Short story challenge 3 (Kitchen romance)
Favours
Karim looked over his shoulder as he held the phone to his ear. The coast was clear. On the other end of the line, the phone rang a few times before it was answered.
"Hello Karim? Is everything alright?" Ayesha baaji's voice was heard.
"Baaji, Sahab has not come out of his room this morning. He didn't eat anything yesterday and today when the nurse took his breakfast to him, he did not open the door."
Karim's voice wobbled a bit. It was becoming increasingly difficult for the young fellow to maintain a calm facade before the rest of the house staff.
"Aap ka bohut meherbaani hoga--" he tried to keep himself steady. ("It will be very kind of you--")
"Don't worry. I will see what I can do." Ayesha interrupted him.
Hanging up on Karim, Ayesha looked around the room. Bano could be heard taking her morning shower in the bathroom. Ayesha looked at the dark screen of the phone. Should she call Fahad? Even as she debated within herself the best thing to do, Ayesha opened the wardrobe and picked up her purse. She had already had her morning bath but she didn't risk getting dressed into something more suitable for stepping out of the house. If she was caught going to Basit's house, neither Bano nor her mother would let her leave without placing a thousand questions before her. Questions she was not yet prepared to face.
And Basit had not come out of his room. Not had breakfast. Not had anything all day yesterday. With horrible scenarios flashing through her head, Ayesha managed to leave the house without running into either Qudsia or Bobby phupo.
*********************
"Basit! Basit!" Ayesha hammered on the door. With no sound coming from inside, Ayesha turned around, her heart sinking with fear and despair. What had made her think that he would open the door for her sake?
She rushed towards the stairs. Since the last time Basit had locked himself in his room after Sadia's death, Ayesha had made a duplicate set of keys for emergencies which she kept in the study. Now was the time to get it. However before she had reached the stairs there was the click of the door being opened and she heard his voice call out, "Ayesha?"
Ayesha whirled around, worry momentarily sweeping away all other feelings. There he stood at the door, still in the kurta he wore when she had left yesterday. Did his face look tired? Did he look pale? Ayesha stumbled forward.
"Why did you not have breakfast?! Don't you know you need to have your meals along with the medicines?!" The words were out before Ayesha could stop herself.
The new nurse was coming up the stairs just then and Ayesha catching sight of her called out, "Zubeida, get sahab's breakfast now." The girl nodded her head and was away in a flash.
"Ayesha." She heard him call out once more.
Steadying herself, she approached him. She concentrated her efforts on trying to bring her agitated self under control.
"Karim called-" she began. She felt her ears grow hot. What must he be thinking now? That she was looking for excuses to come to him!
"Let us talk?" he cut in.
Ayesha looked at his face and noted the bluish shadows beneath his eyes.
"Have your breakfast. I'll wait downstairs." She said before turning towards the stairs.
"Have you had your breakfast?" She heard him ask.
"Yes," she managed to whisper before heading down the stairs. His politeness hurt her like a thousand pinpricks.
Before she reached the landing, she heard him call out for Karim. Letting out a sigh, Ayesha made her way downstairs.
She met Karim on the way. He was rushing in answer to the master's call. But he skidded to a halt before Ayesha.
"Baaji, will you make some of that soup you had brought for sahab? That is the only thing he doesn't refuse to have." Karim said, his eyes gleaming with earnestness.
Ayesha could barely control the way this statement made her heart flutter. She nodded to Karim, watched him leave, and then steadily cursed her own foolish heart all the way to the kitchen. How could she feel this way about a man who cared naught for her, who had so little respect for her that he could throw her out of his life and home within moments and then expect her to waltz back into his life as and when he wished her to return to him. Ayesha hesitated at the threshold of the kitchen, wondering what she was even doing there? Why had she come at all? Since Basit looked like he was perfectly fine, she should simply go back home. And never return. His papers would reach her sooner or later for sure. All that stood in the way of putting an end to this bond were a couple of signatures. What was the point of this charade that he was playing?
Zubeida came out of the storeroom forcing Ayesha to ignore the dark thoughts that enveloped her.
"Baaji!" the nurse called out.
Ayesha put on her brave face as she turned to the girl.
"Will you check the breakfast tray once? I don't know what to get him. Sahab doesn't give any proper instructions and when I take the tray to him, he leaves almost everything untouched." Zubeida prattled on, having decided to share all her complaints with her mistress at one go.
Ayesha eyed the tray laden with a glass of milk and some toast and egg. She thought of his preference for the oat porridge back in the hospital which she would feed him. The shadows under his eyes she had seen only a while ago flashed through her mind.
"Bring me the bag of oats from the store room," Ayesha instructed the girl and busied herself in taking out milk and fresh fruits from the refrigerator.
Soon the tray was ready and Ayesha nodded to Zubeida. The girl left with breakfast tray in hand. Ayesha picked up a spoonful of porridge. Yes, she had lied to Basit. She hadn't had time to have anything before she had rushed here. But she didn't want him to know that. How desperate would he think her actions to be then?
Unknown to Ayesha, Basit observed her from the lounge area. With the help of Karim, he had taken a quick bath and freshened up. And then he had come to the lounge to wait for his breakfast and had caught sight of Ayesha guiding Zubeida in preparing his breakfast.
He had watched the way she had fussed over the tray, making sure everything was just the way she knew he liked it. His heart had swelled with unfamiliar emotions that left him aching for her. And then once Zubeida had left with the tray in hand, he had watched his wife take a bowl for herself. His eyes now hungrily drank in the sight of her standing at the kitchen counter having her bowl of porridge, head bowed, face grave.
He couldn't stop the dull throb of pain that tugged at his heart. A memory swept through him of her laughing as she stood in the exact same spot. Laughing and chatting with Fahad, a teasing smile on her lips that she had never shown before him. Why would she refuse to have breakfast with him? Basit's brows furrowed. By the time Zubeida had entered the room with what he knew was his breakfast tray, placed it on the table, and finished asking him for permission to enter, Basit had reached the door.
"Bring the tray downstairs to the kitchen," came his curt instruction.
Basit never noticed the dismay that spread across the girl's face. He was out of the room by the time she had managed to pick the tray up again.
***********************
Ayesha had barely touched her bowl of porridge when she saw Basit's reflection in the mirror that served as the wall to one side of the kitchen. But Zubeida had just gone up? He had refused to eat again? She felt the numb cloud of disappointment settle in her heart. Why had she bothered? Did she not know he cared nothing for the feelings of others? Why would the fact that the tray had clearly been prepared by her deter him from refusing to eat? As Ayesha watched him walk towards her she chided herself in her heart. She should know by now that she was no better in his eyes than any of these dozen people in the house he paid to work for him. Her actions toward him were nothing special. He could and did pay others who could perform these duties just as she had during his stay at the hospital.
"Ayesha," his voice reached her. She tried to keep herself calm. She must be ready for whatever careless barb he chose to throw at her now.
"You are done?" she asked striving for an air of nonchalance. "Shall we talk now?"
"No. Let us eat first," she heard him reply. Zubeida chose this very moment to walk in and place the tray on the counter.
She turned to tell the girl to take the tray to the dining room. "Zubeida, Sahab will eat in..." she began.
"In the kitchen," Basit said. Ayesha stared at him and he stared right back at her.
"Zubeida, leave," Basit added without taking his eyes off Ayesha. The girl fled with barely a squeak.
"You will get tired standing--" Ayesha began, her voice meandering into a whisper as she caught sight of his face.
"Not if you are here beside me," came his reply. As she looked at him, Ayesha could hardly bring herself to look into his eyes. One glance had been enough. She did not know what it was that lay in his gaze. Nevertheless, it made her heart race and her ears grow hot.
She did not know how she managed to bring herself to even touch that bowl of porridge. He chose to stand beside her at the counter as he tucked into the bowl of barely sweetened porridge with gusto. She felt as if the very air between them had thickened, such was the awkwardness that cascaded through her. The very act of lifting the spoon to her mouth had become a herculean task as Ayesha tried to keep the mask of calm indifference intact. Keenly aware of his every move even as she resolutely kept her eyes fixed on the bowl, Ayesha wondered what pleasure playing with her like this gave him.
"You won't have some of these strawberries?" Basit's voice interrupted Ayesha's jumbled thoughts.
Ayesha eyed the strawberry skewered on his fruit fork. She shook her head in the negative without looking at his face. As she turned to lift another spoonful of porridge, she saw him place some of those fruits into her bowl.
"Try it with the fruits," he spoke softly, "Tastes better that way."
"But I told you I did not want to!" Ayesha burst out. "Why should only your opinion matter?!"
At that moment, the likelihood of her holding back those words was as much as her refraining from breathing.
"Ayesha," the soothing tone in his voice made her blood boil. "I am just asking you to try a bite. You will see it is much better..." Basit never got to finish what he was trying to say.
"I am done, Basit." Ayesha cut in. "I am done doing things your way. If what I eat bothers you so much, I will leave." She hardly knew what it was she was actually talking about.
"Ayesha, why are you overreacting? If you don't want to eat that bit, you can just throw the berries out." And Ayesha watched as Basit lifted her spoon, placed it in her porridge, and then scooping up the bits with the fruits in them, placed the spoon in his mouth. She watched the entire process in a daze that numbed the anger coursing through her veins.
Basit lifted his hand and placed it alongside hers. "Ayesha, can't we just--" He wished he could simply capture her hand in his. His words died away as he found himself forgetting what it was that he wished to say.
And Ayesha moved her hand away from the countertop, away from him, and then turning to face him, said, "I know you are planning to divorce me, so stop this charade. What joy does playing with my feelings give you?"
She had the momentary satisfaction of watching his eyes widen in surprise as he fumbled for words.
"Why bother with this husband-wife game when you have decided to end this?" The words having been said, Ayesha suddenly felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest even as a burst of heart-wrenching pain shuddered through her.
Basit watched her, eyeing the red tinges spotting her cheeks and unshed tears glistening at the corners of her eyes.
"It is just paper, Ayesha," he whispered, numbness creeping into his veins. His anger had made him say those things to her mother. Of course, Ayesha would know what he had told that interfering woman.
"I was angry Ayesha." Basit felt choked.
"You have already decided to end this," Ayesha said waving her hand in agitation, "When you made those papers, you had made the decision!"
"I did. I had," Basit said, taken aback at the heat in her voice even as he noted the hurt that was palpable on her face. "But once I had prepared the papers, I realised our relationship wasn't something I could end just like that."
Ayesha tried hard to check the tears that threatened to spill at any moment. Turning her face away from him, she choked out, "What more do you want from me?"
"Ayesha, once I had the papers before me I realised I couldn't end this relationship. I didn't want to end it. I want you, Ayesha. I want you in my life." Basit said, heart twisting within as he watched her standing head bent and face half hidden by the curtain of hair. She was crying, he knew, just as he had known during their last few phone calls.
"Till the next time you decide you don't", she whispered, trying furiously to hide the hot tears that refused to be contained.
"Ayesha, I'm sorry," Basit reached out and turned her around to face him. His voice was half-choked as the words which seldom passed his lips now came straight from his heart. "I'm sorry."
Had he not been constrained by the plastered arm, he would have pulled her into his embrace. However, words would have to do for now and so he spoke.
"Ayesha, what happened can never happen again because living without you these past few days was like living without a part of me." Basit watched her move away and felt helplessness course through his veins.
"Had you really felt that way Basit, you would have brought me back," Ayesha looked at him then, streaks of tears still glistening on her face. "But you never even thought of it. Even now you feel like you can throw me out of your life one moment and then pull me back the very next. Because of course, you can be hurt, be angry, be suspicious, but I don't have feelings. I don't have any right to be hurt, to be angry. Because you have already done me such a huge favour by marrying an ordinary girl like me, who should be grateful that you have given her luxuries she could never imagine!"
Ayesha saw him stand there, eyes widened in surprise. She needed to leave. She had said too much. But as she made to move past him, Basit reached out and pulling her arm, stopped her escape. The pull had her crashing into his chest. She felt him let go of her arm and instead reach out and hold her against him.
"Don't leave, Ayesha," his voice was a mere whisper. He felt the hot wetness on his chest as his kurta soaked up her tears. "Give us one more chance."
"This is not my home," her muffled words reached him. "You made that quite clear."
Held fast against Basit's chest, Ayesha felt as if she would break. The more she tried to hold back her tears, the faster they fell. As she tried to pull herself back, Ayesha felt the softest of touches on her forehead. She stilled for a moment even as Basit placed another kiss along her brow. Startled, Ayesha gave a push which sent Basit's plastered arm straight towards the sharp edge of the kitchen counter.
**********************
It had been a soft push but lacking resistance, his arm hit the edge. Basit didn't really feel too much pain. The cast had protected him but his face bore a reflexive grimace. Ayesha who had watched the whole thing in horrified silence, now forgot all else in her worry and contrition over this accident that she had caused.
The momentary silence that had fallen over them was broken by Ayesha.
"Should I call the doctor?", she asked.
Basit instead of replying, lifted his free hand and wiped away a trail of tears that glistened against her cheek.
"Basit, you hurt your wounded arm!" Ayesha looked at him, brows furrowing with worry.
This time Basit leaned forward and placed a kiss right at the corner of her eye.
"You are not going back to your mother's," Basit whispered, "You belong here with me."
Ayesha, silenced by the kiss, looked up at him, wonder warring with subdued pain in her eyes.
"Another order I must follow then?" she whispered.
Basit who had by then captured Ayesha's hand in his palm felt like he had been struck. Her hand slipped from his hold and he barely noticed it as she quickly moved away.
Ayesha busied herself in clearing up the utensils she had used, trying to ignore the man as he stood still like a statue. It was as she placed the bowls in the wash sink, she felt him move to stand beside her. She was about to turn around to face him when she felt him reach out with one arm and hug her from behind.
Burying his face in her hair, Basit spoke, "Ayesha, I want you to come back but I cannot force you. I cannot unsay or undo the past. There were things I told you..."Basit trailed off before taking a deep breath, taking in the heady fragrance of her hair, one he had grown used to, one he now searched among the pillows she had used as he lay alone in bed at night.
He continued, "Things I told your mother, things I shouldn't have. Ayesha, I was angry. I don't know why I behaved the way I had but the very thought of you being friendly with Fahad had made me angry."
Without having to meet her face which he knew must bear the certain signs of the hurt his words will cause her, Basit went on unburdening his heart, as he stood enveloped in the presence of the woman who had grown to mean the very world to him.
"It was right here in this kitchen that I saw you laugh at what Fahad was saying, laughing like you had never laughed when we were together. I didn't want to accept the obvious fact that I had never given you any cause to feel at ease around me. From the very moment you entered this house, I had only told you what I wanted, what I thought."
"You thought I was someone who would betray you," Ayesha whispered, caught in his embrace, entangled in his words that both pricked like knives and soothed her agitated spirit.
"I tried to find an excuse for why you behaved so differently around Fahad and came up with what suited my conscience for the moment," Basit continued. "Even when Fahad told me the truth, I was hurt that you had shared with him your troubles while hiding them from me."
It was Ayesha's turn to shudder even as Basit went on.
"I wanted you to see me as your husband, the one who will stand by you and support you. But your discomfort was obvious each time I tried to provide for your family, which is my responsibility as your husband. And when you went through such a huge crisis, you never even considered that I could be of help."
Ayesha's fingers twisted against the edge of the sink. "I didn't want you to think any lower of my family than you already did," she said. "Zoya running away...with the way you thought of women, I couldn't face any more contempt for my mother and sisters in your eyes..."
"The night of the walima," Basit cut in. "I was still new to this relationship. Ayesha..." Basit prepared to emerge from the sense of comfort that simply being in her presence brought him and steeling himself, let go of his hold on her and took a step back.
"Let me show you I can learn from my mistakes?" His voice did a poor job of hiding the unsettled state of his heart.
"I thought it would be as easy for you to throw me out of your life as you had from your home," Ayesha said, turning around and facing him. Her tears had long dried. "I knew you felt my presence a burden. When you have already done so much to cast aside this burden, why are you trying to bring it back in your life once more?"
"You thought it was easy?" Basit whispered, unnerved at the lack of warmth in her voice.
"It would be simple enough to find another girl like me," she said, "Another Ayesha you could shower your favours on."
"Enough with that!" Basit now cut in. His face looked thunderous.
"You told me so yourself! You chose to marry me, an ordinary girl, as a favour!" Ayesha wouldn't stop, she couldn't.
"Circumstances brought us together, Ayesha. But you must know how I feel about you!" Basit ran an agitated hand through his hair.
"Yes, I know exactly how you feel about me. The wife you never wanted." Ayesha said it. What had lain in her heart over the past few months, she had finally told him.
"You think I don't want you?" Basit asked, unable to understand how to let her know how he truly felt. The hell that had been his for the past few weeks, with her gone, where every inch of their room, their home reminded him of her absence.
"I have already told you it is simple enough. Why prolong your misery? End this once and for all." The treacherous tears will come and she didn't want him to see her weak. Ayesha felt her nails dig into her palms as she fought to keep the tears away.
"Ayesha..." Barely a whisper, there was something in her name on his lips that rushed through her very being.
And then his lips were on hers, urgent though soft, demanding, yet coaxing. His hand pressed against her back, gentle but resolute, as he drew her closer to him.
Neither of them had anticipated the surge of emotions the kiss brought in its wake. Basit felt himself leaning into her, reveling in the way she seemed to fit within his arm. His plastered arm trembled within the cast as the urge to draw her even closer rose in him. When her palms fisted at his kurta pulling him towards her, Basit found himself sighing into her lips, contentment flooding his veins and filling him with a heady bliss.
Raising his head, he looked at her. She stood wearing a dazed look, crimson blooming on both cheeks. Resting his forehead against hers, Basit pulled her to him till she leaned, flush against his chest.
"I love you," he whispered and then smiled as her hands crept up around him, drawing him into a hug. "Will you do me a favour, a kindness?"
Ayesha leaned back to meet his eyes at this. Basit placed a kiss on her forehead, unable to resist the temptation presented by the slight confusion in her eyes.
"You had shown me great kindness once by agreeing to marry me without knowing anything about what kind of a man I was," Basit continued. Ayesha smiled at this and a teasing dimple bloomed on her cheek.
"Will you do me another kindness by agreeing to be my wife after knowing what kind of a man I am?" Basit's eyes held such earnestness that made the very blood in Ayesha's veins sing.
Wordlessly, Ayesha drew herself up and kissed her husband.
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