The Dawn Is On Us

C H A P T E R 2 7

S U N L I G H T peeked through from behind the tightly shut curtains. Making their way into the room, courtesy of the slight distance between the two sides. The light fell on Hoor, who was bent in a sajda. Her heart crying for the pain and agony of the day before. She sobbed in immense pain, her body vibrating with huge force.

It was around five thirty am. Hoor was praying Fajar. She had finally let herself be overwhelmed with the change in events. She had never expected this to happen to her. All her life, Hoor had been the perfect child. In hopes of marrying a man who would love her. And her she was, tied to a man, a man who was her father's boss. A man whom she could at most, think of as a brother.

She had no hatred for Mustafa. He too, had his hands tied. None of it was his fault either. To get stuck with someone like her. Someone who could barely spell her name out in angreezi. Whilst he was a top notch student of an expensive private school. He may not let her feel like it, but she could already feel the onslaught of judgment that would be part of her taqdeer from here on.

And then there was the fact that, Mustafa was paralysed. She was raised up in a typical Pakistani household. Where it was common to pity people who were different from you. They were not hated, just ignored. No one would hand them their daughter. No matter how majboor they were. And her parents had tied her to him. Without even thinking for a second. She wanted to hate herself for having such feelings. The man had not once made her feel less than anyone else. And she had done the absolute opposite. Constantly judging him.

Hoor raised her head. Turning slightly, looking at the man who was now her sartaj. On the large bed, lay Mustafa. Dozing off without a single care in the world. He looked at peace. Seeing him so calm, she could not help but walk towards him. Having no idea whilst she was doing so. She wiped her eyes, sniffling a bit to get control of her emotions.

Hoor sat next to his pillow. His hair lay limp on the pillowcase, looking crisp. The blunt cut edges of the wisps looked sharp. Looking absolutely heavenly. His light beard was the most perfect part about him. Hoor raised her hands, rubbing them softly on his beard. The fingers lightly grazing the sharp hairs. Making her smile. She had always thought of having a man who had a beard. And lo and behold, she was married to one who had it.

The constant touching of Hoor, brought Mustafa out of his slumber. The heat that radiated from her palm engulfed her face. He smiled slightly, before opening his eyes. Just as he opened his eyes, they made contact with Hoor's. Who immediately became shy and ran away. Into the en-suite.

Hoor entered the unnecessarily large space. Turning on the water faucet, Hoor took off her clothes. She was glad she had brought in her clothing into the bathroom beforehand. It saved her at the last minute. Entering the shower, she let the rain head fixture run down on her. Earlier in the morning, it had taken her ten tries to figure out how this contraption worked. At first she wanted to give up and use a bucket like she did back home. However, after she had almost splashed the water on her clothes, she figured it out. Celebrating her win with a victory dance in her head.

She used the soap on her body. The thick bar of soap, felt luxurious in her hands. The engravings on it, giving further proof of that fact. It smelt like spices and flowers. An unexpectedly heavenly smelling combination. She cradled the bar in her hands, inhaling the smell deeply.
"Aahh!" She felt fuzzy all over as she cried in happiness.
She rubbed the shampoo on her scalp, rinsing it thoroughly. Oh the joys of being rich. Truly it was the affluent who had a life. Everybody else did not even know how it felt, for them it was a constant struggle of choosing between happiness and compromise.

Mustafa lay in bed. Still. His breath slow and shallow. He touched his beard lightly. Smiling to himself. The picture of Hoor smiling as she touched his face, rotated around his eyes. He did not think he would ever forget that scene. It was the first time she had touched him on her own accord. All night she had slept in her space, while he was immobile. So there had been no contact there.

Her natural scent clouded his senses. His face still feeling the warm caress of her face. He hummed lightly, looking at the ceiling. His hand reached for his phone. The bright light causing him to squint his eyes. 7:30 am. In about fifteen minutes his nurse would come to get him ready for the day. Just then, as the door of the bathroom opened. Bringing him out of his thoughts.

Hoor stepped out, dressed how you would expect a new bride to dress like. The clothes were familiar. They were what Alia had gifted Hoor to wear on the first day of marriage. It was a baby pink coloured floor length frock, with silver round buttons starting at the round neck and going all the way to her midriff. The ends of the frock were embellished with silver lace and the chiffon fitted sleeves ended at her small wrists, sporting the same silver lace. The whole frock had a chatta of sitari on it. The lime green duppata rested on her shoulders whilst her hair were wrapped in a white fuzzy towel. Seeing her dressed up, as his bride of one day, Mustafa felt ecstatic.

Everyone believed that it was women who awaited their marriage eagerly. While Mustafa could tell you that that was not the case. Most men were impatient about being tied in a nuptial bond to their ideal woman. They were just as impatient as young women, if not more. All his life, if there was one event that Mustafa looked forward to, it would have to be the day he got married. He had dreamt about his married life, how he would love his wife, take care of her, tease her and all that jazz. Unfortunately, fate had played an ugly role, making him incapable of walking. Taking away any chance he had of a happy ending. But today, he was seeing things look up for him. Perhaps this was the silver lining. The sunshine everyone talks about at the end of the tunnel.

A loud knock resonated on the heavy wooden door. The sound echoing in the room, thanks to the fact that it was not a hollow door.
"Aajain," Mustafa shouted.
He knew it was his male nurse. Here to ready him for the day.
"Hoor aap ka sara saaman vanity mein rakh diya hai. Darwazy ka lock khol dein taakey nurse andar aasakay," Mustafa politely told her.
Alia had made it her life's mission to put all of Hoor's stuff in appropriate places before they arrived. The makeup she had gifted her was already placed in the vanity for her to use.
Usually, Mustafa would not lock his bedroom, however, Raees and Sajid told him that now it would be best if he had it locked at night.

Hoor nodded her head wordlessly, opening the door and allowing the nurse to step in. She looked at Mustafa being lifted from the sidelines, seeing how the nurse took him to the washroom. She could not help but feel bad for him. A person does not like to be so dependent on anyone, no matter what age. And here was he, who had no control over himself. Just yesterday, Hoor had discovered that Mustafa wore adult diapers all day. It brought tears in her eyes.

Hoor had never seen someone so selfless like Mustafa, and life had brought him to a point where he was at the mercy of cruel humans. Hoor prayed for Allah's mercy on her husband. Hoping one day she could let go of the pity and disgust, acting like his true companion in all stages of life.

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