umeed sighed; "Me kya koi bhed bakri hun jo aap mujhay qasai kay hawalay karkay jayengay?"
"Umeed..." warned Farjaad. "Chup chaap kisi ko call karo taakay woh aakay gate khol dein tumharay liye. Time nahin hai meray paas."
"Pasha Sahab aur Chachu Aghu jaan ko lekar hospital gaye huwe hai. Sameer kisi dost kay yahan gaya huwa hai kisi group project kay silsilay mein aur... aur Chachi aur Haya ek-" Umeed paused, taking a moment. "Woh dono kisi rishtedaar ki shaadi par gaye huwe hai."
Farjaad raised his eyebrows, prompting Umeed to continue convincing him. She did her signature gesture, joining her index fingers. "Tou ghar pe koi nahin hai." he reiterated. He scrutinized her for a solid minute, and she looked like the epitome of a helpless damsel in distress, blinking and pouting her lips—much to his own distress.
He averted his gaze as if it pained him to look at her, one hand holding his head while the other gripped the steering wheel tightly.
"Baitho."
"Me nahin aa rahi aapkay ghar aapkay saath." said Umeed, rolling her eyes like a tantrum throwing diva. "Me yahin khadi rahungi chahay raat ho jayein. Mujha nahin aana aapkay saath."
"Umeed me keh raha hun baitho."
His patience was wearing thin, Umeed could feel it.
But she couldn't help it.
"Nahin pehlay aap mujhay sorry bolein." Umeed stated, sounding firm and demanding. She couldn't pinpoint the source of this sudden surge of confidence within her. An outburst from Farjaad seemed inevitable now, and she braced herself for it.
"Umeed!"
"Aap chalay jaayein na kya ho gaya hai? Me yahan ruk kay intezaar kar lungi. Mujhay nahin aana waapis aapkay saath."
Umeed retreated, pulling her hands away from the car window. He had to leave.
"Umeed tum pagal ho? Tumhein sheher kay halaat ka pata hai na it's not safe. Aao baitho."
Farjaad sounded extremely serious, clearly not in the mood for their usual banter. Yet, Umeed found herself unable to resist the urge to provoke him further, pushing him closer to the edge despite knowing better.
Perhaps she was trying to see something.
"Me keh rahi hun na me yahan wait kar lungi? Aur me koi chhoti bacchi nahin hun, abba na banein."
As if her dad wouldn't be the one to drive away first, leaving her alone, even if it were midnight.
"Umeed, safety first!"
Umeed stood there, resolute in her stance. With her arms folded across her chest, she tapped her foot impatiently, glancing around, waiting for him to drive away.
After a few moments of silence, she heard an audible exhale. "Theek hai."
Here it is.
"Tum nahin aaogi tou me bhi nahin jaaunga. Yahin rahunga chahay raat ho jayein."
"Tou me kab se—" Umeed suddenly fell silent, her mind reeling as she realized the answer she received wasn't the one she expected Did he just say he was not leaving?
Umeed had to confirm. "Kya?"
"You heard me." He shrugged. "Agar tumnay yahan khadi hokay raat tak intezaar karnay ka dil bana liya hai, then I am staying."
He wants to stay.
Baffled would be an understatement for what Umeed felt at that moment. She questioned the sanity of the man in front of her. After subjecting him to a day of living hell and throwing the worst of tantrums for seemingly no reason, he chooses to stay instead of escaping at the first chance he gets?
Umeed opened and closed her mouth a few times, but not a single word dared to escape. With her lips parted, feeling as though there were a million things she wanted to say to him, she stood there in complete silence. Her eyes remained fixated on his seated form, while he returned her gaze with a frown.
Only if he knew what it meant to her.
"Farjaad Saab!"
The deafening sound of Pasha Sahab's voice jolted both of them, snapping Umeed out of her trance and Farjaad out of his irritated glare. Umeed tightly shut her eyes in embarrassment as she heard her father open the gate and approach them, knowing that her lie was about to be exposed.
"Farjaad Sahab aap yahan?" Kamal Pasha stood next to his daughter, with a bright smile.
Farjaad reciprocated the smile, "Assalamualaikum Pasha Sahab, me bas Umeed ko chhorhne aaya tha." His eyes shifted from the father to his daughter, passing a curious yet amused smile at the lady. "Aap ghar pe the?"
"Wa Alaikum Assalam. Jee jee, me kya sab kay sab ghar par hai! Aap yahan kyun thehray hai, andar aa jaayein." Pasha Sahab informed.
Umeed wished the earth would split in half and swallow her whole.
Farjaad denied politely. "Nahin Pasha Sahab it's okay, abhi zara jaldi hai mujhay."
"Nahin nahin aapko aana parhega beta, aapnay Umeed kay liye takleef uthaya hai aapki mehmaan nawazi tou banti hai. Aap andar aayein." Pasha Sahab's words sounded as if honey was dripping from them. Umeed couldn't help but roll her eyes at this love story in the making, finding it hard to recall a time when her father had ever spoken to her with even half as much sweetness in his tone.
"Umeed, tum Farjaad ko yahin se bhej rahi thi? Kuch tou ehtiyaat kiya karo, itna barha aadmi hai phir bhi tumharay liye waqt nikaala hai, kab seekhogi tum Umeed?"
There it is. That's what she gets.
"Nahin, nahin Pasha Sahab aisi baat nahin hai." Farjaad chimed in. "Umeed bas mujhsay keh hi rahi thi kay mujhay andar aakay aapsay milna chahiye. Bas itni si baat hai meri ek bohot zaruri meeting hai abhi tou mujhay jaana parhega."
Umeed looked at him in disdain. She did not need his favours to hold her own in front of her father, she was a master at this art. If anything, she wanted him to drive away now as she was sick of this love affair between her father and him.
"Mujhay jaanay ki ijaazat dein." Farjaad started the car, and Kamal Pasha nodded in acknowledgment. Meanwhile, Umeed dramatically stormed off into the house. She knew this action would displease her father, but at this point, it seemed even her existence was.
Farjaad suppressed a chuckle at her dramatic exit, but then his eyes fell on the passenger seat. He noticed the bag left behind by her. Her bag for which he had walked back to the lounge after locking her in the car.
"Pasha Sahab!" he called out as he picked up the bag, intending to hand it to Pasha Sahab, who stood a little away in front of the gate, seeing him off. "Aap yeh Umeed ko de dengay? Apna bag gaarhi mein chhorh gayi."
Pasha Sahab walked up to him, taking the bag from his hand. "Pata nahin yeh Umeed apni laparwahi kab chhorhegi." he sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.
Farjaad nodded. "Me chalta hun phir."
"Aaj aap jaa rahay hai lekin Umeed ki shaadi par aapko zarur aana hai aur humein mehmaan nawaazi ki mauka dena hi dena hai." insisted Pasha Sahab.
Farjaad wondered if he could go by one day without someone reminding him of this matter that wasn't significant to his life in any shape or form.
The familiar sensation of his chest tightening returned.
Farjaad forced a smile as he bid a quick adieu and drove off, his left hand swiftly slipping into his pocket, the spoils of his subtle pilfering from her bag.
" Itni purani ghari hai me kisi dukaan mein le jaun tou dukaan wala hasnay lagta hai."
***
Umeed tip-toed into the living room and found her father sitting, appearing rather disappointed. Unfazed by the familiar scene, she headed straight for the table to retrieve her bag, fully intending to leave as soon as she had it in her hands.
"Ek minute baitho."
Pasha Sahab hardly ever requested Umeed to stay, except perhaps years ago when she was a child. Lately, it typically happened only when he had something against her. Sensing that she had likely landed herself in trouble, Umeed took the seat beside him, fidgeting with the strap of her bag in anticipation.
"Tumne Waleed ko cafe ki balance sheet denay se mana kar diya?" questioned Pasha Sahab, his voice sounding heavy.
"Nahin Pasha Sahab-"
"Waleed ne mujhay sab bata diya hai tou ek nayi kahani bananay se pehlay ek baar soch zarur lena."
That menace.
Umeed braced herself, summoning her best good-girl demeanor. "Nahin Pasha Sahab aisi baat nahin hai. Menay already saara hisaab kitaab kar liya tha tou menay socha Waleed ko kyun takleef dun?"
"Woh baccha tumharay liye fiqrmand hai, bas dekhna chahta tha taakay baad mein tumharay liye koi mushkil na ho. Tumhara kya bharosa pata nahin hisaab kitaab mein kitnay gadbad kiye hongay!"
Umeed gulped as she felt her throat welling up. "Menay koi gadbad nahin ki thi Pasha Sahab saara hisaab theek se kiya hai, aap chahay tou check kar saktay hain ek baar meri baat par yaqeen tou kar le-"
"Woh parha likha larka hai, itna maqool qism ka hai, uskay saharay kay beghair khud tou tumhara yeh cafe chalna nahin hai, aur woh bichara tumhari madad karnay ko taiyaar bhi hai lekin tumhari uss se bhi badtameeziyaan khatm hi nahin hoti?" Kamal Pasha's voice raised in frustration.
"Pasha Sahab parhi likhi tou me bhi hun-"
"Ab tum mujhay ulta jawaab dogi?" Pasha Sahab's voice almost thundered. "Parhnay likhnay se kuch nahin hota, insaan mein akal ki zarurat hoti hai, barhon kay liye izzat ki zarurat hoti hai aur samajhdaar hona parhta hai! Yahan izzat karna chhorh do, tum tou khud humari izzat daav pe laga rahi ho." He sneered. "Barhi aayi parhi likhi!"
She gripped tightly onto her bag, staring at the floor as she gathered the courage to respond to a father who seemed to trust anyone and anything in the world except his own daughter. Flashbacks of how lovingly he had spoken to Farjaad earlier rushed to her mind, leaving her feeling suffocated.
"I am sorry Pasha Sahab." said Umeed, feeling defeated. There was nothing else she could say without jeopardizing her hard-earned freedom to run her cafe, at least until he managed to marry her off, if he ever did. She knew she would somehow manage once she was out of here but for now, she had to lie low.
Frankly, she no longer cared about explaining herself to him. After all, it is not like he was ever to see her as a capable child. So, why did it even matter?
"Sorry Pasha Sahab!" he imitated sarcastically. "Bas rat liya hai yeh teen lafz har baar bas yahin bol do. Tumhein pata bhi hai woh bichara baccha shikayat bhi nahin ki, mujhsay baat kartay huwe bhi bas fiqr kar raha tha tumhari kay kahin koi masla na ho jayein cafe kay finances ko lekar."
"Jee Pasha Sahab."
"Waleed ki maa chahti hai tum un dono kay saath dinner karo ek din. Aam taur par mein iski ijazat nahin deta yeh shaadi se pehlay... yeh sab munasib nahin hai. Lekin ab me kis munh se mana karun jab meri beti ne unkay betay kay saath badtameezi ki hai?"
Was it ever that deep?
Umeed resisted the impulse to roll her eyes, simultaneously struggling to hold back tears welling up inside her at the harshness of his words.
"Tum jaaogi, do din baad. Aur iss baat ko lekar mujhay koi behes nahin chahiye."
"Jee Pasha Sahab."
"Jaao ab."
Umeed ran out of the room, aiming straight for the stairs.
Upon entering her room, Umeed found Aghu jaan seated on her bed. Without hesitation, she strode over and collapsed onto the bed, burying her face in Aghu jaan's lap, her bag casually tossed onto the dressing table along the way. Moments later, Haya, who had been eavesdropping downstairs, quietly followed suit.
Aware of Haya's entry, Umeed shouted; "Haya meri ghari phir se kharab ho gayi, jab woh kaathay angrez waapis aayein tou usay bol dena theek kar denay ko. Meray bag mein rakha hai usay kaho wahin se le lein."
"Woh sab tou me keh dungi Umeed, lekin yeh me kya sun rahi hun? Tumnay Waleed se badtameezi ki hai?" Haya walked over, settling on her bed right next to Umeed's.
Umeed let out an exasperated huff, turning her head while Aghu Jaan lovingly caressed her hair. "Menay koi badtameezi nahin ki thi. Usnay balance sheet ka pucha, menay denay se mana kar diya bas! Ismein badtameezi kahan se aa gayi bhai?"
"Umeed kya ho gaya hai, de deti na balance sheet? Ab dekho bekaar mein tumharay aur Pasha Sahab kay beech mein mazeed ek jhagra ho gaya." Haya said, concerned about the worsening relationship between the father-daughter duo.
Umeed shrugged. "Haan tou woh har roz hoti rehti hai kaunsi nayi baat hai?"
"Lekin phir bhi-"
"Aur me kyun dun balance sheet?" questioned Umeed, sitting up on the bed. "Aghu jaan aap hi batayein, cafe kisnay set up ki thi?"
"Kaunsa cafe, guriya?"
Umeed clicked her tongue, gently reaching for Aghu jaan's hands. "Arrey Aghu jaan, yaad hai na mera chai ka dhaba?"
Aghu jaan nodded; "Arrey haan, wohi dhaba jahan tum hum sabko lekay gaye the kuch din pehlay!" she sounded excited, before her tone fell. "Aur Kamal Pasha aanay se mana kar diya tha."
"Haan wohi dhaba Aghu jaan, ab batao uss dhabay ka pura set up kisnay kiya tha?
"Tumnay kiya tha guriya!"
"Woh dhaba chalanay kay liye din raat ek kaun kar raha hai Hayaaa?" Umeed quipped, with a wry smile on her face.
Haya responded, her tone dry and matter-of-fact. "Tum kar rahi ho Umeed," Like most other things about Umeed, she already knew where she was going with this.
"Tou woh cafe hai kiska?"
"Tumhara!" replied Haya and Aghu jaan in unison.
"Tou uss cafe ka hisaab kitaab aur uss se related documents kiskay huwe?" questioned Umeed, with an open palm gesture.
Aghu Jaan and Haya shared a look as they pointed at her, urging Umeed to close her palms and point at herself, nodding. "Tou aap log hi batayein me kyun dun Waleed ko koi bhi balance sheet aur documents? Woh hota kaun hai?"
"Meri guriya bilkul theek keh rahi hai." reaffirmed Aghu Jaan.
Haya chimed in. "Woh sab tou theek hai Umeed, lekin ab tum karogi kya? Jaogi dinner pe Waleed aur uski Ammi kay saath?"
"Uss maqool aur uski Ammi kay saath dinner jaayein meray dushman!"proclaimed Umeed, propping herself up on the bed by her knees, hands resting firmly on her hips. "Mera naam na Umeed Pasha hai, urhtay kauuwe ki bhi na par gin leti hun me."
Haya was anxious wondering what Umeed was up to now."Tum kya karnaywali ho Umeed?"
"Pehli baat tou usnay Pasha Sahab se jaakar meri shikayat ki. Theek hai kar lo shikayat lekin shikayat kay badlay dinner ka kaun puchta hai? Kuch dhamakedaar karo jaisay, rishta torhna, you know?" Umeed's anger manifested in three stages. The first was moderate, the second was explosive, marked by shouting and fiery glares, but the third was the most scary — characterized by mocking smiles and sweet words, a facade masking a deeper, more calculated anger.
Haya nodded, looking at her in horror.
"Ab jab usnay jung ka aagaaz kiya hi hai tou me bhi peechay nahin hatt ne wali. Barha aaya balance sheet dekhnay wala!" said Umeed, her hands forming tiny fists.
Haya leapt forward, reaching out to grasp Umeed's fists. "Behen, tum karne kya wali ho?"
"Bistar se uth kar dinner table tak chalkar jaanay kay qaabil chhorhungi nahin usay."
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I will try and post the next chapter as soon as possible.
Not proofread, not edited. Forgive me for the mistakes. :)