The Fallen Widow

32. Proposal of Peace ; Part II

Author's Note: **Please note: I don't want to get into a political debate. ***

On this day, 15.08.21 news has broke that the Taliban have entered Kabul and the President has fled Afghanistan. My heart bleeds for the women, children and innocent civilians who will have to endure a whole new dark chapter of Taliban rule. 

The reason I mention this- Meh'r-Bano's goal is to bring education to Jahanpur. To allow children to learn to read and empower them with knowledge. This is the world we live and the world that shapes my words and stories.  So when you think I'm being harsh with characters,  unfortunately, life does not work like that.   

Please spare a thought for our brothers and sisters in Afghanistan. 

*****

The grim face told a thousand tales. Carved with misery, tears, grief and war, Reshma's ice cold , dead eyes stared at Fiza. The top half of her face numb, her jaw chewed the juice out of her spicy betel leaf. The young girl was rarely without a smile. Reshma glared bitterly, her eyes like laser tearing through her green suit, melting her gold anklets and fist full of gold rings. Fiza opened polite conversation with Reshma and her maid, but the stone cold silence fizzled the smile from her lips.

"The clouds are visible. Hopefully we will get some rain this summer." Said Fiza.
Uzayr had his eye on the bitter old woman. With just one stare, she could ruin a life with her evil eyes. Fiza was naïve, maybe stupid for engaging in a conversation. Uzayr called her over, asking for a glass of sherbet. Fiza smiled politely at the old woman and held her dupatta against her chest and poured neatly into the steel cup. The portly maid stood behind Reshma watching Fiza and whispering with the maids. As Fiza made her way over, Uzayr took the glass held it.
"Sit here." He hinted beside him turning his face to the side of the sofa. The eyes of the maids were pinned on the pair reading their interaction.
"Why?" She leaned back and stood up straight. Uzayr grabbed her wrist and yanked her. Fiza lost her balance and landed on the sofa with a surprise.
"What's wrong with you?" She straightened the length of her dupatta over her chest.
"I don't like the way she's staring at you." He met Reshma's eyes with the same intensity and held her deadly stare.
"Why? You worried about me?" She turned to him but he couldn't tear his eyes away from Reshma's resolute glare.
"We're in the enemy's house. We have to be careful." He touched his pistol.
"We're here for a proposal- not to fight." She leaned closer, her leg against his.
"Stay here." He placed the steel cup of sherbet untouched and on table. Holding onto Reshma's glare, he relaxed, sitting back in his seat, his arm against the back rest of the sofa around Fiza. He lifted his left leg and rested it horizontally on his right knee. With his head tilted to the side his body language spoke volumes. Reshma eyed up the long moustache young man spreading his body, his arms around the pretty young girl. She turned and spat in her bowl, missing the bowl once again. Her maid scoffed at the blood red stains on the blue tiles knowing she would be scrubbing them till nightfall.
"So, you care about me?" Fiza smiled shifting her body to face him, pleasantly surprised the way he reacted and called her over.
"What kind of question is that?" When Uzayr turned peeling his eyes away from Reshma, he found Fiza's eyes rounded and her cheeks with a hint of rouge.
A warm silence lingered between them as Fiza held his gaze with warmth. Despite his cold demeanour, he cared.
"What?" He shrugged his shoulder unsure what he'd done to redden her cheeks. Fiza knew, it was rooted in him to protect her and keep her safe. That's how she felt when she was with him; safe. Comfortably, she tucked herself beside him, resisting the urge to rest her head on his strong shoulder.

***

Emaan heard their footsteps before they entered the room. Sitting on the end of her bed, she looked down at her hands, her white dupatta hanging over her head. her heart pounding with fear, she closed her eyes and her stomach fluttering.
'Not now!'
They're here. She listened to the breaths that filled the room. Strong, thick and sweet scent of oud filled the room. A man's perfume. His footsteps heavy. She tightened her eyes and took another deep breath. She heard the jingling of bangles, that must be his mother. The bed weighed down. This must be the mother in law. A hand dressed with gold rings reached under her dupatta and held her chin. The hand was tender, soft and gently tilted her face up. With her eyes lowered, she looked up as Shahgul peeled back the dupatta.
"MashaAllah." Shahgul praised.