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Amara

"Catch!" Muraad tossed something at me.

I instinctively reached out, cupping my hands and caught the item. Keys. Car keys, to be more specific. "OUT! Amara Muraad has caught the ball, and Muraad Azeem's streak is over! Pity that he couldn't make a century this match!" I grinned, raising my arms dramatically.

It had been a busy day for us. First, we picked up Nausheen Aunty in the morning, took her out for breakfast and then shopping as Muraad wanted to get some last minute things. I couldn't help noticing how Aunty was such a down-to-earth and simple woman for a mother of a cricket superstar. Wearing a white floral kameez, with a plain white shalwar and a white dupatta that was draped over her head, she walked quietly beside us, clutching the strap of her cream colour purse. 

Once we were done with shopping, Aunty wanted to go home so we dropped her off before heading to my parents' house. He wanted to say goodbye to my family before he left.

Mama was the only one home, but she gave him loads of blessings and he reassured her that I could come and stay with my parents for as long as I wanted, and that he wasn't going to be all moody husband about it.

And now he was about to leave for the airport and I was trying not to cry.

"Why are you giving me these?" I looked at him before glancing down at the car keys again.

"Use my car when I'm away. When I come back, we'll get you a new car. My car has bulletproof tinted windows, and it will be useful for you to avoid the media." He explained.

I hadn't brought my car along, as per Mama's advice. She didn't think it was a good idea, and I agreed. It didn't look good since Muraad had strictly refused jahaiz (dowry), and to bring along a car that technically Papa had paid for seemed like jahaiz.

I grabbed his phone and swiped up to open the camera and took a selfie of myself. I was wearing my Pakistani cricket shirt with black jeggings. My hair was up in a high ponytail in a green pony, and I had even bought a mini flag, completing my look as the official cheerleader of Muraad Azeem. 

Muraad came up behind me, wrapping his arm across my stomach and I took a selfie of the two of us, smiling. He kissed my cheek and I captured that moment as well. 

"Don't show these photos to anyone. Mama kehti hain nazar lag jati hai." I said. "These are only for you and me to see." 

*"Mama says that you get affected by evil eye." 

"Don't worry. I'd never show our photos to anyone." He took his phone from my hand and tossed it aside on the bed before turning me around. "I'm going to miss you a lot, Amore." 

"I'll miss you too, mere dil ki Muraad." I didn't care how cheesy it sounded. It was our thing. He was my man and I had a right to give him adorable nicknames.

"You know what?" He grinned and placed the index and middle fingers of his right hand over his heart, joined together. "If you ever see me do this on TV, consider it a message for you." 

"And what would that message be?" I wrapped my arms around his neck.

"Use your imagination. Whatever turns you on the most at that point in time." He kissed my forehead.

My cheeks turned red and I dropped my gaze. 

"I'm kidding. It would mean that your support means the world to me, and so do you." His voice was barely above a whisper as he rested is forehead against mine. 

"Muraad, before I forget...I was thinking..." I hesitated, not sure how to ask him this. I felt guilty but I felt like I had no choice.

"What's up?" 

"You know how this community only allows authorised visitors?" I bit my lower lip.

"Don't worry. The Sheikh family, including Noor and Zaid have already been added to this list." He reassured me. 

"It's not that. I actually wanted you to take someone off. At least while you're away." 

"My father?" He guessed.

"Muraad, I'm sorry. I know that you still love him, and he's your father and..."

"He's already off the list. Even while I'm in Lahore." He turned away to gather his last minute things. "I don't want him anywhere near this place after what happened." 

"I really am sorry, Muraad."

"Why are you sorry?" He looked confused. "You didn't do anything wrong. If anyone makes you feel unsafe or uncomfortable, they're not welcome in our home, no matter who it is." His phone rang. "It's Nomi. He's here. I should go." He grabbed his luggage and began to walk out of the room. When I didn't follow, he looked over his shoulder. "You coming?" 

My eyes filled with tears.

"Amara." He set his luggage down and walked over to me, taking me in his arms.

"I'm sorry. I-I'm trying to be strong." I sobbed quietly against his shirt. "It's too hard. You're going all the way to the other side of the world." 

"Time will fly by, you'll see." He kissed the top of my head.

"For you, but not for me." 

"You think it's easy for me to leave my new wife behind?" 

I looked up at him with my eyes welling with tears. "May Allah give you success and victory. Ameen." I leaned up to press my mouth against his. It would be at least three weeks before I got to kiss or hug him again. It felt like three years. 

"Amore, can you do something for me?" He whispered as we paused for air.

I nodded.

"Please keep calling and checking up on my Ammi." He sounded genuinely worried about her.

"Don't worry. I'll meet her every day if I have to." I promised him. "I have her back." 

"Bu no matter what happens, don't put yourself in any dangerous situation, okay?" He said. "If you're worried about her, I'll send you some people's numbers and you can contact them, but don't end up at that house alone." 

"Is it really that bad?" I was worried now as well.

"I don't trust him. But if he hurts her- or you- I would completely lose control and might do something that I'd regret for the rest of my life." His phone vibrated as he spoke. "Nomi is probably throwing a tantrum. I better go." 

"What if Aunty comes and stays here?" I suggested.

"I've tried, see if she listens to you." 

We walked to the front door, and again we wrapped our arms around each other, kissing each other again. 

"May Allah take you there safely, and bring you back safely to me. Ameen." I really didn't want to let him go.

"Amara?" 

"Hmm?" 

"For God's sake, drive carefully, okay?" 

I couldn't help giggling. 

"I'm not kidding. You drive like a lunatic, from what I've been told by your brothers." 

"You're trusting my brothers?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Are they wrong?" 

"No." I muttered. "Fine, I'll drive carefully." 

With great difficulty we stopped kissing each other and parted ways. I tried to keep my tears at bay until he had gone.  "I love you, captain." 

"Love you too, Amore." And with a wink at me, he walked off dragging his luggage, ready to represent his country as the captain of the national cricket team.

I started crying hard the moment I'd closed the door.

And these tears weren't just because I was going to miss my husband like crazy. They were out of an unknown fear.

Maybe, with Muraad going away, I was scared of being possibly targeted by his father and pervert uncle again.

Maybe I should go and stay at my parents' house, after all.

****

Zunaira

I became a mother in the very early days of my marriage, to my little baby boy Shezi. 

So I don't think I really got a chance to learn how to be a romantic wife. I felt bad about it sometimes because Omar was such a good husband, Ma Sha Allah.

So now, while in London, when Jasmina Mumani and Hania offered to take care of the kids so that Omar and I could spend some time together, I almost felt a little shy. 

"Iman would be here later as well." Mumani told me when I expressed my concerns about how they two would manage our three kids, plus Hania's three kids. "And she's surprisingly good with kids, Ma Sha Allah." 

And so, Omar took me out to explore the city of London. It was hilarious, because even when we were out, we couldn't discussing the historical facts that Shezi had always told us about London from his Horrible Histories books. 

And when we ended up near shops, we started searching things for the kids, including Hania's kids.

"We can never get out of parent mode, can we?" Omar asked, laughing.

I smiled. "I love the parent mode. But you're right. We need to get used to being in the married couple mode as well." 

We held hands as we walked down the streets of the English capital. 

"I'm sorry, Zaira. We should have experienced all this in the early days of our marriage. It would have helped us form a stronger bond as a husband and wife." He didn't look at me as he spoke.

"I think we already have an incredible bond, Omar. After everything that we have experienced together, it has just made our relationship stronger. I think Shezi has made our relationship stronger." I smiled at him. "I love you. I can't imagine my life without you, and I'm so lucky to have our family. Mamma, Papa, Noor, Zaid Bhai, the kids, but most importantly, you."

"Thank you for your patience and your support, Zaira. I love you too." He stepped closer, and to my surprise, gave me a quick kiss on the lips. I had no idea that my almost shy husband could display his affection in public like that, but I felt thrilled at his action. 

I deepened the kiss, placing my hands on his neck. 

And as we continued our 'date day', our topics of discussion changed from our kids to us. We talked about our likes and dislikes, our favourite activities. It started to feel like we were newly married, and this time we were enjoying the feeling to the fullest.

****

As I finished my Isha prayer that evening at Fawad Mamu's home, and made dua, I felt a little presence beside me. After I had finished my dua, I turned and saw Taiba sitting there, wearing a little hijab on her head, copying my moves.

"Yeh kya ho raha hai, chanda?" I ran a hand over her head. Reciting Ayat-ul-Kursi, I blew it over her.

*"What's happening, darling?"

"I want to talk to Allah too." She said.

I reached over to kiss the side of her head. "Of course, sweetheart." 

Taiba had inherited her Dado's looks. She had a such a startling resemblance to my mother-in-law that it felt like she was Mamma's daughter, and not granddaughter. Zayna, my younger baby, looked like me on the other hand. 

Taiba cupped her hands together, the way we do when we make a dua. "Allah, can I please have another sister? Zayna cries too much and makes my ears hurt." Then she rubbed her hands over her face, muttering, "Ameen."

I smiled at her cuteness. Spoiler alert, sweetie: new babies cry even more.

I wasn't closed to the idea of another child, but I also wanted to make up for the time I'd missed with Omar in the early days of my marriage. I wanted to learn to be a loving, romantic wife. But, on the other hand, I was thirty-three. I didn't have the luxury of time. 

Ya Allah, only accept Taiba's dua if it's for our best. Ameen.

****

Omar

Tomorrow was the medical conference, and I was preparing myself for it. I would be expected to participate in discussions on neurological subjects. It was late in the night and I was making notes, frowning.

"Beta, sojao warna conference main sojao ge." 

*"Son, go to sleep otherwise you'll sleep in the conference."

I looked up to see Mamu standing in the study doorway. "Just a while longer, Mamu." 

"That's what Papa used to say, and he only fell asleep after Fajr."  He smiled.

I scoffed. "Oh, please! You were the same. I remember those days vaguely when we briefly lived in Nana Jaan's house."

"It's a generation thing, I guess." He said. "Come on, let's have coffee together and you can talk to me about what you plan to say in the conference tomorrow." 

"Sorry, I'm a man of mind. I don't talk to people of the heart." I teased.

"Mere haathon me pale baday huay bache mujhe hi tang karte hain." He shook his head. 

*"The kids who grew up with me are now teasing me."

I grinned. "Let's have that coffee. Fajr isn't too far away. I might as well stay up till then. But why are you awake, Mamu?" 

"I have to leave for work soon. There's a surgery early in the morning." He replied. "But keep me updated on how the conference goes, okay? I'm sure you'll make me and the family proud, In Sha Allah." 

Fawad Mamu was my first hero. Not my biological father. I remember, as a child, when I used to wonder how he spoke so kindly to everyone. At my biological father's home, every spoke in a harsh, rough manner, especially towards women, but not my Mamu or my Nana Jaan. 

But not only that, but when Saad and I had been upset or terrified, and Mamma had brought us to our Naniyal, Mamu took care of us and made us laugh, while my grandparents talked to Mamma. Zafar Papa was my father now, no doubt, but I cannot deny that Fawad Mamu was my first true father figure. I could never forget, or repay him for how much he had taken care of me and Saad, how much he had made us feel safe.

"Thank you, Mamu." I stopped in front of him.

"For what?" 

"For everything. Before Zafar Papa came along, if you had not supported us the way you didn't, I don't know where we'd be right now. You were Mamma's strength, our protector. That's why Allah has rewarded you by blessing your daughters with such great spouses. Ma Sha Allah and Alhumdulillah. That's why you are rewarded with a wife like Jasmina Mumani." I looked at him. "I can speak only on my behalf, but you never let me feel an absence of a father in my life before Zafar Papa." 

He smiled and patted my shoulders. "Taking care of Fariha was a part of my duty at that point. I had to fulfil my responsibilities as her older brother. I didn't do anything big." 

"You saved us in many ways. Never underestimate the power of even the smallest of good acts. You're the one who taught us that." 

He gave me a hug then, patting my back. "You and Zaid are the rewards for Fari for everything she has suffered. We're all very proud of you, Omar. You, Zaid and Zafar are her backbones, and your wives and kids are adding to that strength. I worry about Fari, but I'm also reassured that she's well taken care of." 

And then I asked him the one question that had been bothering me for a while. "H-How's he, Mamu?" 

"Let's just say that seeing him was one of the most painful experiences of my life." He looked away from me. "I don't even know whether to ask Allah for his maghfirat or not. Is it the right thing to do or not? Because if we do, it will feel like we're being unfair to Madiha."

*Maghfirat: forgiveness.

"As the father of daughters, I pray for all daughters to be protected from monsters like him. I want him to suffer." I admitted. "But then I think of Mamma, and I feel terrible. The more he suffers, the more she suffers with him." I then remembered something. "She has started seeing a really good counsellor though, Dr Mehween. I know her through work, and she's really good. She's received a few awards in the field, actually. I had faith that sessions with her would really help Mamma, In Sha Allah."

"In Sha Allah." He gave me a small smile. "Did Zafar had her criminal background check done?"

*I couldn't resist this one, MehweenGR. I'm sorry lol.

We both laughed, knowing how protective Papa was of Mamma.

I had a good feeling that things were going to get better for us. The hardest of times for us were over, and now it was time for pure happiness. 

As is said in the Quran, 'Verily, with every hardship comes ease.'

I had full faith that easier times were coming for us, In Sha Allah.

****

Amara

Pak sarzamin shad bad

Kishware haseen shad bad

Tunishane azmealishan arze Pakistan

Markazeyaqin shadbad.

Pak sarzamin ka nizam quwate akhuwati awam

Qaum, mulk, Sultanat

Painda ta binda bad shad, bad man zele muraad.

Parchame sitarao hilat

Rahbare tarraqio ka mal

Tarjumane mazishane hal jane istaqbal

Sayyai, khudae zul jalal.

The lyrics of the Pakistan National Anthem

Blessed be the sacred land,

Happy be the bounteous realm,

Symbol of high resolve, Land of Pakistan.

Blessed be thou citadel of faith.

The Order of this Sacred Land

Is the might of the brotherhood of the people.

May the nation, the country, and the State

Shine in glory everlasting.

Blessed be the goal of our ambition.

This flag of the Crescent and the Star

Leads the way to progress and perfection,

Interpreter of our past, glory of our present,

Inspiration of our future,

Symbol of Almighty's protection.

I stood up in front of the TV with Nausheen Aunty, watching with pride as the Pakistani national anthem rang out in the stadium before the first match. 

When the word 'Muraad' was read, the camera panned to the new captain of the Pakistani cricket team, who had his hand placed flat over his heart, standing in respect of the national anthem. 

Goosebumps were felt all over my body as I saw my husband as the captain. Beside me, Aunty was sniffing as she proudly watched her son on screen.

I was dressed in a full Pakistani cricket uniform today, including the cap, and I had bought a large flag especially for the occasion. Win or lose, that was my husband captaining the national cricket team! Ma Sha Allah!

Aunty was wearing a green shalwar kameez as well with a white dupatta. She had come as per my invitation so that we could watch the match together.

I had made daal chawal (lentil curry and rice), and we had it along with achaar (pickle) as 

I was just cheering a wicket on the cousins' group message, when Aunty asked, "What is Muraad doing?"

I looked up and saw my husband on screen with his index and middle fingers pressed against his chest, exactly the way he'd told me that he'd do to give me a message. I blushed, remembering how he'd joked that the message was whatever that turned me on in the moment. "It's his way of showing respect...for the country. He told me." 

"My son is so dedicated!" Aunty said, innocently. "Ma Sha Allah!" 

Yes, very, very dedicated to every single part of me.

Astaghfirullah! Amara! Don't think such thoughts near your Saas!

I started to feel a little bored shortly after the initial excitement. I'm not a perfect novel heroine who would suddenly started liking something for her man's sake. I could try, but it was not going to be instantaneous. 

"Aunty, would you like something to drink?" I offered.

"No, it's okay, dear. This water is enough." She pointed to her glass of water. 

"Well, the match is going to run for hours, so I'm just going to take a quick nap if it's okay." I said, sheepishly. "I'm a little sleepy."

She laughed. "That's okay, my dear. I take naps during matches too. They are just so long!"

I laughed as well, surprised. "Well, if there's anything you need, do let me know."

"I will, beta." She nodded, returning her gaze on the screen.

And with that, I headed into my bedroom to catch up on some precious sleep.

****

WARNING: VERY HARSH LANGUAGE USED. IT WILL BE CENSORED WITH ASTERIX **** BUT IT'S BAD LANGUAGE NEVERTHELESS

I was woken up by the sound of loud argument.

It was a little strange and concerning because the walls of our apartment weren't thin and we couldn't hear sounds from our neighbours' apartments.

Which meant that the argument was happening inside my flat.

"Aunty!" I gasped, jumping out of bed and rushing out.

I was stunned to see Uncle standing in the living room, confronting his wife. The TV was now off and a plate lay shattered on the floor by Aunty's feet.

"WHY THE HELL DID YOU COME HERE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AFTER HOW YOUR B***H DAUGHTER-IN-LAW TREATED ME AND IMTIAZ BHAI?" He was yelling at her.

"Azeem! Stop! She'll hear..." 

"To hell with her! Us ha***i ki ghar be kyun ghusi tum, jisne us w***e ki khatir apne Maa Baap ko thukradiya hai?" 

*"Why did you step into the house of that b*****d, the one who rejected his own parents for that w***e?"

I was in absolute shock. Nobody had ever used that language directed towards me, and certainly nobody in my family had ever used that language at all. 

But I didn't care what he said to me. He was badmouthing my husband, the man who craved for his blessings and love. 

"Get out of my flat." I tried to keep my voice calm.

"Dekha? Yeh tameez sikhayi hai iske Maa Baap ne isko." Uncle pointed at me while looking at Aunty.

*"See? These are the manners that her parents have taught her." 

"Azeem, please! She's a child compared to us. Leave her out of this!" Aunty begged him.

"She's one of those cheap women who throw themselves at famous men." Uncle sneered. "A perfect match for your son!"

It was the manners that my parents had taught me that kept me from verbally ripping that man apart.

"Please leave or I'll have to call security. As far as I know, you're not welcome in this home." I told him. 

"Mujhe dhamki degi tu?" He raised his hand as if to slap me.

*"You will threaten me?"

"AZEEM! STOP! BACHI HAI!" Aunty stepped between us and screamed at her husband.

*"She's a kid!"

My own father referred to me as 'aap', and here this disgusting, gross man was calling me 'tu'. But then again, why was I compared the brilliant Dr Arhaan Sheikh to a man who didn't know the value of his angel of a son.

"BACHI NAHIN HAI! AISI LADKIYAN APNE AAP KO PAISE KE LIYE BAICHTI HAIN!" Uncle yelled.

*"She's not a child! Girls like her sell themselves for money!"

To my utter shock, Uncle was roughly turned around and punched in the face...by none other than my father.

The ever calm, ever wise Dr Arhaan Sheikh was fuming as he stared at his samdhi. "Jurat ho to ek aur lafz bolo meri beti ke khilaaf!"

*"I dare you to say another word against my daughter!"

"Papa!" I rushed up to him and he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. 

"Pehli baat, dafa ho meri beti ke ghar se." Papa continued, glaring at Mr Azeem. "Aur doosri baat, ke agar dobara yeh lafz istamal kiye meri Amara ke khilaf to zubaan khainchke haath main de doon ga."

*"Firstly, get out of my daughter's house."
"And secondly, if you use these words against my Amara again, I'll pull your tongue out and hand it to you." 

"I'm sorry, Bhai Sahab!" Aunty sobbed into her dupatta.

"I'm taking Amara home until I have a word with Muraad. If he supports his father..." Papa left the threat unfinished. "But before we go, you get out of here, Mr Azeem, otherwise I'll directly call the police on you for harassing my daughter. I have powerful connections." 

Uncle left then, glaring at me and his wife.

"Aunty, you have to stay here." I told her. "It's not safe for you to go back. I told Muraad I'll look out for you, and that's exactly what I plan on doing." 

She shook her head. "No. I have to go home, Amara. Trust me, if I don't, the situation is going to get worse."

"I'm sorry to speak in your personal matter, Bhabi, but that's abuse. And now that abuse is somehow affecting my daughter as well." Papa spoke without looking directly at her. "But this is not something that we'd tolerate. You know how worrying it is for me now, the idea of leaving Amara alone here while Muraad is a world away?" 

 Aunty nodded. "Yes, it's a good idea to take her away. I don't trust my husband either. Amara must be kept safe at all cost. She's my son's..."

"With all due respect, but before being your son's wife, she's an innocent human being. And that is the first and foremost reason that she must be kept safe. Not just because she's Muraad's wife. My daughter's life should not be valued based on her relations,but simply for the fact that she's a living, breathing human being who has done nothing to deserve this." Papa said. "Amara, meri jaan, get your things. We're leaving." 

"Muraad didn't do anything wrong, Papa. He's been constantly supporting me. I'll go with you, but you need to know this." 

"Good, so he wouldn't mind if he and I have a conversation when he's free." Papa didn't look happy at all.

****

We dropped Aunty home, after which Papa drove us to the Sheikh family home. 

"Please don't tell anyone about this, Papa." I pleaded with him quietly. "You dealt with it, you can speak to Muraad, but let's keep this between us. He'll look bad in this, and trust me, he's not at fault." 

He nodded. "I respect your wish, Amara, and I'm hoping that Muraad doesn't disappoint me and that he lives up to your trust in him."

"He will. I just know it." I smiled. "But, God, I can't believe you just punched him!" 

"As  you said, this remains between us." He gave me a small smile as he drove.

"Ibrahim Bhai would lose his mind if he hears it. He would laugh for a million years. And Mama? She would be in extreme shock!" 

"I didn't expect myself to ever behave this way either, Amara." He shook his head. "But when it comes to the matter of a daughter, there seems to be a natural protectiveness inside fathers." 

"I love you, Papa. Thank you." 

"Love you too, meri jaan." He said. "The words he used against you, I could have killed him for it. I know that Ibrahim would have made every attempt to do so, as well as possibly Ahad." 

"If it helps, Muraad wouldn't have tolerated it either. I just know it."

"How do you know it, beta? You don't know him long enough to know how he would have reacted in a situation like that." 

"He banned his own father from visiting his home, simply to keep me safe." 

The radio was playing quietly in the background as Papa had wanted to remain updated on the match.

"...AND PAKISTAN HAS WON THE FIRST MATCH!" The commentator screamed out.

I grinned, feeling immensely proud of my husband.

"Congratulation, captain's wife." Papa told me, also smiling.

"Congratulations to you too, captain's father-in-law." 

Did I misbehave too much with Uncle by asking him to leave?

Would Muraad be disappointed by the way I spoke to Uncle?

A nervous feeling began to build up in my stomach. Ya Allah, I just got married. Please don't let this create a rift between us. If Muraad does end up supporting Uncle, Papa wouldn't want me to go back to him...

...and I wouldn't want to go back either. 

****

Did you guys like the never-before-seen side of Arhaan?

Would Muraad support Amara?

Would there already be problems between the newly married couple?

His mother's insistence on returning back is not actually unrealistic, but is derived from real life.

Thoughts and comments?

Thank you for reading and don't forget to vote!