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*

Iman

"Stay home." I pleaded with Taif.

"Iman, I really can't." He looked guilty as he placed his hands on my shoulders. "But don't worry, everything will be fine."

"No, it won't! If she insults my parents, I will not hold myself back, Taif. I can tolerate a lot, but that is one thing that I won't tolerate!"

He looked like he was in a dilemma, as he stood with his hands on his hips, staring out of the window. After a few moments, he finally broke the silence, "Iman, my parents will handle it, okay? But I can't stay home." He grabbed his laptop bag and walked up to me. "I'm sorry, Iman. You know the pressure of this job very well." He kissed my cheek and headed out of the room. "I'll speak to Ammi Jaan before I go. Allah Hafiz." He closed the bedroom door behind him as he left.

Taif was good, so good that I felt guilty even thinking negatively about him, but I really didn't appreciate how he dismissed my concerns so casually like that. Fine, he had to get to work- I understand that. But there's no need to patronise me, like I'm just a child being sillly.

I took a deep breath. Well, let's just pray that by some miracle Ghazala Phupho behaved herself.

*

I helped my mother-in-law fry the samosas and kebab, while Uncle went to the shop to buy some soft drinks and other snacks. I'd offered to go, but he had insisted that he would be fine.

"What else?" Mrs Bukhari looked thoughtful.

"This is enough, Aunty." I insisted.

"Beta, aap ki shaadi ke baad pehli dafa aapke Maa Baap aa rahe hain. Kuch acha bandobast to hona chahiye na." She smiled.

*"Dear, after your wedding, your parents are coming for the first time. We need to make good arrangements."

"Why don't you go and see if anything needs to be tidied up in the living room, and I will finish off here?" She suggested.

"Sure." I washed my hands and headed into the living room. For a second I just stood there, staring at the small, almost cramped space. Oh, shut up, Iman. This is home. Be grateful. I began to tidy things: adjusting sofa cushions, moving mine and Taif's medical books onto the narrow bookshelf in the corner, and straightening the coffee table. We'd already hoovered and dusted the furniture earlier.

"Iman, dear, go and get ready."

"Yes." I wondered where Ghazala Phupho was. The house was too quiet. Who cares? I shrugged and headed up the stairs.

Upstairs was a very narrow hallway, with the bathroom door right on the landing. Next to it was our bedroom, and then my parents-in-law's room.

I frowned as I approached the top of the stairs. I had closed my bedroom door, but it was open now. I approached it and pushed it open, my eyes widening.

Ghazala Phupho was standing by my dressing table, looking at my perfume bottles and make-up.

"What are you doing in my room?" I asked, quietly.

She looked at me, unbothered. "We never used to question our elders about anything back in our days." She had the audacity to pick up one of the bottles and spray it on herself.

"Well, the elders in my family don't go into a married couple's bedroom behind their backs." I couldn't stop myself.

She eyed me critically, and walked towards me. "Why Taif?"

"Excuse me?"

"There must be a reason why a rich, pampered princess you married Taif. Is there something wrong with you that you couldn't find a rishta in your own social circle?"

Iman, don't say anything. She's provoking you so that you talk back, and then she'll have a reason to taunt my parents about their upbringing.

"I have to get ready, Phupho. Shouldn't you as well? After all, you are the one who invited them." I gave her a small smile.

Her jaw clenched and her nostrils flared. She was clearly very irritated with me. But...I gave zero craps about it.

I stepped aside and gestured towards the door. "Please, Phupho. It's getting late."

She walked off, huffing and puffing.

It was only when she had gone and I'd closed the door did I realise that she'd taken my perfume bottle with her.

*

I wore a kurta which was basically cream coloured with black floral patterns over most of the bodice. The bottom of the kurta, as well as the ends of the sleeves was a shade of grey, with designs in blue and yellow printed over it. Little white pearls hung from the hem. I paired this kurta with white trousers that had gentle silver embroidery at the ends.

*It was really hard to describe this kurta, which is why the above paragraph is so basic.

I braided my hair and applied eyeliner and a natural shade of lip-gloss, before heading downstairs.

"Ma Sha Allah, humari doctor sahiba to bohat pyari lag rahi hain." Mrs Bukhari smiled at me.

*"Ma Sha Allah, our madam doctor is looking lovely."

I smiled back at her politely, but I was filled with nerves and anxiety. It was a truly a test for me.

I was silently helping my mother-in-law set up the last few things, when I heard the car doors outside. I gulped, clutching the edge of the counter.

"Don't worry." Mrs Bukhari seemed to have noticed my worry. "Go and open the door and greet them, dear."

I looked at her, silently pleading with her to handle things. She gave me a reassuring nod.

Sighing deeply, I headed to the front door and opened it, forcing a smile onto my face. "Assalam Alaikum!" I stepped out as my parents stepped out of Papa's car.

Please Allah, let no such situation arise where I can't control my tongue. Ameen.

"Walaikum Assalam!" They both replied, giving me warm smiles.

"Mani." Mama came around and hugged me. "How are you feeling now?"

"I'm sorry, I kind of ditched you. But I'm better, Alhumdulillah." I kissed her cheek. "Looking pretty as usual, Ma Sha Allah, Mama meri jaan."

She was wearing a red and charcoal grey shalwar-kameez suit, along with flat black sandals.

"Mani." Papa came around, holding bakery bags, and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, kissing the side of my head. "How are you, meri jaan?"

"Very well, Alhumdulillah." I replied. "I hope you're taking care of this mother of mine."

"Any doubt?" He smiled.

"Never." I shook my head.

My parents-in-law came in the doorway and greeted my parents warmly.

"Sorry for the short notice, Fawad Bhai." Mr Bukhari told him. "My cousin sister wanted to meet you both."

"Don't apologise. In fact, thank you for the invitation." Papa replied.

I trailed behind the parents, and closed and locked the front door. As I headed inside, I heard Ghazala Phupho's voice, and I winced. So far the nice, caring façade was up, but for how long?

I followed inside, and was about to take a seat beside my mother, when Ghazala Phupho called me, "Come and sit here with me, Iman dear!"

Without an argument, I walked over and sat down beside the woman I was rapidly starting to loathe. Ghazala Phupho placed a hand on my back and directed a fake smile towards my parents.

"How are you feeling now, Bhai Sahab?" Papa asked Mr Bukhari.

"It's old a part of aging, Fawad Sahab." My father-in-law shook his head, a small smile on his face. "I'm grateful to my Allah nevertheless."

"These are some things for you." Mama nodded at the bakery bags on the table as she looked at my mother-in-law.

"Bhabi, iski kya takaluf thi?" Mrs Bukhari adjusted her dupatta on her head.

*"Bhabi, what was the need for this formality?"

"It's a tradition, as you know very well." Mama's gaze flickered to me, briefly. She still had the warm smile on her face, but I could tell that she was studying my expressions.

I smiled at her to reassure her that I was okay. I mean, technically I was okay. I was alive, breathing, in good health, with a roof over my head and food on the table. Alhumdulillah.

But many people don't realise that mental peace is also one of the most important things in life, almost a necessity.

"Shall I get the tea and coffee ready?" I asked Mrs Bukhari.

"Yes, my dear. I'll help you bring in the food. Call me when the drinks are ready."

I nodded and got up to leave the room. I prepared the drinks, but my focus was on the conversations in the room. So far, Ghazala Phupho wasn't speaking much, only occasionally saying one or two words to be a part of a conversation. But I didn't trust her.

I carried the tray of drinks into the room, hoping that it wouldn't fall.

"Was it your wish or Iman's to follow your footsteps in this field?" Mr Bukhari asked Papa.

Papa smiled up at me as I handed him his coffee. "This was her choice. I never imposed anything on my daughters. They were free to study whatever they wanted."

Mrs Bukhari had walked into the kitchen to get the food, and I followed her inside. For a second I saw the genuine worry on her face.

"Are you okay?" I asked her.

She smiled at me, nodding. "Don't worry, Iman."

We both headed inside with the food trays and set them on the table.

"Itna kuch karnay ki kiya zaroorat thi, Bhabi?" Mama asked her.

*"What was the need to do all this, Bhabi?"

"Aapko to pata hai hum Lahoriyon ka." Mrs Bukhari replied, handing her a plate. "Iman, give your father a plate as well, my dear."

*"You know us Lahoris."

I did as she asked, and offered the food to all the adults.

"I have to say, Mr and Mrs Fawad, your daughter is a wonderful girl. Ma Sha Allah." Mrs Bukhari sat down on her seat again. "She has so much respect, so much regard, that I feel blessed that she is my Taif's wife."

"Sach main, Fawad Sahab. Koi shak nahin hai is baat main." Mr Bukhari agreed with a nod.

*"It's true, Mr Fawad. There's no doubt in that."

"Betiyan waqai barkat hoti hain, dusron ke ghar jaake bhi." Mrs Bukhari ran a hand over my head as I placed a chicken patty into her plate.

*"Daughters are really blessings, even in their in-laws."

"I wish everyone thought like that, Mrs Bukhari. But I am very, very pleased to hear these lovely things about her." Mama exchange a pleased look with Papa.

"Bas afsoos hai ke ise apne surgeon hone ki dream chodnay padegi." Ghazala Phupho finally spoke.

*"It's just unfortunate that she'll have to give up her dream of being a surgeon."

I glanced at her sharply. Was that woman on something?

"Why are you saying that, Baji?" Mrs Bukhari asked, confused.

"Well, it costs a lot of money, which will be used on Taif's training. How are you supposed to afford her training as well?" Ghazala Phupho took a large bite of her samosa.

"Actually," I said, politely. "Taif is trying to win a scholarship that will completely cover his training. I hope to do the same. The exam fees is affordable." I grabbed my own mug of coffee, taking a seat beside my mother this time.

"That scholarship is not a guarantee, if I am not mistaken? Taif has to be pass the exams with flying colours to get it. If not, then full fees must be paid. You cannot afford the rent of this house for one month, and you expect to pay for the two of them for their surgeon training?" Phupho was eating as she spoke. She seemed to be really enjoying herself.

I wanted the ground to swallow me up. This was not something that I wanted to worry my parents with. "In Sha Allah, with his hard work, Taif will win the scholarship. And so will I. Hard work always pays off. And even if we can't succeed in this, when Allah closes one door, He opens a window, so we will find another way." My hands were curled in fists and my jaw was clenched. I felt Mama lightly wrap her fingers around my wrist and I looked at her. Her eyes were filled with worry for me. "We can't really achieve any of our dreams unless we try, right? I won't put any unreasonable pressure on anyone, but I will do anything to achieve my goal."

"As you should." Mr Bukhari nodded. "Allah is the provider, and He will take care of us." He looked at my father. "But we made a promise to you, that there will be no hinderance in Iman's education, and we intend to keep that promise. She will be support, rest assured."

"It would be better if, as her parents, you support her if you want her to achieve her goal." Ghazala Phupho told my parents. "My cousin and his wife do not have any duty towards Iman's education, only Taif's."

Mama was looking at Papa, worriedly, who looked thoughtful. He met Mama's gaze, before speaking up, "I will do no such thing that would harm the self-respect of Iman or Taif. If she is mean to be a surgeon, Allah will make a way for her, because I know that my daughter can achieve anything she sets her mind to. She's dedicated and hard-working, and very determined to become a surgeon. I pray for the best for Taif and Iman, but I am not going to do anything that will be insulting to either of them."

"In our society, parents would do anything to ensure happiness for their daughters in their homes." Ghazala Phupho was practically breathing fire.

"Ghazala, that's enough." Mr Bukhari glared at her.

"I mean, do you even realise that your son-in-law doesn't even have a car? He has to take the public transport! As does this precious daughter of yours! How do you feel about her struggling to get to work every day?"

I slid my hand into Mama's because I was burning inside with rage, and I was this close at throwing my coffee mug at that evil woman's venomous face.

"Saif Bhai, in our family daughters are not considered burdens. You didn't demand dowry, and you promised to never stop her from progressing in her career, but I am telling you straight out, that I am very concerned about this behaviour." Papa spoke in a low, calm tone, but I knew he was angry.

"I apologise to you, Fawad Bhai. Ghazala will be leaving shortly." Mr Bukhari looked embarrassed.

"Papa, Uncle and Aunty are very lovely people. Don't worry." I reassured my father.

"If Taif and Iman ever need help from me, I will never deny them. But I respect their self-respect." Papa continued. "In fact, I'm proud that they are starting their lives on their own basis."

"We are proud as well, Bhai Sahab." Mrs Bukhari said. "I'm sorry that you had to hear this, and to be honest we expected this. This is why we told you right from the beginning that your Iman is a lovely girl, Ma Sha Allah. I reassure you, she will not be mistreated."

Papa looked at me, and I nodded at him, smiling.

It's unbelievable. After all the struggles of medical education and becoming a daughter, I have been thrown straight into family politics.

*

Jasmina

"What was that?" I whispered, breaking the silence in the car as we drove back home.

"I think we've been given utter bulls**t by Iman's in-laws." Fawad's grip on the steering wheel was tight, his jaw clenched. "All those promises and reassurances, all lies."

"Fawad, no, Mr and Mrs Bukhari seem like genuine people. And that Ghazala Phupho of Taif's will be leaving shortly anyway, as per them."

He didn't reply.

"You are just being a protective father."

"It seems too good to be true, Mina. Mere zehan main veham dal gaya hai."

*"I am starting to feel paranoid now."

"Something feels wrong. I felt it the moment Mani greeted us at the door. We've fought their whole lives to keep them from family politics, and this is where Iman ends up?!"

I'd felt it too, but I didn't want to fuel the fire inside him. "In Sha Allah, it's nothing like that, Fawad. I have faith that our Mani is happy."

He glanced at me, quickly. "She has dreamt of being a surgeon since years, and now they have the audacity to say that she might not be able to achieve that dream?" He shook his head. "We should have known better. No in-laws are this good."

I stared out of the window, and I couldn't get that image out of my mind: it was very brief, almost so quick that it could have been easily missed. As we were about to enter Iman's house, I'd seen the way she had looked at me, one look which had shot an arrow through my heart.

When little Mani didn't want to do something, in her very young years, she used to look at me like that. Or even when I was going somewhere without her.

"No, Mama, I don't want to!"

"Mama, please don't go! Mani wants to come!" She used to raise both her arms up, asking me to pick her up and take me with her.

I was unable to stop a tear escaping my eyes.

"When she didn't visit us in these last two months, I was restless, Mina." His voice was quieter now. "But now there's this incredibly nagging feeling inside me, telling me that something is wrong."

I'd been worried about Iman. I'd been having these strange, scary dreams about her that made me wake up in tears. I wasn't just being a paranoid mother. Now Fawad is feeling the same.

"What do we do, Fawad?" I asked, helplessly.

*

Iman

"I'm feeling okay now. Can I start as early as possible in the morning? Thank you." I ended the call to my workplace.

The door of my bedroom opened, and I placed a hand on my forehead, exasperated. I really wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone right now. And with Ghazala Phupho still here, I didn't even think I could have privacy in my own room, unless I locked the door.

"Assalam Alaikum." Taif's cautious voice made me freeze.

"Walaikum Assalam." I stood up and turned to face him. 

"How was it?" He asked, sheepishly.

"Have you had dinner?" I ignored his question. No point in taking my frustration out of him. Him having to go to work wasn't his fault, and his not-Phupho's behaviour was certainly not his fault either.

"Not yet..."

"Come on. I'll heat it up. We'll eat together." I began to walk past him.

"Iman, what happened?" He grabbed my wrist.

I looked at him. "Taif, if my mother was ever upset, she didn't immediately start ranting to my father when he got home from work. So, please, let's just eat first, okay?" 

I honestly don't know why Ghazala Phupho hadn't left when Uncle had told Papa that she would be leaving 'shortly'. She was sitting in the living room, legs up on the sofa, chewing cashews as she watched a drama on TV. With an eagle-eyed gaze, she followed my every movement as I headed to the kitchen.

"No need to show attitude, ladki. What I said would benefit you." She scoffed.

*Ladki: girl.

I moved out of her sight, clenching my jaws as I tried not to snap. I had no idea I was capable of having this much patience, until this point in my life. I'd never considered myself a patient person. Ever. Papa was patient, Mama was quite patient, and Hania Appi was patient. I certainly didn't have patience for people like Ghazala Phupho.

I was humiliated in front of my parents today. Mama and Papa were given a new worry regarding one of their daughters. I felt tears in my eyes. Why do some people have the mentality of making the girl's family repeatedly feel bad over one issue or another?

"I'm talking to you! At least acknowledge me!" 

Don't answer back, Iman. For the love of Allah, don't answer back. For Mama and Papa's sake, don't answer back.

"These liberal parents," She continued. "They will get them educated, but will not teach them how to cook. I mean, isn't your mother a housewife? Didn't she get enough time to teach you?"

I literally had to press a hand over my mouth now.

You know what? The only people we cannot answer back to- unless they are wrong under the Sharia Law- are our parents. I have no such obligation to be silent in front of her, as long as I am not disrespectful or rude.

"Please stop." I spoke up, heading into the living room.

Taif came into the living room. "Iman, what's going on?" 

"Taif, I'm requesting you. Please ask her to stop insulting me and my family." I looked at him. "I've been very, very patient. That does not mean that she can say whatever she wants about me or my parents."

Infuriatingly, Ghazala Phupho looked amused as she continued chewing cashews.

"Phupho, please." Taif looked at her, wearily. "Iman and her family are such good people. What is the issue here?" 

"How can they sit back and watch their daughter's in-laws suffer financially?" She snapped at him.

"Why do you care? You don't even live here!" Taif argued.

"Because your father is like a brother to me!"

"He didn't ask you to fight for him! We are all satisfied in our lives, so please, for the love of Allah, stop acting like our lack of money is Iman's family's problem!"

"What are you going to do when you end up on the streets with your elderly parents?!"

"That's my concern! It's my problem to ensure that my parents don't end up on the street! And Iman is working hard to help me ensure that doesn't happen! We are doing things on our own basis!" He sounded frustrated. "Please stop creating drama in our home!"

Phupho stood up. "I don't know about anything else, but she brought that attitude along with her, the one that you are showing now, Taif." 

I turned and walked back into the kitchen, mentally exhausted. I had no idea how to handle this. I have never been in a situation like this. Being rude is unacceptable, and tolerating this behaviour is wrong as well. But these people didn't understand the language of kindness.

"Phupho, it's best if you don't return here for a while." Taif said, to my surprise. "I am not risking the peaceful environment of my home anymore, I'm sorry."

"I'm calling my son right now, and I am leaving right now!" She snapped bitterly. "Yeh chalak ladki le doobay gi tumhain. Khud to yeh baap ke mehal main bhag jaaye gi, laikin tumhain doobta chodh jaaye gi. Yaad rakhna meri baat, Taif!"

*"This cunning girl will be your doom. She herself will run off to her father's palace, but she will leave you in trouble. Remember my words, Taif!"

I pressed my hands over my face, my head pounding.

"Phupho..." Taif began, but I heard the woman leave the room and head upstairs, probably to the bathroom. Sighing, he came into the kitchen. "What exactly happened, Iman?" 

"Nothing." I shook my head. "Let's have dinner." 

"Look, it was only for a little while. Couldn't you just have listened a while longer? Now she's going to cause a huge drama, and Ammi Jaan and Baba Jaan will get stressed out..."

That p***ed me off to no extent, and I whirled around. "Oh? Is that right? Your parents will be stressed? Guess what? It's the National Stress Out Parents Day today, because the way she behaved with mine..." 

He frowned. "What do you mean?" 

"She told them that I might not achieve my dream of being a surgeon because we basically can't afford to have the two of us training to be surgeons!" 

His eyes widened slightly behind his glasses. 

"Forget that. Whatever. Her words are irrelevant anyway." I shook my head. "But parents read behind the lines, Taif. Imagine what they must be thinking about our family, about how I am treated. I have no doubt that Mama, especially, but be worried sick about me. Ghazala Phupho caused that! She made your parents look bad as well, Taif! Why do we accept such negativity in our homes?" 

"What else can I do, Iman? I already told her to leave, even though I don't even think that I have the right to." 

"Taif, would you rather that she stay here and create more differences?" I asked, softly. "I am all about respecting our elders, but be reasonable! When you can see that someone is trying to cause rifts and drama, is it right to just silently sit back and witness it?" 

He crossed his arms over his chest.

"I apologise if you think that I overstepped my boundaries, and that I had no right to even open my mouth, but I just can't handle this unfair behaviour. You knew that very well, Taif." I moved over to the microwave. "I'll heat up your food, and then I'm going to go to bed because I'm leaving for the hospital early tomorrow."

"Aren't you going to eat?" 

"I'm not hungry."

*

I was sitting in bed, setting my alarm, when the door opened and Taif entered, carrying a tray.

 "Taif..." I sighed, setting my phone on the bedside table.

He set the tray down in front of me, and I saw that he had made kebab rolls using the kebabs from earlier. They were wrapped in tortilla wraps that we normally have stashed in our cupboard in case there's no time to make roti. "Eat up, doctor." 

I gave him a small smile. "You didn't have to."

"I felt guilty. You have been holding your tongue despite everything, and it's not fair that you had to do that. We don't have to tolerate these things, we can just politely tell them to stop."

"You don't have to apologise. She's your relative. You were in a difficult situation yourself." I picked up one of the roles. He had included hot sauce and salad from earlier in it. "This looks yum."

We both devoured our meal, and it was truly delicious.

"We are not letting anyone ruin the peace of our home." He said, softly. "I'm sorry that I couldn't be there earlier. I would have personally apologised to Uncle and Aunty."

"Your parents did." I whispered. "Look, Taif. I didn't want that either. Our parents got along so well, and then she had to come along and..."

"She will leave tomorrow morning. We have set up the sofa bed for her downstairs."

"I hate the idea of a guest going from our home upset..." I bit my lower lip. "But, Taif, I promise you, she was making the environment toxic. Otherwise, I..."

"I know, Iman. You don't think I know her?" He nodded. "But yeah, you're right. No negativity in this family home. My parents are elderly and shouldn't be taking the stress."

I glanced down at the tray.

"Aur jahan baat rahi mere saas aur sasur ki, tu uska bhi intezam karna padega." He smiled fondly at me.

*"And as for my parents-in-laws, we have to do something about that as well..."

"And what do you plan about that, Dr Taif Bukhari?" I raised both eyebrows. "Mama would be easier to convince, but Papa is over-overprotective when it comes to his girls."

"That does sound tough." Amusement glinted in his eyes. "I guess I'll have to use this scientific mind of mine to come up with a remedy to this ailment."

"Is that so?" I giggled. "Good luck. Remember how in video games there is always a 'boss level'. Well, sweetie, this will be the boss level for you. Literally. Cause he is the boss and all." 

"Any cheats?" He asked.

"Keep praising me." I laughed harder. "Go over the top with the praises, in front of him." My eyes widened. "Or convince Mama first, and that's half your task done. Actually, come to think of it, she is the boss level. Win her over, and Papa's easy to convince."

"You've used this trick many times before?" 

"Oh, you sweet naïve Taif. I had to use Papa to convince Mama. I am a whole different chapter." 

"You are something else, Ma Sha Allah!" He shook his head, smiling.

*

Taif

I just came out of the room of an extremely grumpy patient, shaking my head. I couldn't blame her. She had always made it clear that she hated hospitals and medications, and here she had to deal with both.

I looked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Iman, but there was no sign of my dark-haired beauty. God, I'm whipped.

I approached the nurses' station, clearing my throat. "Hey, do you know where Dr Fawad Ali is? Is he here?" 

The nurse looked up at me, noticed my ID, and glanced back at her computer screen, typing into it. "He's in Conference Room 2."

"Is there a conference or a meeting going on there yet?" 

"No, he is playing snooker in there." The sarcasm in her tone was heavy. 

I blinked at her. "Okay, it was just a question." I walked away, shaking my head.

I told Iman that I would convince her parents, but how? Ghazala Phupho might have seriously effed things up, for Iman to have been that upset.

"Ya Allah, madat. Main apne Maa Baap ki akloti aulaad hoon. Meri jaan ki hifazat karna." I muttered, as I approached the conference room.

*"Oh Allah, help. I am the sole child of my parents. Protect my life." 

The little screen on the wall by the door read: VACANT, and not MEETING IN PROGRESS. I raised my hand on the door to knock on it.

"Come in." 

I entered and I saw Dr Fawad sitting at the head of the table, typing on his laptop with a concentrating frown on his face. "Assalam Alaikum."

He looked up, and his frown deepened. "Walaikum Assalam."

"Can I have a word with you...sir?" I cleared my throat.

"Is it work related?" 

Oh s**t. He didn't even walk to talk to me unless it was work related! "N-No..."

"Why are you calling me 'sir' then? Come in." 

I hesitatingly walked in and took a seat three chairs away from him.

"What can I do for you, Taif?" He glanced at me, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.

"I want to talk about Iman." 

"A very appropriate place for that, isn't it?" 

"Why? So if you want to punch me, I can go up for treatment?" I blurted out. S**t.

A corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile, but he composed himself. "I was being sarcastic. It's our workplace, and we are both on duty..."

"Look, sorry to interrupt, Uncle, but I just want to reassure you that Iman is not being mistreated in any way, I promise."

He didn't say anything, but he did look thoughtful.

"You know Iman better than I do." I said. "She won't ever tolerate mistreatment. She was only tolerating it because Ghazala Phupho is a guest in our house. But trust me, my parents adore her." 

"She suggested that I pay for Iman's surgeon training." He took his glasses off and set them on the table. "Taif, I don't have any problem with that. After all, everything I have, my earnings, they all belong to Hania and Iman. But I have a great respect for the fact that you both want to do this on your own basis." 

"And we stick by that, Uncle. We really want to do this independently. What Ghazala Phupho said holds no meaning or relevance." 

"I really don't like what she said. And I'm going to say this clearly that I am very concerned, as is Iman's mother."

"Uncle, I have worked around here for seven years. You know that I work hard and with integrity. You have to just trust me. I'll prove it to you that Iman is taken good care of in our family, and that she will never have to sacrifice her dream."

"It's more than that Taif. It's not just about her achieving her dream. I know that girl very well. She has learnt not to talk back to elders, which is good, but she does have a tendency to bottle up her feelings and emotions. I pray that this issues is not a daily occurrence, because if it is, then I am worried about her mental health." 

"It's not. I promise." I met his gaze and replied with full confidence.

He nodded. "I'm glad to hear that."

*

Iman

I closed the front door behind me and took my shoes off. I really shouldn't have taken an early start. I had a massive headache now due to lack of sufficient sleep. "Assalam Alaikum! Anyone home?" I practically dragged myself forward to the living room.

I really hoped that the not-Phupho was gone. "Aunty?" When I didn't see her, I headed upstairs, ready to shower, change and hit the bed. I stopped on the landing as I saw my bedroom door opened once again.

I stepped inside and my jaw almost dropped open. "What's going on?" 

Mrs Bukhari was showing Ghazala Phupho boxes of my jewellery sets. "Beta, I hope you don't mind. Ghazala Baji wanted to see your jewellery."

Why is she even still here?

Mrs Bukhari sighed as she saw my expressions. "Iman, beta. She's our elder. She apologised to us and said that she won't say anything like that again. She feels bad." 

I looked at the not-Phupho, who certainly did not look like she felt bad, as she sat on my bed, looking at my wedding jewellery.

"Hamare ghar main badon ko ghar se nahin nikala jaata, beta." Mrs Bukhari continued.

*"In our family, the elders are not kicked out of the house." 

"It doesn't happen in my family either..." I felt stung. "But..."

"But, upon your saying, Taif asked Ghazala Baji to leave. That's not right, is it?" Mrs Bukhari spoke gently, but there was a heavy reprimand in her tone.

"Beta, ab aap is ghar ke taur tareekay seekhlo. Pichlay ghar ke taur taeekay yahan nahin chalne." Ghazala Phupho said in a fake-sweet tone.

*"Dear, you need to learn the mannerisms of this house. The mannerisms of your previous home won't apply here."

Oh my God.

Ya Allah, where am I trapped?

*

Iman's in-laws seemed to good, but not everything is as it seems, right? Every family has its own dramas and issues.

In many case, an outsider or a third person comes along and creates problems- like Ghazala Phupho is doing.

Do you think that this situation will causes arguments between Iman and Taif?

Do you think Fawad and Mina are right to be worried?

What do you think of Iman's ways of handling things?

Thoughts and comments?

Thank you for reading and don't forget to vote!