ASYA FF: Prem Kahani Hai Mushkil (Updated Ch. 130 Page 90 Oct. 11) - Page 8

Chapter 34

In the car ride back home they had laughed about two other weddings that would be coming up to keep the families busy for some time.

"Wouldn't it be such fun if we all got married on the same day, together?" Zoya asked.

"I would love that but I don't think Humaira's parents would let that happen. And we still have time for Omar to tell his parents." Asad replied.

"Kya, Mr. Khan why do you always have to be so practical? Aap sab mazaa kirkira kar detein hain! Why can't you let me dream and hope?"

"Asad," he prompted.

"Mr. Khan!" she pouted.

"Oh, so when you'll be mad at me you'll call me Mr. Khan?"

"Ji, Mr. Khan," Zoya said haughtily, with her arms folded across her chest.

Asad pulled the car over and dragged her over in his arms to fiercely kiss her. "And when I'm making love to you?" he looked down her intensely, his eyes skimming over her lips. Her breath hissed and eyes widened. One hand had already crept into his hair and the other gripped his collar.

"Mr. Kh--!" He silenced her again. With a lot of tongue.

"Asad," she breathed as her head fell back.

"Good girl," Asad crowed triumphantly.

"Oh really?" And she framed his face with her hands and sucked on his lower lip and then bit it. Hard. But then, taking pity on him, Zoya rubbed her tongue back and forth over the sore spot. He gasped with pleasure and she thrust her tongue in this time to tangle with his.

He cradled her head as they disengaged.

"I want you so bad, I can't wait any longer! I don't want to wait for my brother and sister to figure out their love lives. They can afford to wait. I want us married as soon as possible. That's why no multiple weddings, OK? Is that impractical enough for you?"

Zoya nodded in wonder and pulled him in for another kiss.

A passing car honked several times and they could hear drunken hoots and catcalls. They both straightened in a hurry and Asad swore under his breath. But he held her hand and planted a kiss on her open palm which curled around his cheek.

"Oh thank god! But Asad, we have the Tanveer mess to resolve first."

"I thought that too." He started the car and merged into traffic, then re-gripped her hand interlacing his fingers with hers.

"But now, I don't want us to put our lives on hold anymore. We'll be talking to Imran pretty soon. And after that, I'd like to spend more time and energy on what's good and positive rather than the bad and ugly. She's done enough damage and I won't let her do any more."

Zoya smiled hopefully and squeezing his hand decided to tease him again.

"Iraade toh bahut nek hain aapke, jahanpanah. But will you be able to say anything besides voh, actually, main' to Phuphi?"

He bit her knuckles.

"Oh really? Then why don't you talk to Ammi? Aakhir koi aisa kaam hai jo Zoya Farooqui nahin kar sakti?"

Yanking her hand from his grasp, she slapped his thigh. "Mr. Khan!"

He grabbed her hand and held it firmly on his thigh. Zoya felt heat radiating from him through his jeans. His thumb traced delicious circles on her hand.

"But seriously Asad, when?" Zoya gasped.

Letting go of her hand he squeezed his temples with his thumb and fingers. "I'll talk to Ammi tonight. I don't know how many cold showers I can take any more. I want you right now and am barely holding on to my self-control."

Caressing his thigh, she leaned over and gave him a peck on his cheek.

"I love you," Zoya breathed. "And the window coverings and privacy panels are just about done, so yes, please talk to Phuphi soon!" she said huskily.

Asad groaned.

Nipping his ear, she giggled, "we better conserve water and save on the bill, after all!"

He nearly swerved into oncoming traffic when Zoya moved her hand up higher and whispered hotly, "Mr. Khan ... we should probably make up for the high water bills by showering together the first month of our marriage!"

Ayaan was reeling. Did she actually slap him? But he had only ...

Damn, who was this woman? And what happened to the old Humaira?

Talking to Bhaijaan would be useless. He called Zoya.

"Mona, what the hell is wrong with Humaira?"

Zoya knew exactly what had happened. Humaira had just called and tearfully told her. She feigned ignorance.

"What's up Raabert? What did you do now?"

"Voh actually ..."

Zoya rolled her eyes. What was with the Khan men?

"Voh actually, kya kiya tumne Ayaan?" She asked more gently. She didn't want them to suffer any more. She wanted for them what she had with her Mr. Khan. Well, not exactly what they had, but ... something close would be nice.

"Remember the pictures of Humaira you sent me that day in a skirt and jeans?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I went back to the store and bought that skirt, kurti and boots for her and surprised her with them as a gift. And she had the nerve to throw them at me. And then when I grabbed her wrist to stop her she ... she hit me!"

Zoya held her head in despair.

"Ayaan, do you love Humaira?"

"Haan," he said scratching his head. Wasn't it obvious? What was wrong with Mona darling asking such dumb questions?

"Which Humaira do you love? Photo wali, ya asli wali?"

"Yeh kaisa vahiyaat sawaal hai Zoya? What's the difference between the two?" He bellowed.

"Fark hai, Ayaan. And that's why she reacted so strongly. The real Humaira isn't the girl who wears skirts and boots. She thinks that you don't like her for who she is ... and that you wish she was more modern."

He fell silent.

"Hello, Ayaan?"

He dragged his hand through his hair, "but I don't see them as different. She is still the same no matter what she wears. Why would I love her based on what she wears?"

"Tell her that!"

"But why does it need to be said at all?"

She sighed heavily. "Ayaan, you don't know how insecure girls can feel. When I didn't know that your Bhaijaan loved me, I thought that he would never accept me because of who I was, the way I dressed or acted. I always felt that that's why he chose Tanveer," Her voice broke. "Because she seemed to be the image of the ideal woman for him."

She took a deep breath, "and if he hadn't said that he loved me for being exactly who I was, then we wouldn't be together today."

She felt a pair of warm hands encircle her and she drank in his scent. Taking the phone from her hand Asad said, "bye Ayaan," switched it off, and threw it on her bed.

Zoya turned in his arms and cried softly in his arms.

He held her without a word. Nothing needed to be said any more.

She lifted her head when she was done, and he sucked her tears away.

"Aap yahan? What about lunch?" She eventually asked.

He framed her face in both his hands and rested his forehead against hers. "I talked to Ammi. She's gone to talk to Maulvi Saheb right now. We'll keep it small and simple. Just the family. Let Aapi and Jeeju know."

She hugged him tightly, "finally!"

Asad swung her around in his arms and looked deep into her eyes, "finally."

She burst into tears.

"Baby, what is it?"

Zoya was feeling too raw today for some reason. She had held her father's music box and even visited his gravesite, but the hollowness remained.

And then the conversation with Ayaan had brought to surface all her feelings of rejection and loss when she had first confessed her feelings to Asad and he had said nothing in return.

And the next day he had been engaged.

She wiped her tears and took a steadying breath.

"Remember at the dargah in Ajmer, when you offered me the thread, and I refused?"

He nodded and a shadow of pain crossed his eyes. Zoya reached up and smoothed his forehead.

"I refused because ... because I'd just found out about Abbu's death and then when I found out about your enagement ... I told myself that if I asked Allah for anything he'd just take it away from me."

Asad held her tight burying her face in the crook of his neck, "I'm sorry, so sorry. If I could turn back time, I would."

She rose on her toes and kissed his mouth shut, "I know."

Although he had come home wanting to take her out to lunch to celebrate, they had fed each other on the sofa in between tears and kisses.

He sensed that she needed him to just hold her today.

Thank god they had the house to themselves this afternoon.

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Song in Title:

Agneepath (2012) "Saiyaan"

Chapter 36

They had invited Imran and Haseena bi in a hotel suite under the pretext to discuss the arrangements for the wedding.

Both had been surprised just to find Rashid and Ayaan.

And, Asad.

Rashid asked everyone to have a seat, politely offered drinks and snacks, and then turned to Asad.

"Beta, you want to do the honors?"

Haseena bi tried to interject, but before she could utter a single word of disapproval, Rashid glared at her saying, "Asad hamare ghar ka bada beta hai. I would recommend that you listen really carefully to what he is going to say next."

She looked around in confusion and panic. Ayaan had his back turned toward them and was looking out of the window.

His fists were clenched by his side.

Asad slapped down a folder on the table.

"Imran, take a look at this, and then let's talk."

Imran looked anxious. "Why? What's going on?" He looked at Rashid in bewilderment. "I don't understand."

"Look at the file," Asad said sternly.

Imran cracked his knuckles nervously and beads of perspiration tricked down his spine.

"Please," ordered Asad.

The color from his face drained as he flipped through the 8x10 glossies of the worst mistake of his life.

As the pictures and copies of documents slipped through his lifeless fingers, Haseena bi bent to pick them up and look at them.

"Kya hai ye sab? What is the meaning of this rude behavior?"

"Tum bataoge Imran, ki main bataoon?"

Ayaan meanwhile had been pacing like a caged animal.

"I'll kill this ba*sta*rd, bhaijaan!"

He lunged toward Imran and Haseena bi screamed.

"You can't treat us like this. Stop! Main police ko bulaungi."

"Haan, please call the police," piped in Rashid, dead calm. "I also want to file a complaint against you for extortion in the name of dowry."

"But ... but ... what happened?" She whimpered.

"I'll tell you what happened!" bellowed Ayaan.

"This scumbag son of yours has made a girl pregnant and wants to marry our sister so that you can continue to fleece our family."

"What? That's a lie!" She huffed. "My son is the most virtuous son a mother could wish for. Aap sab jhooth bol rahen hain!"

"Hum jhooth bol rahen hain? Ask this son of yours for how long he's been lying to everybody! We are officially breaking this engagement."

"Ayaan wait," interjected Asad.

He gestured toward the discarded folder, "Imran, tell us everything about your relationship with this woman."

Imran haltingly gave details which matched what Zoya and he had already speculated about. He went on to tell them that Tanveer had been blackmailing him ever since she came to Bhopal.

"I paid her off with small sums of money but she keeps coming back for more."

Asad looked at him in anger. "If you were a better man, you would have broken off your engagement to Nikhat, and married Tanveer to take responsibility for your child. That would have been the right thing to do."

Haseena bi cowered on the sofa and wailed about her misfortune and how she and her son were being framed.

Imran twisted his face in shame and tried to incoherently beg for forgiveness, and a second chance to make things right.

"You bloody coward," Ayaan lunged to grab his collar. As he was about to smash his fist in Imran's terrified face, Asad held his arm and looked at Imran, "take your mother and get out of here."

As Imran slouched toward the door Rashid added, "Never show your face around here. We will be filing a case against you for unlawful dowry demands. I want every family in Bhopal to know what kind of greedy monsters you are, so that no one gives their daughter away to the likes of you."

As Haseena bi reached the door, Asad spoke quietly, "Haseena bi, two more things: one, those title papers for the house I gave you in Nikhat's name?" She looked at him fearfully. "I expect them in my office by 11 am tomorrow."

As she started to slink away, he added, "and two: we are reporting your brother for bribery and false arrest to the Anti-Corruption Branch."

"Allah Hafiz!"

Tanveer was raging mad. How dare Imran turn her down for money? Didn't he know what she could do? She kept calling and texting but he had probably blocked her calls.

She would need to meet him in person to set him right.

She was mortified at the Khans' treatment of her. While Asad had clarified his position loud and clear, khala and Zoya looked at her with a kind of distaste that made her want to scream bloody murder. Najma was the only one who treated her with any civility, though now, even she would look at her more with pity than anything else.

She would steer clear of them, not sharing meals, eating in her room and staying out most of the day. But by now, the best option for her was to take Asad's money and just leave to find new feeding grounds. She did have one middle-aged suitor in Kanpur, may be he could be the ticket to respectability.

That evening she knocked on Asad's door.

"Come in."

His eyes turned steely when he saw her at the door. He put aside his laptop and stood up. She took time in settling down on the settee and adjusted her dupatta and faked a mournful expression.

"Jammy, I've decided to take your offer. I hate to abandon my child and appear to be a bad mother, but it may be the best thing for my child." She lowered her gaze decorously, and twisted the end of her dupatta.

"I think my child will have a perfect home with his father. A father's name and love is more important after all."

Her words were greeted with silence.

She looked up at him and saw his arms rigidly crossed across his chest and cold anger etched across his face.

"I'm afraid the offer is no longer on the table, Tanveer."

She stood up in alarm.

"What? What do you mean? So you will marry me after all?"

He laughed grimly and said, his voice dead quiet, "no. Listen to me very carefully."

Her spine stiffened.

"I know that you've been lying all along, and that this is not my child." She started to speak but he held up his hand. "I also know that this is Imran's child and that you've been blackmailing him."

She sat down heavily on the settee.

"I should have thrown you out of my house a long time ago. But I wanted to make sure that I had all the evidence against you. Now I do. No point denying it," he said as he saw her begin to speak up again.

His fists were clenched and teeth gritted. He opened the door for her, "I want you to packed up and out of my house by tomorrow morning."

Tanu started to cry and beg for forgiveness. "Please Jammy, don't do this. I'm sorry, I did it out of desperation. I didn't know what else to do. I know I shouldn't have lied to you."

"You're right. You shouldn't have lied to me. If you had told me the truth at the start I would have pleaded your case to Imran, helped you get married to him or even supported you if he refused."

He looked away in disgust. "But what you did was ... Please, just leave. I don't even want to think about it any more."

He slammed the door after her.

Damn him! So that's why Imran had suddenly cut her off.

She went up the stairs slowly thinking of how to regroup.

One last chance still remained, but it was risky.

She saw Zoya at the top of the stairs with a load of freshly dried laundry.

Her eyes were sparkling and face was glowing. She had on her earphones and was smiling and humming lightly to some tune on her iPod. She came skipping down and looked up to see Tanu half way up.

Her smile froze.

Her eyes narrowed into slits.

Oh, so she knew too.

Of course, why wouldn't she? Miss Nosey New York must have played lead detective in all of this. And Jammy was her besotted little lapdog making googly eyes at her all the time.

She saw red.

And, as if in slow motion, her hands stretched out to push her nemesis for wrecking all her well-laid plans.

______________________________________________________

Song in Title

Rocky (1980) "Aa Dekkhen Zara"

Chapter 37

It was a good thing Asad had just stepped out to go to her room.

He wanted to tell Zoya that he had checked yet another item off their to-do list: talk to Tanu and explain in clear terms that her jig was up.

He had already updated her and Ammi about the confrontation with Imran. Rashid had lodged an official complaint against them as well, and Ayaan was in the process of completing the formalities with the Anti-Corruption Branch complaint.

The only downer in all of this was how Nikhat would react to, and cope with this news.

It must have been the setting sun's light glinting off Zoya's ring or watch. Asad turned and saw her a second before she screamed and tumbled headlong down the stairs.

Tanu stood carved in stone right behind her.

"ZOYAAA!"

He leapt up and caught her just as she crashed into the sharp edge of the bannister.

Dilshad and Najma came rushing out of their rooms at the sound of her scream and his tortured cry.

Dilshad saw Zoya in Asad's arms as he tried to stem the gushing blood from her temple with a bedsheet she still clutched in her hands.

It was the same sheet from last night, he noticed, swallowing a sob.

Zoya moaned in pain.

He looked up to flay Tanu with his glare. "Get out, right now," he ground out through gritted teeth as he cradled Zoya's head gently against his shoulder and lifted her in his arms.

"I want you gone from here before we come back," he barked in cold fury before striding to the door to take Zoya to the hospital.

Luckily, the clothes had cushioned her fall, and his fast reflexes had prevented major damage. Though Zoya did get five stitches, no bones were broken or fractured. But fearing a concussion, the doctor had allowed her to go home on strict orders.

They would have to wake her up every two hours to test her vitals and alertness. If she showed any signs of disorientation, dizziness, blurred vision, or persisting headaches, then they'd have to bring her in to be admitted.

Zoya's head hurt with a dull throbbing ache. Her shoulder and ribs were sore from the fall, but other than that she was fine.

Asad refused to let her walk on her own and insisted on carrying her back to the car. Embarrassed at first for being carried through the crowded lobby like a broken doll, she protested feebly, but then she realized that he needed to do this more.

He was still on edge.

She rested her head on his shoulder in surrender and he looked down at her. "I'm fine," Zoya stroked his shoulder and neck and closed her eyes. The bright lights hurt her eyes and she couldn't bear to see the blood on his shirt; it made her queasy.

Asad settled her in the passenger seat and hugged her slightly, worried about hurting her. He kissed the top of her head and she knew he was in tears. She swiveled in her seat and hugged him. He moved in between her legs and shuddered in her arms.

A worried Omar was there when they arrived home. Dilshad insisted on feeding and mothering her like a baby. She forcefed Zoya hot milk with a hefty dose of haldi.

"Sab undar ki chote theek ho jayegi beta. Bas roz yeh haldi wala dudh peena, OK?"

"But Phuphi, it tastes vile!"

Omar grinned and shook his head. Same Zo.

He held a thumbs up sign to Asad and said, "no worries. Everything's still in place. We may soon even be treated to some terrible shayari."

Even Asad cracked a half-smile at this. Zoya looked at Omar gratefully.

Dilshad continued, "drink up, it's good for you, so no arguments."

Zoya tried to nod but winced in pain.

Asad stood by her bed stiffly with his arms crossed. Ocassionally he would uncross his arms, clench his fists and then stuff his hands in his pockets.

She knew he wanted to crush her in his arms but couldn't. She smiled up at him. "I'm fine Mr. Khan, really. Please relax."

Asad expelled his breath loudly. His jaw clenched and the veins in his forehead were close to popping.

Dilshad left to put the dishes away and Najma was despatched to gather magazines and books and generally stay out of the way. Omar followed her to give them privacy and steal some private moments of his own.

He sat by her side.

As the door closed softly after Omar, Zoya put her hand on Asad's. He picked it up and kissed it.

"If something had happened to you, I would have killed her."

"I'm sore and bruised, but I'm really fine, Asad. Please freshen up and change out of that shirt."

He kissed her fingers and got up to go. She held on to his hand. He looked back at her. "I love you," Zoya whispered.

He smiled after what felt like decades.

Dilshad decided to sleep with Zoya that night to keep a close watch and also to wake her up each time to check on her.

Asad paced outside her room. The second time Zoya had to be woken up, Dilshad let him check her.

Zoya was grumpy by the third time, and he chuckled at her crankiness. "You are such a baby," he cooed softly, kneeling by her side.

She harrumphed. "You would be too if someone woke you up and poked you around every other hour!"

Asad bent to whisper in her ear, "umm, it didn't seem to bother you last night."

"Mr. Khan!" Scandalized, she looked guiltily at her Phuphi. Thank god she was fast asleep! He kissed her ear and Zoya shuddered with longing.

He looked exhausted. She wanted to hold him and soothe the frown lines on his forehead. "Go get some rest, please."

"I'm OK. I'll rest on the sofa in the living room," Asad dismissed her concerns.

He stroked the back of her hand which his thumb in circular motions, "does it hurt a lot?"

"A little. But it hurts a lot more to look in your eyes." Zoya cupped his face, " a lot of sleep, some painkillers and I'll be as good as new, I promise. Please Asad, go rest."

"Good. I'll come back in two hours."

She groaned. Grabbing his collar, she whispered in his ear, "I'm going to make you pay for this Mr. Khan, just you wait."

"I'm counting on it." He kissed her lightly on her lips.

"Asad."

He shot up like an arrow, "ji Ammi?"

"Ab jao, thoda rest kar lo beta," Dilshad said sleepily.

Zoya stifled a giggle as she saw him walk away regretfully.

The next day she ran a low-grade fever but mostly slept through it.

Asad had cancelled his meetings and worked from home.

He stirred restlessly and rotated his stiff shoulders.

He itched to hold Zoya, but neither Najma nor Ammi left her alone, and he was scared he'd hurt her.

Her shoulders and back seemed to be causing her the most discomfort.

If Tanu's offense hadn't been so serious, Zoya would have laughed at Asad's overprotectiveness and paranoid concern. He had even posted a security guard outside their home.

In the evening she was well enough to sit up in the living room. Her neck still felt stiff, and her head hurt, but she was getting bored out of her mind in her room.

Ayaan, Humaira and Omar had come to pay a visit. Humaira didn't know about Tanveer's role in all of this, but Ayaan and Omar knew.

Zoya was nearly back to her old self and was enjoying listening to the conversations around her. Only a bit weak and achy, she caught and smugly relished the intense looks pass between Raabert and Humaira. Hmm, looks like Humaira relented and allowed Raabert back into her graces.

She turned to look at Asad to silently celebrate, and her heart flipped. He had fallen asleep with his head leaning on the sofa back and one arm stretched out. Zoya wanted so badly to snuggle up and hold him.

Poor baby, so little sleep in nearly forty hours.

She gestured to everyone to move to her room so that they wouldn't disturb him. Najma brought a shawl and covered him with it.

Over tea and snacks they quietly chatted.

Omar ribbed her about how he was supposed to be marrying her but instead he'd have to attend her marriage to someone else.

Ayaan too chimed in about losing his chance with Mona darling.

What were these guys up to? Zoya looked up in alarm at Humaira and Najma. Would they be glaring at her?

No, they were glaring at the men instead.

She giggled. She asked Humaira to dish the details of her reconciliation with Ayaan. Humaira shyly bent her head and quietly showed them the suit she was wearing. She told her and Najma that Ayaan had presented it to her and told her that he loved her, no matter what she wore.

Zoya clapped her hands in glee and raised her thumb in congratulations when Ayaan looked her way. He actually ducked his head in embarrassment.

She got up to go to the kitchen. Najma immediately tried to settle her back. "What do you need, Zoya? Let me know."

Omar to the rescue as usual. "Nah! She probably just wants a sneak peak at her sleeping beauty."

Zoya blushed. Everyone laughed.

She left as Ayaan told Omar to back off unless he wanted to encounter Mukka Ahmed Khan after he'd had his beauty sleep.

"I'm not scared of the Mukka," joked Omar. "I'm the Love Guru, and the Mukka Khans bow before me."

He and Humaira high-fived.

Najma and Ayaan looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

Zoya couldn't resist the picture of him asleep. His chest rose and fell with even breaths, the stark planes of his face looked relaxed. The dark lashes on Asad's cheeks made him look so vulnerable. Kissing him lightly on the cheek, she snuggled in next to him under the shawl, resting her head on his shoulder for just a minute.

It had been so long since she had held him and breathed in his scent.

He shifted slightly to pillow his cheek on her head.

When it was time for them to leave, they decided to tip-toe out through the living room. But everyone stopped briefly to smile at the charming tableau before them: Zoya and Asad with their heads together, fast asleep.

_______________________________________________________

Song in Title:

Blood Money (2012) "Chaahat"

Chapter 38

That night he sneaked into her bed like she knew he would.

Asad turned on the bedside lamp to look at her. The swelling on her forehead was receding. But the bandage reminded him of the blood that he'd seen spilling out as he frantically tried to stanch it with trembling hands. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, brushed his nose against hers and kissed it.

"Miss me?"

"So much," Zoya said wrapping her arms gratefully around him. She really had missed holding him and having him hold her.

She knew he'd still be scared to hold her for fear of bumping her bruised ribs or shoulders.

His breath caught as he felt her against him more fully. Zoya was wearing his kurta from the night before last.

And nothing else.

While his body tightened with desire, Asad smiled at the memory and dropped a kiss on her shoulder breathing in her scent. That night, when he had tried to put on his clothes to leave her room before anyone woke up, Zoya had tugged the kurta out of his hands to slip it on, and grinned up at him impishly.

He had lingered to punish her for it, but then relinquished it for good.

It looked much better on her anyways.

Now, Asad gently pulled the kurta off her and gasped. Her skin showed darkening bruises on her entire right side, more around the ribs and neck and shoulders. He was sure her back would tell the same story.

"Zoya," he whispered in anguish, "you are hurt so badly. I couldn't stop you from falling! If only I'd come out of the room even a second before."

He ran his fingers tentatively over her collarbone and both arms.

"Asad, you have to stop blaming yourself. She did this, not you." Zoya cupped his face in her hands. "I know you can't forgive yourself if Phuphi or Tamatar or I get hurt. But you can't be everywhere all the time. You aren't Superman. Besides, this looks more dramatic than it is. I'll be OK. I bruise too easily."

He shook his head as if disagreeing with her. Asad's grip on her arms tightened slightly, "I have to know," he choked out. "All those times before, when I grabbed you angrily, did I ..." He shuddered to a stop, unable to continue.

"... did I leave bruises on your arms?"

"Shh, stop tormenting yourself," Zoya cupped his cheek with her hand.

"I'm going to be fine. Just kiss me and make it all better."

And he did.

He kissed all her bruises, and she kissed his worries and guilt away.

They fell into a bone deep sleep holding on to each other.

In the early hours of the morning, Zoya's eyes flared open as she felt his warm fingers lazily tracing around, and stroking, sliding firmly in and out of her.

Oh my god, yes!

Asad kissed his way down, his mouth soon supplanting his fingers.

She arched and spilled over.

He kissed her and she tasted herself on him.

"Good morning," Zoya said shyly.

"Are you okay?"

"Never better," she stretched and winced only slightly.

His arms came around her protectively.

"Asad, I won't break."

"Promise?"

"Umm hmm."

"You're really OK?"

"YES!" And the giggles and mock-anger in her voice warmed his heart.

"Then I have some plans for you." Asad gently helped her up to the side of the bed and eased her on her back.

"I've had my own fantasies you know," he breathed as he he lightly ran his finger down from her collar bone to her navel. He kissed it.

She blushed.

"Tell me." Zoya rose languidly to kiss and lick the scar on his stomach. She loved to hear him hiss! But he had yet to tell her about how he got it.

"Or better yet Jahanpanah, show me."

"Voh ... actually ..."

Zoya couldn't believe that he was actually blushing, even after standing before her in all his naked pulsating glory. She loved this "voh actually" mode of his. It was the opposite of his Jahanpanah mode, but just as se*xy, and Allah miyan, way cuter!

"That day, when I saw you in those heels I could've ..."

She giggled leaning back on her elbows. "Great minds do think alike! Under the bed," Zoya prompted.

"Are you sure?"

"Asad!" she complained impatiently. "Hurry!"

He dove to fish them out and slipped them on. But only after slowly kissing the soles of her feet, biting her arches, and tantalizingly licking between her toes.

The crystal-encrusted, spiky silver slingbacks bounced on his shoulders as he fulfilled their mutual fantasy.

Only now Rashid understood why Ayaan had agreed so suddenly to the engagement with Humaira, and why Haseena bi had re-agreed so eagerly to the wedding. While his younger son had signed away his life to bribe his father's passage out of prison, his older son had bribed Nikhat's way into being Haseena's bahu.

He was humbled by his sons' courage and sacrifice.

And then there was Nikhat.

He had thought that the news of Imran's betrayal would shatter her. It was hard telling her about it. He had debated whether to tell her the truth. But he did not want her to think that she had been rejected by those cowards yet again. He wanted her to know that her father and brothers had rejected them for not being good enough for her.

She was sad but not broken; she had held her head higher.

He was awed by his children's dignity and compassion; it gave him the strength to confront his own demons.

He would not let Ayaan be forced into any nikaah.

History would not repeat itself.

He would make things right with Dilshad, Asad and Najma.

He put a call through to his assistant to find him the best investigator in town. It was time to marshall his forces to deal with Raziya once and for all, so that she could no longer threaten him or his family.

But before he did anything else, he needed to speak and come clean with Asad.

______________________________________________________

Song in Title:

Jhoom Barabar Jhoom (2007) "Bol Na Halke Halke"

Chapter 39

The wedding date had been fixed. Aapi and Jeeju would arrive the next day.

Dilshad wanted the girls of both houses to be present during the mehendi ceremony.

This was all the opening Najma needed.

Always up for a get-together, she suggested having a sleepover. They could do mani-pedis, facials, sing songs, and basically call it a bachelorette cum bridal shower party for Zoya.

Her list and excitement kept growing.

Asad had not been too enthusiastic about this idea.

What about his sleepover?

But looking at Zoya's obvious excitement he relented. He instinctively understood what it meant to her to share his siblings. And then Najma had never asked for such an extravagance before. The two families were closer than ever before. The occasion was right; this would be the perfect thing to do.

On cue, Rashid invited the men for dinner, getting them out of the girls' way.

By the evening, not only were all the girls bringing the house down, but due to the professional manicurists and facialists that had descended on the Khan household, the place was a veritable zoo.

Dilshad offered a silent prayer of relief and thanks. Asad would probably have a heart attack if he were to see the state of the house. Thank god he wasn't underfoot today. The cheerful sounds of loud music, laughter and chatter, and the smells of nail paint, lotions and face packs, made her a content mother of the groom. She had prayed for this for so many years. Allah had given her all that, and so much more. She would offer a chaadar at the dargah tomorrow and feed the poor.

As Asad drove home that night, he fingered the ring his father had given him. It was a simple tarnished silver band. On the inside it was engraved with an inscription in Urdu, "My grace, my love."

With damp eyes, Rashid had told him that his Ammi had given it to him on their first wedding anniversary. They had recently found out that they were to be parents in the coming year.

"Later, I never thought myself worthy of it, but I always kept it close," he spoke through a sigh.

"Now it belongs where it should." He had placed a hand on his son's head, and then pulled him in for a tight embrace.

It didn't make up for all the lost time, but it came close.

When they broke apart, he had held Asad by his shoulders, eyes shining with pride, and then become serious.

"I need to talk to you. Can we meet tomorrow?"

Asad sensed the urgency of his father's appeal, and nodded.

Rashid grinned, "I love how I don't have to spell it out, and you just know."

He had chuckled heartily at that. "Now that's really funny," Asad said. "Ammi always says that I need things spelt out!"

He had cherished that moment when he saw his father throw his head back and laugh.

Arm around his shoulder, Rashid said, "she always was the smart one."

By the time Asad got home, the beauty parlor assistants had thankfully left.

But the mirth and giggles had become even louder.

He smiled fondly as he walked through the door, and stopped dead in his tracks.

The living room was in shambles.

Everything was an assault on the senses. Cushions were strewn about, and girly clutter was everywhere. The girls were in their nightclothes, skins glowing, hair up in some bizarre twisty things, some eyes were covered with cucumber slices, and braceletted hands were fluttering here and there with flashes and flourishes of glossy color. The perfume was overpowering. And despite that, he could tell, there was a cake in the oven.

The noise these women could make!

Was Ammi also in here somewhere? He counted the heads and peered at the faces.

There was a dholak-type thing and someone was whaling away on it.

That someone looked up, flashed her dimple, and winked at him.

Of course, only Zoya could be making the loudest noise.

She reached her hand out to him and made him sit down next to her on the floor.

Nikhat and Nuzzhat raised their eyebrows at her easy familiarity, but all the others seemed fine with it.

They still had some getting used to a mellow and smitten bhaijaan after all.

"Mr. Khan, we are having such fun. You have to join us!" Zoya gushed.

"I'm sorry Ms. Farooqui, I don't think I can handle whatever it is that you're doing here. I don't mind the cucumber slices, but the nails and hair thing I refuse to do."

Nikhat and Nuzzhat's eyebrows arched even higher in amazement. Who was this man, and what had he done to their bhaijaan?

"Done!" Zoya pushed him to lean back against the sofa and promptly slapped two cucumber slices on his eyes. He loosely stretched his arms on the sofa.

"Doesn't it feel so refreshing?"

He nodded obediently.

His sisters and mother giggled at the taming of Asad Ahmed Khan.

Dilshad's breath caught as she saw the ring on his extended hand. She smiled through suddenly prickling eyes.

Najma surreptitiously took a picture of Bhaijaan and sent it to all of them as well as Rashid, Ayaan and Omar.

"The Mukka's beauty routine," she texted, "facial n curlers comin up."

Several phones pinged and the girls checked their messages. Asad had to remove the slices to see why after a moment of utter silence, there was such a shrill hoot of laughter. But he was happy to see Nikhat having fun. Everyone had worried about her welfare in the wake of the post-Imran fiasco.

Najma then sent the other picture she had taken a few days ago: bhai and Zoya asleep on the couch with their heads resting against each other.

"In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lions sleep tonite," she had added.

Again Asad removed a slice to see why suddenly five women were going "awww."

He saw Zoya blushing furiously, and raised his eyebrow quizzically. She shook her head.

The doorbell rang.

Before Asad could get up, Najma had run to open the door. Wow, he'd never seen her move that fast before.

"We thought we'd join the party," said Omar with Ayaan right behind him.

"How could we let you girls gang up on bechare bhaijaan?"

"Oh really? Liars!" asked Zoya. "OK fine, the fun was just about to begin. Come join us."

And she beat up a racket on the dholak.

"Phuphi, I had gone to a friend's wedding and her family sang these fun gaalis. I think I remember some, so I'll sing them for you."

Omar snorted and she threw a cushion at him.

"Oh god, as though the shayaris weren't enough, now the dulhan is going to sing gaalis against her in-laws sitting in their own house. These people are saints to put up with you."

Everyone else laughed too.

"Only Zoya," and he shook his head mournfully.

Zoya pouted.

Asad glared at him. He didn't want Zoya to remember that she didn't have immediate family around right now.

In a flash, Omar understood Asad's concern.

He straightened up quickly, and announced, "OK, OK, don't nobody mess with us, we are the ladki walas."

"Me too," and Humaira plunked herself down by Zoya's other side.

Dilshad plucked the dholak from Zoya, "tum gao, I'll play this."

Ayaan too grabbed a couple of cucumber slices for his own eyes and rested next to Asad.

He waved his arm imperially, "gaaliyaan, pesh ki jaayen."

"Saas bahu ki hui ladai ..." started Zoya.

She would sing a line, and Omar and Humaira would repeat after her. Humaira beat a spoon in rhythm on the dholak. But the words were so funny and delightfully disrespectful to the groom's side, that Nuzzhat and Najma felt left out of the fun. Soon they had switched sides and were belting away about the bahu's revenge against her saas.

Only Nikhat remained loyal to her bhaijaan. He invited her to sit by his other side, and held her by the shoulder.

"Ladd le saasu, ladd le, tera beta mere haath mein," Zoya finished with a flourish, making eyes at Jahanpanah who had removed the slices by now.

He threw his head back and laughed even more at the gusto she sang with. Looking at Dilshad he removed his arms from around Ayaan and Nikhat, and held his ears apologetically for being hen-pecked in the future.

She was also laughing, and taking balaayen with her swirling hands, she blessed both of them.

Zoya started on the next one and Ayaan groaned.

But the girls were having too much fun. "Zoya bhabhi, sing more," Nikhat urged.

"OK, this one is just for the groom's sisters," she teased.

"Jo meri nanad pyaar karegi uska byaah kara doongi ..." they sang along wondering what horrible insult would come next.

"... Mayake ko tarsa doongi," Zoya stuck her tongue out and waved her thumb at them in a taunt. Omar had beamed. She laughed as Najma tried to punch her shoulder.

Asad leaped in to hold her hand.

Najma recalled Zoya's recent injuries, and covered her mouth in horror, "I'm sorry, so sorry, Zoya."

"Wow Zo, you insulted her, and also got her to apologize. Not bad. I think you'll be a great ringmaster in your sasural."

"Whoosh!" Ayaan mimed the cracking sound and flick of a whip.

"Girls," Omar waggled his eyebrows at them, "your bhaijaan is already JKG."

Zoya hit him upside the head.

"What's that?"

"Joru ka ghulam!" yelled Zoya and Omar.

Asad was unaffected by their pronouncement. He was back to reclining against the sofa with fresh cucumber slices on his eyes and a half-smile on his face. The tables would soon be turned on Omar.

And his joru? He was already imagining how he'd get even later. The cucumber routine gave him the perfect excuse to close his eyes, relive old moments ... and fantasize about creating new ones.

Like how he had brushed her hair because he's seen her wince when she tried to secure it with a clip. He didn't know combing a woman's hair could be so sensual, and such a tactile experience.

She had wanted a low ponytail. He had given it his best.

"By the time Amna's old enough, you'll be an expert," she'd said softly.

He had moved the uncentered pony to the side of her head, over her shoulder, and bent to kiss the fading bruises on her back.

He lifted a slice now to look at her, and smiled. Her hair was up in fat curlers at the crown. He remembered how earlier, it had felt between his fingers. As his finger got caught in a tangle, she had hissed and he had liked that sound. He'd grabbed a handful of her hair to tilt her head back, and bent to kiss her.

She had made other sounds before he was done with her. He loved those throaty moans and purrs.

He grabbed a cushion to place in his lap.

Omar leaned in to whisper to Zoya, "you'll sing these songs for Najma's wedding too, right?"

"Koi shak? By then, I'll have learned even more," she announced smugly.

"Lekin koi accha ladka to miley meri Tamatar ke liye." He glared at her and she giggled.

She looked meaningfully at Nikhat and Nuzzhat, and elbowed Omar.

"Omar, what about your cousins? What are they doing?"

Omar immediately got her drift. As love gurus par excellence, they were joined at the hip after all.

"Feroze just became an Assistant Professor at SUNY and Faiz is interning somewhere in DC."

"Phuphi, I think the Ansari brothers will be perfect for my nanads."

"Dekhiye, bhaijaan," spoke a quiet Nikhat, "how far away your begum plans to send us. Aise Mayake ko tarasaengi hum behennon ko."

"Exactly Ms. Farooqui, it's not necessary that half of Bhopal ends up in America. I want my sisters in the same pin code as us."

Zoya flashed her eyes at him. "Oh really Mr. Khan? I didn't know you wanted to settle in the US!" And she winked at Najma.

"And now Raabert, your turn."

"What? I'm going to the US now? Omar has a sister?"

Humaira smacked his knee with the spoon. He howled in pain.

"Jo mera devar pyaar karega ..." she sassed.

He listened inspite of himself.

"... agar ladega ... Moongfali bikva doongi."

Everyone roared, especially Humaira.

Asad put him in a headlock and messed up his hair. "That's OK, you'll meet so many girls that way!"

"Specially outside a girls' college!" added Omar.

"In New York!" chortled Zoya.

"Bhai, aapka dil dariya and dash samundar hai, par meri dash mein bamboo kyun kar rahen hain?" he said, lazily ogling a glowing Humaira.

Ayaan stood up.

"OK, enough with your girly nonsense!"

He wheezed suddenly, as his sisters whaled on him. Bringing out Asad's guitar he started strumming on it. The girls loved the change and begged Asad to play something for them.

Asad felt flattered and shy, but finally complied. He sang the song that they all knew and loved. As the siblings, and even Dilshad and Humaira sang, "Zindagi ki yahi reet hai," Zoya's eyes misted. She had probably already fallen in love with him when he had played that song the first time. She had been shocked then that Akdu Ahmed Khan had a gentler non-Jahanpanah side.

And the second time around? She blinked. The second time, Tanveer had brought him his guitar and gathered the family in a circle of warmth and togetherness. And Zoya had felt so forlorn. The perpetual outsider. The hanger-on.

Omar put his arm around her, and hugged her lightly.

"I'm so happy for you, you know that right?" he asked softly.

She nodded, her brimming eyes colliding with and locking with Asad's. He tilted his head ever so slightly to invite her to join him as he handed the guitar to Ayaan. She slid over next to him and they reveled in the slightest brush against each other's shoulders, arms and thighs. This would have to do for tonight.

Ayaan was singing something now.

Asad's eyes were drawn to her pink toenails. He bowed his head and whispered, "why have you left the little ones unpainted?"

"I was saving them for you," came her cheeky reply.

"Really?" he whipped his head around in surprise and delight.

"Umm, hmm."

"You'd trust me to do a good job?"

"The best. And you need all the practice for when the girls want their Abbu to paint their nails."

He fell in love all over again.

_________________________________________________________________

Song in Title:

Yeh Jawani Hai Diwani (2013) "Badtameez Dil"

Chapter 40

Past midnight, the girls still whispered and giggled furiously.

The boys hadn't wanted to leave, so Dilshad had invited them to set up camp in Asad's room.

Asad was not a happy camper.

This just messed up his plans to text Zoya and get her to come to his room on some excuse.

Damn, it was going to be a long night.

But Ayaan and Omar had plans too.

"Let's go scare the girls."

He didn't even know whose genius idea it was. At least earlier, it used to only be Ayaan, but now with Omar thrown into the mix, he was seriously outnumbered. And Omar gave back better than Ayaan who still had some lihaaz for his bhaijaan.

These invading Americans had done some major dash mein bamboo.

He nearly clutched his forehead in despair.

But on second thought ... hmm, let's see where this goes.

They grabbed the sheets off Asad's bed. He groaned and clenched his fists, but said nothing.

All for a good cause.

He was instructed to find a flashlight while the other two planned their caper.

They snuck out of the window stepping over his settee. May be that settee needs to go, he thought, hands on his waist.

A French door? More glass. Zoya would never let him hear the end of how he had a fetish for plate glass. What had she called his room? A fish bowl.

He shook his head to go supervise Omar and Ayaan.

As he stepped outside, he saw what they were up to.

Oh god!

Sitting on Omar's shoulders and maneuvering awkwardly under the draped sheet, Ayaan peered out with the torch lit eerily under his chin. It was the freakiest thing he'd ever seen and he prepared to hear piercing screams and shrieks.

But no amount of mental preparation could really do it.

He was nearly knocked backwards by the uproar.

The girls came spilling into the hall from her room.

Except for Zoya.

He grabbed her kicking and screaming, as she was about to blind Ayaan with her pepper spray.

Ayaan jumped and Omar fell on his butt.

The lights went on, and the girls moved in for the kill.

Asad meanwhile carried Zoya behind the door and kissed her hungrily. They could hear the ruckus as they came up for air.

She gave him a quick peck and ran towards the all the fun they were having without her.

He sighed in frustration and ran his hand through his hair. Cold shower, here I come.

He grinned at the pun.

Zoya Farooqui was making him seriously mental.

He walked back into the living room.

And saw the elaborate mating dances.

Omar had Najma's phone in his hand and was holding it out of reach and she was all over him trying unsuccessfully to grab it back. Ayaan was doing the same with Humaira. Only it was her hair clip.

Asad scrubbed his brow. Damn, are men hard-wired to be so obvious?

The cold shower would have to wait. He had to first babysit Gropey and Humpy here. He knew exactly what had brought them over this evening. They were now mooching for tea and cake, just to keep the girls longer in the living room.

Once again he'd have to be the bad cop. He grabbed the two by their collars and dragged them to his room saying, "goodnight girls" over his shoulder.

"Go to bed, it's a long day tomorrow."

"Oh, just so Zoya begum can have her beauty sleep?" sassed Omar.

"So that I can have my beauty sleep!" He glared at Omar who had the grace to look embarrassed.

Damn that Zo telling her Mr. Khan everything!

Asad tossed them tshirts and sweats and decided to sleep on the settee while he let them have the bed.

He woke up with a start. Some noise had disturbed him. He looked over to the bed, and noticed it empty.

"Uhhh!" he groaned and went to investigate. Idiot! Why hadn't he thought of taking their phones?

He hated playing the headmaster to their horny teenager act. Especially when he was itching to do the same.

Damn.

The living room was dark but he could hear whispers. He turned on the light and Ayaan popped up from behind the kitchen island.

"Bhai!"

"Ayaan, kamre mein chalo."

Ayaan ran his hand through his hair and complied.

But very reluctantly. Asad too went with him not wanting to embarrass Humaira. But then he remembered Omar, and smacked his head.

"Where's Omar?"

"Backyard," said a dejected Ayaan as he stretched out on the bed.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Oh god, this was embarrassing. He better not find them in a compromising position. He made thumping noises as he marched over. They were on the bench with Omar holding Najma by his side.

He cleared his throat and folded his arms across his chest. Najma gasped and hid behind Omar.

He wasn't mad, just annoyed, that in playing the love police, he wasn't getting as lucky.

"Omar, 2 minutes." And he walked inside.

"Mr. Khan," he heard her whisper as she slipped her hand in his in the semi-darkened room. He took her in his arms and breathed in her fragrance.

"Why are you being such a a sarru Tayyab Ali?"

"What? Who?" He was nuzzling her neck.

"Apne gaana nahin suna, Tayyab Ali pyaar ka dushman haye! haye! haye!'?"

"Oh really? I am being pyaar ka dushman? What about when I wanted a hug and a kiss, and Mrs. Tayyab Ali skipped away because she didn't want to miss any fun with the seven dwarves."

"Six. Mixing Bollywood and fairytales?"

"Whatever," he scoffed and trailed kisses down her throat.

"That would make me Snow White and you my Prince Charming," she went up on her toes to lick his lips, and he spasmed.

"Think about it. With them out of the way?"

She arched her eyebrow and tilted her head to the side, "just saying ..." And she wrapped her arms around his neck.

His eyes gleamed.

Disengaging, but still holding her hand, he stepped outside and bumped into Omar.

"Take 15 minutes. But keep it PG 13."

"Thirty?"

"Ten!"

"Zo!"

"Five!"

Zoya dragged Asad away from the door, "twenty," she told Omar.

He went to his room to rouse Ayaan out of bed with the same instructions. As Ayaan dashed away to re-liaise and find a private spot, Asad saw Zoya getting herself a glass of water. Grabbing the glass out of her hand he carried her to his room and shut the door after him.

There he showed her that he was more Jahanpanah Charming than Tayyab Ali.

They all slept till late in the morning, and Dilshad had to finally chide them for wasting half the day. She huffed and puffed at them to get ready for the functions later in the day.

But Zoya had been up for hours, freshly showered and radiant; all toes painted.

They had stolen precious time in the early morning.

In the guest room, where all the wedding supplies were being stored.

He had been extremely careful to not leave marks any place where her skin would be exposed from her lehenga and choli tonight. But everywhere else, he told her through velvety kisses and flashing teeth, was fair game.

His territory to mark and taste and suck and bite.

She had surrendered eagerly but hadn't been as careful. There was no way he was going to be able to wear a collarless kurta tonight. He had asked to be marked by her after all. "Just following directions" she'd told him smugly before pushing him on his freshly-scratched back.

At the raucous breakfast table where Dilshad was being regaled about the adventures of the night, Zoya was serenely quiet, only looking up to see Asad look at her.

He was wearing a full-sleeved shirt and trying to hold the collar close together; she smiled knowingly.

_________________________________________________

Song in Title:

Amar Akbar Anthony (1977) "Tayyab Ali"

Chapter 41

Razia felt at peace.

Finally things felt settled. Humaira was happy and that was what really mattered. She has seen the changes in the relationship between her and Ayaan and was pleased enough to even let her daughter spend the night in that house. It was a good thing that Siddiqui Saheb was out of town or he would never allow such a thing.

Settling down with the accounts, she looked up in annoyance when the servant came to tell her that someone wished to meet her.

She rose in barely masked displeasure and walked into the hall.

Tanveer! That skank.

"Tumhari yahan aane ki himmat kaise hui?" she rasped.

Tanveer smirked.

"I'll keep it simple and short. I want Rs. 1 Crore."

Razia scoffed. "Really? Get lost and never show your face around here." She turned to go.

"Razia bi, I wouldn't be so smug," murmured Tanveer as she arranged herself on the sofa comfortably.

"And why not?" She sighed irritably.

"I have something that could make life very difficult for you."

Razia sighed and took a seat. "OK, let's hear it."

"Can I get some tea?"

Razia fumed. "Get to the point Tanveer," she gnashed her teeth.

"I have something that could unite your husband with his long-lost daughter and really upset your apple cart."

"And I can just as easily prove that it is fake. Don't try to fool me Tanveer. Your games won't work with me."

"Don't be so sure, Bi. Not only do I have concrete proof, but I'm willing to use it. I am a desperate woman and don't make me flatten your house of cards."

"What is it?"

Tanu preened. "The evidence is so fool-proof that if I wanted to, I could pose as that long-lost daughter myself. Imagine that. Me, in this house, under your nose as your step daughter." She laughed.

"Are you crazy?" Shouted an enraged Razia. "There are things like DNA tests!"

"And there are doctors and nurses who can be paid to alter reports," Tanveer countered, admiring her fingernails.

"I don't believe you!"

Tanu rose. "Believe it. You have till tomorrow, 5pm, to give me that money. If not, then you will be welcoming me at your dinner table as your newly-minted step daughter."

"And as a favor, here is a preview of my plans." She stood up and left a sheet of paper on the table. "I'm sure your husband will recognize his own handwriting and sappy sentiments from years ago."

She pouted. "Kya bi, you weren't good enough for him?"

Razia growled and lunged at her, but Tanu dodged her and walked away.

At the door, she turned with a parting salvo, "and Bi, don't bother to have me killed. I have a safety trigger. If my source doesn't hear from me every 4 hours, then not only will a package be sent to your husband, but also to the leading news sources in the city."

"Khuda Hafiz!"

His father was running late and Asad kept glancing at his watch. He wanted to be home where all the action was. He had left very reluctantly.

The boys were still camped out at Khan Villa. He never knew that he would actually enjoy so much noise and laughter. It was a treat to watch Ammi laugh and Najma glow. Nikhat too seemed to be coming out of her shell and smiling a lot more.

And Zoya.

He took a deep cleansing breath, recalling the sensual haze of the moment when she branded yet another kurta of his. This time with pale pink nail polish.

Feet in his lap she had guided him how to glide the brush along the grain of the nail. It had taken him about five to six tries to not make his hand shake and apply deft, firm strokes. She had even demonstrated it for him on his fingernail. She had then quickly brushed the wet paint off his nail with her thumb and then sucked his finger, eyes hotly locking with his.

That had distracted them from the nail painting for some time. But in the end, he found that the best way to do it was to sit on the floor with her foot propped on his knee. He had kissed her instep and then blown on her toe to dry the polish.

And heard her quick intake of breath.

Capping the bottle shut he had kissed his way up to make her toes curl.

"Sir, a Mr. Rashid to see you."

As Asad invited his father to have a seat at the sofa he noticed that he was tense.

"Abbu ... everything OK?"

Rashid nodded and took a seat. But he slid to the edge of the seat and placed his elbows on his knees pensively.

"Asad, what I have to say is hard to say and hear. But we both have to do this. Please hear me out."

Asad too sat down, now really worried.

"This is about what happened all those years ago."

Asad flinched. Rashid saw it and got up to stand next to him. He placed his hand on his shoulder and continued.

"Just listen." He brushed his face and folded his arms tensely.

Rashid took a deep steadying breath as he prepared to unburden himself to his son, a son whose angry condemnation all these years that had seared his soul.

"It was Najma's birthday and my boss' wife called me to run an important errand." He went on to tell him everything that followed that fateful day which changed everyone's lives forever.

How he had been trapped in an endless cycle of blackmail and threats ever since, because his bosses wanted him to do their dirty work, but didn't trust anyone else enough to do it for them.

Asad still didn't understand why he would do it. He tried to keep an open mind but couldn't get past that one thing.

Rashid looked at his son. He knew exactly what was swirling in his head.

In anguish he said, "they said they'd kill Najma. She had fallen asleep in the car and that woman held her folded dupatta over her face."

He wept.

Asad's face blanched. He should have known only something so drastic would force a father to do something this terrible. He wasn't even a father yet, and had already fallen in love with the image of the kids Zoya had created in his heart. He bled for a father's dilemma.

He rose to put his hand on Rashid's shoulder and Rashid buried his face in his hands. "I kept thinking of Dilshad, and what would happen if she saw her baby's lifeless corpse in my arms. And on her birthday."

He pulled his hands away in disgust. "I did it. I did what they wanted me to do."

"I set fire to the factory and have lived in hell ever since," he said in a dead whisper.

"That fire died, but it lives to this day in my nightmares. That fire destroyed everything... Everything innocent, pure ... was gone. All that remained ... was---" he choked bitterly in a monotone.

"Abbu---"

"They took pictures, Asad. And since then, they have used it to shut me up."

He looked at Asad who was still trying to comprehend the enormity of it all.

This would be the hardest part. "I later found out that there was a dead body in the remains."

He added bitterly, "my god! How that woman gloated that they had me under their thumb because now I was also a murderer!"

He wiped his brow and paced the floor. "I threatened to go to the police and surrender myself. But then they played the dirtiest trick of all."

He walked to the plate glass window and looked out bleakly. "They threatened to kill my family."

"But Abbu, it was just a threat. Why didn't you go to the police?"

"I did."

Asad's breath caught.

"As I entered the police station, a peon from our office came running to tell me that there had been an accident and Dilshad ..."

Asad suddenly remembered as if it was yesterday. He had heard talk about having to leave the city and going away somewhere far. He had been very upset because that meant he would never see Ayaan again. He kept begging to see him once, to not go, to be told where they were going ... but his mother had been too busy to pacify him. They had packed their stuff in a taxi and were going to the train, or the bus station, he couldn't remember that part.

And their car had been hit on the side Ammi was sitting.

"... luckily she wasn't hurt too badly and you both sustained only minor injuries. Shukar hai khuda ha."

"When I went to pay the hospital bills, the nurse told me it had been paid up. And she handed me a note from my benefactor."

Through a raw throat, he croaked, "Asad, I still remember what it said: Abhi to sirf hospital mein hain biwi bacche. Agli mulakat murdaghar mein hogi'."

Later Rashid told him how he had been slowly gathering evidence of his own against them for many years. How even now he had been late because he knew that Razia kept him under watch so he had changed a number of taxis and autorickshaws to make it here undetected. Miserably, he told his son how he had posted surveillance on their house to keep them safe all these years, "but I stayed away, apna saya bhi tum logon pe nahin padne de sakta tha."

"Abbu, I'll help in whatever way I can. Stay here and use my office and staff to do whatever needs to be done. You can come here as often and whenever. But right now I have to leave for the airport. Zoya's Aapi and Jeeju are coming."

Rashid understood. But he cautioned him, "put extra security on the house and the family. This is going to get very ugly before it gets better."

Asad recognized them since he had talked with them over Skype a couple of times since the formal announcement of their wedding. The engagement and mehendi would be tonight. The Sangeet part Zoya had already taken care of with her gaalis session, he smiled to himself.

In the car, after catching up, he asked aapi the one question he was dying to know the answer to. How did Zoya get her scar?

Aapi's face fell.

"Asad, how do you ... ?"

"Zoya told me. But she didn't tell me how she got it. Please Aapi, I need to know."

Aapi's eyes filled and she gazed out of the window; after a long silence she spoke in a monotone.

"Usse khud pata nahin hai. We never told her." Her breath heaved, "she was still a baby. There was a fire which killed her mother and she was the only witness ..."

Zeenat was wracked with dry sobs, "my poor baby, it hurt her so much. So many nights we stayed up with her because of her nightmares and the screams. Oh god, the screams!"

Asad's eyes blurred. He couldn't imagine the raw pain that Zoya must have felt. Whenever he got hurt in the slighest Ammi had always been there to kiss it away.

Zoya!

His throat choked and he pulled over. Anwar was holding Zeenat's hand and crying too. "She was just a baby," he kept saying. "A mere child. Who would do something like that?"

Asad got out of the car to give them privacy and catch his breath. So much grief and loss. How could she still laugh and be the kind of person she was?

He remembered her words from a few days ago, "I had just found out about Abbu and then your engagement ... I thought that if I asked Allah for anything He would take it away from me like always."

His own words to her about her Ammi's death, said in blazing white hot anger, rose up to haunt him, to choke him.

And, yet another memory creeped up, unbidden.

That time she had kept bugging him to reconcile with his father and he had yelled at her the same tired and bitter words: aapko rishton ki ehmiyat nahin hai. Head bowed, she had whispered roughly, "you are so lucky to at least have a father to hate."

Asad hid his face in his hands and wept for Zoya.

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Song in Title:

Gambler (1971) "Dil Aaj Shayar Hai"

Chapter 42

Something was off. Ever since Asad had returned from the airport, there was a somberness about him that she couldn't quite put her finger on. He had been on the phone most of the time, holed up in his room.

The house was a zoo. Aapi and Jeeju had been settled in Najma's room. Najma would be sleeping with her tonight.

And in her room, the girls were tripping over each trying to get to the mirror and make up and jewelry.

Zoya stood still in the center of the hurricane to take stock.

She texted Omar. "I need a moment with Mr. Khan."

Seven minutes later, he texted back, "all clear."

She stepped out of her window and went around the house to the window in his room and looked in. He was sitting on the bed miles away in thought. Ayaan and Omar's clothes were still strewn on the bed.

This was just wrong. Jahanpanah not clearing the mess?

She crept in, and before he could look up, climbed up in his lap and hugged him. After a second, she felt his arms go around her tightly as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

"Asad?"

"Shh, just let me hold you."

She held him.

She had to get to the bottom of this. He was keeping something from her.

The mehendi function was a colorful blur.

The girls, gorgeously dressed, were excitedly fluttering about, laughing, teasing and chattering. They oohed and aahed at the mehendi designs, chose and unchose different ones a thousand times, and peeked over Zoya's shoulder to monitor the progress of her application, suggesting where to hide Bhaijaan's name on her palm.

Zoya, in a beautiful, heavily embroidered pale pink and green lehenga choli, kept looking out for Asad to come by her side, rub shoulders with her, look at her with promises of love, and be teased away by his sisters.

But he remained distant never looking at her even once.

Even with Omar and Ayaan he remained silent and preoccupied.

He looked more and more shell-shocked as the night wore on.

Fear clutched Zoya's heart. Something was very wrong.

Asad!

She sat with her arms out, hands splayed helplessly, crucified by the heavy dress and jewelry, the oppressively perfumed air, the frothy silks, brocades and chiffons, and the clammy grittiness of the henna.

What was really the point of all this? Why won't you even look at me?

Ayaan announced to the guests that the couple's family had prepared a dance for the occasion. Everyone gasped and clapped with delight. The center of the room was cleared and the dancers took their places.

Any other time Zoya would have loved this, and may even have jumped in to join them.

But right now her eyes were still seeking out Asad's restlessly.

Ayaan, Omar and the girls danced to "Mehendi Laga Ke Rakhna." She didn't even know when they had decided to do this or had time to practice for it.

A roaring success, everyone demanded an encore.

Asad watched the performance sightlessly, with a wooden face, arms crossed at his chest.

After the dance, Zoya caught Omar's eye and signaled him over. He came and knelt by her side.

"Hey Zo, change your mind? Wanna run away again?" He teased. She elbowed him and looked at him seriously.

He alerted to her pensiveness.

"What?"

She bent to whisper softly, "Check on Mr. Khan."

Omar looked at him and back at her. He saw the genuine worry in her face. Patting her arm, he walked over to Asad.

"Asad, Zoya is wondering about you."

Asad ducked his head and looked away.

"What is it, man? You aren't having doubts about this, are you?" Omar knew that wasn't the case at all. He had seen the way the man looked at Zoya.

He put his hand on his shoulder, but Asad shrugged it off and went to his room.

Now even Omar was worried. He looked at Zoya, who was nearly in tears. He went and sat by her side in silence. "Don't worry, I'll talk to him, I promise," he soothed.

She bent her head to hide her tears from everyone. Aapi lifted her chin, in tears herself. "My baby, getting married" she cooed with love.

Zoya smiled bravely.

She couldn't take her eyes off his name glistening wetly on her hand.

She looked at her feet being adorned with the fragrant and cool henna and saw her toenails. Her heart twisted.

Razia paced in fury. Her sources had told her about Rashid's escapade today. Where had he gone and why all this run around? So he knew that he was under surveillance, but what was so important that he needed to duck away like this?

She better tighten the leash.

She massaged her chest. Tanveer's threats were giving her heartburn on top of that.

That witch! She must have stolen the letters from that girl. Damn her for staying on longer and ruining her plans.

And she couldn't even have her taken care of now. Her hands were tied.

She reluctantly opened her cupboard and removed some old jewelry from the safe. She'd have to use some of these to not arouse suspicion about the high rupee amount withdrawn from the bank tomorrow.

Ridiculous nonsense to be so trapped by that wh*re.

Ayaan came to get him from his room joking that his hone wali bhabhi was waiting for him to find his name on her hand.

"Bhaijaan, aap fikar mat kariye. Aap jald hi dhoond lenge. If not, then I'll try to trick Humaira into telling me."

"Chaliye." He clapped his hand on Asad's shoulder and half-dragged him to the living room.

"Here's the shy groom everyone," he announced. Najma skipped up and latched her arm through his and pushed him down to sit by Zoya.

Zoya had her eyes lowered. She was terrified of seeing rejection in his eyes. Her heart hammered hard and erratically.

Aapi made her hold out her palms for Asad as he was made to sit by her on the settee.

He looked up at her from under his lashes. Her eyelids were reddening and he could see her biting her lip on the inside to prevent it from quivering. His heart wrenched.

He held her hands in his, willing her to look up at him.

She pinned her gaze at the the crusted henna whorls. She was painfully aware that he wasn't caressing the back of her hands like he usually did, and nearly sobbed aloud.

The girls were eagerly discussing how if he couldn't find his name he'd have to give her a gift of her choice.

"Zoya, make sure that you ask for something like the moon and stars. It has to be the most outrageous or difficult thing."

Ayaan was pumping up Asad, "c'mon bhaijaan, you can't lose. Hamari izzat ka sawal hai. Look carefully."

Omar was quiet. He was really worried. A part of him felt like punching Asad. But the other part knew that there was something deeper at play.

Everyone gathered around them enveloping them in chatter of love and hope.

Asad couldn't concentrate. He didn't want to. Emotions were churning through him and he felt her withdraw slightly. Her fingertips curled on themselves as if mortified. He couldn't bear to hurt her, but he couldn't bring himself to not hurt her either. He dropped her hands.

"I can't find it."

The girls cheered. Ayaan groaned and clutched his head.

"Bhaijaan, aap bhi na! You just wanted her to win. Not fair."

Najma nudged Zoya. "Great job Zoya. Now ask for something that will make bhaijaan really scramble."

Zoya shook her bent head. She couldn't speak.

"Aw, she's shy," said Aapi. "Baad mein maang lena, theek hai?" And she kissed her forehead.

"Haan, baad mein, akele mein," Najma joked and the girls giggled and Ayaan guffawed.

Najma bent close to her ear, "hai na, Zoya?" She hummed, "... sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby in a baby carriage."

Zoya huddled and caved into herself wanting to clench her fists to her mouth but unable to do so.

The festivities continued to swirl around them. But they were locked in their twin worlds of misery and despair.

As the celebrations wound down, Dilshad came over, "chalo Zoya tumhari mehendi utaar ke uska rang dekhte hain."

Everyone began to tease them about how dark or light the color would be, and how Dilshad wanted to be the first one to find out.

Zoya rose obediently. Najma and Aapi helped her to the bathroom sink in her room. She listleesly removed the henna while they chatted over her head talking about the dance, clothes, food, music and the wedding tomorrow. Aapi was teasing Najma about Omar. She brought a towel to wipe her hands and both put their heads together to check for the darkness.

"Wow! It's so dark, Zoya. Looks like Ammi loves you more than me."

Zoya excused herself to use the restroom and they left.

Five minutes later she sank to the floor in front of the sink and sobbed quietly with her fists to her mouth unaware of the coppery aftertaste.

She had started her period.

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Song in Title:

Hum Kissi Se Kum Nahin (1977) "Kya Hua Tera Vaada"