~Teri deedar ke lamhe bahut qeemti the,
Hum agar aankh jhapakte to khasara karte~

Raaya was pretty sure she never meant it in a bad way. But maybe her tone or words got out differently. Idris' expressions changed when she said those words. It was the truth, he did a lot by marrying her now she couldn't burden him some more.

"Is it necessary?"

"Yes, Idris." Usman uncle's one word answer put a silence over the dining table.

They were planning a small Walima for Idris and her this weekend. "It'll be a good chance to introduce Raaya as our daughter-in-law." Aunt explained.

His parents were humble and caring. That was the least she expected when she got married to Idris. Finishing their dinner, when she entered their room, Idris was already in bed.

She wanted to have a talk with him, a chance to explain herself. From two days, Idris was distant, more like ignoring her and Raaya knew she hurt him. They were new to this relationship, and didn't know anything about each other, especially each other's temperament.

Raaya opened her hair from the bun and kept her dupatta aside before lying down beside him, Idris' back facing her. Sleep was away from her senses as anxiety made house in her mind. The feeling of hurting someone was unsettling for her.

The soft fabric of his night suit grazed her palm as Raaya held his arm in an attempt to wake him up. Idris moved a little and turned, his eyes adjusting to the faint light of the fluorescent bulb when he looked at her.

"What happened?" His voice hoarse that pushed butterflies inside her, making her nervous. That's the first time when they were this close, his breath entering her vicinity and Raaya had no idea how she was supposed to talk let alone apologize.

"I…I-" Raaya coughed, straightening her back, when Idris sat up, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I know I hurt you the other day. But I didn't mean it in a bad way. We will always be indebted to you for what you did."

He showed Raaya her position on their wedding night and she came to terms with it because it was understable. It was enough that she got a house of dignity for herself.

***

It was difficult. Difficult to concentrate on her words when she looked like that. Her dupatta was missing and that was the first time when he was seeing her hair, that too opened to their full length.

Idris could hear his heartbeat in his ears. Her face glowed differently in the soft light of a fluorescent bulb and he needed to find some kind of distraction else he would stare at her, to no end.

"It's okay. Go to sleep."

He lied down, turning away from her. That was the best option right now. Idris shivered as Raaya's hand touched his shoulder, "We're good. You forgave me?"

Her eyes were hopeful and it was becoming difficult for him with every passing second to concentrate on anything except Raaya. He could understand now, the talks about the innocence or cowardice of a husband because if a wife looked like her, a husband would forget every kind of argument.

"Yes." He smiled. It was not fake or forced, it was a smile from a man who felt happy at the moment without any reason. She returned his smile lying down on her pillow and it became a lot more than awkward as now they were facing each other.

Raaya brought her hair forward, hiding her front in a quick manner, and he pretended that he was not looking. He had no idea Nikah would change him in this way. She was just an arm's length away from him and his mind was conspiring many thoughts.

Her eyes were closed and it was a clear sign for him to stare at her now. The least he could do, to tame his racing heartbeats. She was of dusky skin, that he knew without even meeting her because Kashif was disappointed. Disappointed in the choice of his parents, her skin color was a mark of insult for him.

The circumstances were totally unusual in their case and Idris rarely paid heed to these beauty standards but he knew, if he had met Raaya in a different way, he would not even notice her skin color. She would be beautiful in his eyes because she was!

The jingling of her bangles pushed Idris into reality as Raaya turned, lying on her back. Her nose ring twinkled in the dim light as he felt a need to trace her small yet straight nose.

Just go to sleep, Idris Usman. Else you're going to embarrass yourself.

His eyes travelled to her lips which were slightly opened, they were light pink in color and Raaya kept them natural without any trace of lipstick. His breathing got heavy as he thought, how it would feel to kiss her and Idris forced himself to turn away from her.

The night would be too long and he had no idea how he was going to survive this doomsday.

***

Hamida set the flower boxes, in a hurried manner, by 8 o'clock they had to send out twenty bouquets. It was for a proposal scenario, she remembered, the guy was too excited. Safdar uncle, the shop's owner, had instructed her especially, to look after this order, because of her speed and skills.

She still had one hour. Her surroundings were filled with the fragrance of roses and lilies, the fresh stock. The bouquet was a mixture of red carnations and roses with a hint of baby breath. Hamida went with pink paper to wrap it all.

Hamida gave six hours of her life to this place. Making bouquets, sorting out the materials and gift wrapping were her main tasks. It was an irony for her. A girl with no hope and excitement working in a place that echoed happiness.

"Come here, Raaya!" It was a flower she had never seen and its fragrance was sweet.

"It's a rose, Hamida." Raaya's fingers grazed the softness of the flower.

"Black rose?"

"Yes. They come in various colors. Each one is beautiful on its own." She held Hamida's hand and made her touch it, "but it's not black, it's dark red. Sometimes we have to move closer, to properly understand everything."

Zahir Mirza!

What the hell!!!

"Bachcha, are you done with the bouquets?"

Safdar uncle came into the back room where Hamida and Sara were giving the finishing touches. They were done counting and now just had sent out the orders. Good that uncle had one van for the delivery because the drizzle of a few minutes ago had turned into a heavy shower.

Finishing the tasks at hand, Hamida packed her bag as Safdar uncle left for the order delivery. "Stay for sometime, Hamida, the rain is not good." Sara said, seeing her preparation to leave for home.

"Not much. Besides, it will stop after sometime."

Hamida opened her blue umbrella, the patter of the raindrops culminating the noise around her. She couldn't stay still without any work, that meant she would go through her pasts and future. Always a tiring thing! Best she could do was to reach home.

***

"Don't worry, Nani. She'll come soon."

That was fake. He scratched his nape, looking out to see the rain getting heavier. It was half past nine and the pace of the time was the same as his heartbeats. Uneven and too fast.

Hoping Hamida just stayed at the shop, without bothering to test her walking skills in this dangerous weather, Zahir strode from kitchen to the hall one more time.

"She never stays at the shop no matter what. But now it's late!"

Nani said one more time, throwing him into a new pit of worry. The power went off making everything bleak. There were many differences in Indian cities but every city united on this single thing, rain and power cut off.

"You called her?"

He asked as Nani lit a frail candle on the study table.

"Yes. She's not answering."

Stop it!

Zahir took the umbrella from the corner stand and left the house. Walking and worrying aimlessly would never solve any problem so he just had to find this girl on his own.

"Why have you come here, Hamida?"

He knew she was older than him, maybe one or two years but he would never call her baji. Firstly, his parents never taught him this and secondly, he hated calling her baji. She looked too petite and small in front of him.

"Call me baji, Zahir. I'm older than you."

She was packing all her stuff in a suitcase. "You're going somewhere?"

"Yes."

"The place where your mother went."

Everyone was talking about Nigar aunty, her mother. She went somewhere. Hamida stopped packing and looked at him, her eyes were teary as she threw a pillow at him.

"Go away Zahir. Stop bothering me."

"Tell me na where you're going else how I'm going to meet you."

Hamida sniffed, "Don't even think about it. I don't want to see you, you idiot."

The streetlights were off, the whole scene was confusing and bleary. For the next steps Zahir had to turn on his mobile flashlight. The traffic was scarce and he gulped thinking about Hamida.

They would never get along. And Hamida would surely hit him if she found him here searching for her, what else could he do. That ticking of the clock and her absence was grave. He had crossed half distance from their home and still no trace of her.

Should he go back and wait for her? Maybe she came back. Everything turned dark again as his mobile died down. Just when he thought to contact Hamida.

"Zahir!"

A loud shout in the rain put a hold on his racing thoughts and heartbeats. He looked around him to see Hamida standing in the shade of a closed shop. Her eyebrows pinched as she strode quickly towards him, with no signs of an umbrella.

She was getting drenched, "What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with Nani? She's alone-"

Zahir grabbed her wrist and pulled her in his umbrella, stopping whatever she was about to say, "Nani is fine. Come, she's waiting for you."

"Don't act smart with me." He made a little room for her in the umbrella as she went silent. For a moment. "This won't put you in my good books."

"Who said I want to be in your good books?" He grinned as Hamida slapped the back of his head, earning a laugh from him.

The rain was still dangerous but it didn't bother him anymore. Or them, maybe. He was with her and had no fear in him. He would be beside her, no matter what!