We both were so tired from our long journey and we both suffered from jetlag. We had already prayed Maghrib in the plane. So we quickly prayed Salaat Al-Isha and went to bed without changing. In a way, it seemed inappropriate and dirty. But I couldn't care less. I was tired to the core.

We refused dinner and went straight to sleep. We both flipped onto our comfortable bed. It felt welcoming and soft. After having slept elsewhere for awhile, I had missed this feeling. Who thought that there would come a day when I would call Zubair's bed mine.

Hugging the comforter we both drifted off to sleep.

***

Beep!Beep!

The alarm rang! I stirred awake, my sleep disturbed by the sound. It was very early. Something was poking me in the back. I turned to see that it was Zubair's hand cast. No way. He did not sleep with it on? Yes. He had. I have never seen such a careless and lazy freak! His cast was askew. Actually, his right hand was totally in an odd angle. It was surprising how he was even sleeping through.

He was still wearing his jacket on top of his T-shirt. I also was wearing my plane clothes, and my hijab was askew. Wrapping it properly again, I tapped him.

"Hey! Hey! Wake up! Zubair!" I tapped him harder. His eyes flew open. I was sitting up on the bed. He glanced at me sleepily. "What?" He asked annoyed. "Fajr" I said plainly. Then he moved. And he started to groan.

I told you. It was a bad posture, I thought . Obviously he was in pain. He tried moving his injured hand. And groaned louder. "You deserve it." I said a bit satisfied. He ignored me and tried to move again.

I gently lifted his uninjured arm from beneath his body. He looked at me incredulous. "You're supposed to free your good arm before freeing your useless arm, Genius." I told him. Then I not so gently, took hold of his cast arm which resulted in another groan and a glare. While I held his cast arm, he lifted himself up.

Then I got off the bed to offer Salah. He followed me.

It was still too early. The whole house was silent. I washed and changed into clean clothes. When I came out, he was dozing off on the couch with his changing clothes on his lap.

I couldn't believe him. Wasn't he the one who said that I'd sleep even if the world were to end? Now look at him!

I deliberately shut the door loudly, startling him. He woke up startled,  and looked up. Then he went ahead to the bathroom.

After I had dried my hair and put on a shawl on top, he suddenly opened the door. He was still in his old clothes. He had a lost look in his eyes.

"What are you doing? Hurry. Wash and change. We have to go down. Don't tell me you're not washing." I said impatience and disgust laced in my voice. 
He just scratched the back of his head and looked away. "I will change later." He said a bit uncomfortable, moving his injured hand behind.

I looked at him utterly perplexed. Was it even possible for a guy to be like this?!. I looked at him, thinking he was joking. No response. Then I noticed his cast. Then it dawned upon me. Oh. It was because of that?

Sighing I told him calmly, "Come-on. I'll help you." And I made my way to him. He looked at me flustered. Alarmed even.
Allah! I didn't know why he was making such a fuss over this? What , am I gonna Initiate an allergy? Feeling a bit offended, I morphed my features into a scowl.

"No. No no no. No way. I don't need you. I mean I don't need your help. I can do it." He said backing away from me.
I blew my cheeks out in frustration. "Zubair. Don't kid around. We don't have time for your ego and fussings. Come on. Quick." I dragged him into the bathroom, holding his sleeve. He was mumbling something about my strength again, all the while  being dragged along.

Once we were inside. I turned towards him and started to unbuckle his cast. It took awhile.
Clearly, this was not a job which could be done alone. "How on earth could you do this alone? Obviously you need help" I remarked. He didn't reply. So I looked up. He had his head turned and he was looking at anything but me. I also noticed his pinkish tinge to the skin. "Are you alright? You're turning pink?" I asked thinking that maybe he is allergic to me. He turned more pink. "Yes......just please do it soon." He said stuttering.

Weird. Anyway I continued on with my work. Finally, I was done removing it. But still he couldn't bend his arm, so I would probably have to help him with that.

I went over to the rack and took the sweatshirt he had brought to change. I placed it over my shoulder, and returned back. He was still looking down. Weird. I went around him and pried the top of the jacket, over his shoulder blade.
He jerked forward in a sudden movement, which started me. He turned back at me with a started expression, "What are you doing!?" "What else? Helping you remove your jacket! Come on. I don't have all the time in the world. We have to go back down." I said frustrated. "I can't have you," He pointed a finger at me, "dress me up." He said still sporting a shocked expression.
Sighing in frustration, I pinched the bridge of my nose, and said "Zubair. Turn around. I don't have time to bicker with you." And I turned him, forcefully. And before he could get another word, I already removed the jacket.
Moving to the front, I said, pointing at his good hand, "Remove the shirt." He did, muttering something. Then I tugged the shirt over his injured arm.
I let out a tired breath, and got his new sweatshirt. 
Then only I realized, that he was shirtless. Well, I didn't give a care about it, because I have plenty of time seen my brother without his shirts. It was not new to me. But maybe it might be new to him. That must be why he was looking at the floor. It made me happy, that I was able to unnerve him and make him uncomfortable. I mentally laughed.
I went over to him, holding the sweatshirt , and noticed that we were almost the same height. I told him that. He looked at me unbelievably, and said, "You are talking about our height? Now?".
"Can't I?" I asked and I pulled the sweatshirt over his head, and instructed him to put his good hand through. Then I gently put his injured arm through.
"Finally! Alhamdhulillah!" I told huffing. "You," I said pointing at him, "owe me. Okay?" I said. He just shook his head and pushed me out of the bathroom, "Whatever, now get out." And he banged the door in my face.

I was done making up the bed, when he came out. Then we both went downstairs.

Ayra and mother were sitting on the table talking when we entered the dining area. We exchanged Salaam and sat. Just then Aisha and Marian and Bilaal entered. We greeted them.

Aisha was Zubair's elder sister, she and and her husband Khalid and the kids had gone to London, on the same day of our wedding. It was an urgent business for brother-in-law. And while I and Zubair were in Czech, they had returned. Mariam was 5 years old and Bilaal was 3 years old. In the little time that I had met those two during the wedding, I found them very forward and sweet.

It seemed that brother-in-law Khalid had left already for work. And father had a meeting.
I turned towards Zubair and asked him, "Aren't we going to work?"
He shook his head and said "Our vacation ends in two days."

Mariam and Bilaal were playing with Zubair, and we all talked about our trip. We had already given the things we bought for them, yesterday night. And we were talking about the malls and the places.

After having the breakfast we were all seated in the living room, looking at the photos from our trip.
I was holding Bilaal, while he was playing with his Gameboy, when Ayra exclaimed.

I whipped my head towards their direction, curiously.
"Zaira! Where did you guys take this photo from?! You guys look so cute!!!!" She said excited.
"Yes, Zaira. Last time I heard, you were both shouting at each other. Not holding each other." Aisha teased, smiling.
I laughed, and tried to wave it off. "Don't worry. We are still like that."

"Besides, we were forced to take that picture. Look. We both are gritting our teeth in an effort to smile." He said, taking a look at the picture.

Oh. So it was the picture we took at the Bridge? That was awkward.
"But you too are holding each other." mother said giving a knowing look.
"I call it half hugging, mom!" Ayra gushed.
"Ayra......" He said in a dangerous tone. "What! It wouldn't take a scientist to tell that you are madly in love with Zaira!" She said laughing.

We both looked up at the same time . His blue eyes pierced mine. But he looked away soon. But I continued to look at him. Because I knew for the love of Allah that there wouldn't come a day when Zubair would love me. Actually like me even, in fact. I knew it was impossible. But why was he looking away? He turned pink also, probably embarrassed. I shook the thought off.

Meanwhile, Zubair was holding Ayra in a headlock. She managed to free herself and ran around, him following in her trail. They looked like a couple of kids, playing around.

We all continued to laugh at their behavior. Mariam and Bilaal were cheering for them.

Mahera, was really happy. Finally, Zubair had a match for him. One who could make him smile. One who could make him nervous. One who could make him blush. And one who could change him.

She just hoped that their past wouldn't be an obstacle in their future.

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Still editing and haven't finished this chapter. But I am publishing nevertheless. So check out the whole chapter tomorrow before reading chapter 15. Jazakallah!