[Ongoing]
#1in replacement
#3 in nikkah
Shehryaar's patience was wearing thin, and so was mine. "If you say yes to this marriage, you will regret the day you were born," he threatened, his tone chilling.
With a heavy heart, I bowed my head in resign...
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As dinner progressed, I couldn't shake off the feeling of being sidelined by my own mother. Shehryar, on the other hand, seemed to revel in every moment of my annoyance, basking in the attention my mother lavished upon him.
To add to the chaos, Chinku and Munni, our neighbors' kids, joined us for dinner. Chinku, all of 7 years old, surprisingly hit it off with Shehryar, much to my amazement. She had always been picky when it came to interacting with strangers, but here was Chinku, chatting away happily with Shehryar as if they had known each other for ages. Traitor! I thought we had a special bond - seems like she is trying to replace me with a disaster.
The tantalizing aroma of biryani filled the hall as Ammi served the food, momentarily distracting me from my frustrations. The sight of steaming hot biryani made my mouth water, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of hunger despite my annoyance.
Meanwhile, Shehryar engaged in playful banter with Chinku, making faces and cracking jokes that elicited giggles from the young girl. It was both endearing and exasperating to watch, knowing that Shehryar was effortlessly charming even when I was feeling overlooked.
Munni, on the other hand, seemed engrossed in her own thoughts, occasionally glancing at Shehryar with a curious expression. I couldn't help but wonder what was going on in her mind as she observed our dinner gathering.
As the conversation flowed and laughter filled the air, I tried to push aside my frustration and enjoy the company of my family and our little guests. After all, moments like these were rare and precious, and I didn't want to let my annoyance overshadow the warmth and joy of being together.
As I slid the bowl of salad towards Bhai jaan, I felt the sleeve of my hand ride up, inadvertently revealing the purple mark Shehryar's hold left on my skin. Bhai jaan's concerned gaze immediately locked onto the bruises, and he reached out to caress my head gently.
"Did Shehryar do this to you?" His voice was filled with a mixture of worry and anger as he spoke, his touch light yet probing. His slight contact with the stitches on my head caused me to wince involuntarily, and Bhai jaan's suspicion deepened. Perfect! He withdrew his hand immediately, his expression now more serious as he studied me intently. "Safa, remove your hijab," he urged gently, "We're at home, there are no outsiders here. You should be comfortable."
I hesitated for a moment as my eyes slowly moved to meet Shehryar's which was focused on me, his expression vague. Would it hurt to show some expression on your face? Gathering my resolve, I shook my head. "No, Bhai jaan," I replied softly, "I'm comfortable with my hijab."
I knew what was coming when his brow furrowed. His next question hung in the air, heavy with implications. "What happened to your head, Safa?" His voice was gentle yet firm, leaving no room for evasion. "I'm sure the occasional winces are not from your headache."
