One year later

"Kisi kay baap sai nahi darti mein! Aj abba aajain sahi, tum sab ki shikayat na ki tou mera naam bhi—"

[I am not afraid of anyone's father! Let dad come home, if I don't lodge a complain against you all then my name is also not —]

"Zaara!"

"Kia Dawaar abhi tou climax ana tha meri acting ka!"

[What Dawaar the climax of my acting was yet to come!]

"Ap ka tou roz ka hai meri jaan, neechay ajain, iftari ka waqt honay wala hai".

[This is you every day activity my life, come downstairs, it's almost time for breaking fast.]

Zaara huffed, resting her hands on top of her hips, she poked her tongue out at him. There was still a lot of time before the maghrib prayer. Pulling her black veil off of the bed, she threw it in her neck with carelessness, walking past him hastily. The closeness of their bodies had her hand brushing against his warm chest. His alluring cologne filled her senses, the grappling warmth of his pectorals warmed up her blood instantly. Once calm and collected, Zaara felt frazzled as she saw his smirk from the corner of her eyes.

They had been married for almost one year, and the change inside their lives were drastic. It was not sudden, things had not taken a one eighty within one night. Instead it was a lot of pushing back and forth, moving between a stagnant river. There were times Zaara felt like ripping her hair out, getting through the icy walls her husband had built around himself was an art she still struggled to master. Many a times she had threatened him, that she would leave if he continued they way he did, but a single look at his crestfallen face and she was a puddle.

She was putty inside his hands, her father teased her about that. There was not a single day that went by that she was not thankful to have him in her life, he was her source of joy, and anguish at the same time. Their relationship began with a mutual fondness for each other, gradually deepening to a deep love that was understood silently without the need of words. They had their problems, stemming from her childishness and his seriousness, but where there was respect, one found ways to live.

Dawaar gripped her forearm, his hand wrapping around her muscles in a grip that would embed his touch into her skin, start a fire, but never leave behind a mark. He treated her like a porcelain doll, with great affection and gentleness that she had no idea his sturdy arms could possess. As he held her at nights, in the width of his arms he would cradle her face with softness and leave behind small kisses, plenty in number and firm in their own way. A blushing mess, his blushing mess.

He pulled her to himself, his thumb rolled over the flesh of her chin, painting it a bright pink in it's wake. She fought his hold, like a fish out of water struggling to get out and escape, like a deer trapped in the jaws of a lion in the mood to tease her. Dawaar's mouth rose an inch from it's dead straight line, his eyes a dark shade of humor. He pinched her chin, his lips brushed the top of her head. Zaara's hands fisted the material of his crisp button down shirt, scrunching it in her grip. Her eyes closed on their own accord, shaky breaths whispered secrets against his chest.

The two had fought last night, an explosive one. To the point that for the first time Dawaar had walked out of their bedroom, into the guest one. She too had sobbed into her palm, appearing for the sehri with eyes swollen worrying everyone at the table. Her happiness was by living in the arms of her husband, she wanted him and him alone, no luxury or hefty gift could amount to the way her heart fluttered anytime they performed a mundane task together.

"Sorry Dawaar!" She apologized.

Her thin almost translucent fingers brushed the beard that lined against his cheekbones.

"No. I'm sorry Zaara, I shouldn't have lashed out on you."

"No! It was my fault. You were doing it all for my benefit. Aur mein nai hi ap ko apna dushman bana diya," she said.
[And I made you my own enemy.]

"In this whole world if there is someone I would never, ever hurt, it's your Zaara. You my love, and I won't let anyone hurt you."

His lips pressed against the side of her head. Tears pressed against her waterline, a small sniffle fought it's way out of her throat. Her heart hurt. Her man, her husband had been nothing but sincere. His actions spoke volumes to her, the way his tone changed with her, even in the midst of her fury was a trait she had never seen in a man — her uncle's had a streak for being mean. Anytime she complained Dawaar tried his best to change, he had moulded himself according to her, and she had failed to even comply with the first request he had made her — in the whole year.

"I know! You're too good for me," she said, "I wish I could cherish you half as much as you cherish me Dawaar."

"Relationships aren't a business Zaara, profit, loss — value mean nothing unless there isn't respect, and I know you respect me!"

"Ap mujhe daantein! Meri ghalti hai, saza dein!"
[You should scold me! It was my fault, punish me!]

"Zaara you're not a kid I should punish. As a person you have the right to get your point across, to explain how you feel to me without feeling like it will be held against you."

"In this one year I've given you a list of requests, they've been fulfilled. You asked me for one thing and I fought over it, how do you still love me?"

Zaara was upset with herself. Why could she not cherish the man she had in front of her? Why was she so hell bent on testing his limits? Her heart trusted him with her life, blindly she would follow behind him and jump off of a cliff but anytime she was asked to show her loyalty to him, she fell short.

"You wanted to fast Zaara, your request wasn't wrong either."

"I'm pregnant, you were looking out for our child and I, I should have listened to you." Zaara sighed.

"Meri aulad ki walida, thora mature ho jain. Mujhe pata hai keh aap kabhi apnay bachay ka bura nahi chahein gi. Bas zara thori si fikr apnay baarey mein bhi kar liya karo."
[The mother of my kids, please become a bit mature. I know you would never want to harm our child. It's just think about yourself sometimes too.]

"Uskay liye ap hain na."
[For that I have you.]

"Hamesha, hamesha keh liye."
[Forever, and ever.]

With that he wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her down the stairs with gentle motions. He was like water. Cool and flowing in the direction life took him in, he was reserved to live that which he knew rarely only expanding out of it. Dawaar preferred to keep silent, making conversation that held little to no value was a thing he no longer enjoyed, instead he felt most at home when people moved away from him. Keeping to himself, Zaara was his true love. Someone that understood his wants and needs with a short look at him, nothing and no one could change that about them.

Her head brushed his chest just below his collarbone as they walked down the stairs. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, embarrassing her. As the flush spread across her skin, she took a deep breath. With a shaky sigh she cleared her throat, following behind him in nervousness. Her parents in law knew of the fight they had had, their silence at the sehri table was proof enough for them. They had treated her like their own daughter, she felt afraid to face them now.

"Come on Zaara, why have you stopped?"

"I'm – I'm sc-scared."

"From what?"

His eyes ran along the ceilings of the house. The paint was crackling from the water damage of the rains of monsoon and winters. He would have to call the contractors that built the house, clearly they had ripped him off. Such damage should not have happened at least until ten years after the construction. Sunlight that spilled in from the window on the stair case, fell right into the centre of her eyes. Zaara looked like she was about to break into tears any moment, his fingers gently grazed the skin of her upper cheek, in reassurance.

"Zaara you need to tell me what's going on."

"I-I can't face your parents after - after our fight."

She broke their eye contact, staring around the foyer. Her arms wrapped around themselves, as she moved on the balls of her feet. The skin of her lips had turned red and raw from the constant gnawing, an emptiness clawed at her chest as she thought of the let down looks she would be met with.

"Zaara." Rumana called in Dawaar's stead.

"M-m-mama!" She gulped.

"Jab rukhsat kar keh laye thay tou beti bana kar laye thay. Hum un logon mein sai nahi hain jo apnay betay par aankh band kar keh bahrosa kar lein gai."
[When we brought you here we brought you as our daughter. We are not one of those people that side with their son with eyes closed.]

"I know. I'm just ashamed at how I behaved."

"Nadaan ho, koi baat nahi. Ziada mat socho is baray mein."
[You are insolent, it's okay. Don't think too much about this.]

📜

Ten Years Later

"That was so unfair!"

Zaara spoke, her heartbeat racing and the voice breathless.

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

"Wow!" She clapped her hands together.

Zaara narrowed her eyes in the direction of her husband. Pinching his bicep she bit her lower lip, digging her thumbs even harder into the remote control she aimed for the character Dawaar had chosen. Shooting in his direction, profanities left her lips as he ducked. Avoiding the shot and wasting her turn, her hands smacked him on the back in fury.

"Why are you hitting me?" He groaned.

"Let me win once, for Aleem's sake!"

"No abu, she needs to win honestly."

Aleem, their nine year old shook his head with seriousness. The thick vision glasses slid off of his nose bridge from the force, spurts of laughter left their five year old daughter, Araa's mouth. The two high fived, their chubby cheeks red like the honey crisp apples their mother fed them each evening. It was always a joy watching her struggle against their father when it came to video games.

Araa was a copy of her mother, the same eyes and smile with the cheeky attitude to follow it. Already at her age, she had a talent for acting and was often found mimicking her mother whilst staring into the mirror. Aleem on the other hand, was a total one eighty from his sister. While he had his mother's eyes and his father's smile, he was more like his paternal grandfather. A mysterious and serious child, but he had his moments of energy where nothing and no one was safe from his mischief.

"Aj apnay abu sai kehna tum logon story sunain!" Zaara spoke.
[Tell your father to read a story to you tonight!]

"Mama not him!" Araa said.

"No no it will be him. After all he is your favorite, is he not?"

Zaara pinched Araa's nose, faking her anger she stood up from the bed tossing the remote control on to the space where she was previously seated, she stormed out. Taking steps smaller than usual, she counted down from ten inside her mind, giggling to herself. Her family was notorious for doing this, they would annoy her but could never stay away.

Ten years married to Dawaar had taught her that. The man could never live with her upset at him. He had changed for the better after the birth of their son. She had noticed the child inside of him resurface, the part of him that had been forced in to a corner as a child had began to come to the top, to breathe again once more. He was more youthful now than he had ever been, their two kids were their entire world and had brought about in them changes so positive that they too were sometimes shocked.

"Mama!"

Bingo!

"What is it?"

"We are sorry! You are the best!" Araa pouted.

"Yes you are." Aleem hugged her legs.

"They're right, you are. Without you we are all nothing."

Dawaar spoke, kissing her forehead. The family of four squeezed themselves into each others arms. Smothered in the affection they had for each other, their faces painted a bright red.

Tujh mein rab dikhta hai.

Thats a wrap babies.
Did you like it?
I struggle at short stories sorry
You know who doesn't?

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