(The Above picture contains Elza's Home and Henna which Airab applies on Elza's fingers)

and Eid Mubarak Bunniess... 😚😚 🌙🌙

Chapter 4

ELZA

(2 months ago)

I turn another page, another page, another page and another page. The thriller and mystery is long way to go. I am at two hundred and fifty third page. Five hundred and seventy more to go. Hu!

Thank Gosh, Rabiha lent me her novel or you can say her own novel was missing so she gave me this from her brother's study room. Due to Shaina's wedding thriller, her novel must has been misplaced. Whatever, my real concern is the novel, not the owner. The real fun of the novel is by reading through book not online – especially the Urdu novels.

A feeble smile appears on my face like the cuddling lull in my heart as I read how the Hayaa loves her childhood fiancé without seeing him for years. She has trust on him and Allah. I want to do the same – complete trust on Allah. It is something I am being away from. Exact reason is inconclusive to me but hearts feels occupied by Satan. I do over-rage behavior. I want peace. I desperately want it in Namaz now. I am trying but...

In the next moment my mobile rings and there is my bestie... calling me when I need her. I am amazed that how can she judge me this best; earlier when she was miles away and now when after marriage she lives in the other end of city as of mine. She is elder to me but got tied into the divine thread of marraige four months ago. I love teasing her even after she begs me to stop.

The call was brief in which she told the reason of her slow texts; the iftaar-guests are still lingering at her home. I sulk like a kid but did not object. She and my Zee are the only ones around whom I am carefree. Because neither of them are judging. As if I care about the world!

My stomach growls reminding me of delicious fruit chat lying there in fridge. Breaking the fast, I ate a small date and then downed two glasses of mango shake in a go. My tummy was thus heavy to accept anything more, and so my Iftaari is enjoyed the chillness of refrigerator.

I sprint out of my bedroom towards kitchen. Taking bowl of fruit chat my feet stop listening to the whining of my elder sister, Tabeedah, about her in-laws. Rolling my eyes, I control the urge to not pass the comets. It's been two years. Why does she still think Rehan Bhai's family not hers?

Truthfully, I hate it when she tells wee things happen at her home. It only crafts misunderstandings fueling the negativity, tainting the positive atmosphere.

She should play her part nicely and especially not fight with her husband in the holy month of Ramadan. 'Husbands' around me have short stamina. Men are angry-creatures, I think, and always pregnant; moody and wrathful. Show your mood swings only to those men who can handle it. Simple!

Problem is such men exist only in books and we cannot marry to books. More Simple, isn't it?

Instead of going back to bedroom, I rush to balcony to get some fresh air along frosty spoons of strawberry and vanilla mixed with five delicious fruits. My lips are cold but I am feeling good with this chillness in clammy weather. I inwardly pray for Rain from Allah. From 4 days, I am active in all kind of religious activities; Prayers, recitation, Tasbeeh and all other things.

I breath out, feeling free of the chaotic and monotonous university routine. No lectures, no discussions, no questions, no presentations, no assignments, nothing.

I feel as if a new born baby; free of burdens.

My university is closed for the sake of Ramadan and thus I have plenty of time to remain in my room and not show off this side to world which even in real is very rare. I chuckle. Yes, I am that kind of Muslim girl who acts this spiritual only in the divine month of Ramadhan. The inspiration? It is all after listening to Airab Haroon, my neighbor.

The colossal home across mine belongs to his affluent family called Haroon's.

Our financial problems were much serious until my elder brother graduated and went abroad to earn. He liked a girl there and we, the family, agreed for marriage. We have our own one and a half canal double storey home from last two years in a reputable residence of Islamabad. After my brother and sister in law, a tiny thanks is also accorded to me and my sister as we took care ladies' daily and small expenses by home tuition.

In two years I am here, I have gone countless times to Haroon's. Rabiha, Shaina and Bareera are kind of friends with me, Rabiha, the most. This family is one highly educated family. Sameena aunt likes me too. Her husband, Majid Haroon, got paralysis attack a year ago and now under recovery but he is very, very altruistic despite the property and status he owns.

The main asset of this family is Airab Haroon. The one who inspired me effortlessly. He is very polite, chivalrous and secluded. I do not think I may have spoken more than 10-15 words to him each time we are face to face. Mostly, those were greetings or Congratulations on Muslims events like Eid Mubarak, Chand Mubarak. I am not that kind of a girl who would want to be under each and every man she meets. Plus, he is 11 years older to me and my mother forces me to call him 'Bhai'.

I think he is gay. I giggle at the thought. He is not marrying because... Reason is unknown but he has told his family that it's his personal matter. Very confidential. Privacy-moaning-rich! Even most people say that his father was prone to paralysis attack only because of his continuous rejections of marriage proposals.

Back to the inspiration, I would like to add that how he artlessly worked in making me realize that I am to bound to the religious things – especially when I am in fast.

He, the great businessman, completes Quran many times in the month of Ramadhan, that too along Translation. If he can do this despite his tough schedule, then what I am.

About Namaz, I heard him quoting the meaning of Surah Mursalat --- to my younger sister in which Allah has said, "How should I explain it to you that your hearts get fixed to it? Would you make beg the creator of this world who is saying again and again to you to bow before him and offer Namaz?" He had gathered Zee, in his arms. "And my little fairy, you focus on Namaz. It is more than fasting, you know?" Zee had shaken her head. "Allah does not need your empty stomach but your piety, my love."

It had hit me so hard.

Zee wanted to do fasting but the lengthy hours along this weather, we were not waking her at Sehar time. And after 10 fats to go with our lame excuses, she was bursting with red color. She was not eating and not talking to anyone until four days ago. She is not even at the defined age of fasts.

Taking another spoon, I relish the tranquility oozing from my insides.

The beautiful light of thirteen days' moon brightens my cleansed hands and suddenly I am reminded of Henna. I wear my new casual sandals. "Mom, I am going to Haroon's. Rabiha had asked me to come over for mehndi."

"It's not any occasion for mehndi, Elza." Tabeedah objects. "Eid and even Shaina's wedding is in fortnight. Apply it then."

I settle the silk dupatta on my head. "But I want my hands festooned with mehndi. I recently cherished manicure and pedicure." I wink cheekily. "Mom, please accompany me till their gate." The security system of the rich Haroon's is very tight. Whole area is secured still I do not have a heart to go alone in night. Yes, I am shy to admit that I am scared of my dignity like any typical girl.

Within two minutes, I am in front of the torrid entrance. I say Salaam to watchmen and move inside while my mother takes her way back home.

After knocking the posh white sleek door, I push its one side inwards. I love this heavy yet elegant door. Infact this home should be entitled as "Sheer Elegance".

I bite my tongue realizing that I will be disturbing family moment. Airab-Bhai, Rabiha, Shaina and Barrera are playing chess.

The center of main hall is alike drying area. All four sides are covered with plush white sectional sofas. There are 5-6 small white wooden stairs to reach to them.

Barrera Aapi jubilantly engulfs me in a bear hug. "I reached few hours ago. How are you Elza?" She lives in London with her husband.

"I am perfectly fine Aapi. You came alone?"

"Yeah, I was forced to leave my lovely husband and called early for shopping."

"Oh" I reply.

Rabiha besides me cheers for her brother's move while Barrera Aapi is supporting Shaina. Game is on between Airab-Bhai and to-be-bride Shaina.

To make some conversation, I speak. "So, Shaina is sharpening her mind before wedding, poor Sahil Bhai." All laugh at my joke. I like how they give stature to everyone.

"Elza, take snacks, my darling. Tell what you want? Juice, coffee or something else?" Sameena aunt also offers me the multiple snacks. I just go for chips.

Shaking my head, I deny formally. "Thank you auntie, but I have come for henna." I look up at Rabiha. She gives me an apologetic smile. Oh, no!

"I slipped by two stairs. My right hand joint has strain." My eyes dart to her hand and she has a slight swelling there.

"Ouch! This must be hurting. Did you see the doctor?"

"Yes, it would go by thorough massage... in two days."

"Get well soon." She acknowledges my wish by her cute smile. I am not at all crabby and negative when I am around this family. All these people ooze positivity from their existences.

"We all know how much Elza loves Henna and see she is sad now." Shaina judges my expressions. She is so good at it. "BTW, Elza, do you really want henna on your hands, ahem, ahem." She teases me. I blush alight.

"It's enough that you are marrying. I am 18 only." I pout. Airab gazes at me after I am done declaring my age.

What?

"Darling, dinner is in 10 minutes or some. My Airab is famished." She giggles. "He eats a lot."

I think that's saying you should go back to your home. "Um, I should go. I will come some other time."

"Nope, you are going to stay. Have dinner with us."

I shake my head instantly. "No."

"Common, it's been two years since you are our neighbors and sweet, sweet friend but you have never taken a single meal with us. Today this deal's gonna break, baby." Barrera Aapi announces. Oh, no.

"No, Aapi. I have dinner waiting at home. You know my favorite Karaily gosht (Bitter gourd and mutton) with lassi (butter milk). I gotta go."

"Elza..." Sameena aunt warns me. I look down in respect but still shakes my head.

All laugh at me. It forces me to chuckle.

He chuckles, too.

"Stay." All say together and I am trapped.

"You know Elza, if you stay you will get fantastic henna patterns on both of your hands." Rabiha raises her left eyebrow. "Bhai is best at it. He taught me this art."

He and my hand. No, that would be inappropriate.

I shake my head. "No. It's fine. I will apply on Shaina's wedding." Yeah, it might save me.

"Ugh, this girl is such a stubborn miss. Elza, you are going to stay for dinner and then Airab will make patterns on your hands. End of discussion." Bareera Aapi professes in an authoritative tone.

Oh, no. I am certainly trapped this time. I wish I had stayed at home.

***

I feel something for him, for the first time. It is slow and dangerous. The outer side of my hand is being designed graciously with henna coming out of Henna-Syringe. This man is really best at this. I am in awe. The design starts from 4 inches above of my wrist. He has made an aesthetic shape there. Elegant pattern around an empty circle like it's some kind of small mirror. I have asked him not to make it too complicated. Complicated Designs suit on Brides only.

My fingers are being done now. He has started with thumb. He looks again at me with his alluring hazel eyes?

Alluring? Crap!

"Still!" A curt order! I am trying but... I cannot help but feel very itchy with the situation I am landed into.

"Rabiha, what do you suggest about my hairs? I am thinking to dye them in chocolaty coffee color." Rabiha is sitting beside me sensing me uncomfortable upon being alone with her brother.

Right hand's inner side is done. Now, he is doing the outer side of left hand.

"That would really suit you. It would match your complexion, very much. But I would say accompany me to the Spa I visit. See, their manicure and Pedicure really suited you."

"I will think about it." The Spa she visits is hell expensive. I already wasted 4 thousand there. Not wholly wasted though. "I am confused about haircut. What 'bout fringes?" I hear him gasp, I think. He coughs interrupting the vital conversation.

Resuming doing my middle finger, he lets me talk. "Would fringes suit me?" I ask my question, once again.

"Honestly, I do not know. Have you asked your mother?" Ha! The respectable way of saying, no that won't suit you. "Saying the truth, no Elza, not fringes. Go with feathers, or layers with feather edges. That will go fabulous with you." As if she had been able to read my mind, she gives the true opinion.

"Oh! Thanks tons, babe." I wink at her.

The constant message tone echoes around. "Wait, it's my mobile. I will be back shortly." Rabiha takes steps towards the dining area. I was there not half an hour ago. The dinner was delicious. I loved every morsel. Some people skip dinner after Iftari and guess I and as well as this family does not.

Airab sighs holding my index finger. "I saw your WhatsApp Display Picture. Anyone can feel to die over it." Oh, Flirty! I cannot believe. Rabiha has taken seat on chair going through her texts. Oh, what to do now? The decision to go over my limit-line for Henna was a bad choice.

I angrily groan with a disapproving shake of head. Yes, this should give him the hint that I am not going to be affected with his heap of money and charms.

Fury engulfs me and I retreat my head when he took a wee pause. Confusion plasters his face. I get up from the lounger. Hardly, I would have taken a step to leave when Rabiha came back. "Henna done?" She asks me. Before I could lie, she judges my incomplete pattern on fingers.

My mouth goes dry. I cannot grouch about Airab. I simply can't. I am not afraid of any comments which will be passed upon my character but the scads of hideous misunderstanding between two families that will take immortal birth.

"No I was going to fetch water for myself." I lie.

"You should have ordered the maid. Anyways, you sit here. I bring." Tonight, once again, I am trapped. Where is my mulishness? I am in need of it.

I sit back and offer my hand to him – to complete the design. "Please, complete it quickly." I say in low dangerous voice. I didn't care to look at him again. How can I? He is one flirty man. Yet, I am sensing some kind of guilt in his body language, in his short breaths and his disturbing silence.

Whatever, this was his first and last chance to flirt with me. Next time, he'd have to endure my sharp tongue. Why next time? Why not now?

"Just because I remained quite didn't mean you can say anything to me." I say as politely as I can. My eyes roll on their accord in irritation. I desperately want the design to end.

***

PRESENT

I look at my hands. They surely are clean, very clean without Henna. I want it on my hands again but I'd have to ask him which...

Whoa!

I grin mischievously at my idea. Yes, he'd have to sit intact with me for over an hour in that case. Then he'll remember the past too.

I sigh. Well, there was a time when I had warned him and also made up my mind that me-near-him is for the last time but as it was written – I am his wife. Now, he has every right to gaze at me, flirt with me – only if he is that kind of a husband who does not flirt with others' wives. If I had said it in front of my mother-in-law, then the answer would had been clear cut on the pure and unstained character of my husband.

I just keep thinking over the adorable memories of the Henna and jot down more tips to entice him only towards me.

But then I was tired sitting there. I go towards the pool side. Haven't I mention my husband is one rich man? I surely have. Walking around I go to the edge of area and there again I am dazzled by the look of home, my home.

Passing a few minutes out, I am in the room again.

I am seriously bored.

My husband is not around me. I am feeling alone and empty. I do not why. It's like I am typical wife who wants her husband stick to her 24/7. I am not typical at all. I can be happy without him. Yeah.

I quit playing Zigzag game after scoring 3478. Thanks to my bad husband that I am blessed with wonderful technology pieces. I again look towards the French window door that gives the outlook of amazing surrounding. We are not on 25th floor, that the all city will be on view but it's our enthralling home and we are on second floor. First floor is of sisters. And Airab's parents which are also mine now, lives at the ground floor.

The 25 years Arham Haroon is out in London for PhD. In chemical engineering. He is engaged to his mother's sister's daughter, Yashal. She is very endearing and sugary. Airab is saying there will be separate floor for Arham means 3rd floor and amendments will be made to 2nd floor and it will be all ours.

But Arham is saying he will stay at ground floor with his mother. He is youngest son and wants to stay under his mother's presence. But Airab is Airab. He is toiling to persuade his brother for a separate floor for certain reasons.

Airab.

Airaab.

Airaaab.

I shake my head. I am missing him. It's hard to admit but...

No, no.

I do not miss him.

He will come as and when he wishes.

Whatever!

Half an hour later, my inner wear's delivery came making me busy in it. They are so many and really luxurious. Well, now I will see how he curbs his desires for his lawful wife. I smirk at the bombardment of new seductive thoughts.

***

Do you also think husbands are moody?

Is asking him to draw henna patterns on her hands again a good seductive idea?