© All copyrights belong to StarsAndMoon1447 on Wattpad

*

#JusticeforHoor

*

"And We created you in pairs." - Holy Quran [78:8]

*

Haya

In Islam, Nikah is the completion of half our faith. 

But I don't think any of us truly realise that until we're actually experiencing that ourselves. Nothing felt real until I found myself sat between my father and the Imam in the large drawing room at the Tariq family home.

Until I witnessed the solemn expressions of Rohaan and Arsal as they stood at the opposite side of the room, hands clasped in front of them in a similar manner.

Until I heard the molvi sahab explain the importance of Nikah, and the role my father played in this as my Wali (guardian).

Until I saw my mother's tear-filled eyes, as Hareem Khalla wrapped her arm around her shoulders and hugged her comfortingly.

My Dada Jaan sat on the armchair on the molvi sahab's other side, while Kamran Uncle sat on the matching armchair on Papa's other side. Chachu and Mamu sat on chairs pulled up close to the coffee table where the Nikah papers were placed.

"Haya Rehan, daughter of Rehan Tariq, do you take Aariz Abdullah, son of Abdullah Zaman, as your husband, with the haq mehr of six thousand pounds?" The molvi sahab asked the one question that has life changing abilities for the bride and groom.

"Qabool Hai." I replied in affirmative.

"Haya Rehan, daughter of Rehan Tariq, do you take Aariz Abdullah, son of Abdullah Zaman, as your husband, with the haq mehr of six thousand pounds?"

"Qabool Hai."

"Haya Rehan, daughter of Rehan Tariq, do you take Aariz Abdullah, son of Abdullah Zaman, as your husband, with the haq mehr of six thousand pounds?"

"Qabool Hai." I replied. My voice caught in my throat as I said those words.

The molvi sahab showed me where to sign, and I did so. Papa wrapped an arm around my shoulders when I was done and kissed the side of my head.

It was like everything was happening in a blur around me and I was trying to figure things out, but it was all happening to fast. I was still trying to absorb the fact that I had just signed my Islamic marriage contract, and in a few minutes, once Aariz signed as well, I would be his wife.

Wife.

Wow.

Whoa.

As everyone hugged and congratulated each other, and one by one my relatives walked up to me to give me duas, I sat still, my gaze in my lap. A red dupatta had been draped over my head, a part of a tradition, I suppose. 

"You're quiet." 

I looked up and saw Rohaan grinning down at me as he stood between Arsal and Hoor. "I have to restrain myself. Otherwise, I just want to complain about my lehenga and shoes."

"Look at her acting tough." Rohaan chuckled.

"Look at you acting tough." Arsal nudged him in the ribs with his elbow. "Admit it, your heart is heavy after witnessing Haya Appi's Nikah."

Rohaan scoffed. "Please. I can't wait for the day Behaya leaves. I'm just waiting to take over her room. I'm trying to get a snooker table in there, and for that I need to ask Dado to convince Papa."

"That room is still mine. Wedding means the bride has two homes. It doesn't mean she's changing addresses." I glared at him.

"Don't be greedy. That home belongs to our parents, me and Arsal." Rohaan seemed to be enjoying pulling my leg.

I stood up. "Let's see what Papa has to say about that." I lifted my finger in warning at him. "You go anywhere near my room after my rukhsati, and I know secrets about you that you don't even know that I know about, and they will all be spilled in front of the parents."

"You are bluffing." 

I leaned forward and whispered in his ears. "I know how you sneaked out in the middle of the night in Papa's car. I know that you once bought a dodgy magazine when you were seventeen and you had it hidden under the mattress of your bed." It wasn't per se a dodgy magazine, but it was a summer edition of a women's fashion magazine and the main feature was about beachwear...with pages and pages of photos showing women in swimwear. Astaghfirullah.

Rohaan's face turned red. 

I smirked. "My room is my room. Hoor's room is Hoor's room. Got it?" 

"Whatever." He muttered, turning away.

"Good boy." I patted his cheek.

Arsal looked between the two of us amused. "Haya, only you know how to control him."

"Aww, Arsu, I'll teach you the tricks, don't worry." I told our youngest brother.

*

Aariz

"Aariz Abdullah, son of Abdullah Zaman, do you take Haya Rehan, daughter of Rehan Tariq, as your wife, with the haq mehr of six thousand pounds?" Molvi sahab asked me.

"Qabool Hai." 

"Aariz Abdullah, son of Abdullah Zaman, do you take Haya Rehan, daughter of Rehan Tariq, as your wife, with the haq mehr of six thousand pounds?"

"Qabool Hai."

"Aariz Abdullah, son of Abdullah Zaman, do you take Haya Rehan, daughter of Rehan Tariq, as your wife, with the haq mehr of six thousand pounds?"

"Qabool Hai." 

I signed the Nikah Nama and Molvi sahab made duas for me and Haya and our married life.

I hugged Dad tightly, before leaning down to the woman who had been nothing less than a mother for me, my Rebecca Khalla.

"May the Lord always shower you and your new wife with His Mercy. Amen." Khalla whispered, her eyes filled with tears. 

I placed my hands on her cheeks and kissed her forehead. "I'd be nowhere without you, Khalla. Thank you for this, for introducing me to Haya." 

She smiled. "I did not do anything. It's all the Lord's work. I was just a means to fulfil His plans, my dear boy."

And then my in-laws walked up to me to greet me. I hugged my father-in-law, grandfather-in-law, Haya's uncles and the family's elder son-in-law, Farhaan Bhai.

When Rohaan came up to hug me, he grinned. "Welcome to the family, Aariz Bhai." There was something mischievous sparkling in the eyes of this brother-in-law of mine, which made me smile.

The youngest sibling-in-law, Arsalan, had a warm smile on his face as he hugged. "Congratulations, Bhai! May you and Haya Appi have a long and happy married life. Ameen."

"Thanks, Arsalan." 

We were outside on the stage set up. Guests were already seated at tables, with kids playing around. I instantly noticed the cricket pitch and couldn't help smiling. But then I glanced towards the house, my heart pounding with anticipation. Somewhere in there was Haya, my wife.

My cricket-loving, artist wife who I felt deeply attracted to.

I couldn't wait to see her, to talk to her. 

*

Anabia

I was busy being a host, naturally. It was my daughter's wedding and I had to ensure that all went smoothly. I was pushing aside my emotions and focusing on my duties.

I was checking up on the setup of the buffet service, when I felt a hand on my elbow.

"I ensured that they have chicken corn soup." Rehan whispered in my ear.

I turned to face him with a smile. "I'm very grateful for that. I can't eat when I'm nervous, but since I'm starving, I'll have some soup."

"Why are you nervous?" His hand slid down my arm and his fingers laced through mine. 

"I want everything to go well. I don't want anyone to have a reason to complain." I adjusted the drape of my sari.

"Nobody would complain. Everything is going smoothly, Alhumdulillah." Rehan squeezed my hand.

But even as my husband kept his intense gaze on me, my own eyes ran over the ground, focusing on everyone to make sure all was well. And then I saw Arsalan sat at a table with Tahira, both smiling as they talked about something. 

Rehan must have noticed a change in my expression, because he followed my gaze, before turning back to face me with a pointed look. I raised both eyebrows at him, and he sighed. "Anya, I've already dropped a hint or two. I trust him to respect that. But they were university classmates. Talking at a wedding event isn't the end of the world, especially when we're all nearby."

I nodded. "I know. I trust my kids to know what their limits are."

And yet what happened a few minutes later made me question my own words. I smiled as I saw Yamna struggling to straighten her dupatta as she walked towards the garden. "Yamna, honey, let me fix that." I called her over.

She came over to me and I tied the dupatta in a knot around her waist. "Okay now?"

"Thank you, Tayi Jaan." She smiled at me, and then at Rehan. "Tayan, I'll also help bring Haya Appi out."

He crouched down in front of her. "Of course you will, meri jaan. You think your Haya Appi will come out without you?" He ran a hand over her head, and I smiled at the adoration in his eyes for his only beloved niece. He stood up, and Yamna walked away.

She was barely a few feet away when a boy of around twelve or thirteen seemingly intentionally shoved her. Losing her balance, Yamna fell onto the ground, shrieking. Her bangles broke and her glasses slipped off.

"Yamna!" Both Rehan and I yelled, rushing towards the sweetheart little girl.

"You son of a b***h." 

I stopped in my tracks as I heard the furious voice of my elder son, Rohaan. "Ro..."

Rohaan rushed towards the teenage guy, and shoved him with both hands, causing him to fall onto the ground.

"Rohaan!" My heart pounding hard, I walked forward towards my son. "Please, stop. Rohaan..."

To my relief, Saim appeared and pulled Rohaan away, holding him back while nodding reassuringly at me. Meanwhile Shayaan helped the teenage boy up, who was glaring at Rohaan.

I continued walking towards where Yamna sat on the floor, crying as Rehan soothed her.

"Let me have a look." To my surprise, Aariz had rushed over upon noticing the commotion, and bent down next to Yamna. "Can someone get me a first aid kit?" He spoke in the softest tone ever to Yamna. "Is it okay if I take a look and clean up your arm? I'm a doctor, so I know what I'm doing, don't worry." A warm smile lit up his face. 

Yamna nodded, leaning against her Tayan for comfort. Even as her own parents crouched down beside her, Yamna buried her face against her Tayan's chest as he held onto her. 

Somebody brought along a first aid kit, and Aariz began to clean up the cuts on little Yamna's arm.

*

Haya

"Yamna got hurt!" 

Those are the only words I heard from one of the daughters' of family friends, and kicking my stupid sandals off, I got up and rushed out of the room.

"Haya Appi!" 

I didn't care about rituals or procedures. I was worried about my Yum-Yum. I ran down the corridor towards the backdoor, and as I stepped out I immediately spotted her...giggling as Aariz spoke to her while cleaning up her cuts. 

"Haya!" Mama looked startled to see me.

Aariz looked up, his gaze slowly running up until his eyes met mine. A corner of his mouth lifted up in a smile that made my heart pound hard.

"Haya, what are you doing?" Mama immediately walked over and grabbed my forearm.

"I came to check on Yamna." Barefoot, I headed to where my cousin was, I crouched down. "Are you okay, Yum-Yum?" 

Yamna nodded, snuggling up against Papa in his arms. "Aariz Bhai took care of me." She held up her arm where I saw plasters.

"So, is your name Yum-Yum?" Aariz asked her, gently.

"Yamna. But Haya Appi and my loved ones call me Yum-Yum, especially my Haya Appi." Yamna looked at me, before turning back to him. "Please take care of my Haya Appi. She always takes care of me." 

"I'll always take care of her." Aariz promised her. "But the thing about your Haya Appi, from what I can tell, is that she is excellent at taking care of herself and those around her." He looked up and met my gaze.

"She is!" Yamna nodded, eagerly.

"Alright, let's get up." Papa said, getting up and gently helping Yamna to her feet. "Arsal, show Aariz to the bathroom so he can wash up."

"Since Haya is out here anyway, she can show him." Dado suggested, amusement blatant on her face.

A light laughter erupted around the group of family surrounding us.

"Good idea, Nina." Nano smiled.

My cheeks turned red and I looked at Aariz. "Come on." I led the way inside, careful not to step on a stray stone or something. We didn't need Aariz doing overtime all day today when it was meant to be his Nikah day.

I stopped in front of the bathroom and turned to face him. "Here it is." 

His gaze was on me. "Ma Sha Allah, you look very beautiful. Apparently, there's a dua I must recite upon seeing you for the first time as my bride." He pulled out a small piece of paper from his pocket and recited something. He then, to my surprise, pushed back my dupatta slightly and stepped closer to kiss my forehead. 

I felt butterflies in my belly and I closed my eyes, placing my hands on his upper arms. As he pulled back, I noticed a little blood stain on his cream sherwani. "Oh no." I whispered, pointing towards it.

He glanced down, before looking up at me with a smile. "It's okay. Nothing I haven't seen before."

I giggled.

*

Rohaan

I was heading down the side of the house towards the front of the house, when I heard someone call out to me.

"Listen!"

I turned and saw a man with a receding hairline walking towards me, an angry frown on my face. "Yes?" 

"Since you don't care about picking on people your own size, I'll teach you how to not mess with a kid." He shoved me roughly against the wall. 

"Oh yeah, and your brat pushed my cousin?" I asked. "Shame on you, Uncle. Pushing a guy half your age."

"You rich b*****d. No manners, no common sense. You f***ing think you're above the law, init."

"Wow, you must be feeling so big talking to a twenty-year-old like that." I sneered. "Why don't you teach your kid some manners then, and tell him not to shove little girls?" 

He grabbed me by the lapels, shoving me against the wall again.

"Hey! Leave him alone!" Shayaan suddenly came running towards us, and lunged at the man, pushing him off me. "What the f**k, man? You're a forty-something man picking on a twenty-year-old."

The man straightened his kameez, constantly glaring at me.

Why am I always getting involved in situations like these?

"Get out of here before I call his dad." Shayaan threatened the man.

The man pulled out his phone and dialled a number before speaking gruffly into his phone. "I'm waiting in the car. Let's get out of here." He turned and headed towards the front of the house.

"You okay, man?" Shayaan asked me.

"What the f**k is wrong with people?" I wondered out loud.

"People can't bloody teach their own kids, and they are lecturing other people's children." I muttered.

"Yaar, tu pitda'i rehnda ay har waqt?" He chuckled.

*"Man, you're always getting beaten up."

I shrugged. "I don't know. Violence seems to be attracted to me."

*

Haya

I finally came out like a 'normal' bride. And I mean 'normal', as per society's standard. For me, normal is when you behave exactly like yourself, which was what I had done. I had heard about Yum-Yum getting hurt, and I had run without thinking twice.

Now, with my arm through Hoor's, and my other hand tightly gripping Yamna's, I made my way out, followed by the rest of the girls that included Ifra, Syra and Tammy Appi. I now wore those stupid heels and had to really focus on each step that I took. One wrong move and I would have a killer ankle twist. 

Your husband is an orthopaedist, well trained in physiotherapy.

I wanted to facepalm. This way becharay will be on duty eternally.

As I got closer to the stage, Hoor and Tammy Appi helped me up, while Aariz held out his hand. I placed my hand into his and as his fingers wrapped around my henna-covered hand, I felt a tiny spark run down my entire arm. I stepped onto the stage and stood beside him. 

"So, no need for formalities, I suppose? We already had a dramatic first post-Nikah meeting?" Aariz whispered, leaning closer to me.

I tried not to smile too widely, and focused on the photographer instead, who was gesturing his arms to us to get closer together for a photo. Aariz stepped closer. Slowly, almost cautiously, he lifted up my hand, as it was a delicate object. 

"As an orthopaedist, you must realise that the human hand is not delicate enough to break upon simple touch." I grinned at him, clasping my own hand tightly around his. 

"Especially one who is good at catches in cricket?" He asked, an eyebrow raised.

"You said it, not me. I don't admit things like that, because one must remain modest at all times."

He chuckled. "Life will be very interesting with you, Haya. In Sha Allah." 

I simply smiled at him.

*

DISCLAIMERS: The characters are not perfect Muslims. Physical contact between non-mehrams is forbidden- not counting medical exemptions, etc.

Arsalan

"Have you eaten properly?" I approached the table where Tahira was sitting.

Her plate was empty and she was sipping from a glass of water. "Yes, thank you. In fact, I think I should go." 

"Already?" I asked. "Did you have dessert?" 

She stood up, giving me a soft smile. "I'm full. I'm just going to thank your parents and Miss Hooriya for inviting me." 

"How will you get home?" I asked, concerned.

"The same way that I came. In a cab." She replied, picking her purse up. 

"I can drive you home, if you want." I offered.

"Aslan, this is your sister's Nikah. Enjoy and stop being worried about me." She laughed, lightly. "It's the middle of the day anyway. I'll be fine." 

"Sorry." I rubbed the back of my neck. How could I make her understand that I was overprotective of her after all the trouble that she had faced? "Let me at least walk you out after you have said goodbye to my family."

Tahira met Mama and Hoor Appi, and they both hugged her and thanked her for coming.

I then walked her out, down the side of the Tariq family home. Right down this narrow walkway, Ro and I used to run around chasing each other, but we were stopped by the gate that was normally closed at the front. Today it was, obviously, open to let guests in and out.

Tahira quickly booked a cab, and glanced around as she tapped her foot impatiently. A few seconds later, she exhaled deeply and turned to me. "Aslan, I know you're worried about me, and I appreciate it. But I'm a grown adult. I can watch out for myself." 

"Of course you can, I don't deny that." I nodded. "But as your friend, I am worried, and I can't deny that either."

"There's no need to be worried. I'm free now and I'm happy." She placed a hand on my arm, but almost immediately removed it. "Sorry." She looked down awkwardly.

"I've spent weeks worrying about you, Tahira." My voice turned heavy with emotion. "There was a time that I even thought that you..."

"What? That I died?" 

My jaw clenched and I looked at her.

"No. Uh-uh. Nobody in that family is worth me harming myself for." She shook her head.

"Yeah, but I didn't know that, and honestly, Tahira, I was freaking out!"

She blinked at me in surprise, probably taken aback by my sentimental outburst.

"Outside my family, you are the only one who made me feel like I could be courageous and strong if I wanted to be." I explained. "You encouraged me, made me feel better about myself. So how could I not have worried about you after your sudden disappearance?"

Her eyes filled up an she glanced away. As a tear rolled down her cheek, without thinking I immediately reached forward and wiped it using my thumb.

"Don't cry. You've cried enough, yaar." I whispered.

"You don't understand, Aslan. Nobody has cared about me the way you have, and it's not right because we...we don't...this is wrong." She shook her head again. "I can't...we..."

"Do you feel anything for me?" I knew I was entering a very dangerous territory, but I was at a stage where I had lost control of myself.

She stared up wordlessly at me.

I slowly took her hands in mine, clasping our hands together, palm-to-palm. Her hands tightened around mine, our gazes still locked intensely. I took a step closer and leaned down towards her, my lips brushing against the fresh drop of tear on her cheek. She inhaled sharply, closing her eyes. I then moved towards her lips, which parted slightly. I felt her breath against mine and the slightest touch of her lips against mine. 

"ASTAGHFIRULLAH!" 

I jumped and pulled away from Tahira, turning around.

"Aslan!" Gasping, she ducked behind me.

A family had been leaving the Nikah ceremony, walking towards their car: an elderly woman, a couple in their thirties and two young kids who were busy running around.

"Haye Allah!" The elderly woman placed a hand over her chest, looking shocked. "You're Anabia's youngest, aren't you? Astaghfirullah!"

My blood felt cold and my arms were shaking. "Tahira, go." I whispered over my shoulder as I saw her cab enter the driveway from the corner of my eyes.

She rushed towards the cab and quickly got in before the car drove away.

"Astaghfirullah! Itni khulay-aam beghairti!" The woman shook her head.

*"Such public shamelessness!"

What have I done?

"Aisi aulaad se behtar hai Allah aulaad hi na de." The woman turned to the younger couple. "Let's go. Clearly this family has no morals."

*"It's better that Allah doesn't give you kids, than to have a child like this."

But I didn't care what she was saying. Trembling, I raced towards the house, tears in my eyes. Before anything, I had broken the laws of our religion. 

I went straight up to the room I usually stayed in at my paternal grandparents' house. I fell onto my knees as I tried to run towards the bathroom, the guilt and shame eating me up internally. What have I done? What have I done? Allah, I'm so sorry.

I sat on the floor right there, my head in my hands. "What have I done? What have I done? What have I done?" 

After fifteen or so minutes, I got up and headed to the bathroom to perform wudhu. Once I was done, I headed back out, spread out the prayer mat and practically threw myself on it in prostration. I cried hard, begging to my Allah to forgive me.

For some, it might not be a small matter. Oh, it's just a brief kiss, why is he overreacting? But my religion forbids these things. I had disappointed Allah. I had let my parents down. I had probably created a major scandal at my paternal grandparents house on the day of my sister's Nikah!

Ya Allah, please forgive me. I promise I will never make this mistake again, just please forgive me. I beg to you, Allah. I'm repenting from the bottom of my heart. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

But even though Allah is All Merciful, and certainly Forgiving towards the repentant, the same cannot be said about humans. 

And without wanting to, I had started a major metaphoric fire.

*

Anabia

The guests were starting to leave, and I was satisfied because everything had gone smoothly. Alhumdulillah.

"Anabia! Anabia!" A shrill scream made me turn.

I turned to see a woman my mother's age marching towards me, her nostrils flaring. From what I knew, she had accompanied some family friends, but I couldn't recall her name. "Yes, Aunty?"

She was creating a scene, causing people to stare at us, even the bride and groom.

"What's the point of all this drama?" The woman gestured towards the stage. "When you have no respect for the laws of Allah." 

I blinked, startled. "Excuse me?" 

Rehan immediately excused himself from where he was with friends, and came to my side. "Sorry, what's the issue?" He frowned, placing a protective hand on the small of my back.

"Shall I tell you both amongst all these people? Trust me, you both won't ever be able to face anyone again." The woman said, accusingly. "When you have openly given freedom to your kids, what's even the point of this Nikah drama?" 

My cheeks were burning and I looked at Rehan, trying to see if he had any idea what this was about, but he looked just as clueless.

"What's the meaning of this?" My mother-in-law walked over to us, standing on my other side. "Why are you creating drama at my granddaughter's Nikah?"

"Do you even know what your beloved grandson was doing, Nina?" The woman continued. "He was abusing the laws of Islam, and of our culture. Astaghfirullah, he was kissing a girl...on the mouth...right in front of your house."

I stared at her in disbelief. "That is a vile accusation and I will not tolerate you defaming any of my children like that! Please leave immediately."

"Control your children, before they corrupt others in the social circle." The woman glared at me and Rehan before storming off.

I felt a gentle hand on my arm and turned to see that Haya had appeared right behind me, looking at me in concern. Hoor had also made her way over, and I saw Rohaan also making his way over, with a bowl of kheer in his hand.

"Where's Arsal?" I asked quietly. It wasn't that I didn't trust my kids. In fact, I just knew that he couldn't have even thought of doing something like this. He was my sweet innocent Arsal. As for Rohaan, even though he acted like a bad boy, even he would never cross his limits. 

"She wasn't talking about me. I've been raiding the kheer." Rohaan spoke almost defensively. "And she couldn't possibly mean Arsal." 

I looked at Rehan, my heart sinking, before I shook my head, blinking back tears. "No, she couldn't. This is clearly a misunderstanding." I glanced around, trying to regain control of the situation. "I apologise for this everyone. This is definitely a misunderstanding. Please carry on, as you were."

Where's Arsal?

"Of course it's a misunderstanding!" My mother-in-law said. "What's a wedding without drama, and I suppose this was the drama." 

Where's Arsal?

I knew the guests didn't believe me, but they all had been leaving anyway, and soon the ground cleared, leaving behind just the families of the bride and the groom.

Where's Arsal?

I stormed towards the house, unable to tolerate anymore. I felt nauseated. I felt on the verge of collapse. I needed to reassure myself more than anything. 

Stop it, Anabia. You are showing signs of mistrust towards your baby. Your Arsu. He's always been a Mama's Boy. He would never hurt you like that!

I headed to the kitchen instead and poured myself a glass of water, sitting down at the kitchen table. No. This was definitely a misunderstanding. Our children would never break our trust like that. I took a few sips of water, composing myself, before getting up to head out again.

But then I heard the shuffling of footsteps in the hallway and I walked to the kitchen doorway.

Arsalan was making his way down the hall, head bowed. 

"Arsu?" I whispered softly. He looked up and I just knew. His red and swollen eyes and a dried tear track on his cheek. Every time, since he was a very young child, and he had made a mistake and came to confess to me, he had this very same expression.

And he seemed to know that I knew. "M-Mama, I'm sorry. I d-didn't...I didn't know what came over me. I c-couldn't stop myself. I kissed..." 

I placed my hand over my mouth, muffling a sob as fresh tears filled my eyes. Disappointment, and to some extent, hurt consumed me. Where had we gone wrong? Wordlessly, I turned and walked out of the back door, wiping away my tears. 

"Mama, I'm sorry. Please, just listen to me..." 

I continued walking towards the ground, where I could see Rehan talking to Aariz, both looking serious. Our younger son-in-law nodded in an understanding manner, before placing a hand on my husband's shoulder. Hoor was talking quietly to Haya as the twins sat on the stage. Rohaan was also in a serious conversation with his Chachu and Mamu.

It should have been a wonderful day. A new beginning for my Haya. Another joyous occasion for our family to gather together. Instead, I felt like a complete failure as a mother, as a parent. I hadn't raised my kids properly enough to follow their Islamic values. I had failed in the duty set to me by my Creator upon birthing a child. 

Somehow, Hareem came up to me, and grabbed my arm gently. "Ana, you okay?" She glanced over my shoulder. "Arsal, are you okay?" She then again looked at me carefully.

"It was a misunderstanding, as I said." For the first time ever, it seems, I lied to Hareem. I had to protect Arsalan's reputation, no matter what. "I'm just extra emotional because my second daughter is married now as well. Alhumdulillah, but it's very bittersweet."

"I know." She smiled sadly. "It's so hard to believe that our sweet little twins are all married off." 

"Time flew by so quickly." My voice broke. 

"Mama, can I get you some water?" Arsal was suddenly by my side, his pleading eyes carefully studied by expressions.

"Hareem, did you get a chance to talk to Mama? She was asking about you." I took my best friend by the arm, and took her towards my mother.

*

Haya

My mother was extra emotional. Yes, it was because it was my Nikah, but I had a feeling that she was shaken up by the drama created by that random woman. But I felt something was truly wrong when I saw that Arsal was also moping around.

Was that woman right? The thought unintentionally entered my head.

No, stop being stupid, Haya. 

Hoor and I had been discussing the whole drama, and we had both concluded that we both completely trusted our brothers not to behave in such a manner, and now Hoor had gone off to say goodbye to her husband and in-laws. She was going to be staying the night with us tonight.

Aariz came back onto the stage and sat down beside me.

"I don't know what that drama was about." I admitted, shaking my head.

He placed his hand over mine. "Whether it was true or not, it doesn't matter. It doesn't change my opinion of you, Haya." 

I looked at him. "These kinds of drama are often damaging to relationships."

He sighed. "Unfortunately, I'm aware of that. But I'm telling you, Haya, it won't impact us, okay?"

I looked towards my mother, feeling worried about her.

He followed my gaze, and squeezed my hand. "My family and I will be leaving now, Haya. But take care, okay? Of yourself and your family."

I nodded, glancing down at my clasped hands. He lifted our clasped hands to his mouth, softly kissing my knuckles. This was enough for now. This wasn't a love marriage, rather an affectionate one, but we would slowly find a way to develop our relationship. In Sha Allah.

*

Rehan

I was the last one to arrive home, after taking charge of getting the garden of my parents' house cleared up. After that, I'd gone to pray Isha at the mosque, and by the time I reached home, it was too quiet.

I walked towards the family living room when I saw the light on. "Assalam Alaikum." I greeted three of my four kids, the only one present in the room: Ro and the twins.

Ro was lying back on the sofa, his gaze on the phone, while the twins were watching a quiz show. "Walaikum Assalam." They all replied tonelessly.

"Wow. Zombies have more life in them." I shook my head. "Where's your mother?" 

"She went to bed. She had a headache." Hoor glanced at me.

Haya stood up and walked over to me, looking sheepishly. "Papa..."

"I know, Aariz called me first. I told him that if you're okay with it, why should I have any issues? Just don't be out too late, okay?" 

Nodding shyly in an almost uncharacteristic manner, Haya picked up her phone from the sofa and rushed towards the front door.

"Take the key. I don't want you waking anyone up simply because you forgot to take it!" I called out after her.

"Yes, Papa!" 

After I heard the front door shut behind her, I turned to face the remaining two. "Arsal gone to bed too?" 

"Yep. That little grasshopper didn't even do any work and he's tired."

"Oh yeah, and you set up everything by yourself in the garden of your Dadiyal home, huh?" I teased, heading out. "Good night, you two."

"Good night!" 

I headed up the stairs, but slowed down halfway in the corridor when I saw Arsal sat on the floor by our bedroom, leaning against the wall. Till now, I had brushed off the lady's accusation as just a misunderstanding on her part. No part of me wanted to believe that my children were capable of anything like that. But now the lady's words crashed back into my mind as I saw my youngest child sitting there miserably on the floor. "Arsal?" 

He stood up. "Papa, she won't open the door. She's not talking to me. Please get her to at least hear me out."

Holding back any suspicions or judgements, I asked him calmly. "What happened, Arsal?" 

"I...I ki...kissed Tahira." He admitted, his head lowered. "And I know there was a drama about it. Shayaan messaged me." 

For a few moments, I stared wordlessly at him. And when I spoke, I kept my voice quiet. "Go to your room, Arsalan." 

He looked at me with pleading eyes. "Papa, please. Please. She hates me. I need to talk to her. Please, Papa..." He glanced towards the closed door of our bedroom.

"Arsalan, go to your room. Now." My jaw clenched.

But then he started trembling right in front of my eyes, shaking his head as he pressed his clasped hands against his mouth. "Papa, Allah will never forgive me. I broke the rules. I hurt you both. I hurt Mama. I'm so sorry. Papa, I'm so, so sorry." He was crying now, his obvious guilt coming out in the form of tears.

Sighing, I ran a hand over his head. "We'll discuss this tomorrow. Right now, I need you to go to your room. I need to talk to your mother." 

"I promise I'll never repeat this mistake again. I promise, Papa. But please get her to talk to me. Mama hates me. Please." 

Fathers are often perceived as the tougher parents; the ones who are able to have a firm control over their emotions. But mother or father, what parent could witness their child breaking down like this and not soften up? 

"Arsal. Ask Allah for genuine forgiveness, and never repeat such mistakes. Allah forgives the repenting ones." I put my hand over his shoulder. "As for your mother, give her time. More than anything, I know she feels disappointment, because I have the same feeling as a parent. And you've always been so close to her, so of course she's more hurt by this."

"I want to apologise to her, but she won't even let me in."

"I'll talk to her. I won't ask her to forgive you, because she'll have to do that herself when she's ready. But I'll ask her to at least hear you out, okay?"

Arsal looked so small and vulnerable that I ended up hugging him, patting his back. I then turned and opened the door of our bedroom and stepped inside. Giving my youngest son a reassuring nod, I closed the door.

The main light was switched off, but the bedside lamps were on. Anya was lying on her side of the bed, her back to me. I got into bed beside her, propping up on an elbow and placing my other hand on her upper arm. "I know you're disappointed, Anya. I am too. But right now, the kid's self-loathing is a punishment enough."

She turned onto her back and stared up at me. "You said that it wasn't the end of the world if they talked at a wedding event, especially with us nearby. You said that they are university friends, and that it was no big deal. Well, he kissed a girl, right outside your parents' house, publicly and with no shame at all. Is that not a big deal either?"

"Honey, Anya, I'm not saying that it's a small thing that he did. Of course not. But I saw him just now. He's a mess. He feels genuinely guilty for this."

She sat up. "So what? I'm meant to say, 'Oh, that's okay, beta. It happens!'?"

"Hear him out, Anya."

"Hear him out? I'd hear him out if he had some defence! But he doesn't! He..." She shook her head in disgust.

"Just hear him out once, Anya. Please. You know how much he adores you, and what you mean to him. Of course he's upset about what he did, but he's even more upset that he let you down. Anya, he thinks that you hate him, yaar. Come on." 

Her expressions softened a little. "How can I ever hate him, or any of my kids?" 

"If we, as his parents, push him away when he makes mistakes, who will guide him?" I asked, gently. "He's our son, Anya. Scold him, tell him off, but don't push him away. We have a duty to guide them to the right path, but we can't do that by ignoring them." I could feel her calming down a little, and I smiled weakly. "We promised to keep all rifts and troubles away from our family. And if Arsu and his Mama have issues, what hope is there for the rest of us?"

She smiled as well, but then sobered up almost immediately. "I feel like I have failed as a mother. I couldn't teach him the values of our religion, properly."

"Anya, even the best of us come under the influence of Shaiytan, despite knowing that it's wrong. Sin is a part of being human. But how much is repentance emphasised in Islam? He's sorry, and he promised me that he won't repeat this mistake again."

"Fine. I'll talk to him." She sighed. 

I grinned, kissing her shoulder. "What will you do without me?" 

She rolled her eyes. "In Sha Allah, I'll never find out." 

I got out of bed again. "By the way, Haya's gone on a drive with Aariz."

"What? Really?" Her eyes widened before she groaned. "Oh God, what will he and his family be thinking of us?"

"Jaan, if Aariz thought negatively of us, he wouldn't have asked to take our daughter out for a drive." 

"Hoor's in-laws were there too, but we've known them forever, and they know us so I know they won't think negatively of us anyway."

I headed into the bathroom for a quick shower. 

By the time I came back out, Anya wasn't there. I smiled knowingly to myself, knowing exactly where she would have gone.

*

Arsalan

I heard a knock on my door, and I immediately got up from my bed and dashed to the door. Practically tearing the door of its hinges with the force I used to open it, I stared wide-eyed at my mother. "Mama...?" My voice sounded hopeful even to my own ears.

"Talk to me, Arsalan. I'm ready to hear you out." She said tonelessly, not looking directly at me.

But it was enough for me that she was here. With a smile, I stepped back to let her enter my room.

*

Hoor

I knew something was going on, but I also knew that I had to let my parents handle it. If it was anything of our concern, they would tell us.

I was now in the kitchen after Ro had gone up, having searched for (and found) a midnight snack. Oddly enough, ready salted crisps dipped in Arsal's favourite peanut butter seemed like the perfect idea right now...and God, it was delicious.

"What the actual hell are you eating?" Ro's repulsed voice came from the doorway, startling me.

I was sitting at the kitchen table, and I looked up at him as if I had been caught committing a robbery. "I thought you had gone upstairs."

"I felt like a snack too. A normal one." He shrugged. 

I smeared a particularly large crisp with peanut butter and muttered, "Don't judge." when I noticed my brother making a face.

"You have weird cravings." Shaking his head, he grabbed a packet of Oreos and headed out of the kitchen.

I froze, wide eyed. Cravings.

*

Haya

I sat in the car beside Aariz, an excited smile on my face. I was now wearing a pair of navy blue tracksuit trousers and a loose white t-shirt. Because it had gotten chillier with the approach of autumn, I had thrown on the matching tracksuit jacket, but leaving it unzipped. This was the real Haya, and I wasn't afraid of showing him that.

To my surprised, he also wore very casual clothes: black sports' trousers and a grey t-shirt. His bat-swinging biceps were quiet obvious in that, and I bit down on my lower lip to stop grinning uncontrollably.

We held hands as he sped down the motorway. 

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"I want to show you something." He didn't elaborate further, and I just sat back and enjoyed the ride.

But then he was turning into narrow county lanes, and then we were driving uphill, with the only lights being from the headlights of his car. I pursed my lips and glanced at him from the corner of my eye.

He chuckled. "Relax. You're safe with me, Haya." On top of the hill, he stopped the car and turned the ignition on. "Do you trust me?" He turned on the overhead light of the car and held out his hand. 

"It's still a very early stage, but since we have to start somewhere, sure. Why not?" I placed my hand in his.

Smiling at me, he got out of the car. I also got out and we walked around to meet each other halfway across the front of the car. Wrapping an arm around my shoulders, he led me up another slope. Guess we were not on top of the hill yet.

I resisted the urge to ask him again where we were going, but I suppose a part of trust was not to question. 

He had his phone torch light on, and we made our way up. "Look." He turned the phone light off.

I turned and my breath caught in my throat. The lights of the city gleamed beautifully, like sparkling stars in a dark night sky. "Whoa." 

He pointed towards the right. "There. See that?" 

"That's a cricket stadium!" I sounded excited even to myself.

"We're going to actually visit the stadium one day, In Sha Allah. And we'll go to every cricket stadium that you want to visit."

I turned my head to look up at him. He had his arm placed around my waist, and we stood almost huddled together. "I want to see art museums too." 

"We can start with Paris? Drop by and say hello to Mona Lisa." 

I laughed. "Sounds like a plan." I wrapped my own arm around him and leaned against him. I felt him softly place his lips at the top of my head. I looked up, and even in the dimmest of lights, our gazes clashed. I reached up to feel his light beard under my fingertips, and he turned to kiss my palm. Hesitating briefly, for reasons unknown, I closed my eyes. Then finding the inner courage somehow, I moved up on my tiptoes and pressed my mouth against his in the lightest of kisses.

He seemed surprised initially, but then he wrapped his other arm around me too, deepening the kiss.

And so, we had our first kiss under the dark blanket of the night sky, with the orangish lights of the city creating a soft, warm glow.

*

That's a lot of drama in one chapter. This family simply can't avoid it lol! 

Trouble always finds poor Ro.

Is there a special kind of news for Hoor?

Ok, don't hate me for what Arsal did. I'm trying to raise the importance of repentance, and also to show that humans, no matter how nice and harmless they seem, are prone to make mistakes/commit sin. But this has clearly shocked Arsal into remembering his limits.

Would Anabia forgive him easily?

Day one and poor Aariz is already yanked into the drama of their lives.

Haya and Aariz had a marriage of affection, so their development would be slow (kind of), but sweet. 

Finally, after all this, what would the consequences be for Arsal and Tahira?

Thoughts and comments?

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