Fiza gasped and looked around before taking notice of Kamran standing. Kamran had splashed a glass of water on her face and she couldn't help but rub the left side of her face to wipe off water. She was too ashamed wondering if she had made Kamran concerned for her health.

"You ok!" The coldness in his voice only made her more alert. She was quick to nod her head and saw him walking back to the kitchen. Seeing him trying to heat the food she offered.

"Let me do it." He took a step back as if telling her why not and Fiza got up all the while dabbing her face with her scarf that she had on her neck only. She was extremely uncomfortable with her wet shirt now and wondered why he had to splash the whole glass of water on her. She was about to get the plates but jumped when she found him kicking the chair beside the kitchen. At first, she doubted if it was an accident but one look at his face was enough to tell her he was mad. She wonders what made him violent to kick the chair. Or was she imagining things? But his face tells her it was something else.

"Is everything fine?" She asked but he raised his brows and shook his head.

"You think it's normal?" Fiza bit her mouth wondering how it was her mistake if she got dizzy.

"I am sorry." She mumbled and moved fast to serve him dinner. But when he didn't touch a thing she knew she couldn't ignore him. "Is there..."

"What's wrong with you? You are what? Nineteen? Young, right? How can you be so weak at this age?"

Extremely puzzled looking at the vein popping at his head she only mumbled again. "Sor...sorry." Clasping her hands she didn't dare to look up. Or she knew she will be a sobbing mess. And, when he finally held the spoon she got the chance to rub a tear off her left eye. "...Look, you can't get sick here. It's too expensive to get sick here. Do you get me?" This time his voice wasn't loud but Fiza could still notice the frustration.

"Yes," She replied,

He started with the meal and Fiza waited for him to say something about her first meal when he said.

"Hello? What are you doing standing here? Get me a glass of water?" Fiza looked at him without breathing before she hurriedly walked away to pour a glass of water for him. She wonders if he can't see it was all new to her. Why can't he try to be soft? Why every word has to be a taunt?

She wanted to apologize but was too scared to voice it when she placed a glass of water for him.

The more she wanted him not to get mad. He seemed disappointed. Holding her scarf she dabbed her face. Her eyes dared to spill tears again when Kamran yelled. "What! Are these fucking tears!" He asked forcing the glass on the table with a thud. Fiza jumped and looked at him with tears in her eyes. He could notice the tinge of complaint in her eyes. As if he was wronging her.

"I..." She trailed off. She wanted to tell him that she was burning with a fever since morning but when she couldn't make the words out of her throat she made a run for the bedroom. Falling on the bed she couldn't help her heart out. "You didn't!" She heard Kamran growl and soon find him coming after her. The moment she registered him storming through the bedroom door she shivered getting up from the bed. He looked too murderous and she was clueless about what to do.

Holding her arms he jerked her twice. "How dare you walk out on me? I was talking!" Her long hair fell to her face and she gasped registering the murderous grip on her arms.

"I am sorry, please...I...I have a fever. I am sorry, Kamran!" She didn't even know why he was so angry at her. But what she realized at the moment was that she was scared of him. Too scared.

She could only wonder what she did wrong. Or what he wanted from her. "Oh, my bride has a fever. What do you want me to do! Get on your service! Who is going to look after my place? Who has the dime to spend on your stupid fever? I have spent a lot to get you here. Do you even realize that? Do you Fiza!"

Fiza was sobbing hard and tried to manage. "I am sorry. I am sorry." She didn't know what could calm him down at the moment. And, keep these three words on repeat. She wanted to do better. But wonders why it was so hard. He kept telling her how disappointed he was all the time jerking her. As if he wanted her to hear all of it. "...my mother never complained about fever..." He yelled at some point in her ear and Fiza only tried to save her face. Fearing the worst. Kamran was gritting, "...do I deserve this. Do I?..." while his hold on her arms only got murderous.

"Kamran, you are hurting me. Please, please, ah..."

"...I have never seen women complaining about fever in India. Or you don't even know what to do with your fever? Huh!" Saying this he pulled her out of the bedroom while Fiza tried her best to match his energy and not trip. She didn't know why he was angry. But the moment she realized what he was about to do she resisted. "No, no, I already took the shower. Trust me." Fiza tried to explain but pushing her forward Kamran turned on the shower. Fiza tried to walk past him but he came forward to hold her under the shower. Fiza started shivering under the cold water in no time.

"Please, please, it's freezing!" She yelled all the while resisting but he was quick to get his hand over her mouth. "I know I can feel it on my hands too." The moment Kamran's hands couldn't bear the sting he let her go.

Fiza's teeth were clattering. She was shaking badly. Holding the towel that Fiza had previously tucked in the bathroom he wrapped her head. "It's all done. See? No fever is there anymore. You are ice."

"Ah...ah...ah..." Fiza was shivering badly.

She felt too weak to move when Kamran motioned her to walk. And, before she could misjudge her step he held her. "Don't worry. I am here." He held her shoulders but Fiza cringed.

He walked her to the room and once in the room, she asked him with her voice barely audibly. "Why did you..." but was trailed off when he started removing her dress. "Can't destroy the floor you have been mopping the whole day? Can we?" Kamran said the last two words softly close to her face and Fiza couldn't help the hiccup that followed.

Pulling her close he kept dabbing the towel on her body. Fiza didn't dare to look up. Being naked in front of him had stripped her of any resistance. She felt limbless. Never in her life had she felt this vulnerable.

He leaned down to kiss her head before engulfing her in his arms. "This could have been avoided. You should haven't walked out on me. Promise me you won't get me this mad again. You won't, right?" And, at that moment Fiza too felt responsible for his actions. She couldn't think straight. The only thing she can feel was his disappointment in the room. Something she was being held responsible for.

She nodded her head, "Hmm..."

"What does this mean?" And, though his voice was without any agitation or frustration finally, it couldn't ease Fiza.

"I won't..." She couldn't hold the hiccup that followed and Kamran held her.

"It's over. Don't worry. You think I wasn't looking forward to seeing you?" Fiza looked up. It was the first time he had said something like this. Kamran leaned down to kiss her mouth and Fiza closed her eyes.

Hot tears cascaded through her eyes. Holding her body to him he made her walk to the bed but the moment he let go of her Fiza hurriedly got the covers to hide her. She could feel his eyes on her without looking up when he sat beside her.

"Can't keep me cold, can you?" He asked and held her fist that was holding the covers to her chest. Fiza looked into his eyes wondering if he wanted to do this. He tugged on the cover lightly twice and Fiza closed her eyes before opening her fist.

She gasped and held his shoulder to push when he came to bite her neck. "Ah..."

 He made her lay down on his bed before coming to mount her without a hurry. She had her soul crushed under him.

She had her body sore and her throat pained. A ball of emotion was stuck there. She wonders when it will get easier. Or if it will get easier.

In the morning, when she opened her eyes she found her husband sleeping with his back facing her. He was snoring loudly. She wonders if she should be waking him up for the fajr but then couldn't muster up the courage.

Her muscles felt sore when she made her way to the bathroom. But knew today she will try to do better. Finished with her morning prayer she set the typical Indian breakfast for him with paratha and omelette. She made a cup of coffee to wake him up but before she could pour it she found Kamran walking out. Her breath was stuck for a moment before she said,

"Good morning," Fiza greeted him instantly.

Seeing she is done with breakfast he only replied. "I will take a bath. Get something out for me."

She wonders why he sounded down. Was he not happy that she was making breakfast for him? But then she looked at herself. She knew she was supposed to get ready for her husband in the morning. Was it about this? Am I making him think that I don't care about my appearance for him?

She closed her eyes realizing it was too much of a change. But it was no excuse. It was her religious obligation to look beautiful for her husband. And, she didn't have her hair combed. Instead, she had her hair wrapped in a bun.

She rubbed her palm on her forehead and let a cold long sigh leave her mouth. Her chest felt heavy. She wanted to have a good cry.

"Fiza!" Kamran called for her and she hurriedly got clean jeans and a shirt for him before walking to the bathroom. "What took you so long? Rub my back." Fiza was startled for a moment by his request but nodded. The request wasn't weird. Fiza knew a lot of wives do this for their husbands out of love.

Love

Fiza bit her lip so hard all the while trying her best that she doesn't look him in the eye. Kamran was standing at the same place where he held her last night. She was soaping him for the second time and wondered when the last time he took a bath was.

"How's your fever going?" Kamran asked though he could feel her hands feverish.

"I am good," Fiza replied.

"Make something for yourself. I don't want it to get worse. Don't you know a recipe of sort or the women in India has really become lazy..."

"I know a few. I should have made something for myself yesterday. It's just I got busy with house chores..."

"House chores? How dare you say it?..." Fiza gasped a little and shook her head.

"No, I didn't mean it..."

"Shut up, don't make it sound like much. I can't let you do this. I am not going to listen to any complaints Fiza. Stop acting like a little girl. Also, Indian women don't look good when they talk." Fiza wonders why he would say something like this. Standing behind his back she had tears in her eyes but didn't let her hands stop.

She rubbed her soapy hands on the bathroom sink later on while Kamran stood under the shower. The bangles in her hands made Kamran stop to look at her hands. Her fingers were beautiful.

After setting the table Fiza was quick to comb her hair into the long braid. She was pouring the coffee for him using the kettle she found in the drawers. Kamran was in the bedroom now wearing his jacket. He walked out to notice all the tableware embroidery his late wife used to use. It was after two years someone had washed it. He hadn't seen the stuff for so long.

He knew it was a worthy investment in finding a wife. He was too sick of dating or paying the whores. Both of his previous wives shared the old values with him and believed in choosing a man who was poor. He married his first wife, Cathy around twenty-six years ago. She died after three years and a year later he found his second wife Natalie. Both, believed in submitting to their husband and never complained about his low salary. Even went out to find jobs to support him whenever he lost his job. Both of his previous wives were beautiful and he had had complex walking with them. They were always understanding whenever he went about how every other man was a threat and they shouldn't converse with other men. They were fine with his outbursts or episodes. He had loved both and even now visits their graves on their death anniversaries.

But it was so long ago. Women now only wanted rich men. Finding women like Cathy or Natalie was impossible now. Women now were fine dating out of loneliness or boredom. But wouldn't marry a janitor. And, seeing his other Indian friends doing great with the Indian women, he knew what he had to do. He had his mind to get a woman around forty to take care of his home and warm his bed.

What he never saw coming was Fiza. She was nineteen years old and he indeed had gotten increased libido. But one look at her tells him that she would want to be spoiled. He had learned that she didn't have anyone to lean on in her family and that did give him the power over her. She had to accept him as he is. Rich or not, young or not, loving or not. He didn't want to give her any impression that she can control him with her charming youth. Because she couldn't. He was of the belief that even her youth was to serve him. Not to manipulate him or to cause him trouble. 

He likes that he doesn't have to pretend anymore in the pursuit of finding a wife. Dating had never been his thing. 

Also, Fiza was already his wife and didn't have any options. And, he wasn't surprised. He knew his land back there was overfilled with oppressed women who would fill the vacancy he had in his life any day.

Fiza tried to spread her mouth into a smile and Kamran knew he had it all together. She is yours, Kamran. All yours.

Kamran took a place on the chair and Fiza was quick to serve him Paratha on his plate. "You think you can impress me with paratha one morning? You better make it every day. Then, I guess you will prove yourself. What do they say in India? The path to man's heart is through his satisfied belly..." But the moment Fiza took a seat too on the chair he trailed off. Making Fiza look at him. She looked at the table again and noticed that she had a jug of water on the table.

"Do you want water?" She asked only for Kamran to look at his food disappointed. Fiza couldn't get what changed him. Only a moment ago he was talking.

"I think a lot has changed in India. Do wives sit with their husbands while eating?" Fiza continued sitting for a few more seconds before she slowly got up. "I..." She didn't know from where it was coming. She had never heard of it.

"Why are you getting up? I don't want you to stand if you don't want to. A woman does this out of respect..."

"I...I didn't know, Kamran."

"And, what is this with calling my name? Call me G or Ap? Anything but my name. I thought you will quit doing it. But you are not even trying."

"I...I am sorry." Without her knowing Fiza got behind the chair to make the distance. Her body was acting on her own. But Kamran fisted his hand while his mouth twitched. "Fiza, sit. I don't want you to stand when I have pointed this out to you. It's embarrassing. Sit."

Fiza slowly sat beside him but didn't touch her breakfast. "Were you going to eat an omelette? Eggs aren't good for women. You know I told this to my wives and they quit eggs..." Fiza kept her face down and refuse to look up. She was too embarrassed.

Kamran started having his breakfast all the while telling her how his mother used to stand beside her husband when he used to have his meal. Fiza listened to everything realizing her husband was born in 1938. "...you should be thankful it is good temperature here. And, you don't have to fan me while standing beside me. But I think you don't even think of such things...you didn't, right? Not even once..." Fiza couldn't help but pick from his talk that he had a village background that was still quite underdeveloped. She recalled how people do have myths regarding giving a woman eggs, milk or anything meat. Fiza wonders if he treated his previous wives the same. Weren't those women Western or made him a little soft for women? Or changed his view in any way.

She wanted to tell him that it was all myth. But then maintained her silence wondering if he too knew and only was saving on his money.

Kamran finished her Omelet for her and told her. "You can have paratha three times a week. Not more than this. I don't like women with fat. It isn't good to eat much food anyway. Do you know eating less keeps us healthy?"

Fiza wonders what kind of job he does. He did have a shift of twelve hours on minimum. Doesn't it pay much that he has to talk about money all the time? 

She remain in bed for five hours to rest before she got up to finish her chores. She didn't do any laundry and tried to rest well.

She prayed for strength all the time. She knew she needed it. She missed her mother and home. And, wonders if she was being punished for not asking for a good husband. It wasn't her mistake. She always believed that her God will only provide her with the best. She thought she didn't need to. But then tried to comfort her heart from the fact that God only tests his most beloved.

"I am not very brave, Allah. Please, don't test me more. Make my husband soft for me. Please do it even if he is not soft-natured." She was still praying on the mat when she heard the door opening.

He was an hour late than his time but Fiza stood up from her mat in an instant to welcome him. She walked to him but found him a little strange. She still had her scarf wrapped around her hair for the prayer.

"Good evening," She said but got dumbfounded when he slurred. "What's in...in...in dinner?" She wonders why he was so tired.

"Are you ok?" She walked ahead but didn't dare to hold his arm. Kamran only rubbed his hand on his face before he asked agitated. "I asked something."

"I have cooked peas...are you ok?..." But before she could complete she noticed the same amber bottle in his hand. She looked at him dreading the worst. "You...you consume alcohol. No, it can't be. You can't drink alcohol." She found her voice coming from somewhere else. But pushing her away from his way he told her. "Get me my dinner." Fiza couldn't help but drop her mouth. Her husband couldn't possibly consume alcohol. It was prohibited.

Just a note!

Whatever ideas he has about his consumption of food are in no way supported by any sane person.

Just because it is content in my writing...doesn't mean women shouldn't eat eggs or milk.

Also, there are going to be many cringe-worthy ideas of Kamran of how a wife should be. 

Also, please check out my latest Instagram reel on Fiza. And, tell me if you had heard that Indian song before or not.