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Haya

Farhaan Bhai opened the door and gave us a welcoming smile as he greeted us. "Assalam Alaikum."

"Walaikum Assalam!" Aariz and I replied in unison as my husband hugged him.

I'd called to inform him that we were coming, out of basic courtesy,  but had asked him not to tell Hoor. I wanted to surprise my twin.

"She's in her room." My brother-in-law told me.

I looked at Aariz. "I'll just go and see her."

He nodded.

The two began to converse, and I headed down the hall to Hoor's room, knocking lightly on her door.

"Come in." She sound weak and confused.

I pushed open the door and entered, my lehenga brushing the ground. "Hey."

She was lying on the bed, and she opened her eyes. "Haya?!" She sat up, startled and shocked. "What are you doing here?" 

"You couldn't be a part of the rukhsati, so we brought the rukhsati to you." I grinned, walking over to her. As she began to get up, I placed my hand on her shoulder firmly, holding her down. "Don't get up." 

She looked pale and miserable. There were still traces of make-up on her face, and her hair was still partially styled. 

My heart ached for her. "You know what Nano says, right? For a worthy cause, we must sometimes fight battles, or sometimes even a war. You are fighting your own battle right now, but the cause is definitely worth it."

"I know, but it's so tough."

"Last time I check, battles were not about rainbows and sunshine and a walk on the beach. It's meant to be a struggle." 

"How are you so wise?" She sat beside me, leaning her head against my shoulder.

"Someone had to be, out of us four siblings." I laughed lightly, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. 

"I'm glad you came." She whispered. "It eases the pain I felt at missing your big day."

"I'm glad Aariz brought me here too. It eases the pain of not having you there." There are moments of my life that I could truly be vulnerable and expressive of my feelings. Being around Hoor was one of those times, because I could never truly hide my feelings from her. 

"Did you ask him to bring you here?"

"No. We got in the car at the wedding venue, and he asked me to enter your address on his phone, so that he could bring me here to see you."

"That's so sweet of him." She smiled.

"He already won bonus points in my book." I took her hand and squeezed it. "How are you feeling, Hoor?" 

"Like I was run over by a truck, knocking me straight onto train tracks, where I was run over by a train." She groaned.

"Ouch."

"Yeah." She closed her eyes, pressing her palm against her forehead. "But you are right. The cause is worth the battle." She sat up straight and looked at me. "How was rukhsati?"

I swallowed hard. "It literally felt like someone had cut up a piece of my heart and left it behind with Mama, Papa, Ro and Arsal." 

She nodded understandingly at me. "You can never prepare yourself enough for that moment."

I laughed. "I never knew that I was going to miss Ro this much."

"I knew it." She shrugged. "It was obvious to everyone. And I just know that he must be missing you too."

I scoffed. "I'd love to hear him admit it."

"Not going to happen."

"It will...when the sun freezes up into a ball of ice."

We both laughed, holding onto each other. 

*

Rohaan

"Hey." I leaned in the doorway of Arsal's room.

He was hanging up his sherwani, unlike me, who'd just tossed it onto the bed. "What do you want?" He was still a little upset about me revealing his Pakistan plans by snatching diary.

"I want to come to Pakistan too." 

"Why?" He looked curiously at me.

"It sounds fun, to be free for a month, and to be doted on by Nano and Kamran Nana." 

"I can't stop you. It's Nano's house. It's her call, not mine."

"Arsal..."

He continued ignoring me. With the wedding done with, the façade of siblinghood seemed to have fallen away, leaving behind nothing but coldness. 

Sighing, I turned to go.

"Why do you always do this to me?" His question stopped me in my tracks.

I turned to look at him.

"We're not kids, Rohaan. Grow up." His words were spoken quietly, but there was a harshness in them that stunned me a little. "I know you act out when you can't handle emotions, but respect other people and their privacy, rather than acting like a kid."

I knew that I had been wrong to snatch his journal and blurt out his secret in front of everyone, so I let him vent without interrupting.

"Maybe focus on building up a future, rather than acting like a clown all the time." 

For a few seconds, I couldn't believe that this was my brother. It seemed that he had been possessed by a spirit that was completely opposite to his personality. This wasn't the sweet, kind-hearted Arsal. This was someone mean and completely inconsiderate. What the hell has gotten into him?

"I'm sorry that this is your opinion of me, Arsal." I spoke in disbelief.

He turned his back to me, clearly indicating that he wanted this conversation to end. 

I headed out of the room, closing the door behind me. Reality was harsh, there was no doubt about that. And I knew that I probably annoyed a lot of people with my behaviour, but to hear those words from one of my siblings was the worst reality check that I could have ever received.

"Grow up."

"I know you act out when you can't handle emotions, but respect other people and their privacy, rather than acting like a kid."

Arsal's words kept repeatedly echoing in my mind, making me question my entire future plans. What am I even doing? Hooriya had her new goals, stepping into the management world. Haya had her gallery goals. After a brief desire to be a detective, Arsal wanted to follow Papa's footsteps into the world of publishing. What did I have? Football? I didn't even want to play professionally, so I had no idea how that would help me in life.

I was a goal-less, unambitious loser born in a family of smart, cultured people.

I had no idea what I was thinking, but I headed to my room and took out my laptop. My parents were authors, one of my sister and Arsal had inherited their writing talent. Haya had inherited Chachu's art talent. My paternal grandparents were bigwigs in the world of arts and culture. My Mamu fixed aircrafts for a living, which I believed was supercool, Ma Sha Allah.

And then there was me. A talentless twig who had not yet grown up.

I powered on the laptop and opened a blank Microsoft Word document. Arsal had installed a software that corrected grammar and spelling errors on anything that I wrote on my laptop, to help me with coursework and essays for university.

Football was a sport that came naturally to him, and he dreamt of playing besides the greatest of greats, making a name for himself besides the legends.

I wrote, and I wrote. I didn't care about grammar or spelling- which was being corrected by the software anyway. I just wrote what came to my mind. My jaw clenched as I focused on the screen, not even bothered by the exhaustion from the wedding of Behaya. 

To my surprise, I felt wetness on my cheek, and I immediately jumped as if I had been electrocuted. What the f**k, Ro? What is wrong with you?

My phone buzzed and I looked down at it.

<Arsal: I'm sorry. That was mean.>

For a few moments, I wanted to ignore him, to leave him on 'read'. But I couldn't do that. I knew that the guilt would eat the little grasshopper. 

<Rohaan:  👽>

<Arsal: What...?>

<Rohaan: 🤓>

<Arsal: I really am sorry, Ro.>

<Rohaan: 🤡>

<Arsal: 🙄 Fine, I get it. You don't deal with apologies well.>

<Rohaan: Nah, my previous emoji was describing how you looked today. Can't wait to see the wedding video and LMAO at it.>

<Arsal: 😒 Hilarious.>

<Rohaan: 😎>

It was easier to me to act nonchalant then to relieve to him or anyone how truly deeply his words had impacted me. I couldn't stop thinking about the harshness in his tone, or the stinging words. I always had a 'zero-s**ts-given' attitude, but I hadn't been prepared to hear that my own sibling thought this way about me.

Knowing that my parents were probably asleep already, I took my laptop down and placed it on the kitchen isle while I prepared coffee. It was really late at night, but now that I had started writing something, it was luring me back towards me.

You're so dumb. How delusional are you if you think that your writing will be anything more than a composition of crapness? My inner voice taunted me, strongly displaying a lack of self-confidence.

But I didn't care. I needed to seriously focus on my future; find a path for myself. This 'bad boy' nonsense didn't work in reality. Real life required seriousness and maturity, otherwise you become just a laughing stock who nobody took seriously.

To my surprise, Yamna walked into the kitchen, looking sleepy. Chachu and his family were staying the night, upon my parents' request. I think their presence comforted my parents in this Haya-less home. 

"What are you doing?" The little hamster asked me, curiously.

"I am writing." 

She squinted her eyes and blinked repeatedly. "Are you joking?"

"Why? You think I can't write, hamster?" 

"You always said writing is not your thing!" She wrinkled her nose in confusion.

"I am trying." I shrugged. "But this remains our secret, okay?" 

She narrowed her eyes at me. "After the amount of times you tease me, why would I keep your secret?" 

"Because I'm trusting you. If you consider yourself worthy of that trust, you won't say a word about this."

"I won't tell because you shouldn't tell other people's secrets." 

"Good little hamster."

"Stop calling me that!" She whined. She grabbed a water bottle from the crate on the counter, before turning to head back out.

I chuckled as I password protected my Word document.

Password: LilHamster.

*

Haya

I was smiling as Aariz drove us home, sneaking occasional glances at me.

"You don't have to be sneaky about it." He smiled as well. "You have every right to stare."

My cheeks turned warm. "I just wanted to thank you. What you did for me..."

"I may not be a twin, but I get the importance of that relationship."  He replied. "I could tell how much Hooriya's absence was hurting you."

"It was really weird, not having her around." I placed my hand on his forearm. "But what you did, eased that pain greatly. The fact that you care so much..."

"You are my wife. I have to care."

I laughed. "You sound like you wouldn't care if you had a choice in this."

"Well..." He also laughed as he saw my narrowed eyes. "Just kidding."

The word 'wife' sounded strange, but not in a negative way. It was just weird to think of myself as a wife. And yet, it also felt natural as Aariz called me that. 

*

That weird-unusual feeling only increased when we arrived at my new home. Rebecca Khalla welcomed us, and then she showed me to my new bedroom while Aariz chatted with his father in the living room.

"Consider me a maternal figure, Haya. If you need my help or guidance, do not hesitate to ask, okay?" She spoke softly as she helped me settle onto the bed. The décor wasn't extravagant or tacky; it was just perfect. There were red and white roses placed in bunches around the room, with artificial candles placed on the tables. The headboard was decorated with flowers, but nothing over-the-top. On the bed were two throw cushions, with one saying 'Mr' on the cover, and the other saying 'Mrs'.

She spread out my lehenga around me in a circular form. "May God bless you, my dear." 

I smiled up at her. "Thank you for everything, Khalla."

"Aariz is my whole world. I'd do anything for him, and now for his wife." Running a hand over my head, she headed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

I'd seen this scenario in Pakistani dramas, as Mama or Nano watched, where the bride is waiting for the groom. Somehow, I'd never ever pictures myself in this position. I always thought that I'd never have the patience to sit still and wait like that.

But there I sat, in the new bedroom which I was to share with Aariz, dressed as a blushing bride, waiting for Aariz to make his entry.

I felt a little hungry as I waited. Naturally, it wasn't possible for the bride and groom to stuff their faces during the wedding, only eating in bites. And now I was starving. Back at home, if I ever felt hungry at night, I'd message my siblings for a group snack fest, and naturally they'd join in, especially Ro.

I heard the door open and my heart pounded hard in my chest. Ignoring my stomach, I focused on my bangles and henna-covered hand, waiting for Aariz to approach the bed and sit down on it. I heard him opening and shut a wardrobe door, before he finally walked over and took a seat on the bed. 

*

Aariz

Haya's eyeshadow shimmered, her natural lashes almost brushing her cheeks as she kept her gaze down. The round nath hung over her dark red lips. She looked absolutely stunning, Ma Sha Allah. I handed her the moun-dikhai. "For you." I whispered.

She looked up at me, before glancing down at the jewellery box questioningly.

"It's a ritual. The groom gifts a bride on the wedding night." I explained.

She took the box. "Thank you." Opening it, she saw the leafy-patterned diamond necklace, with matching earrings. "Wow, this is beautiful, but you really didn't have to spend this much on me."

I gave her a small smile, before handing her the cuboid box. "And this one is a family heirloom that needs to be passed down to you."

She opened the box and glanced at the silver kangan. "Wow."

"My mother might not have been accepted by her in-laws, but my paternal grandmother left this for my future wife."

"This is also very beautiful." Haya looked at me again. "Thank you!" 

I took her hand in mine, setting her gifts aside. "I'm afraid gift-giving is not my forte. This must all seem so impersonal to you." 

"I already told you, there wasn't even a need for this." She reassured me. "And these gifts are beautiful."

I leaned forward, a small smile on my face. "Is the hoodie-and-trainers-wearing girl comfortable right?" 

"Well, I'm not uncomfortable, but I'd rather change." 

"Thought so." I nodded. 

*

When Haya came out after a shower, she was wearing a grey long-sleeved shirt with black night-suit trousers, which were both clearly a part of a set.

She stopped in the doorway of the bathroom when she saw that the TV was on. She looked at me questioningly before she realised that we were witnessing the first innings of a very important live cricket match of a very important tournament.

"Shall we?" I asked.

A wide grin appeared on her face. "We shall." 

"I'm going to shower, and once I'm done, we'll both watch the match together." 

"Sounds great." She smiled at me, her shower-damp hair curtaining her face.

When I came back out, dressed in grey casual trousers and a white shirt. I sat down beside her, as she focused on the match. Her nose wrinkled in irritation at a dropped catch, and I couldn't help smiling at that.

On a night when a couple gets to know each other; on a night where they grow closer, where they talk for hours, and do much, much more, Haya and I comfortably watched a cricket match together. I don't know if she felt the same, but I for one was very happy that I had a partner who I could happily enjoy my favourite game with, knowing that she loved it just as much.

And I became firmly convinced that night that it wouldn't take me long to fall in love with Haya: unconditionally, deeply and irrevocably.

*

Rohaan

I only slept after Fajr, which was why my mother was furiously knocking on my door in the morning.

"Rohaan! You need to take breakfast to Haya's home!"

"Behaya should make it herself." I muttered, sleepily.

"Rohaan!" 

I got up, knowing that this was Boss Woman's tone of finality. There was no more time to mess around. 

After the morning routine, when I came out of my room, I saw Papa heading towards the stairs, dressed as if ready for work. "Are you going to work even today?"

He turned to look at me over his shoulder. "I have a meeting that I simply can't avoid. Allah Hafiz, Rohaan."

"Allah Hafiz." I instantly turned and headed into my room. Turning my laptop on, I opened the email app and attached my one-chapter story, before typing a quick message.

The password is LilHamster.        -Rohaan

I sent the email, feeling more nervous than I had felt in a long time.

*

Haya

I had no idea what I had expected from last night, but it certainly wasn't watching a cricket match on my bed that was decorated with flowers for my wedding night.

Although the match had been thrilling, the wedding events had taken their toll on me, and I fell asleep with my head rested on Aariz's shoulder during the match, while we both leaned against the headboard.

I woke up in the morning tucked in under the duvet, alone on my bed. I could hear the sound of the tap running in the bathroom, and I sat up. 

My first morning in my new life. I brushed my hair away from my face. As I sat there, I shook my head, thinking about my 'wedding night'. Was there a rule on how a couple should act on this particular night? I had no idea. Yawning, I got up from the bed, slipping my feet into my new bedroom slippers. Everything was new, even my outfits. I was out of my comfort zone, with the lack of familiarity, but watching the cricket match last night was a good method by Aariz to ease my anxieties about this new living arrangement.

As I opened the wardrobe door, I stared blankly at the new dresses hanging in there. On one side were my colourful, sequined, lace, desi wear. On the other side were my western wear, including my familiar hoodie that was as cosy to me as a teddy bear was to a little girl. I smiled seeing it, wanting desperately to wear it, but knowing well that it probably wasn't the right thing to do. Mama had told me that until the first few days I should dress up a little; nothing over the top, but enough to give newlywed vibes. I had no idea what that meant, and I had asked Hoor for her opinion, but she had made it clear that our opinions on this would greatly vary, and that I shouldn't listen to her.

*

I wore slim-fit green trousers, with a matching tunic-style long-sleeved kurta that was adorned with cream-coloured lace. It was a sweet and simple outfit, and comfortable for me too; yet it wasn't so simple that it was considered unacceptable under Mama standards...or at least I hoped not.

Rohaan and Arsal were coming to drop off breakfast. Hoor and Farhaan Bhai were meant to come too, but couldn't, for obvious reasons.

The bedroom door opened and Aariz stepped into the room, dressed in white shalwar-kameez. He stopped in his tracks as he saw me. "Ma Sha Allah!" 

I smiled at him. "Do I look overdressed? Underdressed?"

"You look perfect, Haya." He walked over to me and took my hands. "Beautiful, Ma Sha Allah."

Despite the fact that last night had been our wedding night, there had been no room for romance. We were just a couple getting comfortable around each other.

But now reality had started to sink in. Aariz was my husband, and we were newlyweds who felt a decent amount of attraction towards each other- at least in my opinion. And as he tenderly gazed down at me, my heart beat faster, and all the blood rushed to my face. I gazed up at him, lightly chewing on my lower lip. I had no idea how to give a romantic reply, or how to proceed from here, so  I was hoping that he would continue. It was almost awkward how I was unable to even say a few sweet words to him.

"I wish we had remained awake for the match. It was so exciting." I blurted out.

Seriously, Haya? Cricket talk?

"Yeah, I saw the highlights. It would have been good to watch it live." He smiled, before tugging me closer towards himself. "But there would be other time to discuss cricket, don't you think?" 

I looked up at him, breathlessly. He leaned down slowly, placing his hand at the back of my neck. I closed my eyes. As I felt his lips press against mine, I felt a light gasp slip out of my mouth. This was all so new, so strange- but in a pleasant way, not a bad way. I wrapped my arms around his neck, almost cautiously, worried that he would think I was being too bold. It was an illogical thought, but as I stepped into this unfamiliar territory even further, I might as well have been stepping onto thin ice, worried that it would crack any minute. As he deepened the kiss, I felt myself relax; more at ease. He wasn't just anyone. He was my husband, and all this was made halal by the beautiful bond of Nikah. I had no more reason to hesitate.

I was in our little blissful bubble, and I was feeling very warm and secure here. 

Alhumdulillah.

*

Rehan

It hadn't been easy last night. It had been so damn difficult to come back home with Haya, for both myself and Anya.

I felt grateful towards my younger brother and his family for agreeing to stay at our place.

So in the morning, when the opportunity of an important meeting had arisen, I had immediately taken it, knowing that I would greatly feel the absence of Haya in the morning. Anya wasn't happy, because there was so much to do before we attended the Valima, yet it was obvious that she also understood how I felt.

I sat down in my office, powering on my laptop, before taking my phone out. I saw the notification for an email, and was surprise to see that it was from Rohaan. What has Rohaan sent me?

I opened the link and saw his message: The password is LilHamster. -Rohaan

With both eyebrows raised in curiosity, I opened the attached Word document, and typed in the password that he had given.

I stared speechless at the composition in front of me. 

Rohaan had sent me a story. And at the top of the page, were the words: Written by Rohaan R. Tariq.

A proud grin appeared on my face. My son, my Rohaan had actually written something. I was proud of him either way, but this moment had given me genuine delight.

I leaned back in my chair and read the chapter that my son had written.

*

Sorry for the delay, guys. My work life has been extra busy, with crazy hours.

So, Ro's life has taken a new twist! Will he step into the world of writing too?

I want Haya and Aariz's story to be a little different, so they will be getting unconventional moments as we go along...like watching cricket on their wedding night!

Thoughts and comments?

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