The high court was packed. Lawyers rushed in, their eyes fixed on their papers, robes in disarray and hair disheveled from the heat. March in Karachi was a brutal affair, all heat and no reprieve. I sat on the wooden benches in the far corner, watching the proceedings with a mild interest of a weary traveler.
Mehak, my friend since college, sat beside me going over the notes on her mobile, her braid swept over one shoulder, her eyes squinting from the sun. Trying to kill the time, my eyes wandered towards the lopsided signs displayed in a haphazard way, displaying the variety of lawyers available for hire.
I gripped the piece of paper in my hand, trying not to let it wrinkle in my sweaty palm.
Nervous. I was nervous.
This was a huge step. Something that would shake the foundations of my family. Something that would definitely topple the foundations of Salaar's family.
"It's going to be okay," Mehak muttered sensing my trepidation. "You're doing the right thing."
"Am I?"
"Fighting for your right is the right thing Rain. Don't lose hope. Besides, Salaar bhai promised he'd get you through this," and I trusted him. Completely and implicitly.
"I know he will. I just don't know... anyway, let's see what the lawyer says."
As we waited, my mind wandered back to a month ago when I'd dropped the bombshell on my family.
"You're getting married? Just like that? Out of the blue? To a boy, we've never met?"
"He's a man and you do know him, he works in my office," I answered briefly, leaning against the dining table, my eyes fixed on the wall clock.
"Ex-office," Azaan muttered his eyes narrowed on me. I stuck my tongue out at him and focused on my mother.
"Is he rich?"
"No."
"Good looking?"
"No."
"Charming?"
I thought about it. "Not particularly..."
"Do you love him?"
"No," God forbid.
"Then why are you marrying him?"
"Wait, wait... Salaar is the guy who killed his wife right?"
Amma's head whipped so fast I was afraid she'd get whiplash. "What?"
"She left him," I intervened, my eyes threatening to strangle Azaan if he made this whole thing worse.
"Oh my God, what if he lied and buried her body?" I sincerely doubted he'd make that effort. In all the time I'd known him, the man had stayed glued to his chair.
"You're overreacting Ma. Either way, you'd get rid of me, isn't that what you want?"
She blinked rapidly, her eyes misting over from the hurt. "Look at you! You're marrying an old divorcee! What is wrong with you Rania?" She did not want to hear that list.
"He's not old," I said, tossing a walnut in my mouth. I'd only seen him hobble, like twice.
"He's been married once! Men get married late! He's probably in his forties!"
Seriously, she was acting like I had better proposals to accept, especially after that incident. "He's 32 Ma."
"Which is why he's poor! And now you've lost your job! What will you do? How will you survive? Wait! Does he have a lot of siblings?"
"It's a small family, parents and a younger sister," People that he loved and cared for.
"Is that why you're marrying him? Because I'm telling you, he just wants someone to take care of his mother..." I had to hand it to my mother. She was spot on, albeit in a vague, roundabout way.
"Ma, I want to marry him. Both Aba and you wanted me to get married. This solves all of our problems."
"To a well settled, educated boy."
"He's a well-settled, respected, well-educated man," Azaan backed out of the room, his panicked eyes bouncing between the two of us.
"He's been divorced! He's not rich. You said he's not handsome. You don't even love him!"
I stared at her, my eyes narrowing to slits. I'd had enough of her unrealistic standards and expectations. "Amma, I'm marrying Salaar and that's it."
"Rain, that's him isn't it?" I looked up to see Mehak's finger pointing towards a very genteel man, who looked to be somewhere in his early fifties, roll out of a 2007 model Toyota.
"Seems like it," was Salaar trying to trick me? That guy was his most trusted man? That man looked like he'd cry if he hurt a fly and he was supposed to fight my case?
For a minute, I stalled, like maybe a world-ending asteroid would take me out before I was forced to go inside. Then I took a deep breath and got out, wrestling with my overstuffed tote and pushing a fistful of dark hair out of my eyes, marching towards my goal.
Advocate Asghar's office was a cramped but comfortable space. Traditional Sindhi art and ajraks were draped upon the walls, giving the room a cool and dark feel. Mehak and I squeezed into the room, our bodies narrowed trying to avoid bumping into the mountain of books that had been dumped unceremoniously in the front. The midday sun filtered in through the dust-covered windows, as we positioned ourselves right underneath the slow-moving fan.
Asghar Uncle poked into the room, his eyes lighting up as he saw us. "Welcome, you must be Mrs.Salaar?" he asked, stopping in front of Mehak, giving her a wide smile.
Oh for the love of God. "Nope, that would be me."
"But you're so young!"
"We're the same age. She gets that a lot," Mehak muttered, her eyes holding a hint of amusement.
"Oh well, it's lovely to meet you...?"
"Rania. Rania Mehmood and this is my friend Mehak Khan."
"Wonderful, get seated ladies. My assistant, Aziz, talked to Salaar a month ago and he provided the basic details of the case, but I'm afraid I'll have to hear the full story from you."
Mehak's hand came to grab mine and I braced myself, a lump forming in my throat.
The old street looked quite bleak. Red-brick houses were arranged in no particular order, as though someone had just picked them up and scattered them about. I stared at the house, debating if I should ring the bell or just stride in.
The door opened just as I raised my fist to knock.
"Bhabi?"
"Ayesha! Hi. How'd you know I was outside?"
She blinked quickly, her big brown eyes filled with confusion. "I didn't, I was going to Daneen's house to study."
"Oh."
"Why were you just standing? Why didn't you ring the doorbell?"
I crossed my arms viciously over my chest. Or tried to. The heat was making it hard to concentrate. "Uh..."
"You don't feel welcome here, right? You've barely been in the house for the past month and Salaar bhai has told us that you're working but I know what this is."
I raised an eyebrow, confused. "What is this?"
"You don't like us! Salaar Bhai's first wife didn't like us either. She was hardly at home, she didn't care about Salaar bhai or Ammi. All she cared about were her friends."
"Ayesha, I do care about you, I've just been a bit busy, but I promise to be more present." There, that sounded very general and comforting. Detached.
"You haven't even gone on a honeymoon with him!"
An ache went through me. The same one I'd felt at least once a day since I'd stepped into this house. What were we doing? People were bound to question our relationship. What young couple didn't go on a honeymoon right after their wedding?
"Ayesha!" Auntie scolded. "Aren't you supposed to be at your friend's house right now?" Ayesha nodded and slipped away, her dark head covered by her dupatta. "Sorry about that beta, pay no attention to her, she's been watching a lot of television."
She beckoned me into the house, stepping aside to let me in. "Is Salaar home?" I asked conversationally. She nodded, her eyes brightening.
"Why don't you go change and then we can all have tea together?" I stared at her, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip. Auntie's face fell and guilt stabbed me in the chest. She'd been so kind and welcoming, so understanding and patient with me. This was the least I could do.
"That would be lovely."
Salaar emerged out of the bathroom, his hair still wet from the shower. I looked away, fighting the rising blush on my cheeks. Even after a month of living together, I still wasn't used to this intimacy.
"Where did the couch go?"
"Ammi had it removed, said she needed it to be repaired or something."
Heart pounding, I whirled around to look at him. A handful of seconds passed, as we stared at each other contemplating our next move.
"Uncle Asghar called. Said he'd get back to us in a few days."
The lump in my throat crawled back up, so I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. His eyes softened and he stepped forward, his fingers brushing my arm in a comforting gesture.
"Are you okay? I know it had to be hard, describing everything," I didn't answer looking at a point above his shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Auntie is waiting for me," striding forward, I told myself not to look up, but my eyes lifted anyway as I passed by him, meeting his understanding gaze.
Words started to tumble out unbidden.
"He was extremely understanding but I don't know what to say Salaar. Can we do this? Who will believe me? What about your family? My family?"
"I believed you. The courts will believe you. Sexual assault isn't something that can be taken lightly, Rania. Uncle Asghar is an extremely experienced lawyer and he will make sure that he protects you. I will protect you," an uncharacteristic feeling stirred low in my gut and I stepped back.
"We're in this together, we signed a contract," his wry tone wrangled a laugh out of me. "What does Ammi want from you?"
Pressure clamped down on my chest as I fumbled to answer nonchalantly. "We're just having tea together."
"Rania?" I looked back at him, pausing at the doorway, my hand braced against the frame. "Look I know why you're doing this but it's going to make my mother really happy, so thank you."
A small smile appeared as I walked out of the room, warmed and confused by the gesture, putting it at the back of my mind, looking forward to tea time with Auntie.
"What is this?"
"A pillow wall,"
"A what?"
"I married you because I wanted my revenge and my freedom. You married me because you wanted your revenge and your mother to be happy. This is a nice compromise!"
Salaar studied me through the dark for a minute—or at least, I assumed that was what he was doing since neither of us could actually see the other. Courtesy, K-Electric.
Finally, he spoke. "You really are something aren't you?"
"Took you a while to figure that out."
"I think I'm regretting my decision."
"There's no way out of this, I've got a big day tomorrow," I mumbled, shifting to my side, hyper-aware of the distance between us. The bed dipped as he got in with a large sigh, his weight nearly jostling me off the bed.
We stayed silent, both of us staring at the ceiling. What seemed like years later he turned and snatched the covers off my body, bumping into the pillow wall.
"Salaar, stay on your side," I hissed out, clutching the covers to my chest.
"I am on my side!"
"You're pulling the covers!"
"You're wrapped in them."
"Don't jostle the pillow wall..."
"You know what? Rania, just take the bed, I'm sleeping on the floor."
"Thank God, I've never had to share my space!"
"I'd be worried if you'd shared anything with anyone," he growled, scooting towards the edge.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
He was quiet for so long, the unease within me tripled. "Why didn't you tell your family the truth?"
His words were like a punch to the chest.
"It's not important."
"They're your family Rania," who'd managed to fail spectacularly in that department.
"Why are you so invested?"
"I..."
"Go to sleep Salaar. This is not your problem."You're not my husband. "Now good night."
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Thoughts? Comments?