"You're going to be my present and my future. You're going to hold all my babies because I'm going to be the lucky man to marry you. You're going to love me again, Maryam Khan. Slowly and then all together. And I will watch you as you do."
Imran and...
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It was decided that Maryam would stay at Khan Manzil for however long she wanted. It was decided that Saira baji would stay there with them for Asra aunty and Maryam herself. It was also decided that Maryam will be given the space she needed.
And space meant staying away from me. I didn't mind because every other hour she would scream and cry for her baba ever since the burial. And after witnessing the purely useless treatment of their family doctor who had suggested to let her cry and mourn as much as she can so the grief is not bottled up inside of her, his words not mine, I called up actual doctors that prescribed the actual pills that somehow managed to put her to sleep.
Every time I look at her broken form, uncle's last words of advice ring in my ears. Stay strong enough to support her. And I was doing everything but that.
Maybe this is what bhaiya meant when he said I was not the perfect match for Maryam Afreen Khan. Maybe this was his reason for rejecting me. Maybe he knew I was as strong as I show myself to be. And that's the sad truth of my life. Has been this past week.
Every time I see my wife sobbing in her old bedroom I stand there weak and utterly helpless. I am neither able to console her nor give he the support she needs. I only barely manage to hold my tears on seeing her cry like that. How can anyone expect me to become the pillar of strength and support Maryam needs?
I lean my head backward in my ergonomic chair and shut my eyes for a couple of seconds. My temple begins to throb as a result of all the sleepless nights I've had since Uncle's death. Staying awake to calm a sobbing Maryam down. Patting her head and running my fingers through her hair until she cries herself to sleep in my arms. Jolting awake when she as much stirs in her sleep. And just like that, it's morning 7 AM every time and I rush to reach the office.
"Saab, chai," Abdul, the son of our lift operator announces causing me to peel my eyes open. He flashes me a toothy smile, standing on the other side of my desk still in his school uniform.
I wonder bache itni energy kahan se late? Even after going to school, he waits for his father to finish work and manages to serve us tea, or runs small errands in between.
"Thank you, Abdul," I say, grabbing the paper cup and taking a sip of the only stable thing in my life at the moment. Ek cup chai. A loud sigh leaves my mouth when the hot beverage comes in contact with my taste buds and slides down my throat. "Zabardast. Waise, what did you call me?"
"Bhaiya," He lies with a smile on his face.
Fishing the five Rupee coin I know there is in the pocket of my dress pants, I slide it into his awaiting palm and complete our tradition.
"Aapko malum main chai nahi banata. Phir bhi aap meko 5 rupees kyu dete har bar?" The innocent little boy asked.
"That's because I am generous. Uski spelling sunao-"
