The greater the love, the greater the chaos - Jonathan Carroll

Anbar stared at the dark shade of henna on her hands. Tears filled her eyes as she brushed them away. Sniffing slowly, pushing her blow dried hair behind her ear. The pink glass bangles in her hands made soft noise as she opened her closet, rearranging her outfits in a colour coordinated manner. The loose bell sleeves of her peach organza shirt, raised with motions. Placing her porcelain skin on display. The tips of her fingers stopping as they touched the fine needle work of her wedding day outfit. Her heart stilling inside her chest for a second-before it fluttered back to life.

A harsh hand rested on her delicate elbow, pulling her backwards. Her back colliding with a firmness. The spicy cologne of her husband tickled her senses. Husband. She had always imagined Azmaray to be in that position. Never Asghar. Yet who could play with the pages of fate? It did as it wished to. This was what was meant for her however, the pain killed her. The pain of having thought of a man as your husband -to be abandoned and then thrust into the arms of his brother. Anbar wanted to scoff at her fate.

"Let me go," she pulled her arm out of his grip.

Asghar sighed, he knew his feelings were not returned. His wife yearned for his brother, who was a thorough gentleman. Educated and heir to the whole fortune, whilst he was an uneducated man whose job was to visit the grounds and ensure it was all being done right. His words were callous and his movements were not familiar with the gentleness. His heart caved on seeing her feline eyes furrow at him. Holding back his strength, he softened her brow. His own eyes turning gentle.

"Anbar please don't cry," his gruff voice sounded harsher than intended.

It did little to reduce the scowl on her face. Her auburn hair resting on her shoulders. Copper chandelier earrings hung from her ear, a small diamond nose piercing on her nose. It made her delicate nose all the more enticing.

"Kyun nahi roun?" [Why shouldn't I cry?] Anbar fought back.

"Itna bhi bura nahi hun mein," [I'm not that bad,] Asghar weakly defended.

He had never given her a chance to trust him. And now he was regretting it all a little bit.

"Azmaray bhi nahin hain," [You aren't Azmaray either,] she shot back.

That had Asghar seething. Comparison with his brother. Everyone in his life threw the competency of his brother at his face. They were all humans who wanted the best, pushing Asghar into a box of loneliness and all he wished for was to be the best, atleast in the eyes of his wife.

"Anbar I get your disappointment. Par humari taqdeer mein yahi tha," [But this was in our fate,] he sighed.

"I don't want this! I don't want you! You're nothing like my dream husband!" Anbar hit his chest.

"Then help me. Help me be the man you want Anbar". He tried.

"And what if I dont? Will you hit me? Will you raise your voice at me?" She fought him.

"Anb-" he stopped, the shout dying halfway in his throat.

"Anbar I've been clear about my feelings towards you. I want to change, fit into the box of men society likes. Just don't ever give up on me. Please," he swallowed.

"Even if I do, how will I forget about the women you slept with? The dancers you see and the cheap alcohol you drink? Can you promise me loyalty?" She urged.

"I-I can. I promise, it's not going to be easy leaving a life I've lived since I was sixteen but I promise I'll try," he nodded.

For Anbar he would jump off of the Everest too. Leaving the life he lived behind, was not a big demand. He only hoped, he could keep his promises. Anbar nodded, finally giving him a small smile. Wrapping her tiny palms around his large palms she squeezed them. Sniffing her tears away.

"Chalein nashtay par sab intezar kar rahay hon gai," [Come everyone must be waiting for breakfast on us,] she whispered.

"Let's go," he nodded his head.

The two walked into the large sun room where breakfast had been laid out. Anbar's sharp gaze cutting at her grandfather. That man took relationships like chess, moving them around as he pleased. She hated being related to him.

"A downgrade-" Azan scoffed.

"He ran to Lahore and married a prostitute!" He uttered bitterly.

"How do you know?" Arbaz questioned.

"The guards at the property called me. Usnai apni azaadi ka ghalt faida uthaya hai. Swat nikalnay sai pehlay mil jata na tou kabhi nahi honay deta!" [He has misused his freedom. If I found out before he left Swat I would have never let this happen!] He slammed his hand on the table.

Anbar rolled her eyes, scooping eggs onto Asghar's plate before serving herself. Deep inside she was giddy, clearly Azmaray had downgraded. She would love to meet that woman, she decided, silently munching on her breakfast. A plan already conjuring inside her head.

---

Ayna walked out of the cracked, narrow street. Stilling as a bouquet of fresh red roses were forwarded towards her. Zaeem dressed in a black button down shirt, with rolled sleeves and formal pants stood infront of her. Sleek black shades rested on his nose bridge. The crackling orange glow of the sun warmed his tan skin and gave it an ethereal glow. She shyly gripped the roses from his hand, feeling gratified as the aroma flushed her skin.

"Come on, we're going out for lunch," Zaeem grinned.

"We?" Ayna blurted, the plan had been thrown at her out of nowhere.

"Yes, us. My father will be joining us, he wants to meet you. The rest of my family needs to wait," he explained.

Nervously, Ayna nodded her head. Getting inside the sleek black SUV. Zaeem slid his hand in hers, bringing her left hand towards himself before sliding a ring onto her left ring finger. It was a thick platinum band with a diamond in the centre, small ones surrounding its cushion. Ayna gasped in awe, the ring was everything.

"It's perfect Zaeem!" She tearfully uttered.

"Just like you," he sighed, dreamily.

"I'm sorry I don't have a ring for you," Ayna sighed.

Zaeem tsked, raising his left ring finger, on which was a platinum band. The tiny diamond in the centre glimmering.

"I've worn it since the day I got my memory back". Zaeem informed.

Warmth gushed inside Ayna's veins. Butterflies fluttering inside her stomach. Her cheeks turned a dark cherry red, teeth sinking into her lower lip.

"Don't look at me like that," Zaeem turned to her at a red light.

"What do you mean?" She questioned, fiddling with her chiffon veil.

"I mean if you keep staring at me like that I'll have to cancel on my father and hide you from everyone," he grinned.

Ayna stared at his face, shocked. The bashful expression on his face was a dead giveaway to the fact that he was thinking on the decision with seriousness. Rolling her eyes, Ayna pinched his palm. Reminding him to drive as the light turned green and the cars behind them began to honk at him. The rest of the drive was silent. She fiddled with her sleeves, in worry. Wondering how her father-in-law would perceive her. Would he accept or would he ask her to leave Zaeem. The questions burst inside Ayna's head one after the other.

Zaeem stopped the car outside a private hospital. Tapping the back of Ayna's hand to bring her out of her reverie.

"Let's go," he passed her a polite smile.

"Ho-hospital?" She asked, stunned.

"Last stage prostate cancer. He's under twenty four hour supervision," he sighed.

Ayna nodded, squeezing his hand in support. The two wordlessly getting out of the car and walking inside the hospital. The place was pristine. White walls with tiled marble all across the space. It smelt of phenol, the cleaners cleaning the floors occasionally. Everything was robotic as doctors and nurses rushed to the reception. Zaeem led her to the elevator, his hand on her back guiding her in.

The bedroom of Zaeem's father was on the fifth floor. A large private room, with his hospital bed next to the large window. A seating arrangement with two lounge chairs and one sofa. Everything was white and in the shades of cream. Fake plants added pop of colour to the room, and on the stretcher lay a weak man. He was all bones and if you were not looking for him, you would not even notice him.

"Abu," [father,] Zaeem called.

Taking a seat on the metal chair, he motioned for Ayna to sit on the one beside him. Zaeem's father stirred, opening his eyes that were a stark contrast to his body. While his body was weak and frail, his eyes were full of life.

"Ayna. Your daughter-in-law," Zaeem introduced.

The elderly man nodded his head, gently raising his hand and motioning for Ayna to lean forward. He rested his hand on her hair. Tapping it softly as he recited protective verses on the pair.

"She's very beautiful, MashAllah. Zaeem you lucked out," he uttered with great pain.

Then turning towards Zaeem, he pointed at something. Understanding instantly, Zaeem passed over the thick maroon envelope his father had asked him to prepare last night.

"For you," he firmly ordered, thrusting it into Ayna's hand.

"You don't have to," Ayna blushed.

"Pehli dafa bahu aai hai, rasam hai. Rakh lo," [My daughter-in-law has come for the first time, it is tradition. Keep it,] he forced.

Ayna nodded, thanking him. They spent a bit more time with him before Zaeem took her out to have lunch. They dined at an expensive cafè and Ayna cheerfully explained to him the details of her degree. Seeing her speak of her accomplishment, made Zaeem fill up with pride. He was extremely gratified to have met her again, to have been able to wronged the right. To have her as his wife.

---

Azmaray and Laila greeted Sarah one last time before driving out of the farmhouse. Ayna and Zaeem had left earlier to visit his father and discuss their wedding plans. Azmaray had asked Sarah to shift to his farmhouse, but the woman had politely refused. All her life had been spent in Heera Mandi and she was most comfortable there. Laila wiped her tears and sniffed softly, staring at the wide, carpeted roads of the motorway with a small smile on her face. A dreamy look inside her eyes.

"First time out of Lahore?" Azmaray broke the silence.

Laila hummed in reply, fiddling with the clasp of her worn out wrist watch. It was a vintage design, her mother had given it to her before she left. Soon enough the tall houses turned to straight fields. For miles on miles, nothing but greenery surrounded the road. Even Azmaray had gotten comfortable, setting the car on cruise.

"So tell me about yourself Laila," Azmaray tapped at the steering wheel.

Laila grinned before replying, "aren't you too late to be asking me questions?"

"We have a whole lifetime ahead of us now, marrying you was the difficult part," he retorted.

Laila snorted, nodding her head. Resting her hands on her legs. The throbbing inside her head increasing by the minute.

"Can we get tea?" She whispered.

"Of course. The rest area is coming, then we can get it," Azmaray replied.

Laila sighed in comfort. Crossing her fingers that the rest area arrive soon or else her head might as well burst. Azmaray hit the indicator for the left side and steered his car into the rest area. Stopping at the small truck shop, he exited the car. Placing an order for two teas, Azmaray rushed into the tuck shop. Purchasing a few random biscuits that the vendor recommended, he ran back to the car.

"Sooper!" Laila exclaimed in delight.

"I get you like those?" Azmaray questioned.

"Like? This is a lifestyle!" She shrieked.

"I don't think I've had these before," he shrugged.

"What? That is a serious crime Azmaray!" Laila scowled.

Azmaray bit his lip, holding his laughter back on the furious expression of his wife. Everything was falling into place-or so he hoped.

Just a feel good chapter

New couples

WHICH ONE IS OUT FAV?

THOUGHTS & COMMENTS

CHANGED THE ANBAR ASGHAR PLOTLINE FOR ruhialtamonte