Assalamualikum everyone. Sorry for the long wait. I had seriously lost my interest in the story but a certain someone wouldn't let me give up on the story.

lalaraib, my cute little friend and sister, this one's for you. *sends hugs and kisses in her direction.

If you don't get the meaning a few Urdu terms I mentioned in my story, look below.

Apathy-what a weird phenomenon it was. A state in which a person is unable to feel anything, is free ofemotions of any sort. Not very long ago, Samra didn't know if it was even possible-to not feel anything. Now she did, and for this, she had her Abbu to thank.

She had been riding an emotional rollercoaster for the past couple of days. Crying most of the time, while making her brain overwork the rest. She was young, yes but she knew what meant to be married. It meant being like her Ammi, unhappy.

Her Ammi.

She could hear her yelling in the other room, telling he husband that he was a cruel man and a bad father. She could also hear her Abbu  saying something in a muffled voice, defending himself. He could easily silence her Ammi with more than one ways, beating her up-his favourite. But perhaps he was in too good a mood thats why he had refrained from raising his hand. And why wouldn't he be, he won. But Samra knew if her mother didn't stop, there would be dire consiquences.

At times like these, she would pray for them to stop. She would ask Allah to make it stop. To let her Ammi get away without a beating. But today she wasn't praying. Her mind was somewhere else. And it was a good thing that it was. She was done worrying, done crying.

Done praying for something she'd never get.

It was selfish of her-to be tired of something that had become a part of Ammi's life. She had always fought for her and still was. And she couldn't do something so simple as to pray. She felt ashamed.

So she started reciting all those surahs Khala Zohra had taught her and prayed. She prayed for her Ammi, she prayed for her to stay with her forever. God could have her Abbu. Just let me keep my Ammi. She prayed.
...

She stared at the blue dress she had bought for Eid but never got a chance to. It was beautiful but she couldn't care less. It was just a dress.

It was weird how three simple 'I do's' could make her so bitter. Never had she been so angry in her life. So enraged. Why is he comming over? She thought. Can't he stay at his place?  But the answer to all he questions, she had them. You're his wife. He's comming over to meet his wife.

She hadn't seen him. Neither had he seen her. Why did he have to marry me? She wanted to cry. She didn't want this. She didn't want to be called a wife. I hope he never make it here. She quickly shoved the thought away. That was wrong for her to wish something bad for him. How else would he not be able to make it here?

She quickly put the dress on. There was a knock at the main door. He's here. She ran up to the roof. Carefully, walking close to the edge, she looked down. He was standing outside their door, his hand gripping the handles of his bicycle. She couldn't see his face but she could tell that he was tall and lean. He had jet black hair that was shining under the sunlight. He had probably put some scented oil in it.

Samra decided she didn't like him. Not one bit. As of feeling eyes on him, he looked up. Their eyes met for a brief moment. He smiled and Samra quickly backed away.

She ran downstairs and locked herself in her room. She didn't want to go meet him but knew it wasn't for her to decide.

There was a knock at the door. "Samra."It was Ammi. "Your Abbu is calling you. "She heard her say.

Samra opened the door to see her standing outside. Her head was downcast. She looked... broken. She had fought long and hard for her. Yet, in the end, she lost. Ammi looked up at her and smiled a weak smile.

All her life it had been her Ammi looking out for her. Trying to make her happy. Give her a reason to keep hoping. Now it was her turn. She'd have to be strong for her. She'd have to be there for.

She brought her hands to hold hers. "Ammi, it's going to be okay. "She said. She watched as her eyes welled up. Standing there, she sobbed silently. "I know. "She wiped her eyes with her duptta. "I know. "
...

She stood outside the room, alone, listening to their laughter.  Ammi was in the kitchen, making tea. She'd have to do this alone. She took a deep breath. Mustering all the courage, she walked inside.

He was listening to her Abbu,  smiling. Abbu was talking to him animatedly. Never had she seen her Abbu get this friendly with anyone. Suddenly he stopped and turned to look at her. "Daniyal, this is Samra. Samra come say salaam. "Abbu said in the nicest tone she had ever heard. Just than Ammi walked in, holding a tray in her hands.

She watched as the smile from Daniyal's face disappeared. His eyes shifted from Samra to her mother and than back to Samra. Ammi served them tea, silently. The temperature dropped in the room by several degrees. There was a very uncomfortable stretch of silence and the tension so thick, one could pierce it with a knife.

Ammi offered Daniyal a cup of tea which to quickly took, greatful for the distraction. He didn't say a anything after that, didn't even look up. Silently, he sipped his tea.
...

"I'm sorry. "Ammi heard him say. She didn't turn around. Her gaze remained fix on the dishes in the sink.

Silence settled once again. Only sound of running water from the tap could be heard.

"I didn't know that... she's just a child. I didn't know. "He struggled with his words. He didn't want to make things worse than they already were. He stared at the empty shell of a women. By the way her shoulders shook, he could tell that she was crying.

"You k-know, she still t-thinks fairies are real. "She stamered. "Golla is her favourite treat. She spends her time making straw dolls. It's her hobby. "She sniffed.

Daniyal swallowed. Something spikey was lodged in his throat. "P-please. Take care of her. "He heard her whisper. He didn't say anything. He couldn't.
...

"So Daniyal, have you decided a date for rukhsati? "Abbu asked as he walkd him to the front door.

Ammi followed behind them to the door. Her heart rate picked up as he brought the subject up. She didn't want to let her daughter go. Not yet.

Daniyal looked at her before saying. "There's no rush. Samra can have all the time she wants before she's ready. And I'm sure you also need time to properly tell goodbye to your only daughter."

Ammi couldn't believe her ears. Was he really letting her keep her daughter? She didn't think he would understand, just like her husband. But he did and for that she was greatful.

"Of course. Well than, see you around. "

Daniyal noded before he limped his way out the front door.
.... 

Rukhsati: the last event of marriage in which the bride leaves her parents home with the groom.

Golla:a treat made of crushed ice topped off with colored syrups.