Chapter 13

“For how long?” He grabbed her wrist when she was about to leave the room as well as the conversation. 

“Who was the one to start all these things?” She questioned but didn't wait for an answer from him. “You, only you!” 

“Try to understand dear, we are different personalities but, I love you, you love me, why are we letting these issues create differences between us?”

“You know what Ashar, main kuch hi mahino me aapse pareshan ho chuki hu, jab mera mood achha hota hai aapke paas koi na koi masla hota hai jis ki wajah se aap mujh par apna gussa utaar sake aur jab aapka mood theek ho jata hai to aapko lagta hai ki mera mood bhi theek hona chahiye.” 

(You know what Ashar, I have been upset with you for the last few months. When I am in a good mood, you have some issue or the other due to which you can vent your anger on me and when your mood becomes good, you feel that my mood should also be good.)

“Fine! My fault! I admit!” She was surprised to hear such a great apology from this man who had been occasionally cold and occasionally overcaring and romantic. It was difficult for her to understand the pattern of his mood and the things that could make him angry or happy. “But…” the addition in the statement made Bisma realise that he still had something to say. 

“But what?” She asked.

“But, just look at your behaviour Bisma, you're too childish sometimes…”

“And you're too mature.” she replied without waiting a single second. 

“Fine… I understand there are some issues between us so let's set some rules right here.” Ashar ignored everything and just held his wife's hands while shifting near her and she glared at him. 

“What rules?” she huffed. 

“Rule number one- No matter how big our argument is, we won't stop talking to each other.” The wise man delivered a tiny piece of wisdom and Bisma's forehead covered with creases. 

“Rule number two- no matter whatever happens but the argument of one day won't last till the next day. We will sort it out before sleeping.” he sensed her forehead creases densed.  

“Rule number three- No matter what, you won't go on a hunger strike.” This time he kind of glared at her and Bisma kept watching him in his eyes. 

“Fine or not?” a question and soon she pushed his hands away. 

“Wow, what an amazing set of rules! I shouldn't show my anger, I shouldn't go on hunger strike, I shouldn't stop talking to you… so that you will not have to bring me around? I knew it Ashar, I already knew it… you don't love me. You dislike talking to me. You hate when I laugh… you… you're…” The daughter of Maizah huffed with anger but ended up in tears on the other hand the grandson of Late Arsalan Haider grit his teeth and stood up. 

“Enough is enough! For the last fifteen days I've been roaming around you, I'm doing my best to bring you around but you're so… so…” he didn't know the exact word to describe her. 

“Haan haan keh dijiye main badtamez hu, pagal hu bohot buri hu, Mene to aapki zindagi mushkil kar di hai, ruk kyu gye?” she sniffled and cried out while delivering the last word and soon she ran out from the room leaving Ashar in disbelief.

(Yes yes, complete the sentence, say it that I am bad-mannered, crazy, and very bad, why did you stop?)

 He blinked blankly and looked at the open doors before mumbling…

“Lekin main to keh rha tha tum bohot immature ho.” He said for himself and smacked his forehead. “Ye shadi hai ya barbadi? Kaha phas gya?”

(But I was saying you're immature.)

(Where have I gotten stuck? Is this marriage or a disaster?)

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Till a few minutes ago the room was as tidy as always but now it was showing a good amount of mess on the bed. Half of the clothes were present on the floor and half of them were on the bed but he was unable to find the shirt he received a few months ago but never wore. 

“Danish ye kya haal bana rakha hai tumne apne room ka?” Maizah came inside the room and gasped after seeing the condition of the room. 

(Danish, what have you done to your room?)

“Mummy, I'm looking for a shirt…” 

“Which one?” she asked while examining the heap of shirts. 

“It's a new shirt.” He didn't even remember how it was. Maizah furrowed and opened the other cupboard. “This one?” she asked after drawing out a box and Danish pulled out the hawaii shirt which was showing bright coloured big leaves set on the dull black colour. 

“Will you wear this?” Maizah's eyes widened after seeing her son looking for this shirt which he didn't even glance at properly when he received it as a gift. 

“Yeah.” He nodded and looked at the condition of the room. 

“Mummy,” with a sweet smile he gestured towards the mess he created and Maizah glared at him. “Meri pyari mummy…”

(My lovely mom.)

“DANISH,” A fake glare. 

“Mere baap ki achhi wali biwi, please.” He teased her with a smile and this time leaving her anger, Maizah fake huffed. 

(My father's nicest wife, please.)

“Achhi wali se kya matlab hai? Ek looti biwi hu main uski,”

(What do you mean by nicest? I'm his only wife.)

“Who knows?” Danish shrugged while suppressing his smile and Maizah gasped. 

“No way! Tange tood dungi main uski.” 

(No way! I will break his legs.)

“Zarur zarur, dande ka intezam main karunga lekin pehle aap ye kar dijiye… mere baap ki ek looti biwi.” And he ran out of the room. This time Maizah said nothing because she could see another shine in her son's eyes. He was holding the shirt gifted by Fayra on his last birthday. This girl wanted to tease him by giving something Danish would feel annoyed with. But Maizah recognised the happiness in his eyes due to this shirt only. She knew how important Fayra became for her son.

(Sure, I will arrange for the stick but first you do this… my father's only wife.)

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“Chachi, you're the best.” It was a clear buttering for Fiza because she ironed his shirt and now he rushed back towards their portion but his feet stopped in between after watching someone in the middle of the lawn. 

“Ashar, what are you doing here?” Asked Danish when found his brother-in-law sitting in the middle of the garden, lost in his thoughts he was pulling out the grass from the ground. After hearing the voice he looked up. 

“Hmm… wo…” he again looked down at the grass present in his hand as if he was digging out the answers to his questions. 

“Is everything fine?” Danish questioned and Ashar sighed while standing up and shook his head.

“No. Nothing is fine. Your sister is not ready to understand what I'm saying. I'm unable to bring her around so I'm going back.” Ashar shared and Danish blinked in disbelief. 

“kya? Tumse Bisma ko nhi manaya ja rha? Ye to duniya ke asaan tareen kaamo me se ek hai.” 

(What? You're unable to move Bisma? That's the simplest task in the world.)

“Simple task?”

“Of course.” Danish shrugged “use to ek ice cream khila do aur bas… wo maan jati hai.”

(Just give her an ice cream and that's it... she agrees for everything.)

“An ice cream? Are you kidding? I have been roaming around her for the last fifteen days, literally begging for forgiveness.” Ashar didn't want to believe what Danish was saying; however, this brother knew his sister very well.

“Of course just an ice cream and she will be all fine but if by any chance…” for a second Danish took a pose then continued “umm… give her something cute.” 

“Cute? What is the meaning of a cute gift?” He asked and Danish furrowed. 

“Cute means… Anything cute… now I'm getting late, otherwise my wife will kill me because she must be hungry and I have to take her for lunch.” Danish was over the moon as he was going to be on an official date with his wife for the very first time. 

“Fayraaaaa… get ready.” While going to his room Danish yelled loudly outside Fayra's room and in no time he got a reply. “Okay Danish Bhai.” his feet rooted on the floor and heart pondered faster for a moment. 

“She needs some time to accept everything.” Telling himself he took a deep breath and resumed his walk but the word ‘bhai’ somewhere took away his smile.  Without wasting time he changed himself in a fresh pair of clothes. Blue jeans and the shirt given by Fayra. 

“Where are you going?” Asked Maizah who was still arranging the clothes in the cupboard and Danish hesitated for the first time before mentioning about Fayra but he smiled a little. 

“Fayra isn't in a good mood na… so I'm taking her for a pizza treat.” 

“Hmm …” leaving the shirt she was folding, Maizah stepped towards Danish and waited for a few minutes to say what she was about to ask.

“Are you satisfied with this marriage?” The question was short but Danish couldn't find suitable words for this. 

“Umm… I don't know but… yeah… maybe I'm.” He shrugged and Maizah smiled. 

“Don't be like your dad,” Maizah rolled her eyes while resuming folding the clothes. 

“What? But why?” Danish was confused. 

“He is such an…” Maizah stopped to mention unromantic in front of her son and huffed, “annoying man.” 

“Oh come on mummy, you're not at the back seat in this work. You're also annoying.” Danish laughed and walked out of the room leaving his mother in jealousy. How dare her son defend Anzala in front of her? 

“Fayraaaaaaa… come downstairs. I'm waiting.” Danish yelled while going towards the hall where Sara was already present with Momina. Both of them were looking seriously till a few moments ago but now they were surprised to see the decent handsome man in his new funky look. In no time they both were laughing at Danish. 

“Ye kya ban kar bahar jaa rhe ho Danish?” Asked Sara while controlling herself to laugh. 

(Just look at yourself Danish..)

“Lekin tum jaa kaha rhe ho ese kapdo me?” Momina asked and Danish smiled with hesitation before telling the lunch plan which eventually brightened Sara's eyes. 

(But where are you going in these clothes?)

“Danish B…” as soon as Fayra's eyes fell on Momina the word Bhai hid itself behind her tongue and Danish felt satisfied. Let's go, I'll order two pizzas and a burger… I'm too hungry.” Wearing her earrings, Fayra was coming downstairs. She was looking as normal as everyday but today Danish saw a girl with long hair whose eyes were beautiful enough to speed his heartbeat. His eyes begged to see her without blinking and hands urged to touch those curly hair. 

“Will you move?” Fayra asked with frustration when Danish didn't move even a single bit from his place and Momina gave this girl a disappointed look. 

“Thodi tameez se baat kar lo!” It was a clear scolding. 

(Show some respect?)

“kis se? Inse?” For a moment Fayra was confused but soon she smiled as if talking to Danish respectfully was nothing but a joke. 

(With whom? Him?)

“Shohor hai wo tumhara ab,” Momina showed Fayra the mirror of reality which was enough to irk this girl. 

(Now he is your husband.)

“Wo mera masla nhi hai aap logo ka hai…” and she walked out while pushing her hair behind her ears.

(That's none of my business.)

“Dadi Jaan, please… give her some time.”

“It's necessary to remind her every time, this is the only way to make her realise.” That was Momina’s point. 

“No Dadi Jaan, this isn't! This is the only way to annoy her!” 

“Danish Bhai, Fayra Aapi is asking, are you coming or not?” Zunera came inside as a messenger and Danish turned to go in a hurry but again stopped by a call.           

“Danish.” this time it was Sara. 

“Ji Mami?” 

“I trust you beta.” She whispered and cupped his face. “I'm glad that my daughter got married to you.” holding Sara's hands in between his both hands Danish smiled. 

“I won't break your trust ever.” Sara smiled with tear filled eyes and let him go. Today she saw Adnaan's statement turning true. Fayra's husband will be our son.

“Shall we go? I'm already starving.” Fayra asked and walked towards the car but Danish gestured towards the bike. 

“How can we four go on a bike?” asked Fayra “What? Four?” Danish asked while looking at Zinia and Zunera. 

“Yeah, they both are also coming with us” Danish was shocked. It was supposed to be his first official date with his wife but the pair of third wheels was there. “What? Why are you looking like this?” The girl who became a wife lately showed her old tantrums and Danish shook his head silently while moving towards the car. 

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