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*

There was a request for the scene below, and even I felt that it should be included, but the last chapter was already too long, so I will include this in this one.

*

Taif

I had thought that I would be standing beside Dr Fawad Ali one day, performing surgeries.

Here we were, making tea for everyone together.

And I was nervous as hell.

"Iman mentioned wanting to visit her ancestral home in Lahore." I spoke up, finally coming up with a topic to talk about. "Whereabouts is it?" 

"It's actually not too far from were your family home is." He replied. "Barely fifteen minutes walk."

"Are you familiar with those areas?" I sounded surprised to my own ears. S**t. Did I just unintentionally imply that he was too upper class to be familiar with those areas? Well done. Shabash. Insult the Sasur within the first few days of marriage. 

But he just chuckled. "I've spent some time in those neighbourhoods. I was close to my Dadi Jaan, and I enjoyed visiting her. While spending some time during the summers, I made myself familiar with those areas, walking around, even playing cricket with other kids my age in those localities."

"Has Iman ever stayed in those areas?" 

He sighed, pausing a few seconds before replying. "No. Hani has when she was a baby, but not Iman."

"You sound like you regret that. The fact that Iman has never stayed in those areas?" Where am I getting this confidence from? 

"Well, I personally used to love to go and stay with Dadi Jaan. This is going to sound unbelievable to you, but I preferred my summers there than to any country abroad. I loved each and every moment I spent there, and a part of me wished that my daughters had experienced some of that as well, to relieve an important part of my own life, I guess."

"No offence, but I never thought that a Defence resident could think that way." I shrugged.

"When you visit my grandparents' home, you'll see where my father was raised. In turn, although my sister and I grew up in luxury, we were taught to appreciate life in all kinds of circumstances and scenarios. He made sure that we did not grow up with the mentality. It's wrong to hate on your own roots."

I thought about Iman. She had been raised in luxury, wearing designer outfits, and used to having her own way. I was worried that within a few days, she would lose her patience and would give me an ultimatum or something about finding her a better place to live or else. I finished making the tea.

"Let's see if you passed the test." Fawad Uncle picked up one of the cups and took a sip from it.

I stared at him, eyebrows raised in anticipation, as I waited for his reaction.

"Fine. You passed." He smiled. "But, Iman loves a good cup of coffee. Better practice that."

"She says you make excellent coffee. Does that mean Aunty loves coffee as well?" I blurted out. The next thing I wanted to do was stuff my own shoe into my mouth, to accompany the foot that was already there. Filter, you twat. Filter!

He looked a little surprised at my comment.

"I'm sorry, Sir...I didn't..." I couldn't look up from the ground.

"Khuda waqai jodi perfect banata hai." He laughed. 

*"Allah really makes the perfect pairs."

"I'll take the tray inside." I immediately grabbed the tray and headed inside before I embarrassed myself any further.

It was hilarious when I got inside, because the ladies just jumped up when they saw me carrying a tray. My mother was the only one who remained calmly seated.

"Allah! Taif, you should have called one of us, beta!" Zoya Aunty walked over and took the tray from us.

"Zoya Bhabi, it's okay. It's not the end of the world if he does some work." Ammi Jaan spoke up. "In fact, it is encouraged that he does in the presence of adults. It doesn't look good when he is sitting around and the adults are doing the work."

"Phir bhi, Bhabi. Damad hai, aur aaya bhi dawat pe hua hai." Nazia Aunty spoke up.

*"Still, Bhabi. He is the son-in-law, and he is here on a lunch invitation."

"Koi baat nahin. Aap logon ke bete jaisa hai." Ammi Jaan said. 

*"It doesn't matter. He is like a son to you all."

"Us main to koi shak nahin hai, Bhabi." Zoya Aunty nodded.

*"There's no doubt in that, Bhabi."

I walked over and took a seat beside Baba Jaan, just as Fawad Uncle came into the room. 

"Both the sons-in-law of the family working together." Arhaan Uncle grinned in the direction of his best friend.

"Proves that only the damaad of this family do all the work." Nazia Aunty said, teasingly. "The sons, on the other hand..."

"Jokes aside, aap logon ke bete bhi bohat kaam karte hain, Ma Sha Allah. Hum ne dekha that shaadi pe. Woh, aap ka bada beta hai na, Ismael? Ma Sha Allah, bohat khayal rakha usne sab ka. Saare bachon ne rakha, laikin Ismael ko dekhke dil khush hua bohat." Baba Jaan told Arhaan Uncle.

*"Jokes aside, all the sons of your family work a lot, Ma Sha Allah. We saw it at the wedding. Your eldest son, Ismael, right? Ma Sha Allah, he took really good care of everyone. All the kids did, but seeing Ismael really pleased our hearts."

"Betiyon se to duniya waise hi sab kaamon ki umeed rakhti hai, laikin jo families apne beton ko bhi sikhatin hain kaam karna, woh sahi tareef ke kabil hoti hain." Ammi Jaan added. "I encourage Taif to do housework as much as he can, because ultimately it is Sunnah, something that people tend to forget."

*"The world expects girls to do all the work, but the families that teach their sons to do house work/chores as well, they are truly commendable."

"The tea is really good." Nazia Aunty glanced at me. 

"I'm sort of an expert at tea making." I smiled bashfully. "I don't want to brag, but it's the only thing I'm truly good at in the kitchen." 

"If you know how to make tea well, you should brag. After all, tea is like our nation's pastime." Ahad Uncle smiled.

We all laughed, and everyone continued drinking the tea.

I sneaked a glance at Iman, trying to see what she thought of the tea that I'd made. I saw her take slow slips, closing her eyes. She likes it. If she doesn't like it, her nose would wrinkle up slightly, almost automatically. But the way she closes her it, it means she is genuinely savouring the taste. She opened her eyes, and met my gaze. I raised an eyebrow questioningly.

Saari duniya ki tareef ek taraf, Iman ki tareef ek taraf.

*Iman's opinion matters more than anyone else's. (Basically speaking).

She looked thoughtful for a few seconds, before a smile appeared on her face. Discreetly, she gave me a thumbs-up. I smiled. 

*

Iman

"Papa said to take the key of his ancestral home whenever we want to visit." I told Taif, once we were back at his family's home. "You told him?"

"Yeah. I couldn't think of starting a topic. What do you talk to your father-in-law about when making tea with him?" 

"You're literally doctors. If nothing else, you could have discussed work."

"Why are you not around when I need you and your beautiful mind?" 

"Seriously," I sat down on the bed. "Did he chew you out?" 

He turned to look at me, pulling on a grey t-shirt. "Why would he chew me out? I am the type of guy he and Aunty would have chosen for you, in any circumstances."

"Wow. You seemed to have been influenced by my modesty, Taif." I grinned.

He came forward and sat down on the bed, facing me. "Iman, he's a very down-to-earth man, Ma Sha Allah." 

"Of course he is. Ma Sha Allah."

"I'm ashamed to admit that I might have stereotyped the rich in my mind. Not every wealthy person has that 'I'm-above-you', or 'I'm-too-good-for-this' mentality."

There was a knock on the door. I raised an eyebrow at Taif, but he also seemed to be clueless about who it could be. He got up and opened the door. "Yes, Ghazala Phupho?" 

Ghazala Phupho, my father-in-law's cousin. The woman who had almost fainted in shock that I didn't speak Punjabi or Urdu very well.

"Taif, beta, we were all thinking if Iman can make suji ka halwa now, since we are all here." 

*Suji (semolina) Halwa: created using semolina, sugar, ghee and water. The semolina is roasted separately, and the sugar and water is mixed separately. 

In the desi countries, a new bride is often expected to make dessert in her early days in the family.

Taif glanced at me over his shoulder. I glanced at him wide-eyed. 

"Koi masla hai?" Ghazala Phupho asked, stepping forward and looking at me.

*"Is there a problem?"

"No, of course not." I stood up and put my slippers on, forcing a smile onto my face. "Of course."

Ghazala Phupho nodded. "Come downstairs."

"Coming."

Taif turned to me after she had gone. "Do you know how to make suji halwa?"

"Google exists for situations like these. I'll figure it out." I shrugged. "They want suji halwa, they'll get suji halwa. It's my problem how I make it though."

"Iman..." He looked hesitant.

"Mrs Bukhari told me about this tradition. She stands up for me and takes my side. The least I can do is respect her traditions." I put my hand on his upper arm. "I'll be fine, Taif. A little halwa making doesn't scare me." I grabbed my dupatta and headed out of the room.

*

"I will help you out." My mother-in-law told me.

"No, Bhabi! Let her do it!" Ghazala Phupho immediately spoke up.

"I'll be fine." I reassured my mother-in-law, before heading into the kitchen, my phone clutched in my hand. I searched for suji halwa recipes online, and finally found one that looked relatively simple.

While watching the video, I managed to make an edible halwa. The scent was delicious, but when I tasted it, I wrinkled my nose. What is this monstrosity?

They wanted me to make this. I made it. What else can I do? I wasn't instructed to make delicious halwa, so technically I didn't do anything wrong.

"How is it going, Iman?" Mrs Bukhari entered the kitchen and approaching me. She glanced down at the halwa, and tasted some, using a clean spoon. "Meetha thoda zayada hogaya hai, bachay, aur mujhe lagta hai aapne pani zayada daal diya hai."

*"You've added too much sugar, dear, and I think you've added too much water."

My cheeks warmed up in embarrassment.

"Koi baat nahin. Isi taran banda seekhta hai, beta." She said, softly. 

*"It doesn't matter. This is how we learn, dear."

"Sorry, Aunty." I muttered.

"Don't apologise. Meri baat maani aapne aur yeh dish banai. Mujhe isi baat se bohat khushi mili hai." She said. "Jo badon ki baaton ka maan rakhte hain, woh bohat ache insaan hote hain. Aur mujhe achi bahu chahiye, achi cook nahin."

*"You listen to me and made this dish. I'm very happy just because of that."
"Those who regard something said by their elders, they are very good people. And I need a good daughter-in-law, not a good cook."

"They'll all criticise me and tell me off." Suddenly, I felt vulnerable. I didn't want anyone taunting me or my mother's upbringing. I didn't want anyone calling me a spoilt brat. I hated the way society makes a girl feel about housework, no matter how successful she is in her career. You could be a surgeon, but you will hear the taunts for not making roti. I thought that I would never be affected by things like these, yet I felt myself falling weak. The burden of protecting my parents' upbringing was far too heavy. 

"You let me handle that." She put a hand on my shoulder. "All I am asking in return is that you never answer back yourself. If anyone says anything to you, I will handle it myself."

"It's so tempting to answer back. I've never been the type to silently bear injustice." It was probably something I shouldn't have admitted in front of my Saas of all people, but she made me feel comfortable enough to open up.

"I know it's tempting, but you have done well so far. Just trust me on this. I won't let anyone mistreat my daughter-in-law."

Your daughter-in-law won't let anyone mistreat your daughter-in-law. But I simply nodded my head, smiling.

*

The expressions of everyone's faces made me almost laugh as they tasted the halwa. It was almost like watching one of the videos where babies taste lemon for the first time.

"Yeh kya...?" Ghazala Phupho, naturally, was one of the first ones to open her mouth to criticise.

*"What is this...?"

"Ghazala Baji, bachi hai. Agar hum har baat pe criticise karainge to us main itimad kahan se aayega ke koi nayi cheez seekhay?" Mrs Bukhari interrupted her.

*"Ghazala Baji, she's young. If we keep criticising her on every little thing, how will she gain the confidence to learn something new?" 

"Bachi nahin hai, Bhabi. Aur kaunsi nayi cheez? Yahan ka bacha bacha halwa banana janta hai." Another woman whose name/relation I couldn't remember spoke up.

*"She's not a kid, Bhabi. And what new thing? Even kids here know how to make halwa."

I was glad Taif wasn't in here. The men were in a separate room, tasting the masterpiece that I had cooked. I wanted to say something, but I remembered my mother-in-law's request.

"Mujhe zara farq nahin parta ke meri bahu ko halwa banana aata hai ya nahin. Kisi jaan bachanay waalay ko hum kaise khana na paakanay ka tana de sakte hain?" Mrs Bukhari added.

*"It makes no difference to me whether my daughter-in-law knows how to make halwa or not. How can we criticise someone who saves lives for not knowing how to cook?"

It's ironic how I'd spent so much of my life being rude and disrespectful to my mother, and now Allah has blessed me with a mother-in-law who, so far, has been defending me like a maternal figure. I know, I know, it's stupid to make the mistake of thinking that a Saas can ever be like a mother, especially so early in the marriage, but we can't tar all mothers-in-law with the same brush, right? Maybe I was one of the lucky ones, like how my Mumanis claim to be.

Ya Allah, please let this be true. I don't want to sink in the quicksand of family politics. 

*

"I think I failed." I told Taif, lying on my back on the bed.

He sat down beside me, looking at me thoughtfully. "At least you tried your best, and that's what matters."

"Not in Sasural. Apparently, a girl only passes if she can cook and clean on an expert level when she gets married. Not even a basic or intermediate level, Taif. An expert level! Like the whole purpose of our lives was to serve the in-laws and be bombarded by their taunts!" I sat up, feeling furious. "It's taking my full willpower not to say anything, and I'm doing it for the sake of Aunty!"

"I'm sorry, Iman. A few more days, and we are leaving anyway." He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

I stood up and paced around. "It's not enough that I'm a doctor! God, it won't even matter if I ended up discovering a cure to cancer! It won't be good enough because I can't make halwa!" I wanted to punch something so badly, so I grabbed a pillow and used the poor thing as my victim. "I'm controlling myself so much! Otherwise, does it make sense that the girl who once had the audacity to be rude to her own biological mother doesn't have the courage to fight for herself against injustice against people she barely knows?!"

He also stood up and stopped my pacing by placing his hands on my shoulders. He stared deeply into my eyes, and I felt my anger evaporate. He ran a hand over my eyes, making me close them.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Shhh!" He pressed a finger against my lips. "Keep your eyes closed."

I did, and I felt him step closer. His soapy scent entered my nose, making me inhale deeply. His hand cup my face, his skin feeling rough against my cheeks. I then felt his thumb run across my lips. I had no idea what he was trying to do, until he began to speak. 

"You are Dr Iman Fawad." His voice was low. "A successful doctor. You've always been brilliant at your studies, and I just know that you will achieve all your career goals, In Sha Allah." He stepped behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. "Those people who taunt you or criticise you, do not value you. And you should not devalue yourself for people like them."

My heart was pounding hard at his closeness, but more at his words.

"A husband's word has a lot of value in Islam, right?" He leaned close, and I felt his breath tickle the hair at the base of my neck. "Well, I am telling you, Mrs Taif, live your life the way you want to live it. Focus on your career, on achieving your goals. This khana pakana stuff we can manage together."

*Khana pakana: cooking.

"I don't want Aunty to have to keep fighting for me with her own relatives." 

"She doesn't mind doing it." He pointed out. "And, do you realise, how many girls would kill to be in your position right now? For a mother-in-law to stand up for her daughter-in-law since day one?" 

My eyes fluttered open, and I turned my head to look directly at him. His gaze on me soft and loving. He lifted up his hand and ran a finger down the side of my face, before moving it onto my lips. I turned to face him directly and placed my hands on his shoulders. He stepped towards and pressed his lips against my forehead. 

"You've changed yourself enough for the better, from what you tell me." He said. "You have no reason to change yourself anymore, because you are amazingly perfect the way you are. Ma Sha Allah." 

My hands slid down his arms and we clasped our hands together, palm-to-palm and fingers locked.

*

Taif

I stared at the dark-eyed beauty staring at me, and once again I couldn't believe that I was married to her. Her dark locks curtained her face, and her lips were soft and tempting, painted in a natural shade of lipstick.

I stepped closer to her, leaning forward until our lips were about to brush together, but a familiar ping on my phone made me freeze. The notification sound was from my banking app. I swallowed hard, trying to ignore it, but my mind was already spinning. "Just a sec, Iman." I took my phone out of my pocket, and glanced down at the screen.

You have reached your credit limit.

I felt numb as I read the warning message. I'd reached the limit on how much I could borrow on my credit card, and my current account did not allow me to pay back the full amount. This month had been tough, with the wedding, plus the usual rent and bills back home.

"Everything okay?" 

I looked up and saw Iman staring at me with a concerned frown. "Just bank stuff." 

"You can tell me, you know? The Nikah Nama meant that I'm related to you now, you know?" She placed a hand on my arm. "What's up?" 

"Let's just say that our financial status is quite...tight right now." I sighed, unable to look up at her directly.

Her eyes widened slightly. "Oh? By tight you mean...?"

How do you tell your new wife that right now, you only had enough money to pay the rent and the bills, with maybe just a little bit for the weekly grocery? Yes, I chose to live in London because I wanted to work at St Michael's, but living in that city was not cheap at all.

"That bad?" She seemed to have understood my expressions.

I walked over to the bed and sank down, placing my head in my hands.

She came and sat down beside me. "What's the solution?"

"What?" I looked up at her, confused.

"You told me the problem. Now give me the potential solutions." 

"Prayers." I sighed in defeat.

"Yes, but Allah helps those who help themselves." She said. "Maybe we both can do more overtime when we get back?" 

"I'm going to have to do, no matter what."

"I said we, not you." She placed a hand on my shoulder. "It's okay, Taif. Stressing is not the answer. We'll work it out, In Sha Allah."

"My parents' medication is free at least, Alhumdulillah, due to their age." I was almost talking to myself. 

"I have savings." She suggested. "You can..."

"Absolutely not." I shook my head.

"Taif, I am a part of this family as well now. Your problems are my problems. 'What's mine is yours' doesn't just apply to property and wealth, you know?" 

I placed my face in my hands again. "We'll figure this out when we're back home." I took her hand in mine. "We've not even been married a week and already I've dragged you into my family's financial problems."

"Taif...whether you like it or not, I'm your wife now. And I'm not just in it for the good times and happiness. I'm in it through everything, so get used to it." 

"Times are going to be very different now, Iman. A complete contrast to what you're used to." I turned sideways so that I was facing her, and grabbed both her hands. "I already mentioned this to you before our Nikah, so you had time to reconsider."

"Reconsider what?" She rolled her eyes. "Taif, I have been raised to prioritise relationships over materialistic things, and even though I went astray along the way, I am going to stick that that belief. All the money in the world cannot give you happiness, but you can find happiness in even the hardest of circumstances, as long as you have a loving family, a caring partner. Money is not the source of happiness. Love and family is."

"It's easier said than done, Iman."

"I was closer to being arrested than to becoming a doctor, at one point in my life." She pointed out. "I never thought I'd be able to get back on the right part, and I think everyone I know had doubts about it as well, but I got there, Taif, because I was determined. And now I am determined to have a good married life with you, no matter how many hurdles we have to face to achieve it."

"It will be hard."

"Life isn't easy anyway."

"You might struggle to adapt."

"Again, life is about struggles."

"You might want to return back to your parents' house."

"And they will send me right back to you, unless there's a very, very valid reason of my return."

I stared into her eyes, and she stared back, almost challengingly. She really meant each and every word. She was in it for the long and run, through thick and thin. She wasn't a damsel-in-distress from a story written in the nineteenth century. She was bada** Dr Iman Fawad, who could get anything she sets her mind on. And if she wanted a good married life with me, she would do anything to achieve that goal, I had no doubt in her.

****

Iman

It was way after midnight, and I stood at the window, staring out thoughtfully.

"The only seats we have available are in Business Class."

"Bro, you were meant to be checking the Business Class availability in the first place!" I'd snapped at the ticketing agent, when Hania Appi and I had been finding flights to get back from Edinburgh to London.

I closed my eyes.

"I have to go to Ted Baker!" I dragged Hania Appi one day, when we were shopping in Kingston. We were actually meant to be shopping for Mama's birthday, but I had gotten a little distracted.

And by a little distracted, I meant that I'd ended up with both hands full of designer bags.

I had no earnings then. It was all on Papa's credit card.

I looked over my shoulder at Taif, who had finally slept after tossing and turning for almost an hour and a half. I closed my eyes and an image flashed in my head.

I was coming down the stairs at my parents' house one night, when I'd seen them in the living room. Mama was standing behind the sofa, massaging his shoulders, after he had spent almost two days away from home, at the hospital.

Tears filled my eyes as I realised how inconsiderate I'd been towards my father and his earnings. He overworked himself to provide for us, and I never thought twice about it because for me it meant that we had enough money for me to shop designer clothes on a regular basis.

I made a silent promise to myself to never insist that Taif attended events at my parents' family home, especially when Hania Appi and her family were also around. Until things get financially better for us. I just didn't want him feeling bad. I never, ever wanted him to develop any sort of inferiority complex. He was no less than anyone else in any way, and I had no doubt about that. But it was a part of human nature, and I needed to protect him from it.

I had no idea whether my thinking was right or wrong, but my intention was to never let Taif's self-respect be even unintentionally hurt.

Although, the idea of keeping a distance from my family shattered me from the inside, I knew that I had to consider Taif's feelings as well.

And in the silence of the night, I sobbed my heart out, knowing that I was going to have to make some tough decisions-willingly-for the sake of my marriage, out of concern for my husband.

*

Okay, so now Iman's story is really going to start.

Iman's decision might not be something people would agree on, but it's something that she considered right at this point.

FawMina, and then Hania & Hamza had their own kinds of problems. Now it's Iman's turn to deal with married life.

Do you guys think she'll manage well?

Thoughts and comments?

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