21.

The first light of dawn crept into the room as Anam stirred awake, her body adjusting to the demands of exam season. The house was silent, the world outside still blanketed in the soft hush of morning. She stretched lightly, shaking off the remnants of sleep, and immediately turned to the most comforting part of her routine: her morning prayer.

After performing ablution, she spread her prayer mat in the dim glow of her bedside lamp and stood for Fajr. Her voice barely above a whisper, she poured her heart into her duas. Once her salah was complete, she picked up her small, well-worn book of supplications and recited Dua-e-Ahad, her tone steady, words infused with hope and longing.

Finally, she picked up her tasbih, her fingers gliding over each bead as she recited Tasbih-e-Zahra. Her heart felt lighter with each phrase, but the lingering weight of her emotions could not be ignored. As she clasped her hands together for her final dua, her voice cracked slightly:

"Ya Allah, aaj ka din khairiyat aur khubsurti se guzre. Feras ki zindagi mein madad kar, unke har kaam asan kar. Aur unke dil mein mere liye jagah paida kar." (O Allah, may today pass with peace and beauty. Help Feras in his life, make his every task easy. And create a place for me in his heart.)

She rose from her place, her spirit uplifted, and made her way to the kitchen. Alongside the maids, she prepared breakfast, ensuring every detail was perfect. Though her hands busied themselves, her thoughts lingered on Feras. Her heart silently wished for a glimpse of him, especially after their intense exchange last night.

The maids worked silently beside her, occasionally stealing glances at Anam, who seemed lost in her thoughts. Shaking off the haze, she refocused and began rolling out the rotis herself, ensuring they were perfectly round.

By the time the family began trickling into the dining area, Anam had laid the table with freshly prepared parathas, omelets, and reheated dishes from the previous night's dinner. Though Feras was absent as usual, Anam's heart foolishly held onto the hope that he might be there.

The breakfast began with the typical hustle and bustle of family chatter, but it wasn't long before Seher's sharp tongue found its target. Sitting primly at the table, she smirked as she took a sip of chai and directed her attention toward Anam.

"Anam, tumhare shauhar kaafi busy insaan lagte hain," she began, her voice dripping with mockery. "Ab dekho na, shaadi ko itna waqt hogya hai, aur unko iss cheez ki parwah hi nhi ke tumhe apne kamre mein shift karein." (Anam, your husband seems like a very busy man. Now look, it's been so long since the wedding, and he doesn't even care enough to move you into his room.)

Anam kept her eyes on her plate, refusing to react, but her hands tensed ever so slightly around the spoon.

Noticing her lack of response, Seher continued, leaning forward conspiratorially. "Aur mai dekh rhi hun kitne dinu se, woh tumhe kabhi notice hi nahi karte. Shaayad unke standards hi zyada high gain." (And I've been noticing for days, he never even looks at you. Maybe his standards are just too high.)

Ayub frowned deeply, her protective instincts kicking in. "Seher Api, har baat ko taane maarne ka topic banaana zaroori nahi hota. They are married and It's their private stuff. Please mind you own business." (Seher Api, not everything has to be turned into a topic for taunts.)

Ayan chimed in, his tone lighter yet just as supportive, "Aur wayse bhi, Feras bhai ka mood thik karne ka secret bas Anam ke pas hai. Tum tension na lo" (And anyway, only Anam has the secret to fixing Feras Bhai's mood. You don't need to worry.)

Despite their defense, Anam felt the sting of Seher's words, particularly one thought that refused to leave her mind: "Feras ne mujhe apne kamre mein shift karne ko kyun nahi kaha abhi tak...?" (Why didn't Feras ask me to move into his room...?)

As the meal wound down, Ahmed entered the house, sifting through his bag for some important documents. He was about to head straight to the study when the unmistakable sound of Seher's taunts caught his attention. Pausing mid-step, he listened, his brows furrowing deeper with each word.

Though he stayed quiet, his thoughts were firm. Resolving to address the matter with his son that night, Ahmed gathered his files and left, his mind made up.

.....

The tension at breakfast was palpable as Chachi's words hung in the air, laced with venom. She glanced at Anam, her eyes narrowing as she took a deliberate sip of her tea.

"Mera Aman, God knows where he is right now." She said in a blaming tone (My Aman)

"Funny how everything seems to have gone downhill ever since you came into this family."

Anam's heart sank at the jab, the weight of her guilt pressing down on her. She didn't know whether to react or stay silent. Chachi's hate for her had been growing for some time, but now it felt like it had reached a boiling point.

"Did you think you could come in here and play the victim, Anam?" Chachi resorted mockingly. "Now look where we are... no one's here, and your husband doesn't even care to keep you close. Just like how Aman has disappeared, all thanks to the mess you've brought into this family. First you stole my daughter's husband and now my son is nowhere to be found because of you" she spouted venomously.

Anam clenched her jaw, trying to keep her composure, but the biterness in Chachi's voice was too much. How was all of this her fault, she couldn't understand. Blinking away the tears she went straight to the car where Ayan, Ayub and Pari stood.

.....

The house was quieter than usual with everyone away at a relative's wedding, leaving Aman and Ayub behind to focus on their exams. Anam, feeling the solitude, went about her tasks at a slower pace, still thinking about her earlier conversation with Chachi and the tension in the house.

It was mid-afternoon when Feras unexpectedly returned. Anam, already heading downstairs to prepare some coffee, froze in her tracks as she saw him entering through the main door. His hair was slightly tousled from the day, his sleeves rolled up carelessly, revealing the muscles of his forearms. The sight of him... looking tired yet commanding... sent a flurry of emotions through her heart.

Feras glanced over, catching sight of Anam. His voice, though calm, carried a hint of tiredness. "Anam, mujhe kuch khane ko bana do." he said, his tone low, as though he didn't have the energy for pleasantries. (Anam, make me something to eat)

Anam's heart skipped a beat at his words. She nodded huriedly, "Ji, bilkul," and turned quickly to continue down the stairs. But in her haste, she miscalculated a step, and before she could regain her balance, she lost her footing. (Yes, ofcourse)

Time seemed to stretch as she began to lose her balance, and in that split second, her mind screamed. Before she could react, she felt herself falling.

But instead of the hard ground, she collided with something... or rather, someone. Feras had rushed forward, his arms wrapping around her just in time to catch her. The impact threw them both to the floor with a heavy thud. Anam found herself sprawled across Feras, her face pressed against his chest, their bodies tangled in an awkward, intimate position. His breath was heavy from the sudden movement, and her heart pounded loudly in her ears as she realized the closeness of their bodies.

Feras quickly placed his hands on her waist and tried to lift her off, but the awkwardness of the moment made it hard to move. Anam's face burned bright red, and she was too flustered to say anything, her mind blank as she tried to collect herself. His hands were still on her waist, holding her gently but firmly, preventing her from moving. The air between them felt charged, and Anam could feel the heat of his body through the fabric of their clothes.

Feras, still in shock from the fall, scowled, his usual sterness slipping through. "Kya tumhara dimaagh theek hai, Anam?" His voice was sharp, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes... concern? Annoyance? It was hard to tell. (Is your brain alright?)

Anam's breath caught in her throat. She felt utterly embarrassed and overwhelmed by the situation. Her mind raced, but no words came out. The way Feras was looking at her... his grip still firm, his expression hard to read... made her feel vulnerable. She quickly tried to pull away, her heart hammering in her chest.

With a few awkward movements, she managed to push herself off him, but she couldn't meet his gaze. Her cheeks were burning with shame, and she scrambled to stand, feeling dizzy from the closeness of the fall. Her hands shook slightly as she moved to stand up straight.

"I... I'm sorry," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "Mera pair phisal gya tha." (I'm sorry, my feet slipped)

Feras exhaled a sharp breath, not immediately responding. He remained sitting on the floor for a moment, his eyes following her as she stood there, flushed and embarrassed. Finally, he spoke, his voice low but still carrying that edge of concern. "Bas, agli baar dhyaan se chalna," he muttered, though there was no real anger in his tone. (Right... next time be more careful)

Anam quickly nodded, feeling her embarrassment deepen. Her mind was a whirlwind as she tried to regain her composure.

She moved quickly towards the kitchen, trying to distract herself by focusing on the task at hand... preparing food for him. But even as she moved away, she couldn't shake the feeling of his touch, the intensity of the moment, and the way his hands had held her so firmly. Her heart was still racing, and she couldn't help but wonder if Feras had noticed how much it had affected her.

"Obviously he noticed it, you idiot." Her consciousness replied.

.....

Feras stood under the shower, the cold water pouring over him, but it did little to calm the chaos in his mind. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to shake off the images of the fall, of Anam in his arms. This was the third time they had been this close, this physically intimate.

As the water ran down his body, his mind replayed the moment when he had caught her. He could still feel the warmth of her body against his, the way her soft weight had pressed into him, and the unexpected softness of her skin under his touch. The scent of her shampoo... something floral and delicate—and the faint trace of her fruity bodywash filled his senses, a mixture that lingered with him long after she had pulled away.

Feras leaned his hands against the tiled wall, his head bent as he took a deep breath, trying to push away the thoughts that wouldn't leave him alone. He knew it was irrational... she was his wife, it was totally permitted to feel this way towards her, they might even share bed in the near future... but the proximity, the undeniable connection of that moment, was unsettling.

He tried to focus on the practicalities of the day, on the work waiting for him, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Anam. The way she had looked up at him with wide eyes, her face flushed with embarrassment. Her lips trembling slightly.

Feras closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind, but all he could see was her...

It wasn't just the fall... it was everything that had been building between them since the wedding, since the day they had become husband and wife. The distance he had put between them seemed to be crumbling bit by bit.

He quickly turned off the shower, the cold water no longer enough to push away the thoughts of her. Wrapping a towel around his waist Feras stepped out of the bathroom, the droplets of water still dripping from his damp hair. He was surprised to find Anam standing in his room. The sight of her caught him off guard... she was standing there awkwardly, looking down at the floor. As soon as she noticed him, her eyes widened and she immediately raised her hands, covering her eyes.

Feras, with a smirk playing on his lips, teased, "Kya huwa, Anam? Aankhein kyun band ki hain tum ne?" (What happened Anam? Why are you closing your eyes?)

Anam quickly turned her head away, flustered, "Shirt pehne, please Feras, a-ap aise kaise..." (Put on your shirt, please Feras. H-how could you... like this...)

Feras, enjoying her discomfort, leaned slightly closer and replied nonchalantly, "Hum husband aur wife hain, Anam. Tumhein kis baat ki sharam aa rhi hai?" (We are husband and wife Anam. Why are you getting so shy?)

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. She didn't know how to respond and instinctively took a step back. She was feeling increasingly embarrassed by the close proximity between them. But before she could retreat, Feras, in a sudden motion, reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her gently but firmly, stopping her in her tracks.

Anam's breath hitched, and she could feel her pulse racing. She looked up at him with wide eyes, her face flushed. "Ruk jao, kaha ja rahi ho?" he asked, his voice calm but firm, his grip still secure around her wrist. "Kyun ayi thi tum mere kamre mein?" (Wait. Where are you going? Why did you come to my room?)

Anam hesitated for a moment, unsure how to explain herself. She lowered her gaze, her voice barely above a whisper. "Woh... main bas yeh batane ayi thi ke is waqt garam paani ka system kaam nahi kar raha..." (Uh... I just came to tell you that the hot water system isn't working right now)

Feras, still holding her wrist, raised an eyebrow and looked at her intently. His expression softened for a brief moment, but the teasing smile didn't leave his lips. "Samajh gaya," he replied, his voice smooth yet carrying an undercurrent of seriousness. "Par agli baar jab mere kamre mai ao, toh pehle doors ko dhang se band kar lena." He told her, as she had left the door completely open. (Okay... But the next time you come into my room, make sure to properly close the doors first.)

Anam's heart raced even more, the teasing tone in his voice sending shivers down her spine. Her cheeks flushed deeper with embarrassment, and she quickly covered her eyes again, instinctively stepping back as if trying to hide from the intensity of the moment.

She muttered, "M-Mein... mein chalti hun..." (I-I'll... get going then...)

Before he could say something, she turned and hastily walked out of the room, her heart pounding in her chest. Feras stood still for a moment, watching her retreat. His gaze followed her. His chest tightened, and despite himself, he felt his heart beat a little faster than usual.

He couldn't help a small smile that crept on his lips.

.....

Feras walked into the kitchen, the familiar aroma of chicken korma filling the air. His senses were immediately enveloped by the rich, savory scent, and for a moment, he stood still, savoring the fragrance. It made his stomach growl in anticipation. His eyes landed on Anam, who was setting the table, still flushed from their earlier encounter. He couldn't help but notice how her cheeks were pink, as if the warmth from the inside was spilling onto her face.

Anam, so focused on arranging the dishes, didn't notice Feras standing by the doorway at first.

Her eyes flew up in his direction. She had rarely seen Feras in anything other than traditional shawar and kurta. Today, he was dressed in a plain black shirt and grey trousers, his attire simple yet undeniably attractive. There was something about the way the black shirt clung to his broad shoulders and the confidence with which he carried himself that made her heart flutter. It was something about the way the black shirt contrasted with his usual traditional attire that made him look even more striking.

Just as she was about to leave the kitchen to give him some space. Feras' voice stopped her in her tracks. Feras, with a swift movement, grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. She looked up at him, startled, and he fixed her with a gaze that made her stomach twist.

"Anam," he said, his tone calm but serious. "Kya tumne khana khaya hai?" (Did you eat?)

Anam's face immediately flushed a deeper shade of pink, her nerves betraying her as she stammered out, "Haan- haanji, khaya hai."

But Feras, with his sharp eyes, could see through her words like glass. His gaze, unwavering and sharp, narrowed as he observed her, sensing the discomfort that was now palpable in the air. "Sach bolo," he said, his voice carrying a note of stern authority, the kind that brooked no excuses. "Tumne khana khaya hai ya nahi?" (Tell me the truth... Did you eat? Yes or No?)

She sighed, her voice small and hesitant as she confessed, "Maine ek seb khaya tha... bas." (I just ate an apple)

Feras' eyes darkened, his concern quickly transforming into frustration. He immediately released her wrist, but his eyes never left her face, watching her every reaction with a kind of intense focus. "Ek seb?" His voice was now filled with disbelief and reprimand. "Woh lunch nahi hota, Anam." (An apple? That's not considered a meal Anam.)

Anam's heart hammered in her chest. She bit her lip nervously, unable to meet his gaze as she lowered her eyes to the floor. Her mind raced, wanting to hide the truth, but she knew it was useless. "Mujhe wazan kam karna hai," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Isliye mai kam khane ki koshish kar rhi hun." (I need to lose weight. That's why I'm trying to eat less.)

Feras' frustration deepened, and a frown tugged at the corners of his lips. He stood up from the chair and stepped closer to her, his presence so close now that it felt as though the air itself had thickened with his intensity. His tone was no longer just concerned, but also firm and resolute, an unyielding force. "Yeh sab tumhe karne ki koi zaroorat nahi hai. Tum jaysi ho, wesi hi perfect ho," he said, his words carrying weight. "Aur ye sab dieting karne se tumhari body kamzor ho jati hai. Iss liye khabardaar agar tumne kabhi bhi apni meal skip ki, samjhi?" (You don't need to do any of this. You are perfect just the way you are.) (And by doing all this dieting, your body becomes weak. So I'm warning you, don't you ever ever skip a meal again, understand?)

Anam stood frozen for a moment, her breath caught in her chest. His words struck her like a thunderclap, resonating deep within her. The care in his voice, the gentleness in his command, made her feel both vulnerable and protected at the same time. She swallowed hard, her heart racing. There was something about the way he spoke, the way he made her feel seen—not just as his wife, but as a person, deserving of care and love.

She nodded silently, her throat tight with emotion, and finally, reluctantly, sat down at the table. Feras sat down across from her, his gaze still fixed on her, though his face had softened, no longer angry but still deeply concerned. He wasn't going to let her neglect herself again.

As he watched her take a small, tentative bite of the food, his gaze softened further. A sense of peace washed over him... his world, in that moment, felt a little more right.

Feras let out a quiet breath, his eyes never leaving her face as he observed her slowly eating. He couldn't help but feel a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips. This, he thought, was where she belonged... right here, with him, safe and well-cared for.

Unbeknownst to him, his heart had already started to beat for her, she was becoming his peace in chaos, his solace, the reason to smile more often.

"The happiest man is he to whom Allah has given a good wife"

—Imam Ali as