The next morning birds chirped outside the bedroom window. Branches moved with the hot zephyr smacking the glass panes, beaks pecking at the sill. Sounds of wings fluttering outside with the tiny squirrels nuzzling nuts into their mouths was as close to nature one could get. Bright sunlight shone down on the carpeted roads and baked the black cars, heat trapped inside. Laziness took over the city that was famous for its activities. Inside large mansions, without air conditioning and inside the small hut like homes, without fans survival was impossible. Seeking shade under the trees was a necessity and a bottle of chilled water was more common than anything.

With privilege came the advantage of not facing the brunt of the weather. Instead it was the many workers that rushed in and out of the home, getting last minute chores done before the guests came over. Breakfast had been prepared, already served on the glass tabletop dinning table. Porcelain dishes with gold leaves and vines had been taken out of the owners large array of crockery. Around the home smiles and laughter were exchanged in silence and some with complete loudness, it was after all the first day after the marriage, a special moment in everyone's life.

On the top floor of the modern home were only two bedrooms, a master one and another for the occasional guests. The master bedroom belonged to Dawaar, the room that was for the first time since it's construction still covered in darkness despite the clock striking nine. Both Dawaar and Zaara had stayed up late after the reception, doing some talking and then a bit more, their bones were tired to the t as they fell asleep after praying their first prayer together. Usually by now, he would have rushed out of the home, already to his posh office, but some days called for a break in the usual life.

Thick black curtains had been drawn shut, the room was a mess with clothes strewn around carelessly. The two figures on the king sized bed, one that had the roughness of a built man and the other a softness of a delicate woman were hidden underneath the silk blanket, the two wrapped up in each others arms and their legs entwined together. No one could tell that they had only been married for two days, already a silent understanding and a beautiful bond had been established between the two, and they were still unknown to it.

"Dawaar?"

Zaara blinked her eyes open, still full of sleep she stirred into his arms, the bulge of his bicep around her frame made blood rush up to her face. Her lips remained parted for a few seconds, her attention stolen by the strands of hair that flopped on top of his forehead. Her fingers combed them back, the tips of her nails scratching his scalp. He looked so young she noticed, so different from when he was awake. His eyes and forehead were relaxed and the arch of his brow was not as much pronounced. The curl of his lips was pulled upwards, as if like an innocent child he was dreaming of something beautiful, she hoped one day he would tell her of his dreams, his aspirations.

"Dawaar".

"What is it?"

His voice groaned, arms retracted as he turned his back towards her, giving Zaara the chance to spoon him, her lips resting on his neck. She could not believe that he was notorious for being a morning person, clearly that was not the case right now. Grabbing the ends of her hair she ran them over his ear, giggling as he waved his hand around in annoyance.

"You think this is funny?"

Dawaar's deep honey like voice pinched her ear buds. Instantaneously, he had turned over, pushing her on to the mattress. His figure towered over hers, holding her wrists above her head he ran the length of her face down with his lips, leaving small kisses along her chin and neck. Zaara's breath hastened as his hands neared her waist, she knew what was coming. She had to free herself. Squirming under his heated gaze she fought hard to free herself, but his grip was stronger — which lead to him winning the tickling competition. For him, she was always winning to loose.

"That was so unfair!"

Zaara spoke, her heartbeat racing and the voice breathless.

"All is fair in love and war?" He questioned.

"Wow!" She clapped her hands together.

Dawaar grinned, he felt free. After years of having caged himself between the do's and don'ts of life, he had lost his own voice. He had struggled and fought hard to give his parents the independence and respect they deserved, in the midst of which he had lost his childhood. It was unfair, the way life moulded him to be a man he would never have been. Yet being with Zaara gave him hope, that there was still time for him to discover who he was, without any worries. She was his lucky charm already, everything was straightening out already, life was already a hundred folds better.

"Dawaar in whose thoughts are you lost?" Her soft whining broke his chain of thoughts.

"No one's Zaara." He rolled his eyes.

"Ap ko koi khas masla hai?"
[Do you have any serious problem?]

"Kia matlab?" He questioned, curiosity burning bright inside of him.

"Matlab ap bas khayal mein khoye rehtay hain magar baat tou koi hoti nahi. Thora sa suspicious nahi lagta?"
[I mean you're lost in thoughts but there is never any thought. Doesn't it seem a bit suspicious?]

"Life isn't as dramatic Zaara. Go get dressed your family is probably already here."

He had a speciality in dodging the topic of conversation. It had been a necessity when he lived with his grandparents. After all, no one liked to answer pointed questions thrown at them left, right and centre. Making them out to be culprits of a crime they had not even committed.

📜

Zaara wrapped her hand around Dawaar's in a death tight grip. Her ivory veil slipped down from one shoulder, the silver earrings inside her ears dangled to just a few inches above her shoulders and brushed her cheek every now and then. Dressed in a white anarkali, with her hair left loose in soft curls, she looked like a hoor. Her skin was dewy, glowing with the excitement of being a newly married woman, the stains of henna on her hands still as bright as ever. The hemline of her frock grazed the wooden staircases, the heels made clicking sounds and Zaara had to stop herself from squealing.

Her clammy palms left the grip of Dawaar's as soon as she saw her father seated on the cloud foam couch. Running to his embrace, her dress spilling around her, she sighed in relief. Her in laws had been true to their word and up till now no one had mistreated her. Infact, she felt like she had a new family, like there was no change in her life — at all. Dawaar had been understanding towards her ensuring that she never felt left out. For the first time since her mother's death she had felt a maternal warmth inside her life. Yet nothing could rival how she felt seeing her father in that moment.

"How are you abu?"

"I'm perfect. How are you? Are you happy?" He sounded worried.

"Everything is beyond okay, everyone is amazing you don't have to worry." She reassured, squeezing his hand in comfort.

"Jhut tou nahi keh rahi?"
[Are you lying?]

"Ap ki Zaara nai kabhi jhut kaha hai?"
[Has your Zaara ever lied?]

"You aren't his Zaara, you're Dawaar's Zaara now." Kaleem teased.

"Ap sab bohat buray hain! Eik din mein mujhe bhul gaye aur paraya kar dia. Theek hai mein dada abu ko ap sab ki shikayat kar dun gi!"
[You guys are all so bad! In one day you made me a stranger. It's alright I'll complain to grandfather about all of you!]

"Sorry!"

The two brother's spoke in unison, holding the ends of their ears in repentance. Zaara nodded, kissing their cheeks reassuring that no complaints would make their way to their father whom they still feared with all their might.

Dawaar stared at the three from his seat next to her grandmother. His hands were crossed against his chest, his gaze fluttered to her direction every now and then. She was so full of life, vibrant like the colors her wardrobe had painted his. Everything about her was so perfect. Zaara Khubaib — Zaara Dawaar demanded attention like it was her birth right anywhere she went. Not that he was complaining. He was surprised that she chose him as her life partner, he was often forced to be the backdrop in his own family, the grey character that blended in the walls.

Her laughter was the like gentlest of wind chimes chiming, her actions, like the way she waved her hands around or bounced in her place were beyond captivating. Zaara was winning his heart — a startling discovery to his own self, which perhaps would have remained forever unknown had her grandmother not interrogated him with the fierceness of an army general. He was startled as the realization took his senses by force, that throughout their breakfast he could not break the spell of silence. Dawaar was looking at everything with rosy glasses on, and it was just the beginning of a life time.

"Dawaar ap kuch kha kyun nahi rahay?" Zaara whispered.
[Dawaar why aren't you eating anything?]

"I'm not that hungry." He shrugged.

"That's like probably almost like blasphemy. I mean how is one not hungry after waking up?"

"Not all of us are like you Zaara sweetheart," he said.

Zaara practically swooned at the endearment. Her heart beat fluttered inside her ribcage, a thin sheen of blush spread across the apples of her cheeks like someone dousing a thin layer of water color on them. Dawaar stared at her with awe, a part of him was still in disbelief that she belonged to him. His left hand brushed against her kneecap under the table, squeezing it in lightly. His lips were titled in a barely there smile as he served himself some semolina pudding, the heart inside his chest skipping a beat as Zaara forced a morsel into his mouth.

Was marriage always so lovely?

"So where are you guys planning on going for vacations?" Humeira spoke once the men had left the room.

"I have no idea. Dawaar has an important meeting so for now nowhere." She shrugged.

"Meeting or he doesn't want to take you?" Zuneirah laughed.

"Sahi keh rahi hai, uski meeting hai. Magar inki tickets to Morocco kab sai aagai hain." Her mother-in-law rose to their defense.
[She is right, he has a meeting. However their tickets to Morocco have arrived since a long time.]

"Oh— Zaara should have said it clearly."

"It was a surprise for her, so Zaara act like you don't know okay?" Rumana's hand reached out to pat her cheek.

She nodded her head, she could keep secrets very well. Out of habit she slid her fingers over the thin bangles inside her wrist, they had been her first gift from her husband. Made of a platinum band with tiny diamonds littered all across, a single ruby embedded in the centre of them. It moved with ease on her slender wrists, back and forth. Disinterested she stirred the tea inside the small cup, sipping it occasionally, her opinions pouring out seldom.

📜

In the inky black night, as Dawaar worked through some of his last few important files, Zaara took place beside him. Her hands shutting the screen of his laptop down, pushing it out of their way. His stare had her shuddering for breath, the way his hands slid across her soft arms and then his thumb brushed the edges of her lips, sucking off the remnants of ice cream. Her fingers gripped the lapels of his suit, for a second she forgot how to breathe. The swirls of oblivious fire that threatened to take over and mar them in their tight grips — a reflection of his identity.

"Why did you do this?"

His heavy gruff voice was full of emotion, a finger inched nearer to her hair, playing with the ends tucking them behind it. Twirling the tiny teardrop shaped earring between his fingers.

"Do what?" Zaara smirked.

"Shut my laptop down, I was working on an important tender."

"Because you work too much. I'm your wife so I deserve all your attention."

"Zaara bachun ki tarah zid nahi karo."
[Zaara don't be stubborn like kids.]

"Bacha? Excuse me Dawaar I will not deal with this I'm a cold hearted man so live with it attitude — my name is Zaara, I can and I will make you bend to my rules. Understood?"

She had no idea what had taken over her to threaten him with such a tone. There was no meekness between her words as she pointed a finger in his direction, poking his chest with the tip of it.

"Not everything is so deep. Work is important Zaara." He said.

"I get it, but doesn't mean you get to ignore me, okay?" She pouted, her shoulders sagging.

"Never. I know I struggle to speak what I feel, it's a defense mechanism but with you, I would never do something like that. I married you because I am ready for companionship nothing else. Nothing takes precedence over you, no matter what people say. Zaara Dawaar is the most important part of my life, nothing will change that. Especially not an old woman who couldn't even treat her own grandson right!"

"Thank you Dawaar, these words mean more than any declaration of love could."

"Abhi tou ap ki sirf izzat karta hun, jab piyaar ho jaye ga tou izhaar bhi waisa hi ho ga."
[Right now I only respect you, when I fall in love I'll declare it with grandness too.]

The words were not just scribbles whispered against her skin, they were mighty fine promises, that would be embedded for a long time even after their last breath escaped their lips.