Chapter 2
"Love roars louder than demons"
"Were you ever going to say anything?" Asad tried to take in his beloved Ammi's outburst. Just moments ago they had been drinking the evening tea –in silence– before she decided to slam the mug forcefully on the glass table.
"Say what Ammi?" he questioned baffled. Did she want him to apologize to Miss Faar...? He'd thought of it but...
"The truth, Asad." He could only stare.
Dilshad had had enough. He was a good son, an amazing son, but the churlish behavior he'd ungraciously portrayed in the past couple days was condemning.
Had this what she had taught him? She was disappointed.
She saw his face change from surprise to horror to embarrassment as she presented him with 'treasures' she'd found in his room that morning.
Asad looked at the tiny round gold earring reflecting the evening sun off it. He forced the tears back.
"I just wanted to..." he started after a minute's delay but stopped midway.
Dilshad noticed his voice break alongside the undereye circles that were much too dark.
"Wanted to what? Keep the girl's earring, or hide that fact from me"
He couldn't speak even if he tried to. There was no stopping her today.
"You have hurt not only the girl I think you are very much in love with but also your Ammi. Is your pride that great Asad? Is your ego that big? After all that happened in the last week, all that we've been through. You couldn't bother to admit it, to apologize?"
He let the shock wear off his body before he managed to form a sentence in a shaky voice "I didn't mean to hurt you or...her." He abruptly realized it wasn't time for riddles. Struggling was pointless. Useless. Hopeless.
"How could I hurt her when... the one feeling all this pain is...me" and then a cautiously plastered dam broke.
Dilshad didn't know what she expected but it wasn't this. The thought of seeing her strong son break down with head in his hands, body shaking with sobs hadn't crossed her mind.
She took a moment for herself and gave more to him.
"I think you know what to do Asad" her hand soothed his hair.
When he looked up, he realized his decision was made as soon as Zoya put a foot out his house.
A mere house, that's what it felt like. She'd taken his home with her.
**
It was her fault, she supposed.
Her fault for giving too much, going too far. But did she regret it? No. Not even a little bit.
When a man makes you feel things inconceivable, see things invisible, there is no place for remorse to go around. And how could she possibly repent knowing that face, looking into those eyes? Those black, angry, deep dark eyes.
Pen in hand, Zoya sighed looking at the dozen job options she'd picked for herself –concentrating, forcing.
What had he thought after she'd left? Did the absence of a voice, a smell, a face burn him as much as it did her? Did he see her everywhere he looked too?
Were there visions, dreams, familiar and unfamiliar? Did he stop in his day at all to think of her, just once?
She failed to notice when silent sobs took over her. Did it hurt as much Asad? Do you have to pick yourself piece by piece everyday too? Do you?
Why can't she forget the way he looked at her, why wouldn't he fade, why did he intensify instead! Taunted her. Haunted her. Made her body burn, crash and crawl. Every morning took her under a little more.
Time, she told herself, she needed time to water down her feelings. She was a strong woman. She was Zoya Faaroqui, and Zoya Faaroqui refused to rest her head in a pit of miseries.
Yes, for now she would let the tears fall; tomorrow would make her stronger, firmer.
She finished wiping her cheeks dry as a knock on the door alerted her. It was Aapi on the other side who quickly forced a phone into her hand before leaving the room.
"Zoya" the voice on other side called. She instantly recognised it.
"Tamatar?"
"Okay so I know I'm not supposed to say this. But I just cannot contain myself." She continued when she heard no answer. Her worst fears didn't let her speak. Is he getting marr... "Guess where are we spending our summer vacations?"
"Where" Zoya answered mechanically. She'd given up on guessing things.
"NEW YORK" Najma yelled loud, boisterous and happy. "Hello... Zoya?... Zoya?... are you still there...hello?"
As the first tears fell, along came shocking laughter rippling through. She continued to laugh as she pressed her cheek against the doorjamb, her knees dangerously close to giving away. She could still hear a voice far away calling "Hello...Zoya...I can't hear you...are you okay?"
"No...no...I just lost my mind" she told herself what she already knew.
**
Aapi and Jeeju were in on it. His Ammi hadn't even waited a second to stop and ask his approvals, he'd wasted enough time, she said often these days.
After two weeks of barking orders and going against all his kaydaa's and usool's, he'd bribed his way into getting speedy new visas for the family.
Getting Zoya's family on his side, was truly the icing on cake. Her Aapi hadn't even batted an eye giving in. She was convinced they were the perfect match. He hoped her sister thought the same.
Sick with nerves, he looked at the small screen in front of him. She hadn't picked up again. His Ammi had suggested he call her, smooth things over, at least apologize but he didn't have the courage. When he gathered it, all of it was transferred to her voicemail.
Justified. Her anger was all justified. He would apologize any way she wanted. Accept any harsh words. He just needed her back.
The empty house ate at him. Silent dishes clashing at dinner table mocked him. The speck-free rooms were maddening. Sometimes he wanted to turn it all upside down just so he could feel her.
Asad closed his notes and drew a long breath. It was twenty- three hours counting all the necessary travel – that was all the time that separated them. For the last time. Then they'll be right where they belonged.
He'd really surprised himself. His Ammi had prepared a three-hour speech to drive him into matrimony. It had taken her three minutes.
Yes, he still had doubts, but the immediacy to look into her fiery eyes was beyond all that. He'd never felt like this before. So desperate, so vulnerable, so in love.
**
Terror gripped every inch of her as she rocked back and forth on her bed. He would be here... in her house... in a matter of hours. Why was he coming now?
Najma had dropped the big bomb on her yesterday. Although she didn't have enough time to gather her wits, Zoya was still thankful for some kind of warning.
But...what could they possibly say to each other? After all what he had said? She hadn't forgotten. Not a syllable, not the tone, certainly not the bitter eyes.
His words still played on a loop in her mind. "Mera miss Faaroqui se koi Rishta nai hai" ... "Yeh mulk inke liye nahi hai"
Perspective, yes. She needed perspective. To sit down and ordain her thoughts rationally, coherently. If she were to be in the same room with him again, she'd be better in check with her feelings. The last thing she wanted was to break down and beg.
Yes, she loved him. The weeks past had taught her that. Yes, she wanted him. Desperately. So desperately, it was iniquitous. Except she had her pride.
And that damned pride imparted certain valuable lessons. All the things she had refused to acknowledge, now stared her in the face. The constant shaming of her being modern; being deemed unworthy – a misfit, were no longer thoughts she could safely lock up in a corner. You don't love someone and hate everything about them.
And why? She was a good-looking girl. She was loyal, loving and kind. What was so wrong that he had to let her go? As much as she hated his habits, she would never force him to change, expect him to change. But he did and that's what broke her.
Sure, she was lovesick, but she was done feeling sorry for herself. Zoya Faaroqui was not a pity child. Not when it came to her parents, not when it would come to a man.
His harsh words had branded these lessons concrete. They were the new writing on her walls every day.
**