Hai tu hi dil jaan hai meri ab se
Ve zikr tera na jaaye mere lab se
ہے تو ہی دل جان ہے میری اب سے
وے ذکر تیرا نہ جا ئے میرے لب سے

An errant breeze whispered through the garden, rustling the leaves of the shrubberies. The cloudy sky had painted itself in glorious shades of red and smoky hues of indigo in anticipation of the night. Birds swarmed the sky, fluttering their wings towards their nests. The rabbits, after a satisfied day, hopped back into their burrows. An odd tranquility prevailed after the sound of the muezzin's call for prayer began fading into the silence of the night.

I breathed deeply and tightened the shawl over my torso against the chilling evening air. It was the first Sunday after our marriage and the whole family had gathered to have their evening tea together. Aliyaar sat besides me, occasionally slipping biscuits in my plate, his hand holding onto mine.

"How long are you in Pakistan for?" Safina aunty turned to Miraal with a cheerful smile. All the guests, except Miraal, had left after the reception. But apart from our infrequent and short meetings at the dinner table, we had not interacted much.

Ever since the wedding, Shehryar too had been unusually quiet, rarely appearing at the dining table. However, their parents didn't seem to mind because Aliyaar had been a regular at all breakfasts and dinners, something which was apparently very unusual of him. I remember how delighted his mother was when we entered the dining room yesterday.

"A week perhaps." Miraal replied with the barest trace of her British accent. "I'm thinking of travelling up North. I have heard it's beautiful." She said with a slight sip of her tea.

"You can stay at our home in Islamabad." Ahmed uncle offered with a kind smile. "Shehryar was telling me this is your first time in Lahore. Have you had a chance to explore our city yet?"

"It's my first time in Pakistan actually." She said with a soft smile, leaning back against the chair. I looked up in surprise at her words. But as my eyes settled upon her, I couldn't help but admire how effortlessly stunning she was.

Lustrous, long, deep brown hair framed her delicate feminine features, yet there was something fiery about the way she carried herself. She was unapologetically fierce, she was unapologetically herself. "Shehryar has been kind to show me around." I heard her say after a while. "I always wanted to attend a Pakistani wedding, so when I found out about you I couldn't help but invite myself." She turned towards me with a laugh.

I smiled at her fondly, "I'm glad you came." And then turned to Shehryar who until now had been sitting quietly besides his mother. "Why would you not invite your friends?" I asked with a knowing smile.

Yaar's eyes caught mine and his shoulders squared in irritation at my pointed question. No one, except me, was aware of the relationship between Shehryar and Miraal. For them she was a just another friend, but I knew she was not just a friend. Things might seem complicated in their relationship, but the fire between them was unmissable. And after observing Miraal for a week, it was not difficult to understand why Shehryar might have fallen in love with her.

Something within me twisted at the thought.
I wasn't sure what I felt, but I suddenly had an overwhelming need to comfort myself. Slowly I unclasped my hand from Aliyaar's hold, and wove my fingers through his long ones, my cold hand holding onto his warm comforting one. His eyes shifted, and he stared at our interlaced fingers, hiding underneath the table, with a soft smile, his hold tightening.

Yaar gave me a hard look, while I continued to stare at the silence stretching between us, watching the play of emotions on his face. "Everything happened rather quickly." He said, toying with a teasing smile, "You both were in such a rush, I never got a chance to invite my friends." A victorious look edged on his lips and I couldn't help but look away shyly.

Aliyaar began to laugh softly hearing that. "Why wait?" He shrugged. "I think you should start thinking about getting married too."

"He is absolutely right." Safina aunty chimed in, clapping her hands excitedly. Shehryar rolled his eyes, burying his head in his mother's shoulder with a groan. I couldn't help but notice the shift in Miraal mood, her posture stiffened and her lips pursed together in a hardened smile.

"The person who would leave the room, every time someone bought up his marriage, is now dishing out marriage advise. How ironic." Yaar muttered underneath his breath, only to earn a hearty laugh from Aliyaar.

Conversation flowed between the family. Shehryar began to loosen up, munching on the nuts his mother was peeling for him. But Miraal distanced herself from the conversation.  Soon Aliyaar's parents left and it was just the four of us. "What do you do, Miraal?" I asked after a while, poorly attempting to strike conversation.

"I'm a financial analyst at Marks. I've been working at their firm since I graduated university."

"You work at Marks." Aliyaar asked with a sudden interest in the conversation. "Isn't this the same firm that represents us in London." He asked turning to Shehryar.

"It is." Miraal answered. "In fact, that's how we met." She stole a glance at Shehryar, before turning back to face Aliyaar. "I started as an assistant when my parents passed away and now I'm here." Her voice was laced with pride at her achievement.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Aliyaar said, "But it's quite remarkable what you've achieved."

"Your parents must be very proud of you." I said, my lips curling into an apologetic but kind smile. "Do you have any siblings?"

Miraal shook her head, "I was an only child. My parents were from Karachi, but moved to Manchester after they eloped from their homes. I grew up there, but after they passed away, I moved to London and have been living there ever since."

"So you have family in Karachi."

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Possibly. I just have no idea who they are." I felt bad for her, but there was no hurt or sympathy in her voice.  "I have never known any family except my parents."

"I'm sorry to hear that." I offered, but she shook her head, looking at the sky disdainfully.

"Don't be. Perhaps that's how it was meant to be. I'm happy with my life. Maybe if life hadn't given me that shock, I wouldn't be where I'm today."

I stared at her in amazement. She was a free bird. Her passion fuelled her ambitions. She didn't dwell on her past, neither did she care for the future. She didn't let the fire of her luck burn her, rather she became the fire. She was free in her wilderness. There was no fear in her eyes, just a fiery fierceness.

➰➰➰

The week rolled on slowly. I was finally getting used to my new lifestyle. My husband of ten days had taken the first five days off, making sure I was happy and settling in well. Every time we'd be together, he'd keep his phone away, showering me with his undivided attention. At night, he'd hold me in his arms, his fingers playing with the loose strands of my hair, his lips whispering sweet nothings in my ear.

It was strange how times had changed. The grains of time had finally washed me ashore. And he had carefully left his mark on the beach of my soul. He wasn't like a powerful wave that broke over with measured thunder, nor was he like a temporary tide that rode it over. He was but a gentle caressing footstep that imprinted itself on the golden sands, and no matter how many waves tried to kiss it goodbye, it refused to be erased.

I still remember how vehemently opposed I was to this union, yet here I was today anxiously waiting for him to come back home.

The curtains rippled softly, mischievously flirting with the wind. A shaft of moonlight streamed into the room. My eyes drooped with sleep, yet I kept stirring myself awake, glancing at the bored clock and the door in anticipation. It was nearing midnight and yet there was no sign of him.

I sighed, rubbing my arms to fend off the cold seeping inside the room. This year, winter had come venomously cold. I picked up my phone to give him a call when the door creaked open with a distended groan.

"Did I wake you up?" He asked in a low voice when I stirred up from the bed.

I shook my head, "I was waiting for you." He gripped his tie, loosening it from around his neck and then unbuttoned his sleeves, carefully rolling them up to his elbows.

"I told you I'd be late. You should have slept." He said warily. I frowned at the lack of warmth in his voice. I gazed at him while he undid the buttons of his shirt. A frown puckered his forehead, his face was drawn and tired.

"Where have you been? Have you eaten?"

He shook his head, "I finished late at work today and then there was a meeting at your party headquarters. I was there."

"I'll have the food laid out," I said, tearing myself out of bed. But his hand caught mine, stopping me from venturing further.

"Just go to sleep. I'm in no mood of going downstairs to eat." And then he left my hand, walking to his closet to change. His tie and shoes lay carelessly on the floor. I sighed picking up the things and then called upon the servant to bring up his meal.

It was after a while that he finally came out. He had changed into his night suit and his hair was slightly wet from the bath. He rubbed the towel against his hair and then discarded it on the couch with a disdainful sigh.

What's wrong with him today?

His eyes fell upon the tray of food and his brows raced together in irritation. "I told you I'm not hungry." His voice was full of annoyance. A surge of anger palpated through my body at his tone, but I clicked my tongue pressing my lips together in irritation. There was something wrong and I had to find out.

"It's your favourite kurma with naan. I also had kheer made for you." I tired again.

"Just send it back." He said without another glance at me, although this time his voice had softened.

"I haven't eaten." I lied, hoping this would convince him to have something. He swiftly turned around and his eyebrows rose in question. "Apka intezar kar rahi thi." I whispered softly into the waning silence of the room.
[I was waiting for you.]

His glance softened and he walked up to me. I patted the empty space besides me on the sofa, beckoning him to take a seat. "You shouldn't have waited." He mumbled inaudibly, seating himself besides me. His head was propped up against the headrest and his eyes rolled shut. He seemed tired, almost drained.

I moved and dished out some of the chicken in the plate. Wisps of the smoky aroma swirled around the room, filling it with a tempting inviting scent. "It smells good." I heard him say, his eyes still close.

"It tastes good as well." I replied, tearing a piece of the naan and dipping it into the gravy. "Here." I bought the morsel up to his lip, waiting for him to have it.

His gaze flickered with surprise when he saw me holding the bite out for him. But then he opened his mouth and allowed himself to be fed. His lips brushed against my fingers and a quick smile broke on my face. I wrapped another piece of naan around the chicken and held it out for him. He stared at it but instead of eating it, he leaned over and held my hand. I lifted my head in surprise, but that very moment he pressed our hands against my lips. "Eat." He commanded.

I smiled fondly and then pushed the bite into my mouth. "I had already eaten." I confessed with a cheeky grin.

His eyebrows winged over his surprised eyes, and he shook his head. "You little fox." He said cupping his palms over my cheeks and pressing them lightly. "Just go to sleep. I promise I'll eat."

I bought another morsel up to his lips, "Shhh. Just eat." I pressed my fingers against his warm lips, urging him to open them.

We sat in silence, while I continued to feed him. He seemed considerably relaxed now, the lines on his forehead had washed away and his eyes had lightened.

"Do you want to talk?"

He looked at me with a languid eye and then shook his head. "You don't have to worry about it."

His words spread a dull ache through my heart. I suddenly felt empty. Did he not think I was capable enough to share his worries? Maybe I didn't have real world experience, but I could surely listen. Perhaps if I was older and had more experience he'd feel more comfortable sharing his problems with me. My thoughts began to suffocate me. And I kept the plate back and stood up to leave.

But his hand wrapped around my wrist and with a small tug, he pulled me back to the couch, my body pressed up against his chest. "It's not that I don't want to share with you, but I don't wish to bore you with idle talk about politics, which I know you have no interest in. I know you didn't want this life, the least I can do is keep you away from it."

"What my heart desired and what I have are two different things. This is my reality now. I'm your wife and I want to be a part of your life." I said, my cheeks flaming with emotion.

"You're my whole life, baby."

"Then talk to me. I don't like it when you shut me out of your life. I might not be able to help, but I can listen."

His lips curled into a half smile and he leaned forward, placing his lips on my forehead. "Sometimes that is the biggest help." He whispered against me. His arms wrapped around my waist and I felt myself melt in his embrace.

"Is it my family?" I asked, pulling away slightly.

He took in a harboured breath and then spoke with measured carefulness. "They are being their usually self. Your uncle might not be able to contest the election. The election commission hasn't given the final verdict, but it seems highly likely."

"That leaves the position of Chief Minister open." I said thoughtfully. "Because if Ibrahim Taya is not allowed to contest, the party would need someone to fill in his place. But you said, you had evidence to disprove his involvement in the case."

"Zaroon isn't convinced we should use it in court. He has been acting weird for the past few weeks. Almost hostile."

I thought for a while, unsure if I should tell him, but I realised there was no point hiding it from him, "Zaroon Bhai knows." I said. He cranked his neck towards me with a puzzled expression, and I sighed, "That you leaked the information. He came to me on our wedding day. He isn't happy with you Aliyaar."

Aliyaar nodded solemnly, a grim expression masking his thoughts. "I had a feeling he knew. But what concerns me is your grandfather. If Zaroon knows then Dada Jan must know too. Then why would he agree to our—"

"He is testing you," I frowned, gazing unseeingly at the moonlight floating in from the balcony. I might not have liked this game, but I was born to play it. I knew the rules. And I knew the people who made them.

He was watching me with an acute interest, his piercing eyes pinned at me in anticipation. "I know you want that seat. And I know you will have it. All you have to do is be patient and careful."

His fingers laced with mine and he bought my hand to his, holding it in his lap. "All I've been is patient. Yet—" his voice was laced with annoyance.

"Shh." I held my finger against his lips. "This is not the time to threaten or feel threaten. This is the time to be patient. To watch and observe. If you want that seat, you have to win support." My hand slipped to his side, cupping his face, my thumb grazing the stubble of his jaw.

He listened to me carefully, his eyes darkening with perception. "Perhaps you're right. I shouldn't let anger dictate my actions."

I scooted closer allowing the warmth of our bodies to ease the tension slicing through like a pang of cold wind, "If my family feels threatened by you, they will simply remove you from their way. My grandfather will not be cornered. This is his game. We weren't even born when he mastered it."

"But for how long. Everyone is aware his health has been fragile —"

"Fragile maybe. But he still is the face of the party. People vote for him, not the party. It is his charm, his name, his personality that still get us those votes. Do you know what his biggest strength is?"

A lazy smile crossed his face, and although he might not want to admit it, he spoke with an alarming calmness, "He has the undeniable support of the people." His face was still, not betraying the thoughts churning in his mind.

I smiled softly, my fingers curling around the sensual thickness of his hair. A low groan escaped his lips when my hold tightened and I lightly tugged upon his scalp. "Power lies with the people. And if you want that seat, you need that power."

I leaned in, feeling my heart drum wildly within me. Despite the lingering fear that he could hear the rebellious thudding of my heart, I moved close and tilted my head. Sensing my intent, his hold on my waist tightened, pulling me flush against his chest. My eyes rolled shut as soon as my lips pressed against his cheek, lingering there for a moment, relishing the heat seeping onto my cold lips.

"Stop trying to buy support, you need to gain support. In politics, everyone has money, but very few have real power. Power is the real currency and public support is the way to earn it."

A devilish smile etched on his face and he slowly dragged his fingers through the tangled waves of my hair, tousling it in the process. My heart warmed watching his eye light up with appreciation. "I was so blinded with my ambition, I never realised support bought with money is temporary, but it is the support you gain which is permanent."

"If you buy support, be prepared for someone to buy it again at a higher price. But no one can buy loyalty. It has to be earned." My hand held onto his neck, my fingers curling around the hair of his nape. "When you're so close to power, you often underestimate its source. But you have to understand, the closer you are to the source, the closer you are to real power."

"That is the naked truth." He remarked with a sardonic chuckle.

"What do other party members think of you?" I asked.

Aliyaar paused at that question, his face buried in deep thought for a moment. "I think they feel threatened by me. But some have shown their support."

I leaned against his shoulder, my fingers playing with his hand. "You need to bring them on your side. Reassure them of their safety and your support for my grandfather. They need to see you as the son, not the son in law."

"But they all want that seat. Why would they support me." He demurred.

"Non sense." I said waving my hand dismissively. "Everyone knows Dada Jaan would never give that seat to just about anyone. They can try their luck, but even they know they have little to zero chance of ever getting it."

"Your grandfather has made it clear he won't give that seat to me either. But I cannot stop trying."

"And you shouldn't. That seat belongs to you Aliyaar. You need to make Dada Jaan realise with Ibrahim Taya out of the picture, you are his next best bet. Show him, that you do not just have the money, you have the support of the people. Especially his people."

I leaned forward and scooped some kheer onto a bowl and then raised the spoon to his lips. "To your victory." I said.

Aliyaar smiled, a quick curving of his lips, and then swept his tongue over his lips, licking off the remains. His eyes held mine in admiration, twinkling with new found determination and resolution.

"And here I thought you hated politics."

I shrugged, my eyes darting at the clock. "It's in my blood. There is nothing I can do about it."

"We should sleep." I said stifling a yawn, stretching my arms as I stood up. "Oyye." I yelped in surprise, when his arms scooped me off the floor.

"Don't tell me you still think I'd drop you." He rolled his eyes and I giggled, my arms wrapping around his neck. He laid me down, his lips pressing a quick kiss on my shoulder. He closed the lights and in the darkness of the night, I felt his arms snake around my waist, holding me close to him, his breathes soft and low brushing upon the nape of my neck.

"I'm lucky you have you." He whispered so lowly that I wasn't even sure I heard it. My eyes began to droop close, sleep slowing down the carousel of my thoughts. "Why are you helping me against your family?" I heard him ask.

I clasped his hand and held it tightly against my chest, "Kyunke Ab app meri jaan hain." I mumbled, before I fell in the crags of profound sleep.

(Because now you're my life.)

A reader sent this beautiful gift. 💕💕

I hope you all enjoyed today's update. Let me know your thoughts on today's chapter.

What are your thoughts on Miraal and Shanzae's impression of her. Is she conscious of her?

Please vote and leave your comments.

Until next time, keep me in your prayers. 💕