Gunnah e Shab

30. Clean • صاف

They don't belong to the past. They belong to you. — Rick Yancey

May had turned to June. The heat was still as strong as ever, the streets of Mushkpur that were once clean and empty now buzzed with life. Tourists from all over the country had thronged over to their village. The love nests built upon the sloping hills, with clear view of snow capped peaks were a favourite. The local economy was getting better—as it usually did during this time. Part of the Khan's large estate had been opened up for the people to visit, a ticket imposed so that they could get a glimpse of what history and culture saturated inside a tiny place could do.

Azmaray had been busy these past few days. Working hard to work out the clean takeover his position. Things were changing and he was imagining his grandfather having imaginary red horns. Glaring and seething at him, whilst he with Laila by his side, spent time lounging around. While Laila had not openly admitted to being cornered he knew his mother and aunt were subjecting her to torture in their own right. From making the maids bleach her favourite clothes to turning the water off when she was in the shower. These silent annoyances had not gone unnoticed and he already had a plan to deal with them all —despite the guilt they came with.

Walking into the dining room with a serving dish of Semolina pudding, Laila grinned at him. Placing it at the centre of the table. Today, breakfast had been prepared by her and Anbar. They had been successfully married for a month and their elders had finally decided on having the first dish ritual. Laila followed Anbar's lead, confused about how to serve them. She forwarded the tray infront of everyone, getting stern looks and nothing more. Her smile dimmed with each person as she ambled across the table, towards him finally. Holding the silver serving spoon, she brought it towards the porcelain plate.

"Laila you've been married for a month. Azmaray doesn't eat sweet first thing in the morning," Saheefa's bitter voice cut through the air.

Nodding with an embarrassing flush spreading onto her cheeks, she placed the tray on the table. Sliding beside him, tears filling up inside her eyes. Had one month not been enough to gain their approval? Sure she had not begged and groveled—but that did not mean she had not tried.

"It's alright. A first time for everything," he spoke.

His husky, thick voice was full of annoyance. A glare thrown in the direction of the woman who had birthed him. He forwarded his plate, smiling at Laila who served him, silently. She had been chirpy all morning, informing him of her plans. His people did that to her, and he would make everyone pay for it.

"Laila bhabi mujhe bhi dikhain na! Mein nai bhi chakhna hai," [Laila sister-in-law show it to me too! I want to taste it aswell,] Anbar placed her plate infront of Laila.

That had been another advancement in this one month. Laila and Anbar had become friends, bonding over their devil of mother-in-law and romantic husbands. Laila had been teaching Anbar how to feel confident in her own skin, whilst Anbar explained the lifestyle of the Khan's to her during tea time. It was wholesome to see them spend so much time together, unfortunately both Azmaray and Asghar were still on each others throats. Ready to kill.

"Anbar it won't taste of those gourmet ones you enjoy," Saheefa spoke up, Hooriya nodding in the background.

"Correct mama. It's going to taste better after all Laila added her love into it," she winked in Laila's direction.

"It's delicious Laila. Haath dikhain mujhe chumnay hain," [Show me your hands I want to kiss them,] Azmaray spoke.

Taking her hands, that were busy lifting a bite of the pudding and puri [deep fried bread] to her lips, he brought them near himself. Eating the bite and then kissing her hands. His lips lingering on her palm, their heat spreading like an earthquake through her body. His bright eyes, giving everyone around him an open challenge to cross him. With the open vengeance dripping from his eyes, the rest of breakfast went by silently and everyone passed their gifts out. Laila's heart sunk to the pits of her stomach as Azmaray's hand was the only one forwarded in her direction. She passed him a small smile, the muscles of her face lightly twitching upwards as she accepted the brown bag.