Haris's decision was hasty, but he didn't regret it at all. His mother had always told him to never leave someone alone in trouble and to help if he could. The way the people in Haya's house were treating her in front of him made him wonder what they would do when he wasn't around. Haris felt no regret as he married Haya, determined to protect her.

On the other hand, Haya couldn't comprehend what had happened to her in the past hour. She was still in her home clothes: light blue pants and a straight kurti, with a matching dupatta draped around her neck that someone had placed on her head without her noticing. Shortly after, Tabu came and covered her face with a red dupatta. The cleric arrived, and though Haya couldn't hear what he said, she absentmindedly said yes and signed wherever she was asked to. And just like that, in such a short time, so much had changed. From Haya Sikander, she had become Haya Haris.

•••

Haris stopped the bike in front of his house and motioned for her to get off. They had both travelled in silence from Haya's house to here, neither knowing what to say.

Haya quietly followed behind Haris, who carried her suitcase (Tabu had hastily packed Haya's belongings, as Haya herself was too dazed to do anything) and walked towards the house. He opened the gate and motioned for Haya to enter, then followed her inside.

Bilqees, hearing the gate open, emerged from the kitchen. "Haris, tum aa..." Her words trailed off as she saw the girl in the red dupatta. Confusion and surprise crossed her face as she looked at Haris.

(Haris, you come...)

"Maa, yeh Haya hai woh..." Haris struggled with the introduction. "Maa, main apko sab samjhata hoon," he said, excusing himself. He took Haya to his room first, not wanting to discuss everything in front of her.

(Mom, this is Haya, she...)

Bilqees stood in shock, watching her son and the girl who was following him step by step.

When Haris returned, Bilqees asked sternly, "Haris, yeh kon hai?"

(Haris, who is she?)

"Haya hai..."

(She's Haya...)

"Naam tum mujhe pehle bhi bata chuke ho, yeh batao tumhare sath kya kar rahi hai." Bilqees had always been like a friend to her children but wasn't so liberal to remain silent if her son brought a girl home.

(You’ve told me her name before, now tell me what she’s doing with you.)

"Maa, aap baithe, main apko puri baat batata hoon. Isme meri ya unki koi galti nahi..." Haris gently held his mother's hand and led her to the sofa. Then, he told her the whole story, not hiding anything.

(Mom, please sit down, I'll tell you everything. It’s not her fault or mine...)

"Isme Haya ki bhi koi galti nahi, unke parents nahi hain shayad issi wajah se unke ghar walo ne yeh sab kiya." When Haris saw that Bilqees was silent after he finished, he added, not wanting her to misunderstand Haya.

(It’s not Haya’s fault either. Her parents are no more, and maybe that's why her relatives did all this.)

Bilqees was still in shock, unsure of what to say. Could even blood relatives be so heartless? How could the members of that household do this to their own brother's child without any fear of God? Why do such people forget that they will have to answer to Allah on the Day of Judgment?

"Haris, mujhe fakhar hai tumpe. Tumne musibat ke waqt uss larki ko akela nahi chorha, aur ussey sahara diya, tumne sabit kiya hai tum meri hi aulad ho." Bilqees said lovingly, cupping her son's face in her hands. "Main toh bas Haya ka sochke pareshaan ho rahi hoon, Allah jane iss waqt uspe kya beet rahi hogi."

(Haris, I'm proud of you. You didn't leave that girl alone in her time of trouble and supported her. You have proven that you are truly my son.)

(I’m just worried thinking about Haya, God knows what she must be going through right now.)

•••

When Haris left her alone, Haya quickly removed the red dupatta from her head and threw it aside. As the dupatta fell to the ground, she noticed it was the same one her mother had worn for her nikah, which she had carefully kept in her closet along with her parents' other belongings. She wondered how Tabu had remembered it. Sitting on the floor, Haya picked up the dupatta, feeling her mother's touch in it. It was as if her mother was still with her, offering comfort in this difficult time. Tears began to flow from her eyes, and she sat there, hugging the dupatta, pouring out her heart's sorrow.

She didn't know which injustice to cry over first. Her own uncle and aunt had crushed her dignity, sending her off with a stranger. She had no idea what would happen to her now. Haya had no hope for the future.

•••

Haya couldn't understand how she had fallen asleep. After everything she had been through, even breathing was difficult, but still, at some point in the night, exhaustion overwhelmed her mind and body, and she had fallen asleep. Haris had come back into the room, following his mother's instructions to give Haya some food, but found her asleep. He quietly placed the tray on the side table and approached her. Even in sleep, her face was so beautiful, with thick lashes holding a tear and her cheeks flushed. This girl had endured a lot today; it was better for her to sleep for a while. Haris covered her with a blanket, turned off the lights, and left the room. He decided to sleep in his younger brother Danish's room that night. He might have to spend many more nights there.

The ringing of the phone woke Haya. For a few moments, she couldn't understand where she was. After glancing around the room, she remembered everything. Before she could think further about it, her phone rang again. It was in her bag, and despite the intense headache, she got out of bed and went to her bag lying on the floor. She saw it was an unknown international number. Without thinking much, she answered the call.

"Hello, Haya?" It was Haroon on the other side, sounding very worried. But his voice made Haya's heart clench. Why was he calling her now?

"Haya? Are you there?" Haroon's worry deepened.

"Ji," Haya replied softly, trying to keep her composure.

(Yes,)

"Tum... Tum kaisi ho? I talked to Bhabhi... Haya, tumhe ek baar mujhe call karni chahiye thi... Yeh sab yun..." Haroon continued, and Haya listened silently. "Tum theek ho na? Woh kon hai kaisa hai? Dekho, tumhe bilkul bhi fikar karne ki zaroorat nahi. Main koshish karunga wapas aney ki, tumhare sath mummy papa ne bohot galat kiya main sab theek kar dunga."

(You... How are you? I talked to Bhabhi... Haya, you should have called me at least once... This all...)

"Nahi," Haya said suddenly, interrupting Haroon. "Meri zindagi mein, apko kuch bhi theek karne ki zaroorat nahi hai, Haroon."

(No,)

(In my life, you don’t need to make anything right, Haroon.)

"Haya, tumhare sath sabne galat kiya hai, main tumhari help karna chahta hoon." Haroon said gently. Since he had heard about Haya's marriage, he had been restless. Even though he was the one who had left her, he never thought that his family would treat Haya this way.

(Haya, everyone has wronged you, I want to help you.)

"Apne pehle bhi mere liye kuch nahi kiya, abhi bhi kuch karne ki zaroorat nahi." She stated plainly, without any trace of complaints, just the truth. "Please don't call me again." Saying this, Haya hung up the phone.

(You didn't do anything for me before. There's no need to do anything now.)

Haya sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at the phone in her hand. She felt drained, her emotions spent. The call from Haroon had reopened wounds she thought she had buried. She couldn't understand why he would call now, after everything that had happened. It was as if he wanted to ease his own guilt more than to help her.

Just then, there was a soft knock on the door. Haya quickly wiped her tears and stood up. Haris entered, carrying a tray with breakfast. He placed it on the side table and looked at her with concern.

"Aap theek hain?" he asked gently.

(Are you okay?)

Haya raised her head to look at him but again bowed it, not trusting herself to speak.

Haris noticed her hesitation. Sighing, he sat on the sofa. "I'm sorry, kal maine apse koi baat nahi ki. Kal jo hua, usko samajhne ke liye hum dono ko kuch waqt chahiye tha." He began the conversation. This issue had to be addressed.

(I'm sorry, I didn’t talk to you yesterday. We both needed some time to understand what happened.)

"I've thought a lot about this..."

"I'm sorry," Haya suddenly said, as if she just understood what Haris was saying.

Haris looked at her, puzzled, wondering why she was apologizing.

"Mere gharwalo ne apke sath galat kiya."

(My family did wrong to you.)

"Unhone apke sath bhi sahi nahi kiya," Haris reminded her.

(They didn’t treat you right either.)

"Aap mujhe divorce de dein..." Haya continued as if she hadn't heard Haris.

(Give me a divorce…)

"What?" Haris was taken aback by her demand. Their Nikah had just happened yesterday, under whatever circumstances, and now she was asking for a divorce.

"Main kisipe bojh nahi banna chahti, aur phir I'm sure apke apne kuch khwab, kuch vision honge future ko leke. Iss unchahe rishte mein bandhke ap unhe ruin na karein," Haya said as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

(I don’t want to be a burden on anyone, and I’m sure you have some dreams, some vision for your future. Don’t ruin them by being tied in this unwanted relationship.)

"Shayad apko abhi aur waqt chahiye iss barey mein sochne ke liye. Aap abhi bhi disturbed hain," Haris tried to end the conversation. What he was feeling, he couldn't tell Haya.

(Maybe you need more time to think about this. You are still disturbed.)

"Haris, main serious hoon..." Haya looked up at Haris, who had gotten up from the sofa to leave.

(Haris, I’m serious…)

"Nashta laya hoon, thanda hone se pehle kar lijiye."

(I’ve brought breakfast. Please eat it before it gets cold.)

Reaching the door, Haris turned towards her. "Apko kisi cheez ki zaroorat ho toh mujhe bata dijiyega. Rishta jin bhi halat mein hua hai, ab mujhse rishta juda hai toh yeh apka bhi ghar hai isliye aap yaha jhijhak mehsoos mat kariyega." And with that, he left. Haya kept staring at the door.

(If you need anything, let me know. Whatever the circumstances, this is also your home now, so don’t feel hesitant.)

She couldn't understand why Haris left without saying much. She had assumed that Haris would want to end this forced relationship as well, so why did he just walk away like that? His last sentence tangled her thoughts.

Haya wasn't hungry; she hadn't even touched the breakfast tray. She sat on the bed for a long time, lost in her thoughts. Now, a new wave of embarrassment enveloped her. She was a wife by force, living in his house. What must everyone here be thinking? Haya didn't even know who lived here. Maybe she saw Haris's mother yesterday, but she couldn't be sure.

There was another knock on the door. Haya looked up, expecting it to be Haris, but it was his mother.

Seeing her, Haya stood up from her place.

"Baithi raho," Bilqees stopped her with a gesture and walked in.

(Sit down,)

"Tumne nashta nahi kiya?" Bilqees looked at the tray on the table, untouched.

(You didn’t have breakfast?)

Haya didn't know what to say. She looked from Bilqees to the tray, unable to find words.

Perhaps Bilqees understood her hesitation, so she smiled gently at her and sat on the sofa.

"Haris ne mujhe bataya kal jo bhi hua," Bilqees began. Haya's head dropped in shame. Who knows what Haris had told her, but whatever it was, it couldn't have been good. Her own family had accused her of such a grave sin and forced her to marry a tuition teacher. What must Haris's mother think of her?

(Haris told me everything that happened yesterday,)

"Isme tumhari koi galti nahi hai, waqt ki sitamzarfi samjho. Socho yeh sab shayad aise hi likha tha," Bilqees said. Haya didn't expect to hear this. She had always heard harsh words from her aunts, who blamed her even when it wasn't her fault. But here was a woman who was a complete stranger, speaking to her with such kindness.

(It’s not your fault. Think of it as a cruelty of time. Maybe this was written like this.)

Haya looked at her in surprise. "Aunty, apke bete aur mujhpe bohot sangeen ilzam laga tha, Allah pak ne humare liye yeh toh nahi likha hoga."

(Aunty, a very serious accusation was made against your son and me, Allah could not have written this for us.)

"Nahi, shayad Allah ne tumhare liye uss ghar se azadi likhi hogi. Shayad woh log tumhare liye khudse kabhi koi sahi faisla na lete, jo log apni sagi bhatiji pe aisa ilzam laga sakte hain, main soch bhi nahi sakti unka raiwaiyya kaisa hoga tumhare sath." Bilqees paused to catch her breath.

(No, maybe Allah wrote freedom from that house for you. Perhaps those people would never have made the right decision for you themselves, those who can make such an accusation against their own niece, I can’t even imagine how their behaviour would have been towards you.)

"Aunty, yeh zabardasti ka nikkah hai." Haya said in a low voice. She wanted to explain this to Haris, but he had left without listening to her. So she decided to tell his mother.

(Aunty, this is a forced marriage.)

"Mujhe sirf nikkah ka pata hai. Tum dono ne Allah ko hazir o nazir maan ke ek dusre ko qabool kiya, ab yeh zabardasti ka nikkah kaise hua?"

(I only know about the marriage. You both accepted each other in the presence of Allah, so how is this a forced marriage?)

Haya hadn't expected Haris's mother to be so open-minded. Were these people really this good, or were they just pretending to be?

Bilqees sensed the turmoil in Haya's eyes and reached out to gently pat her head. "Tumhare liye sab kuch accept karna itna asan nahi janti hoon, lekin mujhe apne bete ka bhi pata hai. Usne yeh faisla kisi jaldbazi mein, kisi ke dabao mein akey nahi liya hoga. Bohot soch samajh ke usne yeh faisla liya hai. Tum bhi begair soche samjhe koi faisla mat lo."

(I know it’s not easy for you to accept everything, but I also know my son. He wouldn’t have made this decision in haste or under pressure. He must have thought a lot before making this decision. So, don’t make any decision without thinking.)

Haya's eyes welled up with tears. She had faced so much distrust and harshness from her own family that kindness from a stranger felt foreign. She nodded slowly, trying to hold back her tears.

•••

Despite not wanting to, Haya had been in this house for a week now. She had no other place to stay, so for the time being, she was living here. And without even realizing it, she had started to feel like part of this household in just a week.

She never had a passion for household chores; as long as her father was alive, she hadn't even fetched a glass of water for herself. After his death, her aunts had made her do a lot of work, which she did sometimes and refused other times. But here, seeing Bilqees working alone, she couldn't just sit back and watch. So, from the second day, she started helping her. Although Bilqees had initially refused, she eventually accepted Haya's help after her insistence.

The house wasn't very big. It had three bedrooms, a small living room attached to the kitchen, and a little porch with various types of plants and flowers. There weren't many people living here either-just Haris, Bilqees, and Haya. Bilqees had mentioned Haris's younger brother, who was currently living in another city for his studies, and Haris's father had passed away long ago.

Since that day, Haya hadn't seen Haris again. He would leave early in the morning and come back late at night. Bilqees had told her that there were two more houses where Haris teaches, while he was also looking for a decent job. Embarrassment enveloped Haya once more; Haris was the only one earning here, and he had taken up a teaching job out of necessity, which he had now lost because of her.

She felt a pang of guilt and a growing sense of responsibility toward the household that had taken her in, despite the circumstances.

•••

"Haya, Haris ke liye chai bana dogi, main namaz parhlu." Bilqees asked Haya, as Haris had come home early that day, and Bilqees had already performed ablution for Maghrib prayer.

(Haya, will you make tea for Haris? I'll go pray.)

"Ji, Aunty," Haya nodded and went to the kitchen. She thought Bilqees would finish her prayer by the time the tea was ready, but when Bilqees didn't come, Haya peeked into her room and saw her still making dua (supplications) So, Haya returned to the kitchen, thinking Bilqees would come in a little while. However, she still didn't come, and Haya felt awkward about calling her to serve the tea. She felt hesitant to serve Haris herself, but after some contemplation, she decided to go ahead and poured the tea into the cups.

(Okay, Aunty,)

This was only the second time Haya had faced Haris since that morning. Since then, he hadn't spoken to her, and she had refrained from asking anything about him. Bilqees had been the one informing her about everything related to Haris.

Taking a deep breath, Haya walked towards Haris's room, and the tray with tea balanced carefully in her hands. She knocked gently on the open door to catch his attention. Haris, who was seated at his study table, sifting through a pile of bills, looked up. Surprise flickered in his eyes, but as he registered her presence, a pleasant warmth spread through him, softening his features.

"Chai," Haya said softly, placing the tray on the table. Her voice was as gentle as a summer breeze, and Haris found himself momentarily lost in the sound of it.

(Tea,)

"Thank you," Haris replied, his voice kinder than she had expected.

Haya turned to leave, but Haris stopped her with a single word. "Haya," he called, his tone gentle yet insistent.

She paused, looking back at him, her eyes questioning.

Haris didn't want her to leave; he wasn't sure why, but he felt an urge to keep her there, to bridge the distance m between them. "Aap yaha comfortable toh hain?" he asked, his concern genuine.

(Are you comfortable here?)

Haya nodded, her silence laden with unspoken words.

Haris took a sip of the tea, savouring its warmth. "Agar apko kuch chahiye toh mujhe bata dijiyega."

(If you need anything, let me know.)

"Nahi, mere paas sab hai..." Haya shook her head, then hesitated, gathering the courage to speak again. "Actually, mujhe college jana tha, next month se new semester start hone wale hain toh admission lena tha."

(No, I have everything…)

(Actually, I needed to go to college. The new semester starts next month, so I needed to get admission.)

Haris paused, his cup halfway to his lips, eyes locked on hers. He nodded slowly, "Main kal free hoon, aap chahe toh kal chalte hain?"

(I’m free tomorrow, if you want, we can go tomorrow?)

"Thank you," Haya said, a little relieved, a small smile playing on her lips as she turned to leave the room.

As she left, Haris's gaze lingered on the spot where she had stood. He turned back to the pile of bills on his desk, a mix of concern and determination in his eyes. He was already worrying about Danish's college fees, and now he had to think about Haya's as well. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, but reassured himself, "Ho jayega manage," he muttered, trying to convince himself that he could handle it all.

(It will be managed.)

Haris had some savings of his own, set aside for times of need. Fortunately, he hadn't had to use them until now, but perhaps he would have to dip into those savings for Danish and Haya's college fees. He was willing to do whatever it took to support them.

•••

The next morning, Haya and Haris were on his motorcycle, weaving through the bustling streets on their way to her college. Haya sat behind him, her hands gripping the back of the bike for support rather than holding onto him. Haris noticed her tentative grip but chose to stay silent, respecting the distance she kept.

They stopped in front of an ATM, and Haris turned to her, his expression slightly sheepish. "Semester fees kitni hogi? Actually mujhe cash withdrawal karna hoga," he asked, his voice hesitant.

(How much will the semester fee be? Actually, I need to withdraw cash.)

Haya blinked, taken aback by his question. After a moment, she shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Pure year ki fee paid hai, aap fikar na karein."

(The fee for the whole year is paid, don’t worry.)

Haris nodded and got back on the bike. They resumed their journey, the hum of the engine filling the silence between them. Haya, however, was lost in thought. Haris's question had sparked something within her. She had grown up surrounded by greedy men like her uncles, who had taken over her father's business without a second thought for her well-being. And then there was Haroon, the man who had walked away from her because he lacked the courage to stand up against his parents.

But Haris was different. He had stepped into her life during one of its darkest moments, offering her respect and fulfilling his responsibilities without question. As they rode on, the wind whipping through her hair, Haya found herself looking at Haris with a newfound appreciation. He wasn't like the others. He was a man of integrity, someone who valued her beyond material concerns.

•••

Koi hai iss virane mein? 😅🐒

Ik kuch toh honge, jinki wajah se mujhe yaad rehta ki yes, this book is still incomplete 😅 unko dil se shukriya 🥺🫶🏻

How's the chapter? Now, only one more chapter is left for this story 😁

-Ufaq