The Dawn Is On Us

C H A P T E R 4 5

H O O R blushed at the thought of touching Mustafa's legs. Yes, the two had agreed on their mutual affection for each other. But they still had to cover the part of intimacy. It was not a hidden fact that they would never be able to have inter-course like any normal couple would. Given Mustafa's condition, that was not happening. However, Hoor and Mustafa, imagined in their own minds how it would feel like to share their first kiss.

The two were shy. Ready, but shy. They did not know how to go about things when it came to being intimate. And so now, that there was a pandemic on head. And they could not go to the hospital for regular therapies, Hoor had to take over that part. With Mustafa's doctor sending in the exercise regime every week.

"Hoor agar ap nahi karna chahti tou hum kisi aur ko keh dein gai," Mustafa saw Hoor's hesitance.
He thought perhaps it was his condition, disgusting her again. His heart clenching with thinking that to be the reality.
"Nahi Mustafa. Woh bas thori sharam arahi hai," she blushed.
Hoor had had a long conversation with both Jahan-ara and Alia. Both of whom had told her that she should take over little tasks of Mustafa. For he may never ask her to do it, but it would make him feel as if she had accepted him wholeheartedly.

Mustafa chuckled at her reply. Giving her time to adjust and start at her own pace. He held his phone in his hands, instructing her.
"Raise the legs up and down for five minutes".
Mustafa read out loud in his heavy english accent. Hoor nodded. She had gotten the basics of english down. So she knew what her husband was instructing her to do.

For the next hour, Hoor did what she was told, diligently. She felt herself sweating. It was not an easy task to do. Her husband was pure muscle. Although, his figure was a bit lanky, there was no excessive fat present. She imagined that it would be very easy for him to have girls swooning had he not been injured and went to the gym.

"Shukriya Hoor," he smiled at her.
"K- koi baat nahi," Hoor fiddled with her fingers.

Mustafa smiled, ringing the bell for one of the workers to come in. Upon seeing one enter, Hoor fixed her duppata, setting on top of her head and entering the washroom. She brushed out her now air dried hair. Thinking about life. It had been a hot minute since she had cried to Allah for her fate. Things had just become absolutely perfect for her lately. But then again, neither had she remembered Him, for the miracles that were happening left, right and centre in her life. Giving herself a reminder to pray those shukranay keh nafil tonight, she headed out. Only to find the room empty.

Hoor sighed looking at the time. She grabbed her books and papers. Heading into Mustafa's study. Where he would help her out with work. He had been going at the pace of a snail with her. Going over everything quite a few times to ensure she understood.

"K-k-kipp-per," Hoor read the word Mustafa was pointing at.
She stuttered at the word. Finding it difficult to stitch them together and read out loud.
"Shabash, chalo agla word parho," he smiled at her.
"W-w-went," she looked at him for approval.
His huge smile and eyes that shone with pride, a dead giveaway to how he felt. Like that, he taught her the whole line. Asking her to then read it out all at once.
"K--kipper went out with her f---family," Hoor managed to read the sentence under three minutes. A new record. Previously she could read one in under four minutes. She was proud of the progress she was making.

At times, she felt she was to slow. Perhaps it would be better for her to stop the idea of getting an education. She should focus on Mustafa. To her it seemed as if she was not making any move in the forward direction. Instead she was stuck in quicksand. It pulled her in deeply everyday. Hoor wanted to change that. She wanted to feel in control of her life and actions. To feel that her choices were correct.

She believed that she would have given up a while ago. Had Mustafa not stood in her shadow. Constantly acting as her cheerleader. Encouraging her. Promising her day in and day out that it was all going to be worth it in the end. No one was more important than her personal goals. If she wanted to love him, loving herself first was the way to start. She could not leave her dreams behind because the ideal time to do them had passed. It was always an ideal time, provided you were ready to grab the opportunities by the throat and use them to your advantage.

"Hoor kia soch rahi ho?" It was after dinner that Mustafa found Hoor deeply engrossed in thought.
"Kuch nahi, bas waisay hi," she smiled at him.
Hoor wanted to help Mustafa find a way back to their Creator. But she wondered if it would be too much. And might hurt Mustafa.
"Itni gehrai sai phir kia soch rahin hai ap?" Mustafa persisted.
"Woh mein chahti hun keh na ap-" she stopped, wondering if it was appropriate or not to speak about someone else's faith.
Thinking about it and looking Mustafa's expectant eyes, she told herself that propriety be dammed. He was her husband. It was their job to ensure that the other did not stray from the path of their God.
"Mustafa mein chahti hun keh jaise apnay mujhe yeh sikhaya hai keh umeed hamesha rehti hai, mein apko sikhana chahti hun keh Rab kabhi kisi ko nahi chorta," her eyes conveyed how serious she was.

Mustafa was stunned by her words. He had not thought Hoor would say something like this to him one day. Eventhough he wanted to shout at her and scream. To mind her own business. He knew, how much his wife cared for him. How gentle she was. She would never want to do this if she knew it would hurt him. And so very reluctantly, Mustafa agreed. Agreed to let his wife help him find the way back to Allah. A path he had lost when he was abandoned by everyone dear to him.

R E H M A N H O U S E, DHA LHR
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Rizwan held his head in his hands. Rubbing his eyeballs. It was the seventh time he had been rejected from a job. He had been constantly trying to get a good job. But with the pandemic and businesses shutting down, no one was ready to hire someone new. At this time, it did not matter whether he had a good education or an outstanding resume.

He was all alone. His mind constantly cussing at Hoor. Because of whom he was jobless. He knew she was trouble. But his father was infatuated by her and her family. Look where that had gotten him. Away from the life he had worked so hard for. His mind had completely shut off, refusing to acknowledge that it was all his fault.

"Rizwan beta ab kia ho ga?" His father inquired.
It seemed as if Rehman, his beloved father had aged decades in just half a month. The tension of his son not having a job, accompanied by rising bills, caused Rehman to have a hugh blood pressure at all times.
"Abhi noukri milna mushkil hai. Filhal hume yeh ghar beach dena chahiye. Kisi choti si society mein chota sa ghar karaye par le letay hain," Rizwan stated the only option that came to his mind.

He had talked to a real estate agent. The house could sell for a good price. That could sustain them for a good time. If they managed to cut down on expenses.
"Mein kisi chotay ghar mein nahi rahun gi!" Rumaisa shrieked.
She had managed to hear her husband state the idea to her father-in-law. To hell with the idea that she would live in poverty.
"Par Rumi-"
"NAHIN!" Rumaisa shouted.
She had no idea that Rizwan was already at his wits end with her.
"CHUP! MEIN NAI BOHAT BARDASHT KIA HAI TUMHARI HARKATOUN KO! JO MEIN KEH RAHA HUN WOHI HO GA. APNAY ABU KO BATA DENA AB MEIN UNKA KHARCHA NAHI UTHAUN GA!" His words held such finality that she knew, if she fought with him on this, he would kick her out without a minutes delay.

Rumaisa sighed. Wondering if her paralysed cousin would have been a better option or not?

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