Kitne Dino Se, Yeh Asmaan Bhi, Soya Nahi Hai, Isko Sula De
Chapter 89
Before telling Humaira, Siddiqui first wanted to talk to Anwar and Zeenat, and then Rashid and Shireen. There were many wrongs to make right. And he wanted a fresh start; a clear conscience wasn't completely possible since Zoya and Asad had firmly closed the door on the dreadful events from eighteen years ago.
Neither was an easy conversation.
Owning up to being a delinquent father was the easiest part, however. It had been harder to thank the man and woman who had raised his daughter as their own.
He felt awful.
He didn't want them to think that he was staking his claim just because he was her biological father.
"She is still your daughter. Still Zoya Farooqui," he had wept. "I am just blessed that she has forgiven me and chosen to include me in her life. I don't deserve her."
Even Anwar sobbed. But at least now the resentment he had felt when he'd first heard of this man, ebbed.
"Jab se hosh sambhala hai, it's been her heart's desire to find her Abbu." Anwar said softly. "And now I'm happy that she has you."
"Shukriya," Siddiqui said penitently. He also meant it as a heartfelt thank you for all the years Zoya had found love and strength with these people while her own father lived an oblivious life, unblessed and godless.
Shireen too had wept. Next to her, Raziya hid her face in her dupatta and sobbed for her crimes"both the ones acknowledged and concealed.
"My selfishness and malice muddied your paak rishta with your munh bole Bhaijaan. Don't hold my sins against my daughter though," she begged. "She's always been pure-hearted and has always loved Ayaan. Meri wajah se she was delaying getting married. She's right to be ashamed of me."
She completely broke down then and Shireen held her by her shoulders.
"Bhabhi, bachhon ka dil saaf hai, let them show us the way by their innocence and goodness. And we've always loved Humaira as our own."
"Bachhon ke saaf dil se ek aur baat judi hai," Siddiqui told them, wiping his own eyes.
Telling them about Zoya elicited gasps and tears of joy from Rashid, Badi bi and Shireen. Somehow he sensed that knowing Humaira was related to Zoya made her even more cherished in their eyes.
And for that he was grateful.
In finding his older daughter, he'd negotiated redemption for his younger daughter. Because Humaira's destiny was to no longer be recognized by her doomed parents' name; she would, from now on, be only Zoya's sister.
Eyes moist, Asad and Siddiqui watched the sisters cling to each other as they caressed and kissed each other's faces.
Zoya rained kisses on her eyelids and cheeks. "I'm so happy," she kept whispering. "I love you so much, Humaira."
Humaira cried harder.
Siddiqui stepped up to hug his daughters tight to him, fondly tucking their heads under his chin.
More indebted tears rolled down his own craggy cheeks.
Everything was finally all right.
The three of them stood like that for what seemed like forever.
"Umm Humaira, munna?"
"Yes Aapi?" Humaira sniffed.
"Can we sit and hug? My feet are killing me!" Zoya moaned.
Humaira giggled. "OK, and I'll massage your feet for you."
Asad walked over to offer Zoya his handkerchief; she took it gratefully.
Humaira looked up at him with streaming eyes.
"Bhaijaan?"
He grinned down at her and stroked her head. "I've always wondered what it would be like to be called Jeeju."
"Jeeju!" she cried as she rushed into his arms. Nearly knocked off his feet he laughed as he held her.
Zoya and her Abbu looked on, arms around each other. They knew the questions would come. But right now, each wanted the moment to last forever.
Humaira wiped her eyes and they collided with Zoya's. Smiling, she flew back into her sister's waiting arms.
"Abbu! I'm going to be a Khala!" She crowed as her eyes locked with her father's.
"And I'll be a Nana," her Abbu boasted.
Humaira led Zoya to the sofa and settled her in. She sank at her Aapi's feet and hugged her knees. Her hands massaged Zoya's calves.
"How did you know?" Zoya was dying to know.
"I willed it into being you," Humaira stated simply, looking up into Zoya's face. "Ever since I found out I have an older sister, I've wanted it to be you. I prayed so hard, that Allah gave you to me!"
She murmured softly, "kehte hain na, kisi cheez ko poori shiddat se chaaho toh' ... something ..."
" toh poori kaynaat tumhe ussey milane ki koshish mein jut jaati hai.' " Asad completed the quote, looking deep into Zoya's eyes.
"Exactly!" beamed Humaira. "So shiddat plus kaynaat koshish, equals you"the best Aapi I could have asked for!"
Zoya bent to kiss her on the head and grip her fingers. Humaira saw the ring and her eyes teared again. She dropped a kiss on Zoya's beringed finger and held her sister's hand to her cheek.
Her heart was full, her world complete.
Ammi's acceptance of Aapi made this union even more perfect. It meant that she was making a sincere effort; Humaira knew how much she loved this ring. And it was as if Aapi wearing the ring sanctified Ammi's past, and pardoned her sins.
Now, may be even she could think of forgiving Ammi.
"Abbu," Humaira said as she wiped her face. "We'll go to the dargah after this to give thanks for finding Aapi!"
Siddiqui too came to sit by them. Asad leaned back against the desk, arms crossed.
Every one looked at Humaira.
And she looked back at each of them.
"What?" she asked finally, self-conscious all of a sudden.
"Don't you want to know how all this happened?" Her father asked.
"No," she stated emphatically, lifting her chin. "I don't care about the how or when! Does it even matter?" She squeezed Zoya's hand and their fingers interlaced.
"All I care about is spending as much time as possible with you. And holding my niece or nephew when the baby comes."
Zoya cupped her face in her hands, "and changing diapers?"
"I'll be the best diaper-changer in the world!" Humaira promised solemnly.
"Only second to your Jeeju of course," Zoya countered with confidence. "In fact, before anyone can change diapers, your Jeeju will give classes on the correct technique, 90 degree angles and military precision of the folds!"
"Even I'll take that class," their Abbu pledged.
Everyone laughed.
"But before changing diapers, will you let us plan for your nikaah with Ayaan?" Zoya still held her face.
"But Aapi I want to spend more time with you!" Humaira protested.
"Who says nikaah ke baad you won't be able to spend time with me? When your Jeeju and Raabert are at work, you'll be with me. And when the baby comes, in the mornings you can be Khala and in the evenings, Chachi!"
Humaira blushed and nodded shyly as her Abbu laughed and Jeeju nodded with approval.
"Give it up Humaira," Asad teased. "I don't think anyone's been able to say no to your Aapi. Believe me, I tried!"
Raziya cringed.
Idiot!
Why did you have to mention Humaira's nikaah to Zoya as she was leaving? What if Zoya thinks that that's the only reason why I agreed to the reconciliation?
She fretted. She hadn't meant it in that way. She didn't want Zoya to think that she held Zoya responsible for the hold up to Humaira's nikaah.
She decided to text her.
Her hand hovered over the screen of her phone. What would she say without sounding stupid or insincere?
"I wanted you to know that I"
She erased the message.
"Please ignore"
She backspaced that too.
Raziya flung the phone away in frustration and then hurriedly picked it up and punched in Zoya's number before she overthought it too much.
"Beta, it's me." She paused. "I'm so embarrassed," she started.
She smiled hearing Zoya's voice on the other side telling her to stop being ridiculous. "I'm more embarrassed, Aunty. I still can't believe that Mr. Khan did that!"
"Nahin! I forbid you to even think about it any more. I'm sorry that I pretended to be Raqeeba. I saw you at the clinic that day and couldn't help myself. I knew I couldn't appear before you as myself."
"Aunty, I am very happy that I met Raqeeba Aunty. She helped me out at a time when I needed to sound and sort out some jumbled thinking. And Mr. Khan told me that it was you who sent him the information on Tanveer that led to her arrest. Thank you for that!"
Raziya was mortified.
The pain sharpened. The old abscess oozed.
Here was yet another sin of hers stabbing her in the heart. In myopic arrogance and malice, she had brought Tanveer to this town and unleashed an endless cycle of venom. Yet again, in trying to salvage one self-created crisis, she had freed an evil jinn that swept up everything good into a whirlwind of malevolence with Zoya at the unfortunate epicenter of it all.
Tanveer had harmed Zoya more than once.
And Humaira.
Raziya bristled with anger at that tramp.
But it all ebbed away to be replaced by profound shame.
Her own offense was graver. She had not only robbed Zoya of one parent, but two. And she had kept her away from her Abbu not once, but twice.
Her voice quavered. "Zoya, I was the one who brought that woman here. I will never be worthy of your forgiveness. Kaash, maine pehle hi rishton ki ehmiyat samajh li hoti."
"Aunty, you promised that you wouldn't bring it all up again." Zoya pouted. "As it is, you are maaroing one of Mr. Khan's favorite dialogues from when he used to be constantly mad at me!"
"What do you mean?" Raziya asked, wiping her eyes with her dupatta.
"Aapko pata nahin hai, Mr. Khan and I never got along when I first came here. He always disapproved of the way I dressed and everything I did. He used to say every second day," and Zoya changed the tenor of her voice, " Ms. Farooqui, aapko rishton ki ehmiyat nahin pata hai!' "
Raziya laughed. "But you cleared his misconceptions! Tumhare liye rishte hi sabse zyada ehmiyat rakhte hain," she said softly. "Aur maine tumhe apne sabse kareebi rishton se mehroom rakha."
"Aunty, I'm hanging up if that's all you are going to talk about." Zoya whispered.
"OK, OK, ya Allah! Yeh Ladki." Raziya cleared her throat.
"Accha suno, I called because I didn't want you to think that I'm behaving myself only for Humaira's sake. Yes, I would like her to get married and be as happy as you, but"-"
"Aunty, please! I know it already. And I have to go now. I have so much stuff to do before everyone comes tonight. Accha main rakhti hoon, bye!"
Raziya looked at her phone, dazed, and then shook her head.
What was this girl?
She looked at the time.
Ya Allah! There was so much to do!
"Go to the terrace," Zoya urged Ayaan. "I'll send her up in a few minutes."
"Why?" He quizzed stubbornly, eyebrows drawn together. "I can take her up there myself."
"Allah miyan what's wrong with you, Raabert! Stop being so unromantic! It'll be a surprise for her, that's why! Don't you want to re-propose to her so that we can get the nikaah back on track?"
His eyes gleamed. "Saali darling, you're the best! I'm on it!" He pounded up the stairs two-three steps at a time.
At the landing he gave her a manic thumbs up.
Clowns! Asad muttered to himself, shaking his head.
He was feeling blue and out of sorts.
And watching these two yuk it up was just fresh salt on his wounds. With a supremely happy Zoya, and a hellion Ayaan in stealthy collaboration, there was no telling what plans would hatch next, and which merry schemes might derail sanity and logic.
Thank god, Omar"-
He looked guiltily at Najma.
Poor kid! He knew she was missing him terribly. They had all just facetimed with Omar, and Asad had caught the twin expressions of pain that had flashed across both their faces. It only passed when the girls gushed and thanked Omar for the gifts he'd ordered and had delivered for them; he glowed then.
Thank god!
"Please stop staring at me," she said shyly. She had come up only because Aapi had said that she'd left her phone up here. And Ayaan had grabbed her after closing the door behind her.
"I can't help it," Ayaan said as he pulled her close. "Having an older sister must suit you, you look divine!"
"I'm just so happy!" Humaira whispered, throwing her head back and arms out.
"I know, it shows. Will you make me a happy man today?"
"Ayaan, what're you talking about?" she asked suspiciously.
Hooking a finger under her chin, he brushed her lips with his, "will you finally marry me now? I know you've been reluctant to talk about the nikaah for so long. But now everything's OK, right?"
"I was always going to marry you. Since I was in the fourth class and you cracked your head open trying to run away with my favorite doll."
"When?"
"I just told you, when I was around ten. You must have been a little over thirteen." She smoothed his hair and traced his jaw with a finger.
Aapi must have been twelve around that time.
In New York; so far away from her.
Had she been here, she'd have wrestled the doll away from Ayaan, pulled his unruly hair, and returned it to her younger sister after yelling at him: Allah miyan, what's wrong with you!
"No, I mean when will you marry me? Don't make me wait any more," Ayaan groaned, molding her to him.
Humaira took a deep breath, "give me at least three months."
"No! Why not the same day as Nikhat and Feroze?"
"Because I want to spend more time getting to know Aapi. You've had all your life with Bhai"- no I mean Jeeju and the girls, I just got a brand new sister! I have a million questions for her, I want to know everything about her life in New York, and I want to spoil her as the pregnancy progresses. I have to make up for years of sleepovers, makeovers, midnight gossip, borrowed clothes, pillow fights ..." She sighed as she ran out of breath.
"But Humaira, why can't you do all that after we're married?"
"No, I just want it to be Aapi and me time. I want to be spoiled rotten by my Jeeju, I want to go crazy preparing for my neice or nephew's arrival."
"But jaan, she's married. Do you think Bhai will be too pleased about sharing Mona darling?"
"He'll have to! I'm his only saali."
Ayaan sighed moodily. Humaira pressed her lips to his cheek. "Please Ayaan, for me!"
"Two months?" He asked hopefully.
"... OK."
Ayaan whooped, and she laughed as he lifted her up to spin her around in circles. She stopped only when he put her down and swooped to kiss her breath away.
"Who knows," he joked later. "We could make a little sister or brother for Bhai and Mona darling's kid!"
"Ayaan! I'm not having kids the first two years of our marriage," she asserted.
"Fine," he countered. "But we'll keep trying not to have kids right?"
"Ayaan!" She blushed and struggled to free herself. He clasped her tight to him till all the fight drained out of her and she melted against him.
As the night wore on, Asad glowered more and more at anyone who dared look at him.
The girls were going to have a sleepover at the Siddiqui house at Humaira's insistence, and he hadn't been able to say no to all those bright eyes pleading with him to say yes. But spending just a few hours away from Zoya was going to keep him up all night.
Moodily he wondered how Najma and Omar did it and got through the days.
He sighed as he wandered over to crash on the sofa next to Abbu.
"Another one bites the dust," Rashid commented, immensely happy with himself.
Asad nodded. He knew his father was talking about Nikhat, but right now he felt too dust-bitten and beaten to respond. He couldn't decide whether he should be happy for the time here with Zoya, who was just too busy being a social butterfly and queen bee rolled into one, or angry that the night just never seemed to end, and would be even longer in an empty bed.
Everyone's obvious glee around him only made him crankier.
Rashid's house was a zoo.
Nikhat and Feroze's engagement ceremony had just concluded; giddy congratulations, blessings and duas were still being tossed around like belated confetti. The blushing lovebirds were surrounded by teasing cousins and raucous siblings. They'd just been force-fed phirni since the moniker FerNi had caught on like fire. Feroze's Ammi was entertaining everyone and his father was beaming.
In contrast, Najma and her mother-in-law were tucked away in a quiet corner trading Omar stories. He had prevailed upon his mother to attend the engagement and wedding and stay back to be with Najma"as a proxy for him. She had come armed with gifts, cards, letters and DVDs of childhood pictures, class projects and videos. Barely left with any room in her bag for her stuff, her son had flippantly advised her: "So what? Buy the latest fashion sarees and jewelry in India! Najma will help you. It'll give you even more time together."
"He's this close to quitting his job," she'd told Najma the moment she landed at the airport two days ago.
And Najma had burst into tears.
"Na beta," her mother-in-law hugged her. "He'll kill me if he found out I made you cry as soon as I landed."
"Ammi don't say that!" Najma protested.
"I mean it!" She had continued to tease her bahu. "I've been given strict instructions on what to do everyday of my visit. There's even a list he's emailed me. I promise!"
Najma had begged to see that list and laughed and cried to see some of the items on it: Ammi had been instructed to take her bahu out for a movie or three, a spa date and mani-pedis. A day was to be set aside for watching home made videos when they finally tired from all the shopping. Then his mother was supposed to cart back DVDs and momentoes from Najma's pre-marital life, or LBO, as he teased Najma: life before Omar. She told her saas about how every morning and evening she saw her husband prepare breakfast and dinner for himself while they chatted. She was pleasantly surprised to find out that Omar was pretty adept in the kitchen.
Nice job Ammi!
"Make sure you keep him on his toes even when you come to the US. In fact make him responsible for the cooking on the weekends," Omar's Ammi had advised her shocked bahu.
"He sent me a list too," Najma shared shyly. "I'm supposed to pamper you. It'll all begin with taking you to the dargah and showing you where we tied strings together for the first time. Then the lake where he proposed," she added, her face a fiery red.
"I'll bring my bahu too," Feroze's mom had interjected. "Phir hum dono saas mil ke inn bahuon ki band bajaenge!"
"Naz!" Her sister reprimanded her. "Kabhi toh serious ho jaya karo."
"Please, serious hoongi apne jaanaze pe! As it is you're serious enough for the whole family."
Her sister looked at her patiently. "If I wasn't serious and sensible enough, tum kahin jail main band baja rahi hoti'n!"
Both Najma and Nikhat had gasped in alarm.
"Come girls, let me tell you about Naz and her rangeen duniya," Omar's mom said linking her arm with her sister's.
"Yes girls, come," Feroze's Ammi parried as they continued on to the airport parking lot. "It's much better than Hana's sangeen duniya!"
"Naz, must you always have the last word?"
"Why do you think I was born after you? To have the last word! And to add color to Abba Ammi's black and white world." Usually older siblings teased younger ones about being unwanted, found on a trash heap, or being adopted. But Naz had hijacked that narrative a long time ago. In her world, she was born, exactly eleven months later, because their parents were in a hurry to have a real baby, not a boring holier-than-thou angel.
"Ya Allah!" The discussion grew fiercer on the way to the dargah. "I thought I'd have some peace when you got married. But then Omar was born. I've always wondered if he's a mini you."
"Just like Feroze is a mini you! You did some tona totka like that vamp in that show."
"Uff! Your ridiculous shows! Which show? What vamp? Zaroor, you must have caught sight of yourself in the mirror!" Hana said.
She smiled serenely at her sister's open-mouthed speechlessness. Only she could keep a leash on Naz once in a while.
In the backseat the girls sniggered. All of Najma's melancholy had evaporated.
Ammi was right.
Naz Khala did have a lot of Omar in her.
But that put down was Mashallah! Khala was still recovering.
Shireen and Dilshad had also decided to join them for the dargah, along with Zoya and Humaira.
"This is the Bhopal saas-bahu express and that one's the US saas-bahu express," Zoya joked in their car.
"Haye Dilshad, why do our girls have to go so far away?" Shireen protested. "Itne pyaar se ladkiyon ko bada karo, only to give them away to complete strangers. Uppar se, to go so far away! Bahut galat baat hai."
Dilshad nodded in agreement. Najma's impending departure, even if months from now, creeped upon her once in a while and left her heartsore. But at least the sisters would be together, even if thousands of miles across the vast country.
"But Chhoti Ammi, don't worry," Zoya tried to cheer them up. "You have two new daughters in exchange!"
"That's true," Shireen said, feeling much better now.
"Ammi, remember we have to pick up mangoes later." Zoya had fallen in love with Indian mangoes. Mexican mangoes in the US were good; but the Indian mangoes were just MA!
Must be the baby, she wondered for the fortieth time. It was, after all, one of the few foods she could keep down without fleeing to the nearest restroom. She was convinced that the baby would be Indian with a vengeance!
"Jaldi karo Ammi, you'll make us late!" Ayaan nagged his mother for the fifteenth time.
The excitement was making him bounce off the walls. "Mona darling, you always have the best ideas!"
The girls too jostled around, chatting and squealing, eager to set off.
Finally, Zoya had her heart's desire.
Or at least one of her heart's desires.
The cricket match was yet to happen, but everyone had loved the idea of camping out to catch the meteor shower after the engagement ceremony. And everybody would have been on their way too, but for the fussing mother brigade. While dinner was done, the Ammis still bustled around to put together snacks and paper supplies, achars and chutneys, drinks and everything else needed to feed an army.
For a month.
The servants had already made multiple trips to load up the cars.
Asad groaned in frustration.
Ayaan riding herd on everyone meant that they all would leave too soon. He had hoped that everyone would linger, slowed down by the food coma. Leaving late would delay them at the hilltop to watch the shower. With half the night spent oohing and aahing at falling stars, the sleepover would surely be cancelled. Or postponed. But no.
He frowned at his brother.
Ayaan's euphoria was a serious dash mein bamboo.
Incredibly foolish!
Zoya hid a smile as she watched her husband scowl mutinously. Being a generous and bindaas Jeeju was turning out to be hard for her Jahanpanah. She sidled up to him and slipped her hand in his for comfort. He crushed her fingers to avenge her treason.
"Ouch!" she hissed.
He blushed as heads turned. And got even madder at his wife's continued betrayal. She seemed gung ho enough to spend a night away from him. Fine!
Asad stalked off to wait by the cars now being loaded with mats and dhurries, and shawls and blankets. He missed Zoya's downcast eyes.
He pretended to be interested in Ayaan who was supervising the loading of his telescope that Bhai had given him just last year.
Zoya sighed, miserable at her husband's sulky rejection. But she smiled when Humaira came and hugged her from behind. "Aapi, it's going to be so much fun," she gushed.
And it was.
But not if you asked Asad.
It was one of the longest nights of his life, half of which he spent seething with martyred indignation.
In the middle of his presentation two days later, a mellower Asad casually slipped a hand in his pocket and felt something silky brush against his fingers. Puzzled, he pulled it out and blushed furiously, immediately stuffing it back into his pocket.
He should have known better.
His wife was out to get him.
Not a minute's peace. Just trouble with a capital T.
She may have forgiven him for being a cad on the meteor shower night, but her revenge wasn't done.
Her text a little later simply stated: thanks for the memories Jahanpanah! Loved your gift. Hope you liked mine!
He shook his head. One of these days she really was going to get him into trouble! Asad rubbed his wrist ruefully.
The red welt on the inside made him smile, and blush, thinking of last night: the night of their making up; the night of her homecoming.
She had worn his gift to her; his breath had caught.
Hair over a bare shoulder she had looked at him, sultry and smoky. He hadn't seen her in nearly 24 hours! His hungry gaze had travelled from the spaghetti strings that tied behind her neck, down the peek-a-boo lace and silk sarong-style concoction that hugged her body and swirled around her ankles. Her feet were clad in matching feather high-heeled mules in the palest pink. As she slow-walked toward him, a bare leg peaked from the delectably parting folds.
"You remembered," Zoya said shyly, eyes luminous.
Taking her hands in his, he'd kissed the tops of both, "I never forgot. And I'm sorry for being such a bear." Asad replied.
Turning her back to him he'd rained contrite open-mouthed kisses on her naked back.
"You smell and feel so good," he groaned. "Zoya, I missed you so much! Never leave me again!" His hands had traced her body through the wanton lace as if he hadn't touched her in ages. Impatient fingers and thumbs had drawn lazy circles.
Her sighs and hisses had filled the room.
His hands became bolder, resenting the sheer barrier warmed by her body heat. They snaked under the lace panels to part the draped silk. His fingers stroked and strummed her arching body.
"I missed you too," she moaned leaning into him.
He repeated a favorite couplet at her ear. Goosebumps flared across her skin.
"When someone quotes the old poetic image
About clouds gradually uncovering the moon,
Slowly loosen knot by knot the strings of your robe.
Like this."
Her breath had hitched.
One tug at the silk ties at her neck, and the blushing fabric had pooled at her feet.
She laughed huskily.
"Jahanpanah, for something that you special-ordered, paid a fortune for, and surprised me with, shouldn't I have worn it just a little bit longer?"
Lips at her throat and hands everywhere kneading her to him, Asad murmured, setting her blood on fire, "I saw your face even before I saw you looking at this in the gift shop window. For nights after, I imagined you in it, and fifty different ways of how I would get you out if it. When I saw you blush, I knew you were thinking the same."
His teeth rapsed along the slender column of her neck, "it's stayed on long enough!"
"Oh god, Asad, don't remind me of that time!" Zoya pleaded.
In the late afternoon when she'd returned from the sleepover, she'd spied a giftbox on the bed, wrapped with a wide silk bow.
A single long-stemmed red rose lay on top, a virgin on the bridal bed.
The moment she had undone the packaging and seen this wisp of a thing nestled in the tissue, her eyes had stung bringing back memories from a time long past.
Her fingers skimmed over the fabric. She missed him so much!
They had just barely exchanged a text or word all night. She knew he was still unhappy about the nightlong separation.
She had held the negligee to her cheek and re-read his note: "Get all the sleep you need before I return, because you're not sleeping tonight.
I'll be late. Dinner with a client.
P.S. I saw you looking at this that day. I've wanted you to wear it for me ever since."
Hugging the gown, she sank back into the bed, tired and mush.
Asad, she moaned as she curled into herself.
She remembered those days of blistering grief!
And shuddered.
All the torment from that first trip to Agra resurfaced.
On their way in to the restaurant for dinner at the Oberoi hotel, they had passed various boutiques with exquisitely appointed window displays. Some young girls were giggling and whispering in front of the La Perla display. When they dispersed, Zoya saw what they were looking at: A headless mannequin was posed draped in exactly this gown.
She had blushed imagining herself in it, and then out of it.
Just for him.
But then she had blanched in pain when Najma giggled and whispered in her ear, "may be I should tell Ammi to buy something for Tanveer from here for the honeymoon!"
She had ducked her head, cross with herself. When she had prayed at the gravesite of the two royal lovers at the Taj, Zoya thought that her acceptance of an unrequited love's fate would numb, if not reduce the pain.
But Najma's words had sickened her to her stomach.
The pain had slammed her, wave after wave. Dinner had been an ordeal of forcing down food that her constricted throat refused to swallow, and haunted eyes that begged teary release.
She didn't know that Asad had seen her face then. He was waiting for them a little ahead having peeled past the shopfront at a brisk clip. Later, on his own, he had retraced their steps to see what it was that had arrested Zoya's attention, making her blush first, and then turn paperwhite with pain.
She didn't know that he too had felt the twin emotions of searing lust followed closely on its heels by piercing anguish and loss.
For their honeymoon they'd stayed at the same hotel and he'd gone to buy that negligee. They didn't have any more left. Only the display piece was available at a discounted price, would he like to buy that?
He'd grimaced.
No! Not the display that so many hands must have touched and eyes leered at. It had taken long enough because the style had been discontinued, but they had specially re-ordered it from somewhere in Europe, and delivered it to his office the other day. He hadn't wanted it delivered at home. If Zoya opened the package in front of everyone, then he'd have to probably relocate to another city.
He would never be able to look at Ammi and Najma!
He had snuck it into the house in a non-descript paper bag and left it on the bed for her that morning as a welcome home gift as well as an apology.
Hands still exploring her dewy warmth, Asad had bent on his knees to tug at the g-string tied with tiny bows low at her waist.
With his teeth.
Zoya had gasped in surrender.
Those teeth had then skittered across the bare skin of her undulating hips. He'd turned her to face him and tugged the strings off on the other side. That silky scr*ap, that now sat steaming in his pocket, too had blushed to her feet.
Her fingers had clutched his hair in anticipation.
He'd dipped his tongue to taste her.
Zoya had keened, all former heartache and separation long forgotten.
"Even then, that first time in Agra, I thought of doing this," he'd drawled between nips and firm licks.
She jerked and swayed, molten and satiny.
Her brain barely registered his words. It was only focused on the sensuously darting tongue that brazenly parried and thrusted, branding her, healing her.
"But then I also imagined making love to you without removing either of these. That night too was sleepless. I would have parted the gown with my hands and steadied your bucking hips.
Like this.
And I would have parted your legs ..."
He'd found her sweet spot.
" ... Like this."
And she had gone crazy.
Later, she'd told him, "I went down to buy that gown on our second visit to Agra. But they didn't have it. I made up for it by buying these!" She triumphantly swung the matching feathered handcuffs on her finger. But with the assault on them at the Taj the next day, she had completely forgotten about this little toy.
But last night she'd had such fun with him in those! Hands tied behind his back he had begged for mercy. Being blindfolded by the silk strap that had earlier held the gift box together only intensified the sensory overload.
When she moved in for the kill, he had completely lost his head.
"Zoya, please!" he'd implored to no avail.
He had strained against his restraints, his own hips bucking and vaulting at her skilled ministrations. Her tongue too had punished and lashed him.
When she eventually did release him, because she found it equally unbearable to not feel his hands on her, he'd ripped off the blindfold, grabbed her by her hair to sink his teeth into the crook between her neck and shoulder as he took her. He had intended to discipline her, but c'mon, it was really to muffle his hoarse cry.
Because if he didn't"-
He wouldn't be able to face Ammi or Najma the next day.
"Welcome home!" Asad intoned as she crested again in his arms, slick with spent passion.
"No more sleepovers for a long, long time," he'd threatened weakly, still breathless.
Zoya had laughed at that.
She'd remembered Feroze's mom's comment from the night before at the meteor shower. A crestfallen Asad, in one last ditch effort, had tried to convince everyone that Zoya was too tired for the sleepover and needed her rest. Even his mother hadn't come to his rescue!
And his protests had been easily dismissed by the girls.
"Bhaijaan, we promise we'll let Bhabhi sleep well," Nuzzhat had affirmed.
"Yes, Jeeju, I promise, she'll be well-rested when she returns home," Humaira vowed.
Asad had sighed in defeat. He tried one more tack.
"But she always gets sick in the morning and"-"
"So what?" Feroze's mom had butted in. "The girls will take good care of her. Unless you think there's something special that only the baby's daddy can do!"
After a second's pause everyone had roared with laughter and Asad had perished of embarrassment. Luckily the night hid his reddened face, more tamatar than his sister's.
"Ammi!"
"Naz!"
Both Feroze and Omar's mom had tried to scold her, but their feeble reprimands were lost amidst the guffaws.
Just shoot me, he'd groaned to himself.
Asad had only breathed again when the stars started to rain around them in the next second.
Saved by the skin of his teeth by shooting stars!
Two hours later, Nikhat had called him. He'd been thrashing like a delirious castaway on an unmoored skiff tossed on an angry sea.
He'd grabbed the phone in alarm, "Nikhat, is everything OK? Zo"-!"
"Everything's fine Bhaijaan. But Zoya Bhabhi hasn't smiled even once since we got here," she told him softly.
He felt mortified.
His grouchy possessiveness was ruining her time with Humaira and the girls. Asad immediately called her.
But only after he had pizzas delivered to the Siddiqui house from a place open 24 hours.
"I know I'm being irrational and temperamental. I just miss you." he'd lamely excused his behavior when she picked up, but said nothing.
"Remember when you messed up my phone and I had to say the password a hundred times to unlock it?"
"Umm hmm," she said softly as she smiled at the memory. She waited for him to say that verbal password.
But he was her Akdu after all.
"I won't say it till you recite that ridiculous sher," he teased.
Zoya laughed fully for the first time in hours that night. "No!" she protested.
"Please!"
She moved away to the balcony and cupping her hand around the phone repeated that sher that had infuriated him all those months ago, but thrilled him now.
"Truck ke peeche bus, bus ke peeche lorry,
Truck ke peeche bus, bus ke peeche lorry,
Phone theek karwane se pehle, kehna padega sorry!"
"I'm sorry Zoya." Asad said huskily.
She sniffed. "I'm missing you."
"I miss you more. Now go and have fun. Because you're not spending another night away from me for years to come."
"Jo hukum Jahanpanah!" she chirped. He heard the giggles in her voice and grinned, finally a little more at ease.
She'd glowed the next morning when the girls squealed in delight at the chocolate dipped strawberries and assorted pastries Asad had ordered for them for breakfast.
They were home delivered by Ayaan and Feroze.
Song in Title:
Jhoom Barabar Jhoom (2007): "Bol Na Halke Halke"
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