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*

TWO WEEKS LATER

Maheen

"Welcome home, Bhabi." Rabia Bhabi opened the door to my new bedroom.

A whole lot of drama, action and romance later, here I was, in my new home.

As decided, the day Ammi moved into care home, I moved here.

"Let me know if you need anything, okay?" Rabia Bhabi smiled at me.

"Please don't call me Bhabi. Maheen is fine." I told her, politely. "You're my jethani. You can say my name."

"As Ismael always says, 'Respect has no age'. We can be respectful to people both older and younger than us." She waited as I examined the room.

It was a huge room, with floor-to-ceiling windows that had a soft rug and large floor cushions placed beneath them- an ideal place to sit and have coffee in. One whole wall of the room had built-in wardrobes, and a door on the side led into the en-suite bathroom. On one side of the large windows was a beautiful dressing table, with bottles of designer cologne...and new bottles of designer women's perfumes. My eyes skimmed past it all and landed on the large king-sized bed. Above it was a beautiful chic abstract painting, the kind that was probably worth thousands. It was a gorgeous room.

There was a knock on the door and Amara and Dania Bhabi entered, both smiling.

After hearing about the attack on Arhaan Uncle, Ibrahim Bhai had flown over his whole family to Pakistan, worried sick about his father. Amara had accompanied them as she was making herself sick while crying about her beloved Papa.

It was beautiful that Armaan's whole immediate family got to attend my rukhsati.

"How does it feel, Bhabi?" Amara asked.

"I can't believe it." I replied, honestly. "This feels like a dream. A beautiful, crazy dream."

Dania Bhabi went and stood beside Rabia Bhabi, while Amara placed a hand on my elbow.

The atmosphere was nice and warm, and everyone was welcoming. But I looked at the clear closeness between my jethanis and my Nand, and I hoped that one day I could be a part of their little group.

Dania Bhabi was elegant and stylish, with a western sense of fashion. However, even in eastern wear (as she wore right now), she looked like a model. Ma Sha Allah. Whereas, Rabia Bhabi was cute and innocent, with a more modest sense of fashion. Wearing a lavender lace sari, and a heavy silver jewellery set that belonged to Afreen Sheikh once upon a time, she looked like a true eldest daughter-in-law right now. Those two Bhabis, generally speaking, were a stark contrast between East and West, although both were British born and had lived in the UK their whole lives.

Meanwhile, I wore a golden gharara with sequins and tiny beads all over, and a red net dupatta with a golden border and tiny gold beads dotting it all over. This outfit had been gifted to me by my mother-in-law.

I felt nervous. These ladies might be younger than me, but they had seen more in life than me (married lives, pregnancy, kids). They had more experience and I almost wanted to ask them for advice, but it felt a little strange at this point.

"Shall we ask Armaan for bribery?" Dania Bhabi winked at Rabia Bhabi.

"Is that even a question?" Amara asked her. "It's our right. Where the flip is Noor?" She headed out of the room to search for her cousin.

"Technically, it's Amara and Noor's right." Rabia Bhabi reminded Dania Bhabi.

As they both chatted, I looked at the beautiful decoration of the room: the rose petals on the bed, the scented candles, the usual wedding night room. It was fantastic, so purely romantic.

I noticed that the two Bhabis chatted to each other in English, in strong British accents that clearly showed their backgrounds. They both seemed to be the best of friends already.

Amara returned, holding Noor's hand. "Armaan Bhai will be coming soon. Come on ladies, let's block the door." 

Rabia Bhabi helped me settle on the bed, moving my dupatta down slightly so that it covered my face. "Don't be nervous." She whispered to me. "Just relax and be yourself. He already likes you, remember?" 

I nodded, smiling.

The ladies left the room, closing the door behind them, but I heard them talking and giggling outside.

****

Ismael

I looked from Ibrahim to Armaan, and then back. "Okay, it's more than enough. It's been two weeks now. Grow up, both of you." 

Ibbi refused to even see Armaan's face, and was only here because Mama and Papa asked him to come. He blamed Armaan for the injury suffered by Papa, even though Papa didn't blame anyone but the people who had thrown the rock at him.

"He needs to grow up, blaming me for something that wasn't even my fault." Armaan said, bitterly.

"Armaan, we were all upset because we all were worried sick about Papa." I told him. "Let it go. Papa's okay, Alhumdulillah, and it's your big day today, so no more drama." 

Ibrahim wasn't even looking in his direction, his jaw clenched. I suppose Armaan's harsh words regarding Mama not being our biological mother also still impacted Ibbi.

"I'm going in. I'm holding no more grudges." Armaan told us both. "But for Allah's sake, just ask your wives not to do anything that would upset Maheen." 

I looked at him sharply, surprised at his harsh tone.

Wearing a golden coloured sherwani, Armaan looked like a prince, Ma Sha Allah. But he seemed to have developed a nawaab attitude to match with his appearance.

"Behave yourself." Now, Ibrahim turned to glare at him. "You're talking about your elder sisters-in-law, not kids." 

"I don't want that usual Jethani-Dewrani politics to upset my wife." Armaan remained firm. 

"Are you listening to him, or are you going to ignore this?" Ibrahim looked at me. "This baby is going to teach his elder Bhabis to behave maturely." 

Even I was feeling a little offended, but I was the eldest, and I had to remain calm. "Armaan, Rabia and Dania Bhabi are both very mature. They would never make Maheen Bhabi feel unwelcome." 

"Good. And while we're at it, I need to get this in Amara and Noor's heads as well." Armaan nodded.

"Let Mama and Chachi handle this." I told him. "You just go into your room now. Forget about this, and just trust your family." 

Armaan looked briefly at Ibrahim before turning back to me. "Good Night." He turned to head towards his bedroom.

"What the f**k is wrong with him?" Ibrahim asked, incredulously, once our little brother was out of earshot.

"Remain calm, Ibbi. He's probably just very nervous after everything that had happened." I sighed.

"It always seems like he lets his feelings control his tongue, whether it's anger or nerves." 

"He'll learn." I said. "I just hope that he treats Maheen Bhabi right."

I am not going to lie. I was worried sick about my brother's behaviour, but my parents had faith in him, so I had to trust them. 

****

Armaan

"Our money?" Amara held her hand out in front of me, blinking up innocently at me as she stood in front of my bedroom door, with Noor on one side and Rabia Bhabi on the other. Dania Bhabi stood on the other side of Rabia Bhabi. It was a barricade.

"I don't have money. Step aside, I'm tired." I muttered in annoyance, running a hand through my hair.

"Bhai..."

"I said I didn't have any money, didn't I?!" I snapped. The truth was that after Papa's incident, I was resenting Amara and Muraad Bhai a little, because it was the latter's fame that caused that to happen to Papa. If it were not for him, I wouldn't have ended up in the media. As for Amara, she was constantly defending her husband, which irritated me to no end.

"Armaan!" Rabia Bhabi looked surprised. 

A rift had formed in the Sheikh siblings, specifically the children of Arhaan Sheikh. Ibrahim Bhai couldn't stand me right now, I was irritated at Amara, while Ismael Bhai was trying to act like a referee as usual, which kind of p***ed me of. Why couldn't he just take sides for once? 

"Amara, forget it." Noor told her. "Let's go. We'll get Billu to get some ice cream for us." She looked at me cautiously, being protective of her sister-like cousin, as usual. "You're being kind of a pr**k these days."

I just rolled my eyes, and the four ladies walked off. Suddenly, I began to feel ashamed of myself. They were just here to celebrate my big day, and I was acting like a brat. It was just that the media had ripped Maheen apart in the last few weeks, criticising everything from her age to her appearance, and I was worried that she would face the same treatment from my family members eventually. I was the most worried about my Bhabis mistreating her. 

I turned the door knob and stepped into our bedroom, breathing deeply. My heart pounded hard as I saw Maheen sitting on the bed, her face covered by her dupatta, waiting for me.

I slowly walked towards the bed, and sat down facing her. "Assalam Alaikum."

"Walaikum Assalam." She said, softly.

I reached into the pocket of my sherwani and pulled out the folded piece of paper with the dua written on it. Papa had told me that it should be recited on a new bride by the groom. I recited it and blew it over Maheen.

"I heard you shouting. Everything okay?" Maheen reached out and placed her hand on mine.

"Don't worry about it." I told her. "It's our night tonight, and we need to focus on that." 

"But..." 

"Mahi, please." I sighed. "It'll all be over soon anyway." 

"What are you talking about?" She sounded confused, even from under the dupatta.

I reached out and slowly removed the dupatta from her head. "Mahi, in a few days, we will be moving into our own flat. I've told my parents this decision." 

Her eyes widened with shock as she looked at me. 

*

FLASHBACK

"I want me and Mahi to move out." I'd blurted out to Mama and Papa, without hesitation.

"What?" Mama had looked shocked. "Why would you want to move out?" 

"Because after the way the media and the world has treated Maheen, I am not sure if she would be treated right here." I admitted. "Family politics is a natural thing, and I don't want her to become the victim of it." 

"Are you saying that you don't trust me to behave rationally?" Mama was in tears.

"Mama, why do you always end up crying?" I sighed. "There's nothing wrong with this. It's just to keep our relations intact, I suppose. And I want her to feel comfortable at her own home."

Papa nodded. "If you think this is for your best, okay."

"Arhaan!" Mama looked at him, horrified.

"The kids have a right to live their own married lives the way they want, Naz." He tried to explain to her. 

"This will break our family apart!" Mama argued.

"No, it won't. If we all handle this sensibly and maturely, this won't hurt our family." He said, before turning back to me. "I suppose you thought this through before making your decision, so I will support you in this. But remember, don't ever neglect any of your responsibilities, even if you don't live here. While your wife and future kids, In Sha Allah, will be your main priority, I don't ever want you to neglect your duties towards your mother. I don't ever want you to drift apart from your siblings. Am I clear?" 

Papa had required stitches at the back of the head, due to which he had to have his hair shaved from the back, and now he had a look that made it seem like he had just returned from performing Umrah or Hajj. 

"I have a duty towards you as well, Papa." I told him. "And I promise, I will fulfil all my duties." 

"It's more important for me that Nazia isn't hurt, and she's taken care of." He said. "As long as you, and your siblings, fulfil your duties towards her, I'm satisfied."

Mama turned her back towards me, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

"Mama..." I stepped towards her.

"May Allah always keep you and Maheen happy. Ameen." She said, her back still towards me. "But I relieve you of all your duties towards me."

My heart hurt a little, but I knew that what I was asking for wasn't wrong. Maheen was in my Nikah, and I had duties to protect her, even if it was from potential family politics.

*

PRESENT

"Oh God, what have you done, Armaan?" Maheen was in shock. 

"What did I do?" I was confused. "I didn't ask for anything unfair." 

She pulled the dupatta off her face and I tension filled her facial features. 

"Why are you reacting like this?" I asked her. "Papa was cool about it. And if he was, he would make the others understand." 

"The others will not say a word out of respect for him, but it will be natural of Aunty to feel that I have taken her son away from her." 

"That's ridiculous!" I scoffed. "You didn't take this decision. I did!"

"And who's going to believe that?" She looked at me, challengingly.

"Mahi." I placed my hand on her shoulders. "That's why I spoke in Papa's presence. He is the most sensible, wisest person in this house. Ma Sha Allah. If he felt that there was something wrong in this, he would have said it. But he didn't, and he is supporting us."

"And Aunty?" 

I had no answer to that because I had no idea what to expect from Mama, honestly. She was very upset, no doubt, but I'm sure that she would get over it and accept my decision. She was also a very wise person, after all.

Maheen placed both hands over her face, groaning. 

"Mahi, a lot of people are upset with me right now. Please don't be one of them." I told her in a pleading tone.

She dropped her hands away from her face and looked at me, her eyes filled with pain and compassion. "I'm not upset with you, Armaan. I can understand why you did what you did. I'm just worried about our relationship with your family." 

"They'll come around." I tried to reassure both her and myself, but it didn't convince anyone. I got up and walked to the wardrobe, out of which I pulled out a small box. I had selected Maheen's moun-dikhai after much consideration. Walking back to the bed, I sat down and held it out for her. "Congratulations on our wedding, Mrs Maheen Armaan Sheikh." 

She took the box from me with a shy smile. "You didn't have to, Armaan."

"It's your right, as per tradition." I grabbed her free hand and lifted it up to my mouth to kiss it. "Tonight, forget about everything, about all the drama. Tonight I'm yours, and you are mine." 

She opened the box and softly gasped at the average-sized diamond ring. I had used some of my salary, and some of my inheritance from my paternal grandparents, to purchase it, and I hadn't gone too over the top while buying it. 

"It's beautiful." 

"Nothing compared to its new owner." I smiled, sliding the ring on her ring finger and kissing it.

Anxiety was still reflected in her eyes as she looked up at me, and I leaned forward to peck her lips. She closed her eyes out of shyness.

"May we proceed?" I asked.

She nodded.

We had both been attracted to each other, but we had avoided this out of respect for rukhsati. But tonight, we didn't have to hold back. Tonight was the night we would finally become each other's in all ways.

"You're so, so beautiful, Mahi." I whispered.

"And I'm all yours, Maan." She said. "I promise, whatever we face in live, we will face it together, remaining strong through all storms."

"In Sha Allah." I whispered.

MATURE CONTENT

And so, that night, Mahi and Maan became one. We didn't go into novelised wedding night rituals. Instead we kept it simple. I kissed her, she kissed me back, and slowly but sensually, we began to remove each other's clothes.

Her body was flawless: soft skin, nice big thighs, a cute belly, and a beautiful large chest. She was perfection to me, and I loved every single thing about her.

"Is it possible to not use protection?" Maheen looked up at me, worried, as I leaned over her, ready to start a passionate night.

"Let's just use it until we get used to each other." I told her. "As soon as we are, we can stop. Is that okay with you?" 

"Sure, more than okay." She reached up and tangled one hand through my hair. "Now, shall we begin 'getting used to each other'?" She winked at me, teasingly.

We wanted to forget about the others, about the drama, and just get lost in each other. Maybe it was selfish, maybe it wasn't. Neither of us cared that night.

As Maheen lay completely exposed in front of me, her bare body being an absolute vision in my opinion, I leaned down and began softly kissing her neck, shoulders, leading down to her collar bones. She gasped softly, as if each kiss of mine was causing unimaginable, pleasurable things inside her. I took over her completely, covering her with my body, and slowly entering inside her, bearing in mind that it was a first time for both of us, and it might not be as enjoyable at first, from what I'd heard. Our bodies, especially hers, needed time to get used to each other.

And what I'd heard was correct. What started off with painful hisses and cries, turned into a night of delighted moans and s*xy renditions of our names being called during blissful ecstasy. 'Maan!' and 'Mahi!', blended together, like a beautiful remix, and our lovemaking took us into a whole new world, away from all the negativity of our world.

We were in our whole blissful, intoxicated utopia, and we were perfectly content here.

****

Zaid

"OUT!" Wahaj yelled at the TV screen.

We were on our break at the training centre in Islamabad and were watching the T20 World Cup, in which Pakistan was currently playing. Wahaj was also a part of the training team and had come here shortly after Noor and I had arrived. I was glad, because it was always a relief to see a familiar face when you're in a new place- whether you admit it out loud or not.

"Quit yelling like someone has just stolen your grandma's handbag." I chuckled, holding my mug of coffee as I leaned on my desk.

"That's an out! This is the time to yell, bro!" He looked at me like I was too dumb to understand a basic fact.

Yep, we as a nation were cricket obsessed. Actually, everyone in this part of Asia was this obsessed. The T20 World Cup arose such passionate cricket fans. Imagine how it's like during the actual Cricket World Cup!

"I can't believe you are related to Muraad Azeem." Wahaj muttered, shaking his head. "Life can be so unfair sometimes." 

"He fell for my cousin-sister-in-law. What can I say?" I shrugged.

"Does he not know any female cricket stars that I can meet?" He looked at me. "I even promise to be good, and send my parents like a decent desi man." 

"Wahaj." Every conversation with him made me want to facepalm myself repeatedly.

Wahaj lived with his parents in a two-bedroom home close to where we worked in Lahore. His big brother, the builder who had helped us, Abdul Wahab Bhai, lived in a beautiful home in Model Town, with his wife and kids. Although Wahaj was a pain in my a**, he was a loyal and hardworking man. He was not just very reliable when it comes to work, but was also excellent at it, making him a top partner to work with.

I received a notification on my phone and looked down to see a photo message from Noor. I clicked on it and smiled. Noor looked stunning in the pink gharara, with her curly hair straightened out for the occasion. She had gone back to Lahore for Armaan's wedding rituals, but I couldn't go because of work. The rukhsati had been done in the early evening, before there was a dinner party at the Sheikh family home. 

<Zaid: Ma Sha Allah! Kya noor hai is Noor main! Yeh chandni ya hoor hai?>

*What a radiance in this Noor! Is she moonlight or an angel?

I was grinned cheesily, which made Wahaj raise an eyebrow at me. "Shut up." I simply told him.

I missed Noor. It was too quiet without her whenever I returned to our temporary accommodation of Islamabad. But it was important for her to attend the wedding as well, considering how close she was to her Taya Jaan's family.

The rukhsati wasn't meant to happen now, but after the attack on Arhaan Uncle, he had gathered everyone over and decided that they should have the rukhsati soon. He didn't do it because of the pressure, but because he'd genuinely felt that he wouldn't survive a head injury like that, and he wanted to see Armaan settled as well because life was very unpredictable. 

So while Papa ensured firm action against the people responsible, the Sheikh family prepared to welcome a new bride home. The youngest daughter-in-law of Dr Arhaan Sheikh's family.

I wish I was there. Although I was closer to Ibbi and Billu, I was good friends with Armaan as well, and I wanted to be there for his wedding, but life often becomes a hindrance, and that is what happened with me.

<Noor: Na chandni, na hoor. Yeh cupcake hai.>

*Neither moonlight, nor an angel. She's a cupcake.

That made me laugh out loud.

"Did someone send you a funny meme?" Wahaj asked.

I shook my head. "I was just suddenly craving a cupcake. I was laughing because it's so random." 

I slid my phone back into my pocket, sighing. I really do miss you, Cupcake! Come back home soon.

****

Muraad

I had been cleared to play the match, but I knew that my performance was not going to be at its best. I repeatedly prayed to Allah that I didn't let my team down.

Added to that stress was my guilty of not going back home as soon as we'd heard about my father-in-law. After all, the reason behind the media attack had been my fame, and I felt that I should have gone back.

But even as I spoke to Dr Arhaan Sheikh on the phone as he lay in the hospital after treatment, he practically ordered me not to come back. He convinced me, because I didn't like arguing with my elders, but he couldn't couldn't convince my Amore, especially because she wouldn't stop crying seeing the bandage on his head.

"You'll be fine, bro." Irfan reassured me. "Just play the way you always have, by pushing away everything out of your mind, and focusing on the game itself. The more we let emotions take over, the more we lose focus on the game." 

For me cricket was about getting away from the emotional drama. I used it to get away from Abbu's taunts and beatings. I used it to get away when my parents argued. I even used it to get away when I felt that I was an academic failure. Until Amara came along, cricket had been the only emotional relief that I had. I couldn't lose that.

Today, in the crowd, was Taif Bukhari, Iman's husband. Before Amore had left, she had requested her Phupho and her sons-in-laws to watch out for me while she went back home. It was a sweet gesture, but I felt like I had to be watched like a baby. But because she was pregnant, had recently received a scare due to me, and was stressed over Uncle, I had let it go and accepted whatever she wanted.

And as I stepped onto the field, I reminded myself that I was captaining this team, and I had to do it to the best of my abilities. I'd already missed two matches, and people were a little sceptical about my abilities right now. I had to prove them wrong. I had to show them that I was still just as dedicated to cricket as I was before.

"The way you hit powerful sixers turns me on." Amara often reminded me of that, causing me to smile behind my helmet.

For the first few shots, it was either a no-bowl or single runs. But the fifth ball, I sent a powerful sixer flying across the stadium, almost to the top of the stands, causing the crowd to roar in delight.

Pressing my index finger and my middle finger closer together, I placed it over my heart as I waited for the bowler to reassume his position. This one was for you, Amore. Always you.

Captain Muraad Azeem is back at his best, and In Sha Allah, he will fight to the best of his abilities to take his team home as heroes, and not losers, regardless of the fact that we win the actual trophy or not.

Because, as Ammi says, a winner is also the one who loses but has fought hard, but a loser is the one who fails without even attempting to fight.

****

Maheen

I have repeatedly been told by Nomi, and in my teenage years by my mother, that although I said the right things, I sometimes forgot who I was speaking to, and also the possible consequences of my words.

I realised that the very first morning, when I came downstairs for breakfast along with Armaan.

I felt intoxicated with the passion of last night, and I couldn't stop smiling, especially when my husband kept holding onto my hand.

"Assalam Alaikum." We both greeted the rest of the family, and was greeted back with a chorus of replies.

The rest of the guys were discussing Pakistan's victory in yesterday's match, while Amara was talking to Noor, in a quiet conversation. 

After we sat down on our seats, I noticed that although Ismael Bhai was talking to Armaan normally, Ibrahim Bhai wouldn't even look at my husband. I wondered if he was still angry about how Armaan had told him that Nazia Aunty wasn't his mother.

"Ibrahim, pass this to Armaan." Nazia Aunty gave her second oldest son the plate containing the puris. Ibrahim Bhai just handed it to Ismael Bhai to pass it on, even though the former was closer. "Ibrahim, yeh kya tareeka hai?" Nazia Aunty sounded annoyed. "Bhai hai aapka."

*"Ibrahim, what is this behaviour?"
"He's your brother."

"Kya usay bhi yehi lagta hai?" Ibrahim Bhai muttered.

*"Does he feel the same?"

"Ibrahim." Arhaan Uncle said, in a warning tone.

Ibrahim Bhai sighed. "Sorry, Papa. Mama." 

"Whatever happened has happened. Let's put it all behind us." Nazia Aunty looked around the table. "It wasn't anyone's fault, what happened. The person who threw the rock was an adult and was responsible for his own actions." 

"And yet, I'm the one being made to feel like a criminal!" Armaan protested.

Nazia Aunty sighed. 

"It's a valid point." My foot entered my mouth. "If Armaan is being blamed for this, even though it wasn't his fault, by that logic we should blame Muraad Bhai as well, as his fame is the reason the reporters, and the crowd, attacked!"

Nazia Aunty froze, and Amara's eyes widened.

A pin-drop silence fell over the entire table. 

It was only then that I realised how fragile relationships can be, especially in the in-laws, and that there was a way to handle each situation.

"Nobody blamed Armaan, beta." Arhaan Uncle spoke.

"Ibrahim Bhai did!" Armaan argued. "And Maheen is right. Muraad Bhai should be blamed as well, due to that logic. He's the reason we came in the public eye in the first place. But, as usual, you're biased."

"I didn't mean that, Armaan!" I whispered, shocked. I felt terrible. I had spoken without thinking, and now the atmosphere had heated up.

Amara stood up. "I don't want any rifts on Bhabi's first day here, which is why I'm going to leave." It was clear that she was hurt by all this.

"Amara, I really didn't mean it that way. I was just making a point." I tried to justify myself.

"I'm sure that's true." She looked at me. "But like you got defensive about your husband, I can't sit here and hear words against mine either. His fame is not his fault. It's just a part and parcel of being a cricket superstar." She turned to her mother. "Mama, you said that you've prepared some things for Nausheen Aunty. Can I take them along? I'm going to see her." She left the room, followed by her mother.

Arhaan Uncle stood up. "I'm very, very disappointed. At least show a little regard to the food in front of you before you start an argument. I will no longer tolerate such behaviour at the dining table, and if there is a repeat of this, Nazia and I will eat in our rooms from now on. But this is unacceptable from grown up, married adults!" He walked out of the room, his commanding voice silencing everyone in the room.

I felt like a terrible person. I hadn't meant to cause all this, but this was a proof that each little thing must be carefully thought of before it escaped the mouth in the form of words.

It was official. 

There was a rift in Dr Arhaan Sheikh's family.

****

I wanted to speed things up a little, so I fast forwarded a chapter.

Just as a friendly reminder, Armaan and Maheen are just a side couple in the story, not the main ones, so they will only get a limited time in the chapters. I wanted to write a better wedding night for them, but I just didn't feel very creative with them.

Anyway, it is often said that one must think at least twice before speaking. Sometimes our intentions aren't bad, but we must still consider the circumstances before we speak. This is just to show consideration and regard to the others around you. So, while Maheen didn't mean for this to happen, her words unintentionally sparked a deeper rift in the family.

I personally don't think Muraad or Armaan should be blamed. Muraad got fame because of cricket, and the family knew about it before Amara's wedding. And Armaan was just meeting his lawfully wedded, Nikahfied wife, which the media blew out of proportion. This is just a point to show how much damage media/social medic can do.

The attack on Arhaan wasn't meant to be a major storyline, but it was meant to become a cause of a rift between brothers. 

Would a rift be caused between the sisters-in-law?

Would Amara start resenting Maheen because of this, or do you trust her maturity?

Thoughts and comments?

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