20 - A Journey - ایک سفر

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"No country can ever truly flourish if it stifles the potential of its women and deprives itself of the contributions of half of its citizens." - Michelle Obama


I awoke to soft sheets and the morning light trickling in through the blinds. Shedding myself of the remaining glimpses of a dream, my eyes were still shut as I soaked in the warmth of my covers before letting my hazel eyes see the sun's rays. Slowly and reluctantly, I uncover my face. I blink, close my eyes, and blink again. Streaks of sunlight penetrate the window and almost blind my still wakening eyes. I sit up, dragging my feet off of the bed, and rub my knuckles onto my eyes, watery and almost red with popping veins. I stretch my arms high above my head and almost growl with a tired yawn. I watch my legs dangle above the off-white polyester carpet.

Daniyal was at the window, one hand still on the lilac curtain, and was looking out onto the street. His green eyes were like shining jewels with the bright sunlight as they narrowed down to concentrate on the street below. "Good morning, jaan." He said, turning his head to face me and smiling. "Good morning." I stood up slowly, struggling to wake up properly and drooped into his arms like a dying flower. I felt like a baby who had just taken their first steps. He wrapped his arms around me and dropped his chin onto my shoulder, the sharp stubble on his chin prickling my neck. "Are you ready for Lahore?" He asked, kissing the side of my head. 

I dug my head into his chest, "I forgot to pack a bag..." I groaned. "I packed it for you, don't worry about it." He chuckled. I looked up at him and beamed, "Really?"
"I had some extra time." He shrugged, holding me close to him. I breathed a sigh of relief. "What did I do to deserve you?" He held my chin and smiled at me, "You stole my heart." 

I beamed at him, my cheeks reddening. Years of marriage had only made me love him more. I still blushed and got flustered whenever he was romantic, that hadn't changed. I still found it hard to believe that he'd chosen me. I'd stolen his heart... "I wasn't sure what you wanted to wear for your speech so I left room at the top of the suitcase." He explained.  
"Ah, thank you! Will you be coming with me?" I secretly hoped that he would be. 
"Who else is going to take pictures of your beautiful face?" 
I grinned and leaned forward, kissing him. Daniyal really knew how to make me feel good about myself. It was one of his many talents.

Downstairs, I watched Daniyal stir dahl in a pot as I washed the dishes. I had been blessed with him, that was for certain. I don't know many other men who help their wives prepare meals, but he hates watching me do everything myself. Before I know it, he's by my side, helping me cook and clean. I hear about the girls at the Afreen Society, and I feel so incredibly lucky. Marriage is not easy for them; the partnership aspect of it is a struggle. That's one thing I can't relate to them with. "So, how will we get to Lahore?" I asked, putting another mug on the shelf.
"There's an airport in Leh. We're going to get a train there, and then take a plane to Lahore. Sarafina and I booked tickets yesterday." 
"Can I go and see the girls at the Afreen Society first?" 
He looked at his watch and nodded, "Sure. We can get a rickshaw from there to the station." 

We finished eating and I went upstairs to get changed. "Daniyal!" I shouted from upstairs. He ran upstairs, thinking that there was an emergency going on. When he came I was holding an orange and pink salwar kameez, the colour of a sunset, glowing with sequins, beads and delicate embroidery. In my other hand, I was holding a turquoise and emerald lehenga, like the bottom of the ocean, reflecting light with a silver design and weighing heavy in my hands. "Which one should I wear at the conference?" I asked, staring at his flustered face. He put a hand on the door frame to catch his breath, laughing at me and shaking his head. "You'll look beautiful in both." He said finally. 
"But which one will I look more beautiful in?" 

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