Shiza stroked Abeerah's head, gently moving her fingers through her hair as she laid on the couch, crying but not saying a word.

"Abeerah, meri jaan. At least tell me what happened! Jab se ai ho bus ro rahi ho", Shiza asked yet again, receiving only sobbing in answer.

(You've been crying ever since you returned.)

She straightened Abeerah, moving her hair from her face and wiping her tears. She poured water in a glass from the jug placed on the table and handed it to Abeerah. "Come on. Have it. And stop crying, for goodness sake! Kya haal bana liya hai apna tumne!"

(See what state you've brought yourself in.)

Abeerah took a few sips and then placed her head on Shiza's shoulder, sniffing again.

"Chalo ab batao. What happened?"

(Now tell me.)

"Woh. . .woh. . ." Abeerah hiccuped.

"Yes?"

"Ozhan's been ignoring me!"

And finally! It all made sense!

Shiza didn't know whether to slap her own forehead or smack Abeerah. Oh, she was all for their epic love story and everything, but the tears of a girl, who was like her daughter, for some stupid reason was not something she signed up for. And she knew the reason was stupid because she knew that Ozhan was genuinely really just busy. He could never ignore her.

And she tried to explain that to her.

"No, mera bacha. Ozhan isn't ignoring you. He just has a lot on his plate right now, and time isn't one of those things. Try and understand, dear. He would never ignore you."

"No, aunty. I know he's angry at me for something but I don't know what. . ." And then she went on explaining all her insecurities to Shiza.

She loved that Abeerah was sharing her worries with her. But tears were something that had always made her uncomfortable. She could literally count the number of times she had cried in her entire life. And being the wife of a Martyred Army Officer, she knew if she had to live through the several heartaches, she'd have to tough herself up.

It wasn't like she hadn't had encounters with crying, she had. Layeba was the one who cried, though not often, in her lap but Shiza usually knew what to say because Layeba cried for a reason.

Here in this situation, she was lost for words. How do you explain something to a love-struck young girl when she wasn't ready to understand?

"Acha okay. I'll talk to Ozhan. He'll call you. And then you guys can discuss everything. Okay? Now stop crying. Go freshen up. Main khana lagwati hun aap ke liey. Go."

(I'll set the meal for you.)

Abeerah went to her room after nodding, her heart now light after sharing her problems. And Shiza nodded in relief. This was the most awkward she'd felt in quite a while.

And her daughter leaning against the doorframe, smiling at the whole situation, knew how she felt.

She noticed Layeba and closed her eyes, shaking her head. Layeba laughed. "Please talk to Ozhan, Layeba. I don't think I can deal with this again."

"Yeah, i'll do." She sat beside her, loosening her hijab and freeing her hair from the tight bun they were in, sighing in relief when she could move her fingers through them.

"Came home so soon?" Shiza asked.

"Yeah, had to go jewelry shopping with Sanem. She'll be on her way." She grabbed a glass of water and took small sips.

Shiza nodded. "Drop me at your Mamu's house on your way. They'll surely be needing help with the preparations."

"Ok."

"I'll check on Abeerah now. You have no idea how much that girl has cried."

Layeba smiled. "I can guess. Ammi, I was thinking something."

"Hhmm?"

"Why don't we get them married soon? I know it's none of our business, but they live in our house. They love each other. So why don't we make their relation halal?"

"You're right. But it's Yazaan's call to make. He's Abeerah's guardian. You should talk to him."

"Hhmmm... Will do."

"That reminds me. Your husband hasn't eaten anything since morning. And haven't taken his medicines either."

She groaned. "Again?"

•~•

Layeba went in search of her husband and found him in the lawn, working on his laptop. She approached him, noticing one of his crutches on the ground, a little away from his reach. She picked it up and put it against his chair, announcing her presence. He looked at her and then went back to working.

He had started a job at one of the respectable management firms of the country. For someone who had almost no experience, it was a really good package for Yazaan. The company had permitted him to work from home as long as his health required so.

She sat in the chair next to him and put her elbow on its back, putting her pointer at her temple, and just stared at him. The clicking of keys was soothing to her. She now understood what was so satisfying about those ASMR videos.

His fingers stopped, making quiet go all around them except for the chirping of birds. He turned to look at her and his green eyes found her chocolatey ones narrowed. He raised his eyebrows in question and gestured with his hands, a 'what?'

"I was thinking. . . Agar itni khoonsoorat biwi saath bethi ho or insaan phir bhi apne kaam main magan rahe to isse main apni insult smjhoon ya shohar ki bewaqoofi?"

(If such a beautiful wife is sitting before you, and you still choose to remain busy in work, what do I make of it?)

"Shohar ki masroofiat?"

(Husband's busyness?)

"Chalo, maan lete hain. Still . . . can I get five minutes of your time?"

(Okay, let's assume that is the case.)

He closed his laptop and turned towards her, giving her his full attention. She didn't waste time asking what she was here to ask.

"What's your favorite color?"

What the hell?

"Why? You planning to wear my favorite color at Sanem's wedding?"

"Ha! You wish!"

"Shame . . . You would've looked really good in green", he opened his laptop again, concluding that she had nothing important to talk about.

She had a retort ready in her mind for whatever he had to say to her asking him his favorite color, but hearing him say green, all her mind screamed was, Mission abort! Mission abort! She was going shopping right now and buying new clothes for the whole wedding because she can't wear the color after knowing it's his favorite. Imagine the embarrassment!

"You there?" He asked, slightly concerned by her wide eyes.

She shook her head. "Uh. . . Yeah. Yeah."

"Why did you ask my favorite color? Are we gonna play twenty questions again?"

"No. I asked because I wanted to buy you a pacifier of that color."

"What the fuck!" He sounded like he was choking.

"Haan to or kya. Act like a child, get treated like a child."

"I have many ways to prove otherwise. Anyway, when did I act like a child?"

She narrowed her eyes at the meaning of his sentence but chose to ignore it. "This is the third time you've refused to take your medicines just this week. And you haven't eaten anything. Only a child would fail to understand the importance of both of them."

He looked away and placed his laptop under his arm, grabbing the crutches and standing up. "I'm fine. I don't need those meds anymore."

"And who are you to decide that?" She followed him to the room. He placed the laptop on the small table and proceeded towards the wardrobe.

"The one who has to take those meds." He took out a blue kurta with white shalwar and closed the cupboard.

"How many more times do I have to tell you that it's not your call? You have to live with those medicines. Better to understand it now!"

"I'm done with this conversation!"

"I am too!" She snatched the clothes from his hands and threw them on the chair. "Sit down."

"You're walking on thin ice, doctor", he warned.

"I'll take my chances. Sit and wait for me."

Like a good husband, he waited for her, though every cell in his body protested against it, yelling at him to not obey her like a puppy. She came back after a few minutes, a tray in her hand.

"Now I really don't have the energy to argue, Yazaan. So please. Eat something." She rarely ever said his name, referring to him as Khan Sahab most of the time. So when she said it so softly and also added the magic word, he almost acted on what she was saying. But. . .

"Whoever makes bhindi?" He made a disgusted face at the tray.

She smiled. "I've been asking my mom for thirty years. But she just made me eat it every time. So, I'm gonna ask you to do the same. And it's not that bad. Trust me. "

"Is that so? Then eat with me." His eyes gleamed with a challenge.

"I already had lunch at the hospital and i'll probably grab something in the mall. Sorry, but you're eating it alone."

He took a bite. And another. And another. And with every morsel he had to chew, his eyes threw daggers at her.

"Very good. Now here." She placed his pills in his hand and handed him a glass of water. He swallowed them, not liking how was now dependant on them for all his life. "Excellent."

"Now can I go take a shower?"

"Just one question. I suppose I should just get it over with."

He sighed. "Why did I have to marry you?" He mumbled, not meaning any of it.

"Because I'm awesome?"

"Just ask the question, doctor."

"When do you plan to marry Ozhan and Abeerah off?"

That was a random question for her to ask. But he didn't know why he was surprised after the pacifier remark.

To answer her question, he just looked at his legs.

"Arre, that's the matter of two weeks max. And with the progress you've made MashaAllah, I wouldn't be surprised if you leave those sticks in a week. Now, when?"

"I don't know. Whenever they both are ready? Whenever they ask me to marry them? Why? Do you have an idea?"

"I do, actually. I was thinking. What if we get them married, like next month? Just a simple nikkah? I mean, it's only going to be us, anyway. Unless you wanna invite your aunt from Islamabad, which is totally fine. And maybe a few of Abeerah's friends? An intimate event in maybe, Badshahi Mosque and then dinner or lunch at ours?"

"Hhmm. Okay. I'll talk to Ozhan first. I don't think he'll agree before he's accomplished something but let's see."

"Okay. Sure. Now I have to go. Sanem's here. Please make sure to grab some rest and take your night medicines on time. Okay?"

He exhaled. "Fine."

•~•

"Sanem, just one more shop. Please."

"No!" Sanem almost dragged Layeba towards the elevator to go to the jewelry shop as they had planned. "You have already wasted two hours in five shops. I'm telling you, however beautiful dresses come in front of your eyes now, your heart is in those dresses you've already bought. And I don't understand, you love all those three dresses. So why do want to buy new ones?"

"Woh. . .I just came to know that Yazaan's favorite color is green. After knowing that, I can't just wear green. And on all of your events? He'll think I purposely did it."

People looked at them as if they had lost it as Sanem threw her head back and barked out a laugh. Her sister-in-law, Ayesha, slapped her arm to control herself.

"Sanem! Behave yourself", Ayesha chastised, even though she was smiling too at Layeba's expense.

"Bhabhi, you too?"

"No. No. I'm not taking part in any of your antics. Just hurry up, you guys."

"Okay. Just one more shop. Then we'll pick up the jewelry."

"No. We're done with the dresses. You will wear the green dresses now", Sanem laughed as Layeba glared at her. But she knew that Sanem was right. She'd always been like that. Once she'd liked something, it was hard for her to choose something else.

They went to the jewelry shop and picked up the jewelry they'd ordered and requested to be customized, choosing a few more items on the way as well.

They were almost out of there when Layeba's gaze fell upon a ring in display glass. It was a simple, yet trendy masculine ring which instantly reminded her of her husband. The square onyx sat in a claw setting in a sterling silver ring, creating a powerful and simple aesthetic.

"Can you please show me that?" She asked a young man, her eyes still on that ring. The ring was dropped in her palm and she felt the weight of it. It wasn't heavy but it still carried its own. After reflecting on whether to buy it or not for a while, rotating the ring in her hand, she decided,

"I'll take that, please. Thank you."

•~•

Abeerah fidgeted under Ozhan's hard staring. He'd been glaring at her for almost fifteen minutes now, without saying a word. She tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear in nervousness and looked around her, eyes roaming aimlessly on the details of the restaurant they were in.

The first thing she'd seen in the morning was a text from Ozhan stating the time and name of the restaurant they're gonna meet in. She'd been over the moon and reached here as soon as she could, barely getting through all her lectures. When she'd arrived, Ozhan was already here. But apart from the reply of her 'Salam' and pulling a chair out for her, he'd said nothing. Even the order was placed by her for both of them.

"Ahem. I know I'm beautiful but as you can tell, I have a beautiful voice too. So you can strike a conversation, you know."

He just glared some more.

"Did you just call me here to glare at me? I'm leaving." She slapped her hands lightly on the table and was about to stand when he muttered, "Stay. put.Abeerah."

"So you do still have your voice."

"Have you finally lost it?"

She looked shocked at his harsh tone. But didn't take it to her heart, because there was a gentle concern in his dark eyes.

"Excuse me?"

"Itna kon rota hai yaar? I just rain-checked on one lunch! Not even lunch, just a meeting, and you went and cried buckets in front of Shiza Aunty?" He exclaimed, doing his best to control his anger.

(Who cries this much?)

She smiled sheepishly, not meeting his eyes. Shiza had said the same thing to her. "Um. . . I'm sorry?"

"Aage hi kuch karne ke kaabil nai hun is waqt. Uper se Lala ko pata chal gaya ke meri waja se royi ho itna, tab to ho gai humari shaadi. Now that all the problems are finally behind us, you found this issue to cry about?" Although his tone was scolding, he looked as if in pain because she'd cried.

(I'm already not capable of providing you with anything right now and now when big brother would know that you've cried too because of me, say goodbye to our marriage then.)

"Now that you've decided to scold me, then hear me out as well! It was not just one lunch, okay?" She pointed her forefinger at him. "You've been ignoring me for the past whole month. You don't receive my calls, you barely text, milna to door ki baat hai. . . You sometimes leave me on 'seen' mode! Chalo, leaving all that aside, you don't even take care of yourself! I can bet you haven't taken any medicine for your flu and if these dark pits under your eyes are any indication, you barely sleep! You tell me, what am I supposed to do?"

(Meeting is a whole other matter. . .)

"I already told you I'm extremely busy these days. And you lose the bet, I did take medicines. And as for dark circles around my eyes, you know how exhausting university can be!"

"I'm studying too. But you don't see me looking like a panda!"

"Are you covering double credit hours and doing a job in the night as well?" He had her there. "And did you just call me a panda!"

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish. She struggled to find the right words to say. "W-what?" Then, "why? Why would you cover double credit hours? And why would you overwork yourself?"

He gave her a no-nonsense look. "So I could complete my degree early, for the first. And so I could earn some money, for the second."

"Are you crazy? Do Lala and Bhabhi know?" On his silence, she continued, "they do, don't they? Why would they allow you such thing?"

Ibrahim Khan's children thought the same things. Good thing he'd had Layeba on his side. He remembered the conversation he'd had with Yazaan and Layeba when he'd applied for a job as soon as he'd gotten admission to the university. After all, even if he didn't have any degree, he was the only brains in the gang after Yazaan.

"No." Yazaan had said.

"Why?"

"Because I would like my brother alive, thank you very much!"

He gave Yazaan a look that conveyed all that he was thinking, 'bullets and broken bones and crazy enemies couldn't kill me, overexerting would?'

"Yes, it would. You've already put in an application to cover double courses. You're not doing a job as well. Layeba, make him see reason", Yazaan rubbed his forehead.

"Your wife used to work eighteen hours a day, sometimes nineteen, before you married her. And she's had long-ass shifts of sometimes even thirty-six hours during her residency. She isn't the one to talk. In fact, she's an example that overexerting doesn't cause death."

Had Yazaan looked at her in shock or glared at her for telling Ozhan all that, she didn't know. But she'd just shrugged in response, all in favor of letting him do whatever he wanted.

"Because I didn't ask for their permission. I just informed them. Now that all your questions are answered, can you tell me why you cried?"

"How was I supposed to know all these? You never told me. I thought you were ignoring me. That I'd said something and you were angry with me", she said meekly, cheeks slightly puffing.

He rubbed his eyes, tiredness oozing from every movement he made. "How can I ignore the one thing that matters to me the most in this entire universe? I'm sorry for making you feel that way", he grabbed her hand that rested on the table. "I'll try to organize my time better, I promise. I just need you to be patient with me."

She bit her top lip, a worried frown marring her forehead, and nodded. "Okay. Just, please take care of yourself."

"You never worried this much when I literally played ping pong with bullets."

"Who says I didn't? You just never noticed."

"Ahaan. Anyway, since you made a pool with your tears in Hussein Villa," she scowled at him and he smiled back at her. "Bhabhi and Aunty suggested something. Lala too was in favor of that, so I agreed."

"What?" She asked confusedly.

"That you and I should get married, as soon as possible. Like, in a month or so." She looked at him with wide eyes, excitement bubbling inside her but she kept it from showing on her face. "Just nikkah, though. All other functions will be held later. So you'll have to wait a long time for that. That reminds me. . ."

He stood up, making her look at him in question but her heart was telling her what was about to happen. He took out something from the back pocket of the black jeans he was wearing paired with a black button-up shirt and rounded the table towards her side. He took her hand in his and made her stand up. ". . .that I need to do this right."

Then he got down on one knee.

Her breath caught as she saw his eyes filled with immense love. Love that he only felt for her. Always had. Always will. Her mind processed everything in slow motion, how he wet his bottom lip, how he took in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly, preparing himself for the big question. Her lips threatened to stretch wide but the anticipation kept her from smiling brightly like she wanted to.

Then escaped the words from his lips that made happy tears fill her green eyes.

"Abeerah Ibrahim Khan, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Her smile lit up the entire place, her eyes glistened and her laugh was better than any melody in the entire world.

She nodded her head vigorously, not being able to get any words out. He slid the simplest, yet most beautiful ring in her finger. It was a small round diamond, encrusted in a thin gold band. She didn't know but he had bought the ring with his first salary. Her fingers, almost involuntarily, gently caressed the ring, feeling the love and intention with which he had bought the ring.

"Yes", she finally got out. "Yes! Yes! YES!"

He stood up and held both her hands tightly, his eyes telling her that had they been alone, he would have hugged her tight never to let go.

Claps and hoots resounded all around her, awe's coming from romantic hearts. A click from the camera drew her attention to her left and she saw a man, around Yazaan's age and almost the same height, with tanned skin, dark hair, and brown eyes, a small smile on his face, holding a professional camera.

She looked at Ozhan in question and he introduced him, "Abeerah, this is my only friend in the university, Amir Raza. Well, actually my Finance teacher. Amir, this is my fiance, Abeerah."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Abeerah. This man dragged me from my class early, bribing me with finally meeting my Bhabhi. But let me tell you, it was worth it. Congratulations, both of you."

"Thank you so much", Abeerah smiled at him shyly.

"Thanks, man. I owe you one." Ozhan embraced him in that brief one-armed hug that men do.

"No problem. I'll send you the pictures."

"Okay", Ozhan turned towards Abeerah again. "Before I forget, next month, a week before Sanem's wedding is our nikkah. Layeba bhabhi will tell you the details, okay? Now I'm so sorry but I have to go. Take care, okay?"

"You tell yourself that."

"I will. I promise. And don't you dare ever cry again. Understood? Ever!"

She smiled in response. He tapped her shoulders once. And then he was gone.

Guess I'm getting married in a month.

•~•

~One month later ~

"I can't believe you're getting married before me!"

Abeerah smiled nervously at Sanem exclamation as Layeba fixed her duppatta one last time. The ivory ensemble, a knee-length shirt with a lehnga, made her feel regal. The lehnga was simple with a border of golden gota-patti and red piping, a light dusting of beads adorning the fabric. The shirt was heavily embellished with gold and ivory beads and embroidery, long beaded and fanned tassels tied in the back. The organza dupatta was again simple with a heavy border. The emerald and gold jewelry with a long pearl necklace and natural makeup done to perfection with a smokey eye look and nude lip completed her look.

"Just a week, Sanem. Just a week!" Layeba said for the umpteenth time. Her sour mood was beginning to reflect in her tone and facial expressions. "You both are ready, right? We'll be leaving in a few."

She walked out of the room and into the hall where Shiza was confirming last-minute arrangements with Ozhan. He looked great in an ivory sherwani, gold embroidery embellishing the borders of the sleeves and collar, paired with a simple white pajama. Ozhan looked worriedly at her as she came to Shiza, her forehead wrinkled with a frown.

"Ammi, chalein?" She asked, checking the time on her wristwatch.

"Let's wait for Yazaan. He'll escort her sister."

"Ammi, you tell me what do I do, huh? Hassaan Bhai has called me a third time that Qazi Sahab has arrived and you know how much I hate making someone wait", she huffed and sat on the couch, face puffed and lips pouting. She set her dupatta again on her shoulder irritatedly. That's why she hated organza stuff.

She was wearing a light blue floor-length kalidar frock, small flowers embroidered in pink dusted the entire daman, the neckline had same pink embroidery entwined with the branches in copper color, similar design adorned the border chiffon sleeves and the frock, interchanging with the thick lacey patches of blue color. Her head was wrapped in a hijab, the same color as that of the dress. The only piece of jewelry she wore was a two-ring set on her right ring finger, one was a crescent moon hugging a small star and the other was a dainty star-studded band.

"Surely he's busy, otherwise I know he wouldn't be late purposely. Ozhan, you dial his number again and let me talk to him."

"Ammi, what kind of work is this? It's his sister's wedding, for goodness sake! I told him not to go today. Okay, you went but at least return on time! But no! I'm crazy, why would he ever listen to me." She started complaining like a typical wife, and Yazaan would have stood to listen and be amused with it had he didn't realize that he was really late.

"Shukar Alhamdulillah, you're here, Lala!" Ozhan said as he saw Yazaan approaching with hurried steps. Layeba looked at him, then stood up and went to her room where she had set his outfit for the day, handing it disinterestedly to him as he looked at her sheepishly.

He quickly changed in the washroom and got out, looking all like the powerful Pakhtoon that he was, in a pure white shalwar kameez and a dark green waistcoat that complimented his forest green eyes.  He put on the watch and Peshawari chappal that she gestured at. After running his fingers through his hair a few times, he was ready.

They both made their way downstairs and it would've been a fairytale entrance if Yazaan wasn't staring at Layeba, expecting her to say something and not be mad at him for the entire event and if Layeba wasn't staring straight ahead, concentrating hard not to fall down the stairs in her white heels.

"Let's go everyone", Shiza called out. "Layeba, i'll accompany Yazaan and Ozhan, and you and Sanem come behind us with Abeerah."

"Jee, Ammi."

Yazaan put his arm around Ozhan's shoulder and dragged him towards the main door, slapping his head once as he turned his face in the direction of Abeerah's room, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

"Patience, my brother. Patience." He smiled at his brother's nervousness. He couldn't understand why a sheen of sweat covered Ozhan's forehead but he was amused beyond measures at his condition. Teasing him along the way, the three made their way to the Badshahi mosque where the most important event in Ozhan's and Abeerah's life was about to be taken.

Back in the house, Sanem wrapped a big shawl around Abeerah and helped her sit in the backseat of the car. Sanem looked stunning in a beige Anarkali frock. Chain print in gold covered the daman, thick embroidered border tipped with golden gota-patti, quarter length sleeves in a similar print, paired with a churidar and organza dupatta bordered with thick gota-patti. Her hair was covered with a beige hijab, styled in layers. She wore a set of fancy metal bangles in one hand, the other being bare except for three simple gold rings in fingers. She'd chosen a classic makeup look with a brown smokey eye and a red lip. Golden heels completed her look.

Layeba took the wheel, despite her mother telling her to take a driver instead but she cherished her car too much to let anyone else drive it. Sanem was an exception and recently she found that she didn't mind Ozhan or Yazaan driving it as well.

"Layeba, I was thinking. Boht bhook lagi hai. Let's stop at McDonald's for a while, eat something and then go. Waise bhi jaldi kis ko hai? Sakoon se jaate hain", Sanem said, concealing her smile and winking at Layeba, who just shook her head and smiled, her focus on the road.

(I'm hungry. . . anyway, who is in hurry? Let's go slowly slowly.)

"Arre Sanem Api! Kitna khayein gi aap? Abhi thori der pehle hi to lunch kia tha sab ne. Mera nikkah ho jane dein pehle, phir araam se khaiyye ga. Layeba bhabhi, please aap in ki baat na sunein", Abeerah exclaimed at once.

(How much will you eat? We just had lunch a while back. Let my Nikkah happen first, then eat to your heart's content. Layeba bhabhi, please don't listen to her.)

Sanem burst out laughing while Layeba chuckled and remarked, "Someone's in a rush to get married."

Realizing that they both were pulling her leg, she blushed and the thick layer of foundation on her face couldn't conceal that.

The car stopped, and Sanem and Layeba took her to the mosque, crossing the vast ground. She didn't notice anything around her, except the man who was busy talking with her brother in the mosque.

It was as if she was weightless, her feet carrying her effortlessly to her future husband.

•~•

Assalamualaikum! How are you all? First things first. Belated Eid Mubarak to all of you. Hope it went well🌸

Second. . .eeeeeeeeeeeee!!!🥳🥳🥳🥳 Need I say more?

For those who thought something fishy was going on, khoda pahaar nikla chooha right?🤭😂 My man was just busy! And look! He compensated with a beautiful engagement ring which he bought with his own money. His whole first salary went into that ring. Bhai kya karein, diamond hai hi itna mehnga!

Anyway! jiggykothari did this chapter compensate for the past ones?💞

I really hope you all liked the chapter.
👉👈🥺

Okay, so since i'm bad at description of dresses and looks, i've posted the aesthetics of how i envisioned their outfits on my Instagram account.
@ javeria_naeem9 . Do follow it if you wish so.

Please vote ⭐ comment 🖋️ follow and share.

Thank you 💞
Lots of love ❤️❤️❤️
Javeria.