Chapter 30

AIRAB

I button up my dress shirt.

Knowing Elza would not be coming in a sec to set my tie like a traditional wife, I knit it myself and alien the crisp black collar. The barren feelings are over powering my mind.

My life from past seven days is in hell as the nights are being spent in graveyard and then performing normal day tasks without the fulfillment of needed hours of sleep has made me irritated. And it will continue till another thirty days to respite the clouts of evils. Thankfully, soon, we will be getting Aalims' call off order from being involved in graveyard sessions. According to them, our existence in further processing may cause us serious harms. Allah knows what is the truth. I am just following those who have spent more time in exploring the secrets of sacred Holy Book; Quran Pak. They surely know more and better than us.

About Elza, she got discharged two nights ago. Though she is in the room, she is mute. Not talking, not smiling. Just a sullen face. She is not even trying to come over the intricate maze of sorrow.

Mom, on the other side, is advising me to keep an intact hold on patience and give love and time to my wife. For this, she is reminding me again and again, "You should be thankful. She is strong to survive the miscarriage at this age. The miscarriage and giving birth to ten children shares the exact same level of pain."

I know, if not today, then after a week, a month or two, she will eventually learn to compose herself. She is a strong woman. And with me beside her, the inspiration to come back towards the bright life will hit her more. I am sure, my love will bloom in her heart – again. Even the thought of conceiving again could not put off her pain at once.

Gelling my hair, I wear the coat and march towards the bedroom where she is laying straight on her back, watching the garden through glass doors. I had moved the curtains away to let the morning sun annihilates germs.

She seems enjoying the life of an awaken day.

"Elza, I am going office." I inform to seek her permission. She should not think anything values more than her.

Since the night I made a determination of not attending office, I really have been staying at home, basically due to my accident. And now this... The work has been effected much. Honestly, I do not care but she is the one who brain washed me last night after I sang for her.

I have a stern order from Mrs. Airab Haroon to attend the office regularly. It must be followed.

"I am quite gratified with your work. Do you want to snatch the line from me 'My husband earns with his mind'? What would I answer of my husband's source of income?" She explained when I leant down to her sick face and stole a feathery lip kiss. She was still for a moment when our lips met into a sweet connection after the hell of ten days.

"I love you, no matter what." I express my earnest feelings to obliterate any wandering thoughts of her husband being on off mood because he did not get a kid from his wife. We know how worst she thinks and the extreme level she reaches is still beyond my supposition.

"I love you so much." I smile straightening up my coat, admiring the eminent glow of her face. All thanks to the bright sun rays.

"Can I ask something?" I was about to exit the bedroom when her attempt to converse halts my steps. It has been many days she did not a question on her own.

I rush back in a blink.

"Yes, ask, honey." I caress her forehead, cuddling her in arms and my eyes impatiently wait for her to speak. My ears have waited so much to listen to her. "And since when my crazy yet stunning wife needs consent for speaking?" I narrow my eyes, in attempt of bringing the long lost smile on her face with my puns.

"Where do you go in nights? Is there... any..." She, with suppressed breaths, probes the natural curiosity of a wife whose husband go missing in the middle of night.

I would have gone furious at her assumption if she had not been this sick due to nourishing my seeds in her womb.

"I know your wife-like-curiosity. But trust me, your husband will stay loyal to you till his last..." She instantly puts her fingers onto my lips. Her dreading expressions clear me of her naught stamina to listen such words.

"Wherever I go is a good place. No girls." I tease and she chuckles bugging the thick palace of ice created between us. "Baba goes with me, noticed?" She shakes her head at my question. Obviously, she would not know with her now limited territory of our room.

"He goes with your prized possession. He would not let your husband indulge into any bad activity." I clarify to rub out her assumptions about me indulging into drinking or smoking to fight with the dreadful sorrow.

"I trust you, Airab." She takes my name after ages, sparking my cravings to feel her, to hug her – which I do.

Her paced up beats indicate her elated sentiments knowing my love for her has not been affected with the accident she faced.

"Now, I am off to office, sweetie. Will be back soon." I have been going office as per instructed by the Aalims, but only for a few hours. I cannot let Elza to tread onto the negative thoughts. She is not the one to blame for this. Everyone goes sensitive in unwell state.

Being the best wife she is, she skipped university for fortnight when I was bed-ridden. I want her to feel less disappointed when she compares the time she gave to me versus what I am giving her.

However, lulling my heart, I leave for the office, smiling at my sister who is sleeping in living room. Due to my midnight visits to graveyard, I insisted her to sleep in my room, and on my bed but she refused feeling too shy to disturb the privacy of a couple. So, I arranged a bed here to save her from back strain by sleeping on sofa in cold nights.

And her marriage...

Well, guess he was not the one for my Biyah.

As already cleared that Biyah would have to live separate with her husband because of the expected and for sure drama her future father-in-law might create, I arranged a meet of them in which she enforced the man to stay with the family. But he clears of his no support in future issues if they live with his parents.

I myself rejected the proposal. A man is his woman's protector. He should be happy to get a girl who is rather willing to mingle with his family. Instead, he warned my sister in a strict tone. Dare he, bastard!

I could have never given my sister to such man. I thought him to be different from his father but guess, you intensely inherit loathing traits of your father.

***

Spotting me, the senior staff initiates the race to bring the files on my table for the last check as per my usual demand. I have organized the duties and authorities very well among my office. But nothing can be wholly left on the employees, seniors or not. Knowing I would go through their work, they put more efforts to get my praises. I need to be tricky to make people work for me.

As I slouch at my CEO chair, I feel the responsibility taking over me, pressing my personal grief.

Twenty files for now. I gulp taking the second one. Its thicker than the first one which must take half an hour to get finished. I was not here to keep an eye on the work so all the files are consuming time.

At my fifth file, I order coffee and some breakfast as I did not bother the staff today and preferred to reach office to wrap the work earlier.

Ha! As if we will let you. The files seem jeering at me.

The knock churns my stomach with strong appetite. Despite these days I hardly feel to take meal, the sessions at graveyard make me hungrier.

"Come in." My voice is slight louder than the normal accent I speak in.

The door opens revealing Miss. Meher in a trendy dress code; cream trousers and colorful Peshawari frock.

But why is she carrying my breakfast tray?

Judging my voiceless question, she answers, "I was coming this way so thought why not I bring it for the man who judged my skills and also gave me the opportunity to hew them." She says in a bit flattery tone eliciting no response from my straight face. Her words are not lie but guess, I am not in a mood.

Well, when I am in mood to enjoy her flirting? I should be though.

The white cream leaf impulses me to take an instant sip. The staff here knows the skillful garnishing well.

"Can I take a seat?" She asks as I take another tasting sip from my steamy hot cappuccino.

"Yes." I say politely, giving her a strong glare. It indicates her to sit here with a reason otherwise take the way out.

"Ahem." She clears her throat settling multi-color dupatta and gives a carless bounce to her I think two-days old curls looking more of natural. "I hope you did not mind me visiting Mrs. Haroon twice." She trails off. Last time when I was in hospital and then at home, on bed, she had visited after every two days with a bouquet and get-well-soon card.

I am a husband. I know when my wife feels insecure. So, being an adult, I asked her to stop meeting a man who is not in her close acquaintances' and relatives' list. She could come meet me with her closer colleagues' group like everyone did

Why do people think their existence will alter others' feelings?

A few looks at Elza and I craved to share my bed with her. Here, I despised her existence at my home. Moreover, I was scared of my parents. Unlike the oblivious parents, mine still have a hold on me. If I had been asked by Baba or Mama or Biyah of the abundant meets of my one specific employee, I would have felt too abashed.

"Ah. Thank you." I try curtesy, to put the question at back, lifting up butter knife from tray. I am too hungry to wait. So, I start to smear peanut butter on bread. I love it's taste.

I do not want to share this, Ms. Meher. Can you please go? I ask in my mind, hoping for her to listen it somehow.

She beams at me... as per her usual habit. "I have done another project in your absence." Her casual tone knits my eyebrows. Miss. I am doing breakfast. Did you not learn manners? I won't share! I try to be mind-cheeky to fight with the sorrows.

Only my wife can take bites from my mouth. The thought of Elza warms up her heart and then the instant image of her barren face and empty eyes callously squeezes out the momentarily warmth.

"Yes. I am glad you did your job well." I try to finish the conversation.

"Same here. Though I am astonished how I did that without a warm mentor like you?" She stretches the word warm, hitting paws on safe lines.

Then she stands up from her place, dropping my idea to insult her. She out of whole world cannot be genuine with me. I have just lost my seventeen months' unborn sons... worst, I signed their removal and she is here, flirting with me.

Instead of taking the way out, she comes closer. "Can I please taste this?" She points towards the stuffins.

Now, what to do?

I nod, despite the opposite opinion of my heart and mind.

She picks the one and takes a huge bite. "This is magic." She praises and I nod as my irritation subdues seeing her fondness for food.

I give no response and take a mouthful of cappuccino. The chicken cheese rolled omelet with the sprinkle of olives is still laying untouched. I want to stab it and savor the taste but coffee at first. Otherwise, I would have to re-hot it.

Ah! Yes, good food is a nice try to fight with the depression.

"You are so amazing. I wish I could do some magic on you to get a little of your brain." I lowly chuckle at her attempt of buttering me.

"Ms. Meher, your work is awaiting." I see an internee outside her cabin on CCTV and hit the perfect opportunity.

"Oops. I run back." She bites her tongue and take fast steps out of my cabin.

Who is she to come for casual talk? What a nerve she has! Nonetheless, this was her last chance. Next time, warning letter will be issued. Man up, Airab Haroon.

If you would not tell her to back off in clear words in her next attempt, you would not see Elza for a whole day. Here, I set my own punishment to function better.

Why do I feel so helpless around her? Do I feel for her?

Oh, Crap! Airab Haroon, now you need to go under DNC operation.

Thanking the time, I dig into my breakfast before it gets too late. I have ordered all of this but guess, my mouth's taste is gone. By talking to myself, I am trying to bring the taste to my mouth but all of attempts are going in vain.

***

My Note 8 rings, flashing my father's picture. I rub my jaw, squeezing off the exhaust of past three hours. I hate monotonous tasks.

I waste no time and slides the ring to attend the call. "Yes, Baba." I say after the traditional greeting.

"When are you coming back?" He asks with the tension etched to his voice.

"Everything okay?" My mind is twisted in the thoughts of Elza's depressed condition.

"Everything's okay. She needs your time." He pauses. "Sitting in garden, watching the wedding album." He adds and my hearts heaves as I imagine lost Elza admiring our wedding albums.

"It will take me more than three hours to finish the files." I inform him the truth. He is not the man to lie to or tell half-truth. He is one intimidating father.

Finishing the call with him, I call Biyah and mama, indirectly asking them to accompany my wife. A bored and alone mind gives a place to Satan who roots and waters the misunderstandings and negativity.

"Bhai, you have your ears and eyes open, right?" Biyah probes, going insane to know the one who could cause serious problem to her nephews through blade and bolts if Wahab had not done that.

"Yes." I reply taking a deep, mortified sigh.

"Why people do this magic thing, it's still out of my brains." She is frustrated from the day one, like she will murder the doer once as soon as we get to know.

I wish I could also do some magic on you to get a little of your brain.

Ms. Meher had said something like this, right?

Oh my Allah!

My heart shallows and I quickly terminate the call. The new revelation has awakened the waves of distrust, upsetting my rather calm mind.

I begin massaging my own temples, contemplating the situation.

Since the day one, she is extremely clingy to me. Despite my straight forward warnings, she did not improve her behavior, rather she crushed them under her heels on the base of some stronger reference... or a contact? Or magic?

She was also in the hospital when me and Elza met a car accident. And her constant bugging to my wife whenever she visits here... Moreover, she too often tries to touch me intensely on every opportunity. Her words... I mentally repeat them to match two with two.

No, no. She cannot be the one. She was born and grown in a foreign country. And why would she hold any grudge against my family? Is not it fishy for a woman, who spent her entire childhood and ripe youth among white people, to kill two unborn twins?

I have never seen her prior the interview day. Her features seemed reminding me of someone but I shrugged it away.

Maybe, I am over thinking. The graveyard sessions need to be prolonged and more attentive so that I can get clear hints not only in my dreams as well as in real.

With the doubt seed planted in my brain, I somehow finished my work before I was due to attend two meetings for the day. One where a project of clothing brand will be handled to the client and in the next meeting, another project will be discussed.

***

"Here, Sir." The manager hands me the file I demanded and thankfully got it on my way back – at three of afternoon – whereas his demanded time was of 24 hours.

"I can't thank you enough, Fawad." I bare my gratification to him. If I find his work productive, then surely his bonus is fixed.

I turn, looking myself in the wall mirror of the workers and set my hair from front in one stroke. Being C.E.O even snatches your right to mourn at the barbaric death of twins.

My bitter mouth tunes tasteless as I think of hundreds of people earning their livelihood under me. My weak attitude to-sit-and-mourn will upset the lives of thousands.

Since Baba has healed, he and mama, together are seeing the family business. These days, he is also staying at home to stay with his children. I am thankful to Baba to be my pillar at my grave loss. Not that, he is less hurt. He himself confronted Wahab, causing blood to drip from his nose and cheek in agony, while shouting how dare you hurt my grandchildren? You think you would be spared. How wrong were you!

His parents are dead. Thus his mother's first sister and other relatives begged for his release but Baba's heart is of stone for him. I for a minute felt, he might change but Baba and Biyah were more than ready to annihilate relation with me if I dare to show soft corner to the murdered of the beloved angels of Haroons. I then stayed quite, letting Baba deal with him in his way.

I sit at the back seat, asking driver to stop at the floweriest shop as per my daily habit. Elza – though only for few seconds – blooms receiving flowers from me.

It is better to buy than plucking. I remember Elza's word as I plucked the rose for no reason the other day. She does not mind me plucking flowers but now, she is extremely sensitive.

As the car smoothed on the road, I open the detailed file on Ms. Meher. I mostly look out for the relevant points in CV. Alike novels, I do not hire girls to be my temporary wife, so a deep background check is not run. This needs to get changed in company's policy.

It will be purely for the security purpose.

Back to the detailed file on Ms. Meher Kazmi. Taking no point for granted, I keenly observe each detail, highlighting the suspicious facts with the borrowed pen.

Even after reaching the home, I am not at home. The new suspect has captured my whole of attention. I click the highlights and WhatsApp them to the manager, asking him to state authentic sources of pointed information along the list of her relatives, close in nature. I don't exactly remember the Hollywood movie in which the culprit is caught through the relatives. It is a valid point – if you are unable to suspect your enemy, make a list of her relatives. Even the behavior in her mothers' womb will be open up to you.

As I finish the call, I look at my watch; its supper time. I ask chef for its preparation. Once he gets done, I set the tray of Elza's dietary meals along tea.

Currently, I am trying to crake jokes to her so she at least comes back to normal self. My attempts, however, are badly failing to turn her mind from the tomorrow's court hearing.

Tomorrow is the first hearing where Wahab Butt will be given severe punishment, for sure.

"What would I get out of this? What would we get?" Elza's eyes are asking me so much more than these two questions.

I stab the home baked tea cake, feeding her with my hands but she shakes her head.

"Nothing, nothing is going to change. They won't be coming back." She wails louder, making me leave the feeding task and instead engulf her in my embrace.

In response to her loss, she hits me hard. Her aggressive punches are not any near to a man's fist. Still they are most hurtful ones amongst hers.

"Ezu, Bacha, calm down." I keep chanting this near her earlobe, in barely audible voice until she stops her wails and then sobs.

"I know it's difficult. But you need to believe on Allah. There is hidden good in his every 'Kun'..."

My soothing words slap on my own face as she turns beyond aggressive, shouting in the loudest possible voice.

"NO!!! WHAT CAN BE GOOD IN THE DEATH OF MY CHILDREN?"

Her volume shook me at my place. Loosing sanity, she starts breaking everything she can get her hands on.

A mother can never forget the feeling of a kid in her womb, and she had twins. Though they were my seeds but they were getting nourishment in her womb. Surely, her missing factor is higher.

"I know." I murmur, kissing her left cheek continuously. Helpless me can't even tell her what good this miscarriage has done to our children.

"I hate you, Airab. I hate you. Out of all I had hoped you would understand my pain, but no you are also asking me to..." She chokes on her harsh words as she pushes me with all her mite.

I cannot believe she has said that to me. In fun, we say each other, who are you, no, I don't love any one, I hate you, who told you that I love you.

But the current situation stabs my whole body, crushing it like a mirror.

"Don't, please." I plead, strictly asking my emotions to not flow much.

Her expressions turn softer from the anguish one. She seems contemplating her words and behavior at my broken state.

As if listening to our connected hearts, she takes two steps and bangs into my chest, streaming the tears and laments, baring her injured self to me.

"Airab... our fate... Did we boost off about the twins? Maybe, that's why Allah took them away. But why Airab? He could hurt me. Why my children became the target of destiny even before their destiny lines could from?" She keeps her face into my chest and pours her suppressed emotions of past ten days.

It fails my attempts of patience and I accompany her in flow of grief while I keep an intact hold around her. We are barren-parents.

Why my, Creator? Please, give us the patience to compete with this callous accident. We won't survive otherwise.

Now, I won't let go anyone who is responsible for our condition. Our loss is bigger than other's regret.

Calming her down, I call my manager to get his lazy ass to work at quicker pace. Now, no one will be spared. Gone is the humble Airab Haroon!

***

Hello, dearies, bored with the same drama? Sorry but how can I plane off her pain. Bear with that, please.

And yeah, the next chapter is going to be quite interesting.

Who do you think is the villain? Mehar? Or Not Alone Mehar. Maybe Haroon's have hurt someone, or a Haroon has hurt a Haroon and this is the revenge.