~Mohabbat mein nahi farq jeene marne ka...
Usi ko dekhke jeete hain, jis kafir par dum nikle - Mirza Ghalib~

T

he aroma of coffee and morning always complements each other. The sun with its washed sunlight after a heavy rain was again ready to light the whole world. But despite all the freshness of the day, Raaya had a rough night.

Didn't know why she was remembering her mother and her past? Whole night she was twisting and turning in her bed, afraid that she might wake her husband, but didn't.

Glancing at her sleeping husband once, she went to the washroom. Today she was thinking of resuming her pending projects. There were still dresses remaining that needed her embroidery and some finishing touches.

"How are you, Raaya?"

Once she entered the kitchen, her mother in law asked with concern.

"I'm fine." Raaya answered with a small smile, she didn't want to burden anyone with her fears or worries.

"I have made breakfast for you and Idris. Have it together." Her mother-in-law grinned, handing her the tray of breakfast.

When she returned to her room, it was empty. The sound of shower was filling the silence of the room. Putting the tray on bed, Raaya pulled out her basket of embroidery. There were five dresses that needed her attention.

After completing her graduation, she decided to turn her hobby into work. Nani was already doing a lot for their education so now she could give rest to her studies and earn some money for the house.

At start there were one to two ladies who knew about her talent and gave her small work but soon her talent got some word of mouth and their neighbours began to acknowledge her work.

She was looking at the white dress where she had made small red roses all over. "You made it?"

Raaya was surprised to hear him so close. Idris was crouched on his heels, his faint cologne surrounding her. She nodded to his unanswered query.

"Wow, Raaya. I didn't know you were so talented." He was now looking at other dresses that were unfinished. 

Her cheeks burned and turned pink, looking at his attire. A black vest with faded blue jeans, and a towel around his neck. His ivory skin seemed to be glowing in sunlight, in that black vest and what not.

Memories are like dominos. One thing leads to one memory and many more tumble down. Just like Idris' praises and his eye of adoration reminded her of Kashif, how once he had mocked her work. Never paying any heed to her progress or achievements. It was only a hobby for him and a wastage of time.

But for Raaya Sultan it was her means of income, her existence and Idris Usman had given respect to her existence.

***

Hamida rolled her eyes seeing the store room stuff in the hall. Nani was making it clean. Throwing her bag on the sofa, she moved to her room.

"I don't want to listen, Nani." Stacking the already stacked books, Hamida was fuming, "From all the people you only got Zahir."

"It's not a big issue as you're making it."

"And I don't know why you're taking it so lightly?"

Now she was opening her braid, her dark brown hair covering her back. Everything was getting blurred, she didn't want to show her pain to Nani. That single decision of hers had brought back everything from the past.

"I hate that family. I hate that man. He's annoy-" Her words died as she saw a reflection in the mirror. Resting his shoulder on the door frame, he was watching her with a smile. A cunning smile.

"She hasn't changed much, Nani!"

He came inside her room while she quickly hid her hair in her brown dupatta. 

Such a freak. With no manners.

The last time she saw him was when she went to her father's house to bring their stuff. She was sixteen and so disturbed to return to that house. He had made her few hours stay at that house terrible with his silly questions. About her father, her mother and what not. He was a fourteen year old boy whose mind was full with the talks that must had gone around him.

His smile was still annoying, "No. I'm worse now. So take your bags and go away."

Nani closed her eyes on her outburst but Hamida didn't pay any heed.

"I'll manage, Hamida. Always so concerned about me." His eyes were dancing with amusement as he sat down on her bed.

"Call me baji, I'm older than you."

She was close to screaming when Zahir stood near her, "Nani, does she look older than me?"

Hamida came just at his shoulder and for the first time she felt her personality too petite in front of his heavy build. Nani covered her face, doing best to hide her smile.

"You can't win with me, Hamida!"

Hamida punched his back, getting down to remove her sandal as Zahir's loud laugh echoed in her room before he ran away.

"Just stay away from me, you fool!"

***

He closed his eyes, resting his head on the headboard. Today was the most tiring day. They had to export a shipment to Vietnam, so it needed all the documentation and smooth pipelining of the tasks. Idris just needed rest.

"Your tea." Her bangles and a faint fragrance of her perfume forced him to open his eyes. It was Jasmine, maybe. Raaya was standing near the bedside table, her eyes furrowed in question. She looked fresh in a baby pink salwar kameez with her hair covered in her georgette dupatta. "You okay?"

He nodded, straightening up, "Just had a tough day," he pressed his forehead.

"Nani gives us a good head massage whenever we have a hectic day."

Her voice was soft as she sat at the corner of the bed, making sure there was enough distance, and did he felt bad? Maybe.

There was too much awkwardness between them. They had no idea how to maintain a conversation. It had been a week since they got married and as far as he could remember, they just nod at each other's statement.

His silence gave her the indication of the awkwardness or perhaps she took it as his boredom. Because now she was gone without a word. But few minutes passed by when a touch on his shoulder brought him out of reverie.

"Come, let me fix a head massage for you," Raaya had a small bowl of oil in her hand as she sat behind him on her knees, gesturing him to face the opposite side, "it's a warm oil, good in rainy and wintery days."

Her movements were hesitant and measured. The warmth of her fingers made his racing heart and mind calm.

"I got three calls today from Usman Textiles." Idris hummed, fully knowing where the conversation was heading, "The ladies want me to embroidery their dresses."

"That's good." The statement hung between as he waited for her to continue or to question, her fingers soothing his senses.

"That's why that white dress was missing. Why did you do that?"

He turned, her hands in mid air, her eyes surprised by his sudden movement. Her hands were beautiful, adorned with henna and bangles, they attracted him in many ways and putting all his thoughts aside, Idris held them, "Because good talent should be acknowledged."

Her hands slightly precipitated, shook in his hold, "It was not needed. Not from your side when you already did so much for us," her voice wavered.

The magic that was weaving itself around them broke. Idris nodded and let go of her hands, getting up from the bed. Actions taken in a wrong way always hurt. He was not ready to get hurt by Raaya, that too this soon.

***

The sky turned pitch black giving signs of coming rain when Zahir came to the gallery in front of his room. A small room with a study table and a single bed. That was enough to stay and he didn't have to bother about food because Nani took care of it.

He was about to take admission in the first year of network engineering but before that, he didn't want to waste his vacations. Lucknow had good diploma courses of networking, so he opted for one of them.

His parents were never in favour of coming to Lucknow from Meerut, the concern was not the distance between the cities but the distance between relations. They knew he would meet Nani and Hamida, nobody wanted to meet them or vice versa.

The clouds grumbled and Zahir took the first drop of rain in his palm. He had no hate towards these ladies. In childhood, he was confused about what happened but now he understood and can empathize with each one of them, especially Raaya and Hamida.

The clunk of the gate forced him to look down as Hamida entered. Her expressions of distaste put a smile on his face as she closed her umbrella. Her eyebrows furrowed when their gaze met, she ignored him going inside.

"I hate rain."

Zahir heard descending the stairs, "What's one thing that you like? You hate everything."

"None of your concern. Go study." Hamida was now pouring the water in her glass as Nani gave him a small smile, coming into the kitchen.

"Study after dinner. Right now I'm hungry and Nani makes such great food."

That did it! Hamida gave a look of shock to him and then to Nani who looked at everything but her.

"If he's eating with us, I'm not eating."

"Do you have to be so overdramatic on everything?"

She was still looking at Nani who was silent, setting up the dastarkhwan. Not getting any response, Hamida exited the kitchen moving towards her room. He was just joking around and she had to take everything seriously.

"Don't punish yourself. Go eat, I'm going out."

He stopped her, holding her wrist. The sclera of her black eyes was red, not clear if it was anger or hurt. Hamida jerked her hand away from his hold.

"Well that's what you want, don't act otherwise. That's what your whole family wants from us and-"

Zahir took a step forward as she took a back, looking at him with confusion. "Punishment will never come to my mind, Hamida, not for you."

He didn't stop for a moment and got out. Not bothering that the rain drenched him in mere seconds because from inside, he was burning.