"Number layi?"

(Got the number?)

The next day, as planned, Kinza and Rubab were at Saleha's house. Saleha's home had three rooms, reflective of a middle-class government employee's residence. Her father worked in a public office, while her mother, a homemaker, was currently in the lounge, helping her two younger children with their schoolwork. The three girls were gathered in Saleha’s room, an intimate yet lively space with bright floral curtains and a wall adorned with family photographs.

Unlike Rubab, Saleha didn’t have a telephone in her room. After some negotiations with her mother, Saleha had managed to take the bulky black rotary telephone from the living room into her room. Now, it sat prominently in the centre of the bed, the cord coiled like a resting snake. The girls sat around it, their faces lit with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

To ensure their voices didn’t carry outside, an old tape recorder was playing a song in the background.

"Dheere dheere se meri zindagi mein ana,
Dheere dheere se mere dil ko churana..."

"Hume nahi lagta hume phone karna chahiye," Rubab said nervously, twisting the edge of her dupatta between her fingers.

(I don't think we should call,)

"Baat toh main karungi, tum kyu darr rahi ho." Saleha snapped, exasperated. Saleha was always the bolder one when it came to such things. While Rubab was lively and playful, her mischief was limited to her house and her friends.

(I'm the one making the call. Why are you getting scared?)

"Phone kisi aur ne uthaya toh?" Rubab asked, her voice trembling.

(What if someone else answers the phone?)

"Toh bulwa lenge," Saleha replied matter-of-factly, her confidence unshaken.

(Then we’ll ask for him,)

"Woh ghar pe na hue toh?"

(What if he's not home?)

"Tumhari saas se haal chaal puch lenge." Saleha snapped.

(Then we’ll just check in with your mother-in-law,)

"Nahi! Woh kya sochengi?" Rubab’s face turned red, her eyes widening in alarm. Thinking Saleha might actually talk to Naziya.

(No! What will she think?)

Kinza, who had been quietly observing the back-and-forth, finally intervened. "Hum call kar rahe hain ya nahi?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, the impatience in her voice cutting through the room.

(Are we making the call or not?)

After much hesitation, Rubab reluctantly handed over a small slip of paper with the number scrawled on it.

Saleha grabbed it, her hands trembling slightly as she began dialing, each click of the rotary dial heightening the tension in the room. The three girls held their breath as the phone started to ring.

"Hello?" A soft, polite female voice answered on the first ring. "Kon?"

(Who’s this?)

The phone was on speaker mode, and the three girls leaned closer to listen.

"Azlan hain?" Saleha asked, attempting to sound poised, though her voice wavered slightly.

(Is Azlan there?)

"Ji, abhi bulati hoon," the woman replied, handing the phone over without so much as a follow-up question. Rubab blinked in surprise. A girl was calling Azlan, and his family didn’t seem the least bit curious?

(Yes, one moment,)

"Hello," came a deep, self-assured male voice a few seconds later.

Saleha’s lips curled into a sly grin, while Rubab felt her heartbeat quicken inexplicably. "Hello,"

"Kon bol raha hai?" the man asked casually.

(Who’s speaking?)

"Aap mujhe nahi jante?" Saleha replied, her tone laced with mischief.

(Don’t you recognize me?)

"Ab har kisi ki awaz yaad rakhna thora mushkil hota hai, aap naam bataiye main jaan jaunga," the man responded with a teasing edge. Rubab’s jaw dropped, and Kinza stifled a laugh behind her hand.

(Well, it’s a bit hard to remember every voice. Tell me your name, and I’ll know,)

"Din bhar mein kitni larkiyon ke call atey hain apko jo pehchan nahi pa rahe?" Saleha shot back, her quick wit honed by experience of fielding wrong-number calls.

(How many girls call you in a day that you can't recognize my voice?)

"Yaha ginti kon rakhta hai." he replied smoothly, clearly enjoying the exchange.

(Who keeps count?)

"Bade dil phenk maloom hote hain aap," Saleha teased, her mischievous smile making Rubab roll her eyes.

(You seem to be quite a flirt.)

"Dil toh aaj tak kisi ko nahi diya. Haan, kisi ka dil rakhne ke liye baat kar li toh alag baat hai," came the equally cheeky response.

(I’ve never given my heart to anyone. Though, if I’ve talked to someone to make them feel better, that’s a different story.)

Saleha's eyes widened in surprise, and she turned to Rubab, whose expression revealed embarrassment.

"Ek minute, kahi aap woh library wali chashmish toh nahi? Mere piche baithi thi kal aap." He tried to guess. Maybe he understood Saleha wouldn’t reveal her identity. "Ya phir aap Nadia ki cousin hain? Nahi, uski awaz toh kafi heavy thi. Aap pakka Mehek bol rahi hain."

(Wait a minute, are you the girl with glasses from the library? You were sitting behind me yesterday.)

(Or are you Nadia's cousin? No, her voice was much heavier. You’re definitely Mehek, right?)

Rubab’s cheeks flushed as the man continued rattling off names of women with an infuriating familiarity. Saleha and Kinza were equally stunned. Saleha had assumed Azlan would be annoyed or curious about a random girl calling him, but here he was, thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Mehek bhi nahi? Phir toh pakka aap Akhtar sahab ke ghar se bol rahi hain, kal chatt pe dekha tha apko..."

(Not Mehek either? Then you must be from Akhtar Sahab's house; I saw you on the rooftop yesterday...)

Rubab’s mind spiraled in disbelief. Her grip on the dupatta tightened, tears of anger and embarrassment pooling in her eyes. She wanted nothing to do with this flirtatious man.

"Aap Azlan bol rahe hain?" Saleha asked in disbelief, her earlier poise evaporating.

(Are you Azlan?)

"Nahi, main toh Shahzain bol raha hoon..," came the casual reply.

(No, this is Shahzain speaking...)

The three girls froze. Kinza’s jaw dropped, Saleha’s expression was blank, and Rubab’s eyes flickered with a strange mixture of relief and humiliation.

"Aap kon bol rahi..." Shahzain started, but Saleha slammed the receiver down with lightning speed.

(Who are you...)

Silence engulfed the room until Rubab let out a loud laugh that echoed like a firecracker.

"Saleha…" she wheezed, clutching her stomach as she collapsed back onto the bed.

Kinza joined in, her laugh soft but no less infectious. Saleha, meanwhile, looked like she had been struck by lightning.

"Kya cheez tha yeh?" Saleha wanted to ask who the caller was, but the words that came out were different.

(What was this?)

Rubab covered her mouth, trying to suppress her laughter, and sat up. Her face was red from laughing, and tears of amusement sparkled in her eyes. However, her heart felt at ease knowing that the man wasn’t Azlan.

"Azlan ke chote bhai hain..." Rubab managed to say between fits of laughter, wiping away tears of mirth.

(That was Azlan’s younger brother,)

"Tauba," Saleha said, holding her ears in mock repentance. "Chota nahi, kuch zyada hi bada hai..."

(He doesn’t seem younger. He's seems way too older...) 

"Rubab, tumhara chehra dekhne layak tha, jab usne larkiyon ke naam batana shuru kiya." Kinza teased, now catching her breath. Rubab stuck her tongue out.

(Rubab, your face was worth seeing when he started mentioning the girls' names.) 

"Main toh yeh soch rahi hoon," Saleha started saying. "4 minute mein 4 larkiyon ke naam bata diye... chote miyan aise hain, bade miyan kaise honge?" She said this just to tease Rubab, and it hit the mark. Rubab’s smile vanished immediately.

(I was just thinking,)

(In a four-minute conversation, he mentioned four different girls... if the younger brother is like this, what must the elder brother be like?)

"Woh aise nahi honge," she quickly defended Azlan, even though just moments ago, she had been mentally cursing him for being so flirtatious.

(He’s not like that,)

"Dekho, maine kaha tha tumhari shadi A naam ke bande se hogi, Azlan. Maine kaha tha achhe khandan ke honge, aur bohot handsome. Tumne nahi dekha lekin yakeen mano bohot handsome hain." Saleh said, while Kinza nodded in agreement at Saleha's last statement.

(See? I told you you’d marry someone whose name starts with 'A.' Azlan! I said he’d be from a good family and very handsome. You haven’t seen him, but trust me, he’s very handsome,)

"Dekh lena, ek do affairs toh zaroor honge unke." Saleha added, keeping up the teasing.

(Just wait, I’m sure he’s had a few affairs already,)

While the three girls argued in one part of the country, in Delhi, Shahzain was still holding the receiver, trying to figure out who had called.

Azlan walked into the room just then. "Bhabhi bata rahi thi mere liye koi call thi?"

(Bhabhi said there was a call for me?)

"Haan ayi toh thi, but rakh diya..." Shahzain said casually, placing the receiver back. He’d noticed it off the hook and had answered, not realizing it was meant for Azlan.

(Yeah, there was, but they hung up,)

"Kon tha?" Azlan asked.

(Who was it?)

Shahzain shrugged, but before Azlan could say anything else, the phone started ringing again.

"Apke liye hai," Shahzain announced, and without waiting, he dashed out of the room, leaving Azlan puzzled.

(That's for you,)

This time, Rubab quietly suggested calling back, finally mustering the courage. If she'd come this far, what harm was there in hearing Azlan's voice once?

"Ab yeh mat puchna din bhar kitni larkiyon ke phone atey hain," Rubab muttered under her breath as Azlan picked up the receiver.

(Don't ask now how many girls call him all day,)

"Hello, Azlan speaking," came his deep, authoritative voice. Saleha, unable to resist, mimicked whistling in admiration, causing Rubab’s face to turn crimson. Kinza pinched Saleha to remind her to stay focused, but Saleha jumped in shock.

"Kya harkat hai? Maar dungi!" Saleha scolded Kinza in a loud whisper.

(What are you doing? I'll hit you!)

"Excuse me? Kya kaha apne?" Azlan’s voice sharpened, his tone both curious and annoyed.

(What did you just say?)

Saleha froze but quickly recovered. "Ji, woh... mujhe Azlan se baat karni thi," she stammered, panic creeping into her voice.

(Uh, I... I needed to speak to Azlan,)

"Shayad apko sunayi nahi diya, main Azlan hi bol raha hoon. Boliye," he replied, his tone firm yet calm.

(Perhaps you didn’t hear me. I am Azlan. Speak,)

"Aap kya kar rahe the?" Saleha blurted, desperately trying to prolong the conversation. She expected the same friendliness Shahzain had shown.

(What were you doing?)

"Main kabad bech raha tha. Apko khareedna hai?" Azlan’s dry sarcasm took her by surprise, leaving her momentarily speechless.

(I was selling scrap. Do you want to buy some?)

Rubab covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her laughter, but the glow on her face and the sparkle in her eyes gave everything away. Her heart was now beating to a different rhythm, a strange warmth spreading through her chest. This feeling wasn’t unpleasant—it was, in fact, quite comforting.

"Uff, ek toh itni achhi awaz hai apki. Aise ulte-seedhe jawab na dein toh koi bhi raat bhar baat kar sakta hai apse," Saleha flirted shamelessly, earning a death glare from Rubab, who silently scolded her for being too friendly.

(Ugh, your voice is so good. If you didn’t give such sarcastic replies, anyone could talk to you all night,)

"Bohot hi fuzool baat ki hai apne," Azlan remarked bluntly, clearly unimpressed.

(That was a very pointless thing to say,)

"Itna gussa? Kya aap apni biwi se bhi aise hi baat karenge?" Saleha countered.

(So much anger? Would you talk to your wife the same way?)

"Main unse chahe jaise baat karu, kya aap unki lawyer hain?" Azlan retorted, his patience waning. Then, pausing for a moment, he asked suspiciously, "Aap unki dost bol rahi hain?"

(I'll talk to her however I want. Are you her lawyer?)

(Are you her friend?)

All three girls froze, their faces draining of color. Saleha hastily slammed the receiver down, her hands trembling.

"Pakrhe gaye," she whispered, clutching her chest as her heart raced.

(We got caught.)

"Phone kyu rakha? Inkar toh kar deti!" Rubab exclaimed, her voice tinged with nervousness.

(Why did you hang up? You could’ve denied it!)

"Dil mein chor tha na," Saleha admitted sheepishly, avoiding their accusing stares.

(There was guilt in my heart,)

"Kya sochenge woh?" Rubab asked in a panicked voice, dread creeping into her tone.

(What will he think?)

"Jane do. Kya pata woh wrong number samajh ke bhool jaye," Kinza offered, though her tone wasn’t entirely convincing.

(Let it go. Maybe he'll think it was a wrong number and forget about it,)

Rubab didn’t buy it. "Aaj se aap log ki kisi baat ko nahi sunenge hum!" Frustration bubbling over, she grabbed a cushion and hurled it across the room, then folded her arms with a huff.

(From now on, I won't listen to anything you guys say!)

Making up her mind that she wouldn’t fall for Saleha and Kinza’s chatter anymore, nor would she try to learn anything about Azlan. No matter what he looked like, how his voice sounded, or what kind of person he was—She had a lifetime to figure him out. For now, it was best to avoid any foolish acts that could leave a bad impression before the wedding.

•••

Azlan stared at the receiver for a moment, confused. He had no idea who it could be. He had never received a call like this before. He had only guessed that it might be one of Rubab’s friends, and perhaps his guess had been correct. Shaking his head, Azlan placed the phone back on the cradle, but it rang again almost instantly. The dull clang of the rotary phone echoed in the quiet room. With a resigned sigh, he picked it up.

"Hello?" His tone was clipped, irritation evident.

But the voice on the other end wasn’t what he expected. It was a man, his tone formal yet unfamiliar.

"Azlan bol rahe hain?"

(Is this Azlan?)

"Ji, aap kon?" Azlan asked, his tone sharp.

(Yes, who are you?)

•••

The air was heavy with the distinct chill of December as Behroz Khan sat in his study, his shawl draped loosely over his shoulders. The smell of freshly brewed chai lingered faintly in the room, mingling with the sharp scent of ink and old paper. The antique brass clock on the wall ticked steadily, marking the slow passage of a winter afternoon.

Azlan sat across from him, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his sweater. His face was unusually tense, a stark contrast to the calm demeanor he usually carried. Behroz leaned back in his chair, waiting for his son to find the courage to speak.

“Kya hua hai?” Behroz finally asked, his tone impatient.

(What’s the matter?)

Azlan hesitated, shifting in his seat. “Abbu, darasal,” He paused, scratching the back of his neck, his gaze darting between the bookshelves and the carpet. How could he talk about this with his father? But he knew only his father could help. His mother might not understand.

(Abbu, actually,)

Behroz frowned, his patience waning. “Azlan, nayi dulhan ki tarah darasal darasal karna band karo aur bolo kya kehna hai.”

(Azlan, stop acting like a new bride and just say what you need to.)

The words spurred Azlan into action. He met his father’s sharp gaze and took a deep breath. “Mujhe Rubab ke barey mein baat karni thi,” he said, his voice steady but low.

(I wanted to talk about Rubab,)

Behroz’s brow furrowed slightly, confusion flitting across his face.

Slowly, Azlan explained everything he had discovered. The blank calls, someone following Rubab, and the phone call he received today where someone had made inappropriate comments about her. Though Azlan didn’t have concrete proof, his suspicion fell squarely on Anas.

Behroz listened intently, his expression unreadable. When Azlan finally fell silent, Behroz let the pause linger before speaking. “Kya apko Rubab se shadi karni hai?”

(Do you want to marry Rubab?)

Azlan blinked, taken aback. “Zahir hai,” he said, his tone resolute, though the question puzzled him.

(Of course,)

“Theek hai phir yeh sab baat aap pe asar nahi karni chahiye. Woh jo bhi tha, yahi chahta hai ki shadi toot jaye.” Behroz Khan dismissed the matter lightly, which Azlan didn’t appreciate.

(Then none of this should bother you. Whoever is behind this is trying to break the marriage,)

“Abbu, mujhe farq nahi parhta, lekin agar koi Rubab ka picha kar raha hai toh kal ko kuch galat...” Azlan pressed.

(Abbu, I don’t care, but if someone is following Rubab, what if tomorrow something...)

“Kuch nahi hota, itni bhi himmat nahi kisiki. Main iss mamle ki tehqeeq karwata hoon, tumhe mujhe pehle hi batana chahiye tha.” Behroz cut him off, his voice firm.

(Nothing will happen. No one has the guts to take it that far. I’ll have this matter investigated. You should have informed me earlier,)

Azlan sighed. “Mujhe bhi aaj hi pata chala hai,”

(I just found out about today,)

The day before yesterday, after hearing what Rubab had said, Azlan had asked one of his friends to investigate those blank calls Rubab had mentioned. Through him, Azlan found out that not only were there blank calls, but someone was also following Rubab. And now, today, Azlan himself had received a call.

Behroz nodded slightly. “Theek hai, ab fikar mat karo. Main handle kar lunga,”

(Fine, don’t worry about it now.)

Before Azlan could respond, the study door creaked open, and Huzaifa entered in with a file, seeing Azlan he stopped.

"Main baad mein aau?" He asked, as he noticed worried look on Azlan's face. But Azlan shook his head and stood up to leave.

(Should I come later?)

•••

No one knew what conversation transpired between Behroz Khan and Azlan, but that night, when Behroz mentioned setting a date for Rubab and Azlan’s wedding instead of just an engagement after her exams, it was enough to make Naziya furious.

"Kal tak aap keh rahe hain abhi bhaijaan ne ek beti ki shadi ki hai, unpe bojh nahi dalte, ab aap shadi ki baat kar rahe hain? Aise thori hota hai yeh sab, kitni taiyyari karni hoti hai..." She grumbled angrily, but Behroz Khan didn’t interrupt her even once. When she finally calmed down after venting, she asked, "Aisi bhi kya jaldi hai? Rubab ki parhai toh ho jaye,"

(Just yesterday, you were saying we shouldn’t burden Bhaijaan so soon after he married off one daughter, and now you’re talking about Rubab's marriage? It doesn’t work like this. So much preparation has to be done!)

(Why the hurry? Let Rubab at least complete her studies.)

"Dekhiye, abhi mangni karein, phir saal do saal baad jake shadi, issey behtar nahi abhi shadi hi karwa dein. Itni lambi mangni rakhna waise bhi theek nahi rehta, Amma kehti thi." Behroz replied gently, taking her hand in his.

(Think about it, getting them engaged now and waiting a year or two for the wedding. Isn’t it better to just have the wedding directly? Long engagements aren’t ideal anyway. Amma used to say the same,)

"Sach sach bataye Azlan ne apse kaha kya hai?" Naziya asked, sensing that Azlan must have mentioned something, as Behroz never got involved in such matters otherwise. All family decisions had always been her domain.

(Tell me honestly, what did Azlan say to you?)

"Ab woh hum baap bete ki baat hai," Behroz said with a smile.

(Now that’s between father and son,)

Naziya pulled her hand away. "Pata nahi bhaijaan aur bhabhi abhi Rubab ki shadi karna bhi chahte hain ya nahi," Her statement made it clear that she intended to talk to Mahajbeen about the matter. The rest would depend on whether they were willing to go ahead with the wedding or not.

(Who knows if Bhaijaan and Bhabhi even want to marry off Rubab so soon?)

•••

In Aligarh, Mahajbeen and Riyaz were genuinely worried after hearing about the sudden wedding proposal. Unsure of how to respond, they decided to invite Naziya’s family over after Rubab’s exams to discuss everything properly.

Meanwhile, her behavior toward Rubab began to change. Things Rubab was once allowed to do now seemed forbidden.

"Agle mahine apke sasural wale ayenge, kya abhi se sara roop kharab kar lena hai apko." Mahajbeen scolded when she caught Rubab playing badminton with her nephew and nieces in the lawn.

(Your in-laws are coming next month. Do you plan on ruining your appearance before that?)

The final straw came when Ayesha called her "Billi," and Mahajbeen immediately corrected her. "Khabardaar jo ab kisine Rubab ko Billi bulaya. Kal ko inke sasural walo ke samne iss naam se bulaya toh kya izzat rahegi inki."

(Don’t you dare call her that again. What if her in-laws hear it? How will that look?)

Tears welled up in Rubab’s brown eyes. Amma called her Rubab, not Ruby.

She thought of Anisa and Shireen, whom she used to call Nisa and Shree, now she had to addressed them as "Apa" and "Api." They were no longer a part of the family in the same way. Would Rubab, too, become a stranger to this house after her marriage?

Mahajbeen walked away after her scolding, but Ayesha stayed behind and saw Rubab’s tears.

"Rubab," this time Ayesha deliberately used her proper name instead of "Billi" and immediately pulled her into a hug. No matter how much Raza scolded Rubab, he loved her dearly, and that’s why Ayesha adored her too.

"Hume shadi nahi karni," Rubab whispered, crying into her arms.

(I don’t want to get married,)

"Yeh sab mat socho, kal hi thori tumhari shadi karwa rahe hain." Ayesha soothed, stroking her hair. "Abhi toh tumhare papers chal rahe hain."

(Don’t think about all this. They’re not getting you married tomorrow.)

(Your exams are still ongoing,)

But time, relentless as ever, moved forward. Her exams ended, and preparations for the family gathering began. Shahana Imarath buzzed with activity—the rhythmic sound of a sewing machine, the aroma of freshly made ghee laddoos wafting from the kitchen, and the chatter of relatives discussing wedding arrangements.

And Rubab? She sat by the window of her room, her eyes on the old tree in the backyard, wondering how it had all changed so quickly.

•••

Bhai, main next update mein kara rahi hoon inn dono ki shadi, jaldi se shadi ho, Khushnuma aunty ki bhi entry ho, mera dil ab unki story likhne ka kar raha🙊😭

Khair, how's the update?

-Ufaq