The couch was back the next day.

I tried not to think too much about what had transpired and focused on my work. Weeks passed and we stayed in the same song and dance. Twirling and dancing in a deadly tango, afraid to break the pattern, afraid to miss a step. Fearing that the fragile shelter we had built to weather the oncoming storm could collapse at any moment leaving us both vulnerable.

Just two days before Uncle Asghar was set to file my case, Auntie burst into the room, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two of us.

"Rania, beta, I don't know if Salaar has told you but I need to go to a wedding tonight. Ayesha isn't feeling well, would you come with me?"

"I..."

"It won't be long. We'll be back early. You know how Salaar's father can't stay up late," She pushed her hand into mine, holding on for a second. A silent plea.

"It's okay Ammi, I'm sure she's tired from work."

"I know and I hate to tire you out, but I'll be alone. Besides, I want everyone to meet my daughter-in-law."

Salaar opened his mouth to argue further, probably to come up with another excuse, but I stepped in. "I'll go."

Auntie clapped her hands together and left, leaving her son to stare at the ceiling, his eyes unfocused. "She likes you. She would have never done this for Aiman."

Pin drop silence echoed in the room, gently broken by the wind coming in through the open window. Curiosity blazed through me and I extinguished it with herculean effort.

For far too long, Salaar had been known as the divorced sad guy in our office. Not the most creative of labels, but he'd been tagged that for the past three years. No one knew why he was divorced or who his wife had been. He was just the divorced sad IT guy who minded his own business. Getting a name out of him, even accidentally, seemed like a monumental achievement.

I felt like I'd unlocked a previously closed door.

I cleared my throat and opened the cupboard searching for an appropriate dress, knowing I couldn't push him to reveal any details, not now, desperately searching for a safe topic in my head.

He beat me to it.

"Uncle Asghar said that he'll file your case as soon as tomorrow. I'll handle things here. If you want, you could stay at your parent's house at that time."

So much for a safe topic.

A knife-twisting pain hit my gut, and tears stung the back of my nose. The sleeping pills had taken care of the pain during the night, but reminders like these made it all the more intense during the day.

"Is he confident of its merit?" my fingers played with the silky material, transferring their nervous energy on to the cloth.

"We have proof, Rania. There's no way the courts are going to let him go."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," I nodded and went to the bathroom to get ready. It was going to be a long night.

To say that I regretted my decision to go would be an understatement. Auntie paraded me around the venue like a prized peacock. As much as I appreciated the love and acceptance, I hated the judgment I saw in her relatives' eyes. I could see them calculating and drawing comparisons with Aiman. Several of them remarked on the marked differences between us. Auntie had very tactfully handled the situation, but the damage was done. I felt extremely self-conscious. And like an outsider. An imposter.

Me and my niceness.

Even as Auntie and Uncle said their goodnights to me, I couldn't make myself hate them. Or feel annoyed at them. They genuinely cared for their son. And for some inexplicable reason, they thought I was good for their son. A part of the family.

If only they knew.

I ambled into my room, dazed and tired, stumbling toward the bed, holding my heels in one hand and my earrings in the other. As soon as I let the door click shut behind me, a shadowy thing shot up from the chair where it had been sitting. And by shadowy thing, I of course mean my husband who'd been chilling in the dark until he scared the shit out of me.

"I didn't see you there!" I said, still breathing hard from the surprise watching his dark eyes flit towards the clock. "It's not that late."

"It's 1 am," his matter of fact tone led me to reconsider my earlier response. Was it really that late? The moonlight shone behind him transforming him into nothing but a tallish, person-shaped silhouette with a halo ringing his dark, messy hair.

"That's not why you're up," I countered. He gave a scratchy, disbelieving laugh. I decided to play nice. "Your mother had fun tonight."

"Thank you for going along with that. That was nice of you."

"You don't have to keep thanking me. I enjoyed it," moderately. When I was constantly not being compared to Aiman.

He stared at me. After a long pause, he sighed and leaned into the bedpost. The full moon casting shadows along the flexed veins and muscles in his lean arms.

"Tomorrow is going to be a tough day," I nodded. He let out one of those long, pained sighs, like all the air inside him had been released, leaving him completely deflated.

"You'll have to record your testimony," where was he going with this? "Sameer has let me know that some people have gotten wind of our case."

Panic clawed through my throat and I collapsed. I felt like I'd been shoved off a building like the dropping would never end. In an endless black pit. With no sound or sight. With no end.

The burning in my throat increased as I gasped for air, struggling to move but unable. My arms were trapped against my sides, my legs tangled in thick warmth. My eyes peeled open, and it took a moment for my surroundings to make sense. I focused on the steady thumping under my cheek as I slowly dug out the thorns of panic and fear.

Faint light seeped in through the window across from the bed. I wasn't at the office, being chased. I was in Salaar's room, with a warm, hard chest against my cheek, a hand that continuously smoothed over my hair, a voice that whispered my name over and over, telling me it was okay, promising me that it was safe. I was nestled in his lap, held tightly to his chest as if he tried to keep the tremors at bay with his hold alone.

Salaar.

Reality came back to me in pieces as the disorientation eased, and I began to realize that he was slowly rocking us.

I knew I needed to pull away, should put some distance between us, but something about his embrace was grounding. Something that felt right. Maybe it was because I'd blocked out these nightmares, almost overdosing on the pills. I often woke alone after the nightmares, shaken and terrified, my hand over my mouth trying not to make a sound, especially after no one in my family had believed me and had left me alone. They'd treated me as an outcast. No one had bothered to come in and comfort me.

No one had cared.

"It's okay Rania. You'll get through this."

"What if he comes here? Hurts Auntie? Or Ayesha?"

"I've thought about it. Ayesha's done for the summer in two days. I've booked their tickets for Murree. They'll be gone for two weeks and then they'll visit my aunt in Islamabad," I said nothing as my heart threw itself around my chest. He ran a hand through his hair, his brows furrowed thoughtfully.

"You'll have to leave for your parent's house. That might be the safest for now. The address on the court file is of this house and I've erased any record of you from the office files, so you'll be safe there."

"What about you? He could hurt you."

Salaar barked out a laugh. "That bastard couldn't touch me."

I stared at him incredulously. "You could barely carry Ayesha when she twisted her ankle two weeks ago. And she weighs, like, nothing."

"I will let you know that I pretended to struggle to make her laugh," probably, but I couldn't let this go. I was holding on to this banter with a tight grip. I needed this and he knew this.

"Sure, whatever you say big guy."

"Would you prefer that I carry you?" he offered, his eyebrow quirking up.

"I would prefer never to see your face again."

"Now, both of us know that's a lie," it was. A blatant one. My heart stammered as my eyes locked onto his, his orbs different shades of brown. Warm and comforting. Familiar.

Coldness poured into my chest as I stopped myself and moved away. Salaar relinquished his hold on me and after saying goodnight, took his place on the couch.

I shuffled to the bed, exhaustion forgotten. This was an agreement. Not a typical marriage. He was using me, just as I was using him. My case would lead to his and his company's downfall. The very company that had been stolen from Salaar's grandfather.

I had to remember that. For now and for the next couple of months.

I arrived at my parent's with a hastily packed bag of clothes, shoes, toiletries, and various electronic gadgets. I hadn't called them to give them a heads-up, but I wasn't too worried about the reception.

Knowing my mother, she would probably break out her finest dinner set to celebrate the fake fight Salaar and I had. Abba wouldn't say a thing, happy that his daughter was home and Azaan, well Azaan didn't care about anything but his grades.

"And you're back! Knew that good for nothing man could not keep you happy."

"I don't want to talk about," I grumbled out, tense as a strung-out wire.

"We don't want to hear about it," Azaan exclaimed from his place at the dining table. Abba shushed him, his hand coming to rest on my head.

"This is your home, you're welcome whenever you decide to come here."

"Of course," Amma agreed, her voice filled with triumph. "What did you fight about? Was it his mother? She seemed evil. She couldn't stop gushing about how much she wanted a daughter-in-law."

A fierce sense of protection rolled through me. "No, she was fine."

"It was the sister in law then, seemed like a brat. Did they make you do all the house chores?"

"No!"

"It's definitely that boy." That boy.

I could feel the beginnings of a headache so I excused myself, extracting myself from her clutches. Coming here seemed like a mistake. Maybe I should have stayed with Salaar.

"They left today," Salaar said over the phone. A wave of relief descended on me as I relaxed into the pillow.

"I hope they have fun."

"They said the same thing about us," Aaah Auntie. Always trying to get the two of us together. I didn't even remember the last time I had fun.

"Hmm."

"What?"

"What, what?"

"That hmm was extremely weighted."

"You should know, that's what you said to me the whole time I worked with you," He let out a laugh and I smiled.

"I was thinking..." he continued. "That we could do something tomorrow," my heart rate picked up, positively racing. "To ease your anxiety."

Oh. "Like go see a therapist?"

"Didn't you already do that? I mean if you wanted to, we could definitely find one," I had, but that had only managed to scar me further. "I was thinking of an extracurricular activity."

My teeth started to chew my bottom lip. "You're not going to throw me into the sea will you?"

He chuckled. "I think that's what you could do to me. Is your mother happy? Having her daughter back?"

"Oh, she's over the moon that I've left that boy."

"Ouch."

"Yeah."

"So she probably won't like it if I took you out?" Took you out. Butterflies erupted in my stomach and I swallowed.

"Probably not."

"Well then, guess we'll have to find a way."

And find a way we did.

We stood outside the Funland gates, under a sky shaded in violet and the deeper blue of the encroaching night, after I'd lied to my mother about my whereabouts. I felt like a teenager, sneaking out to go on a date.

But this wasn't a date. I was sure of that. Neither one of us could afford that. This was the cure to my anxiety. So I smiled and played along, watching Salaar struggle with his phone.

A very annoying habit of his.

"Wow," I said as soon as he'd had the situation under control."I know I'm younger than you, but I'm not an eight-year-old. Even Ayesha wouldn't want to come here."

A laugh barked out of Salaar, and I felt a little too proud of myself for my own liking. "I just counted the number of adult people here," he muttered. "Seven."

"I'm really proud of you for getting that high," I teased. "Maybe next time see if you can aim for ten."

We stood in the ticket line and he shook his head, his gaze on the children in front of us.
"When was the last time you actually had fun? Probably when you weren't worried about what people would think, or how you looked..."

"You're right, but don't you think we're a little too old for this?"

He tipped his head toward a cotton candy stand. "Too old to eat that?" I burst out laughing.

"Never too old for that."

He paid for the cotton candy and we headed towards the benches. "Feeling better?"

"Was this the plan?"

"It's been a stressful week. You've gone through a lot. Thought I'd help by taking some of the stress away."

"What do you think he'll do? Will he come after us? What's our next plan of action?" I asked, tearing off an enormous piece and lowering it dramatically into my mouth.

Salaar tsked. "That's not taking the stress away," I opened my mouth to ask another question but he hurried on. "We'll see what happens, let's not think about it for now."

I glared at him and he dropped his chin, those brown eyes extremely compelling as we stared at each other. The knot in my chest unraveled as he smiled. Just a small smile.

Maybe I could let go. Maybe for this hour, I could stop thinking about the what could be's. The what if's and just live.

Maybe.

Just for today.

"Salaar."

He didn't answer, even as I put my hand on his shoulder to shake him. It felt weird to touch him—like I was invading his privacy—even though he was sleeping in my bed.

How was he in my bed?

It had been three days after our outing. We hadn't talked much and I hadn't gotten the chance to slip out of the house.

How was he here?

Figments of last night fluttered in. I'd gotten home. I'd forgotten to replenish my sleeping pills but I'd tried to fall asleep. It hadn't worked. I'd had a nightmare. I'd called him. And he'd slipped into my room through the window.

That was all, right?

"Salaar!" I whisper-screamed into his ear, and he jolted. "You gotta get out of here."

He rubbed a hand down his face, which was somehow still boyishly handsome even though the right side held indentations from where my sheets had bunched under him.

"Sorry, Rania. I must've fallen asleep."

"Yes, and you have to leave before anyone finds you in my room!"

He flashed an impish smile, and I gave him a shove. "Relax, I'm your husband. I'm probably the only one who should be in your room."

I glared at him and Salaar's grin split wide, and even now, with my parents and my brother in the house, my stomach flipped traitorously. I wasn't sure if I'd ever seen him smile like that before, and there was something intoxicating about it.

He had to go.

"I'm serious. Amma's gonna kill me if she sees you here."

"Rania? Beta are you up?"oh my God. My eyes widened as I looked at him and his shoulders shook with silent laughter. Footsteps sounded and I panicked, pushing Salaar towards the window.

"Oh my God, you have to go. She's coming up!"

"You want me to jump?"

"Do you have any other ideas?"

"Rania, are you okay?" she was outside my door. Just twelve feet away. Salaar stepped out, both of his legs dangling out of the window, his body angled to reach towards the ledge.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, just..." I watched him twist his body and use his arms to swing towards the ground, his face squinting at the effort.

"Why does your voice sound so high pitched? Is everything okay? I'm coming in," I peered out of the window, my heart in my mouth.

"No, I'll be right out!" Salaar's feet brushed the ground and he jumped, landing safely.

"Sure?"

"Yeah," I said breathing a sigh of relief, watching him give me a two-fingered salute. "I'm sure."

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Whew. Thoughts?