The story of a Pakistani girl born in a desi middle class household. Being part of the society that believes Fair is Lovely, Madiha has a hard time settling with her brown skin and ordinary looks.
All her mother wants, like every other desi mother...
Ironic, Monday and lazy; the perks of being newly wedded.
Madiha sat on the long couch in the living room, the television playing Tom and Jerry. Humna sat leisurely in the middle of her folded legs, a Disney Stitch stuff toy gripped in her arms.
Jerry flattened Tom's face with the frying pan and the sonorous 'tunggg'of the metal rang loud along with Humna's baby cackles.
Madiha half frowned half laughed at the child who enjoyed scenes where Tom was getting beaten more than the ones he was prancing around happily in. Humna was a chubby little sadist.
Another crack when Tom went flying into the ceiling as Jerry had his tail in a mouse trap and Humna clapped when Jerry picked Nibbles up running away mouth full of stolen milk the background piano going 'tringtringtring..'
Madiha smushed her cheeks between her thumb and fingers and moved her face left to right, "Poochoo!" She said the words through pouted lips and Humna gave her a toothy grin, cheeks mushed.
She kissed Humna's fluffly cheek and hugged her close wrapping her arms around the baby's torso then placed her chin on Humna's head who was already engrossed in watching the cartoon again.
*ehemehem..*
A low throat clearing accompanied with the sound of heavy footsteps made Madiha straighten up.
The hair at the nape of her neck tingled when she felt his gaze upon her but didn't turn her head in acknowledgement.
Stolen kisses in the confines of the car was one thing, it had been instinctive.
But she didn't meet his eyes or let them be alone afterwards. They came home, they changed, they were tired and naturally fell asleep—(not counting Daniyal's secret forehead kisses she knew that he knew she knew about) and then when he woke up he went out to his run. By the time Daniyal came back she was already dressed and downstairs.
No time alone.
Until now that is. The ladies of the house retired for a nap after lunch and the men away at work.
It was them and a quiet winter afternoon; soft rays of the 3:00pm sun slanting in through the slit between the curtains, and the far away sound of a street hawker selling cooker rubbers, a peaceful ambience he didn't want anything to disturb.
