گر بازی عشق کی بازی جو چاہے لگا دو ڈر کیسا
جیت گے تو کیا کہنا ہارے بھی تو بازی مات نہیں 
- Faiz Ahmed Faiz

H O O R tossed and turned for the most part of the night. Feeling guilty of the words she had chosen to throw at her husband. The man who had been a victim, just like her. She did not even feel bad about his words, realising that they were important to make her realise just how rude she had been acting. Whilst Mustafa slaved away, trying to make her accept him, she had been crying about fate. While Mustafa tried to ease her worries and end her insecurities, she had done nothing but highlight his.

Perhaps it was the kind of society that she grew up in that made it seem okay to ignore the emotions of men. It was okay to brush off a grieving man. It was okay for a woman to feel like a victim but not the man.

Hoor could not stop her tears from slipping through. Why had she acted like an absolute douche? Why did she not take into consideration his feelings? Why was she not as compromising as Mustafa? Her heart hurt thinking about the innocent man who had been nothing but an absolute angel.

And then Mustafa had gone out and announced that he loved her. And God did she think she was not worthy. And why would she feel worthy of his love?

He was a man full of ambition and hope. She was the complete opposite. He tried to find some sense of normalcy in everything and she chose to sit and throw herself a pity party. In the four days that she had been married to him, the amount of times she had initiated contact with him could be counted on one of her hands.

And suddenly, Hoor began to see the light. She thought about how Mustafa had been patient. Accepting, caring, loving and all the good things one would want in their spouse. Sure he was different from the rest of the crowd. However, he was much better than a lot of men.

Mustafa despite being rich, was a humble man. He did not drink or raise his voice let alone his hands on her. She had heard of so many stories about men being dominating and abusing their wives to maintain their image. Her husband was nothing like that. Infact he was the single most understanding and caring man she had come across.

In the race of looking for the perfect man, she had only given importance to outward looks. She had forgotten that it was what was inside that mattered most.

Getting out of bed at Fajar, Hoor's feet softly padded into the large bathroom. She switched on the tap of water, performing her wudu with cold water. She looked at herself in the mirror. The white ceiling lights highlighting her dark circles.

Sighing, she stepped out, laying the maroon velveteen prayer mat on the floor. Eyeing the grey skies that were visible from the large windows. Shaking her head, removing all negative thoughts from mind, Hoor clasped her hands on her breats, bowing her head infront of Allah. The Creator whose creature she had hurt. A sin that was unforgivable until the person you hurt forgave you.

Hoor ended her prayer, taking longer than usual in each step. The serenity of prayer giving her heart the chance to calm down. Her hands, now freezing cold due to the temperatures, lifted on their own accord. A series of arabic verses leaving her mouth as she began to ask for forgiveness.

"Allah tala, mei nai ap keh banai insaan ko bohat dukh diya hai. Pata nahi mein kis ghalat fehmi ka shikar thi jo apnay ap ko Mustafa sai behtar aur kamtar, dono samjhti rahi. Allah mujhe maaf kar de. Mein bhul gai thi keh ap nai tou sab ko eik jaisa banaya hai. Mein kon hoti hun kisi keh jism mein nuqs nikalnay wali? Allah tala mujhe maaf kardein. Mein nai bohat nashukri ki hai. Yeh sochay begahir keh jo ap karte hai wohi sab sai behtareen hota hai. Mujhe himmat de keh apnay shohar sai maafi maang sakun, aur unkay saath eik haseen zindagi guzar sakun," Hoor prayed, tears continuing to spill down her rosy cheeks.
She grabbed her rosary beads, letting the movement of rotation, calm her down.

Finally gathering enough courage, she got up, moving to her husbands side. Her hands went to Mustafa's face. Capturing his cheeks in them. His beard caused an itching sensation on her soft skin. She blowed protective verses on him, bending down to kiss his forehead. Not realising that her tears were falling on his cheeks.

"Mustafa mujhe maaf kardein. Mein nai apko bohat dukh diya hai. Kasam sai aaj keh baad nahi dun gi. Bas eik dafa maaf karke dekhein". She plead with his sleeping form.
After having said her fill, she got up, moving to her side of the bed. When she was pulled back. Mustafa had caught hold of her beige chaddar and pulled her towards himself.
"Idhr beth jain Hoor," he eyed the place she was sitting on formerly.
Hoor did as told, wordlessly.
"Mein soo raha tha, tou maang kar ja rahein thi. Utha kar kehna chahiye tha na," he spoke to her with a gentle smile on her face.

"Mein kis mun sai aapse maafi mangun? Mein nai tou apka dil bohat dukhyaya hai-" she told him.
"Hoor koi baat nahi. Apka ghussa mujh par jaiz tha. Par dukh is baat ka hai keh apnay is qabil nahi samjha keh apna dukh bata sakein," he spoke to her gently.
Hoor felt more embarrassed. Here was this man who always cared about her. And she had treated him like the worst scum on earth.

"Hoor apne maafi mangi hai. Mein bhi kal raat bolay gai lafzoon keh liye maafi chahta hun," he spoke after a moment of silence.
"Ap mujhe sharminda tou na karein. Ap kyun maangein gai? Dil tou mein nai tora hai. Ap nai tou mujhe bas sach hi kaha hai," she brushed his apology off.
"Magar phir bhi. Mujhe aisay nahi kehna chahiye tha. Mian biwi keh rishtay mein koi behtar ya kamtar nahi hota. Isliye kabhi sharmana mat kuch kehtay huway," he steered the topic, explaining to her the essence of their relationship.

The two talked for the most part of the time. Telling each other about their past life. Hoor wanted to ask Mustafa about his injury, but refrained. Knowing he would share it when he felt comfortable. Mustafa hugged her to his chest, kissing her forehead. Reminding her to never forget that she had equal rights on him. So she need not shy away.

MEANWHILE SOMEWHERE IN
__________________________________
LAHORE
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Rumaisa woke up. The clock striking ten in the morning. She gazed at her husband, who lay as naked as the day he was born. She smiled, remembering last night. The union of their bodies in a passionate entanglement. The roughness of Rizwan's body. Everything had been perfect.

Her bones ached with warmth. She was as comfortable as a cat who had just drunk a bowl of cream.
[ Read this phrase in a book. Forgot the name though. I'll add the reference of the writer and her book as soon as I find it. And if the writer be reading this, please hit me up for credits. Thanks]
She kissed his chest, straddling his waist. Her hands grabbed his face as she pushed her lips onto his. Rizwan woke up due to the feeling of her on him. Immediately flipping them over. Letting Rumi relive last night.

A while later, Rizwan ordered room service for themselves. Sitting next to her.
"Rumi aaj ya kal mein abu ko laun ga tumharay ghar," he spoke, breaking the blanket of silence.
"Le ana. Takay rukhsati ki baat ho," she rolled her eyes on her husband talking about the obvious.
It was about time his father accepted her.
"Tum log Raees sai rishta kab khatam karo gai?" Rizwan inquired.
It was a thorn in his back to see his wife be engaged to someone else.
"Tum apnay walid ko rukhsati keh liye lao. Mama bhi Alia aunty ko mana kardein gi," she brushed it off.
As if it was not something of importance.
Rizwan nodded his head, feeling excited for the days to come. And also feeling dread for about how Mustafa would feel about everything.

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