"Bibi Jee?"
I stirred in sleep. Was someone calling me?
"Bibi Jee?"
My eyelids fluttered as my drowsy mind tried to wrap around the sudden influx of chaos.
"Bibi Jee, are you up?"
I registered the voice coming from behind the door and in a moment recognised it as Amir's.
I groaned, turning on the bed. "Now what?"
"Breakfast is-"
"I'm not hungry!" I shouted from the bed. Rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands, I changed sides, my back now facing the door.
I could never understand how people lose appetite and sleep during traumatic times. Because I for sure hadn't. I was starving like crazy and had slept quite well.
"Bibi Jee?"
Oh God. Why was he back? I groaned again.
"What?" With a jerk I got up and snapped at the door.
There was a pause and then he spoke again, for some reason sounding sheepish. "Um, Bibi Jee, Agha Saab wants to know if you'd be coming for breakfast yourself, or you'd rather he came to pick you up and carry you to the table."
A sudden fear gripped my heart as it gave a loud thud against my chest. "I'm coming." I said as I hastily threw the blanket away and got down from the bed. Shoving my feet into the slippers, I rushed into the washroom.
I did a quick mouthwash, splashed water on my face and, doing a messy bun of my hair, I left the room, dabbing my scarf on my wet face.
Halting a couple of feet away from the dining table set across from the glass doors, through which bright morning sunlight was washing in, I tried to calm my irregular breathing, and bring some warmth into my cold hands.
He sat on the head chair, all dressed for work cladded in a black suit. He might have sensed me, for he looked up from his phone.
"Come sit." He said, motioning towards the chair to his right.
Because I had nothing else to do but oblige, I walked to the table and perched down on the chair. Gazing ahead at the lawn visible through the glass, I noticed it was a nice place to set the table.
"What would you like to eat?"
"Nothing." I muttered, looking down at my wringing hands and realised that they were shaking. "I'm not hungry." And as I spoke those words out loud, my stomach gave a loud rumble.
"Don't lie. Of course you're hungry. Besides, you're upset with the people, not with the Lord. And food comes from the Lord, not from the people."
I lowered my head. His eyes trained on me were freaking me out. Why was he being so nice? I thought he'd lash out at me for all the nasty things I did to him the moment he'd get the chance.
"So what do you want to eat?"
Staring at the checkered table mat, I mumbled. "Anything."
He paused for a brief moment, and when he spoke again, I thought I sensed him smile. "That'd be unfortunate, because Amir doesn't know how to cook anything."
My eyes snapped up at him.
"And . . . that was quite lame."
Regardless, the corner of my lips had slightly twitched. "Um, boiled egg."
In all the grimness suffocating me, the disappointed and disgusted glances being thrown my way, his normal behaviour and his effort to lighten the atmosphere was like an overwhelming gust of fresh air. But why was he acting as if everything really was normal, and as if he and I, for some miraculous reason, were on good terms.
I could not for a moment shrug off the relationship we were now in, and the fact that he was a dangerous man too.
"And?" He arched an eyebrow.
I shrugged, and then shook my head.
"Amir!" He called out to his right, where I had assumed the kitchen was.
Amir came running to him in an instant. "Make her an omelette with a paratha and a cup of tea. Get some toasts too, and uh, do we happen to have Jam?"
"No, sir."
Agha Hasan then turned to me. "Peanut butter or chocolate spread? Or both?"
I hesitated, dubious of his behaviour and taken aback by the sudden attention. "Peanut butter."
His gaze travelled back to Amir. "Next time when you go grocery shopping, get some peanut butter. Now be quick." As Amir strode away, he shifted his attention back to me. "If you like to have anything else for breakfast, you can ask for that too. In fact, make a list of whatever you want, and give it to Amir, he'll get it for you, okay?"
"Okay." I nodded.
Silence settled between us.
From the corner of my eye I saw him pick his phone. I looked away.
Moments passed. I fidgeted in my seat, uncomfortable and awkward.
"So are you studying anything?" He finally spoke again, placing the phone on the table and turning his attention to me.
I shook my head. "I've done BA."
"Very good. Any plans further?"
"No." I said in such a low voice that for a moment I wondered if I was audible to him at all.
But I was. Because he immediately put forward another question. "Why?"
Staring at the white shaker in the middle of the table, I provided him with the reason with a genuine solemnity. "Baba Jaan wasn't allowing me to go for co-education."
"I see." He was quiet for a moment and I stole a quick glance at him. Thick brown waves combed to a side, a light stubble marking his face and the same attractive glint to his eyes that had me swooning when I was thirteen. I couldn't believe he was my freaking husband.
Mohib was the only guy I had seen as my life long partner, that too only for the couple of days we had been engaged. Though this was hardly the time to cherish in the fantasy of getting married, for mine was far from an ideal situation. I had a remorseless murderer for a husband. How could I ever be content with that, regardless of how good looking he was.
"Do one thing." He was saying, eyes thoughtful. "Think something up. Studies are going to keep you busy. Plus, you're not in your Baba Jaan's house. I doubt he's going to interfere."
I had always wanted to study, not because I was particularly passionate about any subject, rather because I didn't really like the idea of sitting idly at home. When Baba Jaan had refused, I was torn by his decision, and cried a couple of times, and then let it go. I was scared now. I wanted to continue my education, but what if he found out?
"Okay?" He asked once I didn't respond.
I debated if I should tell him that I didn't have any device through which I'd do the research, or would it be better to let it go.
"Okay." I said and added after a pause. "I don't-I don't have my phone. Baba Jaan took it.
"Oh." He said and settled into a muse.
I couldn't gauge if he wanted to say anything else, because silence took over when Amir came carrying a tray with food and set it down on the table.
We ate in silence and he didn't say a single word. As soon as I was finished, I started fidgeting on my seat awkwardly, waiting for him to be done so I could jump to my feet and run to the room.
Once he brought his mug down and dabbed his mouth with the napkin, I looked at him expectantly, waiting for the permission to leave.
"Whatever you wish to have for lunch, let Amir know, okay?"
"Jee." I muttered.
"You can go." He said after a pause.
I immediately sprung up to my feet and without sparing him a single glance, went back to the room and closed the door.
Hardly a few had passed though, when there came a knock again.
A streak of annoyance brought a frown to my face. "Now what?"
There was a pause. "It's Hasan."
My eyes almost popped out of the socket. Shit, I just shouted at him. What will he do?
I rolled down the bed and sprinted to the door. As my hand went up to the knob, my mind told me to hold it. What if he tried to force his way in?
"Yes?" I asked through the wood that separated us.
"Open the door, please."
I heaved a long breath and held it in as I pulled the door open, though only a little, and peaked out at him through it. "Yes?"
He held up a hand and I saw that he was holding a laptop, offering it to me.
I gave him a bland look.
"Do some research. I removed the password." He might have accurately gauged my dubious look for he added. "Take it. I don't have any other free device with me currently."
I didn't know what to say. Letting the door open a little more, I took the laptop and mumbled. "Thank you."
He kept standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his pants. I wasn't sure if it would be rude to shut the door at his face.
"Try to move on, Warda. There is nothing you can do about what happened."
I kept quiet, tears stung my eyes.
Agha Hasan then turned and walked away.
I wondered how he learned my name, and then it occurred to me that he must have listened to the Molvi reciting the Nikah.
My Nikah.
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