"A monster is not always a monster."
He stared at her eyes, looking at the ocean which showed hope to him. That hope, which he longed to see in many years. For Jannat, his eyes were a menancing phantasm which she couldn't resist.
"A monster starves...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The Pakistani lawn coloured of beige with classic red suited her. It rested on Suhera's body lightly. She took the pearl earrings and wore them. A rose gold bracelet enchanting her left hand. She didn't apply anything. Just her strawberry pink lip balm. She gazed at herself. She looked so fazed. Her eyes didn't have the usual goofiness or happiness that glided out of it. She was trying to move on. She was trying to accept her destiny. She was trying hard to not cry but everytime she concludes that she is moving on. Her tears welled up. The fact that she was getting ready yesterday in her room inside her home as her father's daughter and today she is sitting in a room at her husband's place.
You chose it, Suhera! The voice in her mocked. She wasn't sure if it mocked or encouraged her. She was too shocked by everything happening around her within a day. I look fine. She pondered and walked out of the room to the kitchen where the cook was doing the last minute touch up to the food.
"Ma Shaa Allah. You look stunning Ma'am."
She pushed the urge to blush and smile. Just passed her a thank you and walked towards the fridge where she freezed the milk shakes she made and desserts she cooked. Taking it out she kept it in the huge jug and dessert outside so that it isn't too cool. "I would have made it, ma'am. If Ahsan sir gets to know about it. He would surely scold me."
The cook was a lady in her thirties. "I like cooking. He won't say anything. I'll talk to him about it." The cook smiled. "Please don't call me ma'am. I am much younger than you. I'll be fine with my name."
"How c-can I-I?"
"Please don't be hesitant. I'll call you Baji. What's your name though?"
"It's Salma."
"You have a beautiful name." Just as she was talking to her, the helping maid came rushing from the dining room. "Badi Malkin is here!" She walks out with Salma and the other maid. What she saw immediately made her taken aback. She stood nearby the living room as she witnessed his mother hugging him, lovingly. She was wearing a dark gray Abaya. Her hijab was wrapped loosely across her neck. Her skin was of pale complexion and she could visualize the salient features Ahsan inherited from her. She broke the hug and said ever so sweetly to her son, "How's my baby doing?"
He passed her a smile. A genuine one which he usually gave to Suhera. "I am fine, Alhamdulillah. What about you?"
"Alhamdulillah. What about these wounds and bruises? What happened? Did you argue with your father?" Worry rushed up her face and she touched the bandages lightly. "No, Mom. It's nothing. Don't worry. I'll be fine."
Ahsan glanced towards Suhera. In an instance, He began, "Meet Suhera, Mom. My wife." Her heart skipped a beat. It felt intense happiness to be known as his wife. She was disgusted about it once, wasn't she? She hated being it. What was it now? Suhera took slow steps towards his mother. "Assalamu alaikum." An usual warm and welcoming smile spread across her face. As if she really wanted to see Suhera. To Suhera's surprise, Aayat wrapped her arms around her and stroked her back. She felt home. For the first time she felt good about his family.
