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*

EIGHTEEN YEARS AGO

Jasmina

Iman, who was one, had just fallen asleep in her cot, snuggled up in her favourite warm blanket, and Hania, three, went to bed two hours ago. I sat on my bed, finally relaxing and enjoying the few moments to myself before the father of my children got back home.

It was a cold day, and I wore a thick pair of trousers and a long-sleeved shirt of Fawad's, as I pulled the duvet over myself. Reading a novel that had been recommended by Elena, I enjoyed the blissful silence. My daughters were my life, and I loved them beyond words, but Iman was a chatterbox, even if she only spoke in her baby language right now, and Hania was a little ball of energy, running around the house, giggling and talking to her stuffed toys. I had to constantly run after her, especially when she headed near the stairs. She was not allowed near the staircase alone, after falling down a couple of steps the last time, while trying to jump over the last one.

I heard his footsteps, and a few seconds later, Fawad entered our bedroom. "Assalam Alaikum, jaan."

"Walaikum Assalam." He replied, looking exhausted. This had been a long shift and the last time I'd seen him was the night before.

"You want me to heat up dinner or make you coffee while you freshen up?"

"No, Mina, I just want to sleep now." With a yawn, he headed into the bathroom. As per routine, he took off his clothes in the bathroom and left them in the laundry basket there, to avoid bringing any stray hospital germs. I'd already left his towel on the towel rack inside, along with his pair of casual night trousers and a warm shirt. This was all a part of our daily routine, even though he himself never asked me to do it.

When he came out of the shower, towel drying his hair, he grabbed his wallet from the bedside table, where he had dropped it off before heading in for a shower. Pulling out a thick wad of cash, he sat down beside me. "Here you go."

"What is this?"

"This is your Mina Allowance." He grinned.

"My what?" I wrinkled my nose in confusion. "Fawad, you already give me enough money." 

"And I know how you spend it all on the girls and me, and stuff for the home." He took my hand and placed the money onto my palm. "This is only for you, hence the name 'Mina Allowance'. I only want you to spend this on yourself."

"Fawad..." I felt bad. He was the sole breadwinner of the family, and I hated putting so much burden on him.

"Meri kamai pay pehla haq tumhara hai. And you should benefit from it as much as our daughters." He kissed my forehead.

*"You have the first right over my earnings."

"What do I do with it?" I wandered out loud. "I don't even need to go shopping right now." I bit my lip as an idea occurred to me. "You know what? I'm going to keep this in the safe, for emergency use."

"You're going to end up spending it on the family, aren't you?" He shook his head, an amused smile on his face. He knew me too well.

"Well, it is called a Mina Allowance, so I get to decide." I leaned forward to kiss him, and he tangled his hand through my hair. "Thank you, Fawad. You give me more than enough anyway, but this is so thoughtful of you."

I got out of bed, shivering a little as the difference between the cold bedroom air and the warm duvet hit me hard. As I tapped the code into the safe, I smiled to myself. Mina Allowance. My husband was such a sweetheart. Alhumdulillah. Thank you Allah for blessing me with such a caring and considerate husband.

****

PRESENT

What started off as a cute form of affection from my husband, turned out to be something that consistently continued over the years. He still gave me a 'Mina Allowance', and always reminded me that this was only for me. 

And now, as I stood in our bedroom, staring at the safe, my eyes filled up. We had just gotten back home, and I was putting away some spare cash into the safe. Over time, I had deposited the cash into a separate bank account that was strictly reserved for this allowance, but there still should have been a lot more cash in there than it actually was. I had taken some along with me, but I could tell, just by looking, that I was missing a large amount. 

"Mama?"

I turned and saw Hania standing in the doorway, looking concerned. "Hani, is everything okay?"

She walked over to me, looking sheepish. "Hamza has asked me out on a date. I just don't know how to ask Papa. I'm too shy. Can you help?"

"He's not going to stop you from going out with your own husband, meri jaan." I turned away, suddenly realising that my eyes were damp and I didn't want my daughter to notice it.

But Hania notices every little thing, every little change of mood, when it comes to me and Fawad. Her beautiful, sensitive nature helps her clearly understand how people were feeling, especially her parents. "Are you okay, Mama?"

"Iman's still asleep, right?" I glanced down at the floor, not wanting to believe what I was suspecting. I hated myself for even allowing that doubt to appear inside me, but this is where my younger daughter had forced me to come with her behaviour.

She nodded. "Yes, Mama."

I grabbed her hand. "Hani, would you do me a favour and make me a cup of tea, please? I have a terrible headache."

"Of course. I'll ask Papa if he wants coffee as well." She turned to go.

"And don't worry. I'll let him know about your date." I reassured her.

"Thank you, Mama." Giving me a hug, she was just about to leave when Fawad entered the room, his face thunderous.

"What's wrong?!" I was alarmed.

"Hania, did Rayaan get arrested?" He asked her. "I was just on the phone with one of the police officers."

"Yes, Papa, he's been arrested." Hania looked uncomfortable, and I took her hand.

"Why are you so angry? I thought this was a good thing!" Bewildered, I questioned my husband.

"Because of the circumstances of his arrest." He looked at me. "He held Hania at knifepoint, right outside our house."

"Allah!" I clutched my necklace with my free hand, eyes wide as I turned to face my elder daughter. "Hania!"

"They also said that Rayaan had been tracking Iman all evening, as per your and Iman's statement." Fawad looked at her. "Were either of you ever going to tell us?" 

Hania moved behind me slightly, squeezing my hand. Even though she knew that Fawad wouldn't hurt anyone, least of all his family, angry people intimidated her a lot. She seemed to fear violence, even though my husband and I had never even raised a finger on our daughters.

"Iman basically invited him based on her extremely reckless behaviour. Why was she going out in the evening, when we weren't in the country, when she knew that Rayaan was still out there?" He shook his head.

I decided that I wasn't going to drop this money bombshell on him until I spoke to Iman. "Fawad, there's no point in yelling at Hania. She should have told us, but she's still not responsible for this mess." I turned to Hania. "Jaan, can you please make us tea and coffee? I really need it right now."

"Sure, Mama." She rushed out.

"I'm sick of Iman's irresponsible behaviour." Fawad put his hands on his hips, glancing towards the window, thoughtfully. "Wake her up. We need to talk." 

"I'll talk to her."

"No, I'll do whatever needs to be done now." He said, firmly. "I've seen the way she answers back to you when you try to talk sense into her. I'll deal with this." He strode out of the room, looking determined.

I composed myself slightly before walking down the hall to Iman's room. Knocking on it lightly, I stepped inside when I heard no answer. "Iman?"

The room was dark but I heard her move when I called her name.

"Yes?" Her groggy voice came from the bed.

I pulled open the curtains of her room and she groaned.

"Mama!" 

"Is there something you need to tell me, Iman Fawad?" I stared out of the window. It had rained overnight, and there were still thick clouds in the sky. Despite constantly facing rain, I still loved the sight while I was inside my home. 

Iman must have heard the slight trembling in my voice, because there was a few seconds pause before she spoke. "Yes, Mama." 

I still had hope that what she was about to tell me was not what I was thinking. She couldn't have done it. We didn't raise our daughters like that. My Ammi used to say that mothers were always too optimistic when it came to their kids. They always had faith in their kids to do the right thing, and to be good people. They always found it hard to believe anything against them. Today, I finally understood my mother. "What is it, Iman?" 

"I..." She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. I was going through a lot and..." 

Maybe I am wrong, and maybe I am being unfair. Iman is still our daughter, and I have faith that should never do anything like that.

"Hania was held at knifepoint, and you know how easily she gets scared, but you left her alone here." I was suddenly feeling very annoyed. We have always tried our best with Iman, but it never felt good enough.

"Hamza Bhai was there!"

"They don't live together right now!" I snapped, feeling furious at how she just never took anything seriously. I took a deep breath to cool down my rising temper. "Anyway, is there anything else that you want to tell me, Iman? Something that I should know?"

"I..."

"Did you come into our room while we were away?"

She didn't reply, and I got my answer.

"Did you take anything from there?" I still wanted to hear her admit it. She did something wrong, and the least she could do was to admit it.

"I took some money from the safe." She spoke quickly, as if she'd gotten a sudden boost of courage to speak up.

I was filled with disappointment and hurt, and I sank down onto the window seat as I didn't trust my legs to continue holding me up. It wasn't about the money. I was ready to sacrifice my life for my husband and daughters, let alone money. It was about trust, it was about our values and upbringing. My own daughter had shattered my trust in her, and had completely let us down.

"Mama, I'm sorry! I was desperate." Iman was crying now as she got off the bed and rushed over to me.

I was unable to speak anymore. My head was spinning and I closed my eyes. If only she had asked, we would never have refused. Tears of disappointment started flowing out of my eyes, and I covered my mouth with my hand to stop myself from sobbing out loud.

"Mama, don't cry, I beg you!" 

I calmed myself down enough to speak. "It's my fault. I always defended you, even though Fawad kept warning me." I shook my head. "Not anymore. He's going to make the decision now, and I will stand by him no matter what." I stood up.

"Mama, I'm sorry." She grabbed my wrist.

"Tumhari harkatein dekh kar mera sach main dil karta hai ke main marjaaon, Iman." Fresh tears filled my eyes. "Maine to kabhi apne Maa Baap ka jaan booch ke itna dil nahin dukhaya, aur na hi Fawad ne. Laikin tumhari harkatein dekh kar main bar bar sochti hoon ke shayad maine apne Maa Baap ke saath jaane anjaane main kuch aisa kardiya ho jo Allah ko sakht napasand ho, jiski sazaa mujhe tumhare zariye mil rahi hai."

*"Looking at your actions, I genuinely feel like dying, Iman."
"I never intentionally hurt my parents like this, and neither did Fawad. But looking at your behaviour, I repeatedly think that maybe, unknowingly I did something with my parents that Allah strongly disliked, and I'm now being punished through you." 

"No, Mama, you and Papa are perfect."

"Come downstairs. Your Papa wants to talk to you." I said, emotionlessly as I freed my arm from my grip and walked downstairs. 

Fawad was pacing the living room as I entered, and he looked up. "What's wrong?" He frowned as he saw my tear-streaked face.

"Iman..." I paused because it was difficult just to say those words. "Iman took money from the safe when we were away."

He blinked, surprised. He would never have expected this from either of our daughters either. "I'm guessing that she didn't tell you?"

I shook my head, and his jaw clenched. I was suddenly regretting telling him. Allah knows what he was going to do now.

Iman had followed me downstairs and she stood in the doorway, her head bowed. My maternal instincts fought to shield her from her father's wrath, but I stopped myself. Iman really needed to learn to face the consequences of her actions.

"Your sister could have been killed because of your stupidity." He spoke, glaring at her. "But, of course, as always you'd have an excuse to defend yourself, right?"

Hania came into the room with coffee and tea, and looked at each of us, wide eyed, as she set the tray down on the table. "Papa, I...I knew that Rayaan was bothering her again." 

I looked at her, shocked. "You knew?" 

"Hamza Bhai had hired extra security to protect us, but I have no idea what happened to it." Iman muttered.

"Right, Hamza knew as well." Fawad said. "And it just didn't seem important to tell me and Mina, right? Your generation can handle anything, parents are useless." 

I knew that Hamza meant well, but him hiring extra security for us was insulting for my husband, and that was unacceptable.  "None of you showed any regard for me or Fawad. Nahin zaroorat hamarai to keh do aap sab. Is tarhan baar baar takleef daine ka kya matlab?"

*"If you don't need us, say it directly. Why do you keep repeatedly hurting us?" 

"No, Mama, it's not like that." Hania shook her head. "We didn't want to cause you both more stress." 

"I'll speak to you and Hamza later, Hania." Fawad said, before turning to Iman. "I'm a parent, and therefore I cannot neglect my responsibilities towards you as a father, and I will continue to make sure that you are healthy and safe and provided for, as will Mina. However, I have no hope from you left, and you are free to do whatever you want and we won't stop you. You want to be a doctor? Your choice. You want to throw your education away? Again, your choice. Mina and I won't interfere in your life, because I'm done with you taking advantage of the freedom and privilege that you have been given."

"Fawad, we can't just let her do whatever she wants. She's our daughter." I looked at him.

"You want to support her? Go ahead, but then you and I will have problems." He said, before turning back to her. "I will no longer be giving you your pocket money. You will no longer have an access to the car. You, of course, can still live in this house, because as I said, you're still my responsibility, but don't even bother telling me anything unless it's related to your health and safety. Go out, party, I don't care." 

"Papa." Iman was in tears.

"By stealing from your mother, you've made us realise that we've not had any positive impact on your life at all, so do whatever you want. You're nineteen, and as per British law, you're an adult. We're not going to stop you from doing anything anymore." He looked at me. "And I guess we just have to accept that we have failed at parenting."

"Don't say that. I'm sorry about..." Iman stepped towards him, but he held up a hand.

"Iman, I don't even believe that anymore." His tone softened. "The amount of times you've messed up and apologised, how do you expect anyone to believe you?"

"Mama." Iman implored me. "Don't do that."

"If you're in trouble or in a problem, you can still come to us." I said, softly. "But I will stand by your father in this decision. You don't need to ask our permission to do anything. Do whatever you want."

"I've given up, Iman." Fawad shook his head. "We've tried everything, but it seems like you are determined to hurt us or let us down repeatedly." 

"No, Papa." Iman shook her head, a tear escaping her eye. Seeing her cry made me cry, but I knew that my husband was doing this for her own good. He hated it as much as I did, but if this was the only way Iman was going to learn, we were going to have to do it.

Fawad left the room. I looked at Iman and I was desperate to hug her, but sometimes toughdecisions are needed to be made in order to bring someone onto the right path.Arhaan Bhai had taught me that when Ahad Bhai had gone astray.

****

"You okay?" I entered our bedroom and found my husband massaging his temples with both hands.

"Blood pressure high lag raha hai." He muttered, his eyes closed.

*"My blood pressure seems high."

"Main aapko yeh bhi nahin keh sakti ke tension na lain." I gently pushed him towards the bed, sat him down and began to massage his head myself. "Mujhe maaf kardain, Fawad. Aap to kaam pe hote thay. Main hi achi maa nahin bansaki."

*"I can't even tell you not to take so much stress." 
"Please forgive me, Fawad. You used to be at work. I couldn't be a good mother." 

He opened his eyes and looked at me. "Nahin, Mina. Aulaad Maa aur Baap, donon ki zimaydari hoti hai. Ghalti meri bhi hai. Tum mana karti thi ke na bigaron main inhain itna, laikin mere hi laad pyar ne Iman ko yaahan tak pohancha diya hai." 

*"No, Mina. Kids are the responsibilities of both parents. It was my mistake as well. You kept telling me not to spoil them this much, but my love and affection is what led Iman to this point."

"Usay akela nahin chodh sakte, Fawad. Hamari beti hai woh." I implored to him.

*"We can't leave her on her own, Fawad. She's our daughter." 

"We're not leaving her alone. We're just making her think that." He said. "Bas ab yehi dua hai ke woh samajh jaye aur sahi raaste pe aajaye. Laikin, Mina, tumhe bhi thodi sakti dikhani paday gi."

*"Not I just hope that she understands and comes back on the right path. But Mina, you have to be a little strict as well." 

I nodded. "Okay, jaan." 

There was a light knock on the door. I turned and saw Hania standing there, looking nervous. "Aajao, Hania."

*"Come in, Hania." 

She came in and sat down on the bed beside her father. "I'm so, so sorry, Papa. And Mama." She looked up at me. "It was wrong for me to hide this from you both."

And then I remembered her request and decided that there was no point in dragging Hania down into our miseries with us. "Fawad." I sat down on his other side. "Hamza has asked Hania out, and she wanted your permission."

He looked up, surprised and Hania blushed, staring down into her lap. "Hani, you don't need my permission. He's your husband." 

"Yes, but the rukhsati isn't done yet, Papa. I still live under your and Mama's roof, so I have to respect that." She was playing with her charm bracelet.

"It's fine, Hania." He sighed. "But I need to speak to Hamza about this security thing before you both go."

"Don't be too angry, Papa. He was just thinking of us." Hania whispered.

"Acha? To ab woh waqt aagaya hai ke Papa ki aagey aap apne unko defend kar rahi hain?" Finally he smiled a little, looking amused as he lightly patted her head.

*"Oh really? So it's the time now when you are defending him in front of your Papa?"

My poor little Hani was going to melt into a puddle with shyness, but I couldn't stop laughing. 

"I have to get ready." She got up and rushed out, her cheeks red.

"Puri tarhaan fail nahin hoye parenting main." I smiled at my husband. "Bohat zayada izzat karti hai Hania hamari. Uska haq hai Hamza ke saath jaana, aur woh phir bhi hamare faislon ko itni ehmiyat de rahi hai."

*"We haven't completely failed at parenting."
"Hania respects us both a lot. It's her right to go with Hamza, and yet she is still giving such importance to our decisions."

"Allah Iman ko bhi hidayat de." He said. "Yeh aulaad kyun nahin samajhti ke unke ghalat faislon se unke Maa Baap ko zayada takleef hoti hai, kyun umar aur tajarbe ke hisaab se parents samajhte long-term effects."

*"May Allah guide Iman to the right path."
"Why don't the kids understand that their wrong decisions hurt their parents more, as due to their age and experience, the parents understand the long term effects."

I leaned my head against his shoulder. I wanted to have faith in Iman, but she had made things very difficult for us.

****

Hania

"Papa wants to talk to you." I told Hamza when he came to collect me.

"About what?" He looked curious.

"About the fact that you hired security for us." 

"Is he really angry?" He asked in a low voice, glancing towards the house.

I nodded, trying to keep my expressions grim. "Come."

"Ya Allah Khair." He muttered before walking inside with me.

My parents were now in the living room, and once the greetings were over, Hamza and I sat on the two seater sofa, facing Mama and Papa.

"I'm sorry, Uncle. I did this behind your back." Hamza rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly. "In all fairness, this is Hania's fault."

"How is this my fault?" I looked at him, shocked.

"For making me worried enough to hire security for you, disregarding everything else." He gave me a small smile.

Mama smiled discreetly, placing a hand on Papa's arm.

"Hamza, I don't doubt your intentions, but I would rather be made aware if one of my daughters is in trouble, than to have my son-in-law discreetly hire security to guard my home without my knowledge." Papa said. 

"And, since you had hired them, where were they when Hania was attacked?" 

"I'd given them a couple of hours break as I had been here watching a film with Hania." Hamza explained. 

My mind returned to everything else we did, but it was very inappropriate to think that in front of my parents. 

"I'm sorry that I kept it from you, Uncle and Aunty," Hamza said. "But I will still hire security if necessary for Hania's and her family's safety." 

"So, you'd do anything for Hania?" Papa looked amused now, and Mama smacked her palm against her forehead, knowing very well that he was about to pull Hamza's leg.

"Yes, Sir." Hamza nodded.

"If I say that you can't take her on a date right now because you hid things from me regarding my family, would you agree?" Papa raised an eyebrow.

Hamza looked glum, but he nodded. "I would, Sir." 

"Stop teasing our son-in-law!" Mama lightly slapped Papa's arm, before turning to Hamza. "And no need to call him 'Sir', Hamza. He already thinks too much of himself." She lovingly glanced at my father. 

"He's a father to a beautiful and amazing person like Hania, so if he does think too much of himself, it's only right." Hamza looked at me.

Hamza, stop making such remarks in front of my parents! I wanted to tell him, and yet at the same time, I didn't want him to stop. His behaviour must be making my parents feel good, which is what they needed right now after everything that had happened. And I'm willing to blush for the rest of my life if it satisfied Mama and Papa.

****

"What's this?" I looked at the helmet that Hamza was holding out towards me.

"It's called a helmet. I bought it specially for you." He grinned.

*Yes, I wrote the same for Zoya and Ahad, but THIS is the original scene, and H&H are the original couple to do this.

"I know it's called a helmet, you fruitcake." I rolled my eyes and took the helmet, examining it. It was black, with a purple floral pattern designed on one side. "Thanks. You didn't have to, but it's beautiful." 

He'd asked me to dress up in a way that was suitable for a motorcycle ride. I wore black skinny jeans, a long loose purple t-shirt (colour coincidently matching the pattern on the helmet), a black leather jacket that Iman had gifted me once upon a time, and black ankle boots with high block heels. I looked more like Iman than myself today, and just thinking of her made me sad. How could she betray our trusting parents like that?

Hamza helped me put on the helmet and grinned. It was slightly big for me, but still acceptable to be used on the road. "You look so adorable, Han." He leaned forward and kissed my cheek, before getting onto the bike. I got on behind him, feeling shy about holding onto him. I had no idea where to hold onto him. 

While Papa didn't have an issue with the date itself, he was a bit hesitant when he learnt that we would be going by motorcycle. That's when Mama persuaded him, saying that Hamza was my husband and that they should trust him to be careful while riding the bike with me. It was a known fact that if Mama couldn't convince Papa, nobody can, and fortunately he gave in. I know that I'm a married adult, but I respect my parents wishes a lot. 

I finally wrapped my arms around his waist, edging closer. I squealed as he suddenly sped away from the house, and initially I closed my eyes. But feeling Hamza's strong, muscular torso, I began to relax. I trusted him not to let me get thrown off the bike. 

The wind whipped my hair that was uncovered beneath the helmet. It was late August, but the air felt chilly against my cheeks, and I felt my hands freezing up. However, the excitement and thrill of riding on a motorcycle behind my husband made me forget about the temperature. I was grinning widely, as we sped down the streets towards God knows where.

"Where are we going?" I yelled over the wind.

"You'll see when we get there!" He called out, and I could hear the smile in his voice. 

I trusted Hamza with my safety completely, after everything. I just wished that I could quickly completely trust him with my heart as well.

****

Ismael

I met Rabia at Hania's Nikah. She was a sweet person, and we'd ended up discussing literature.

While I had now realised that my feelings for Hania were much stronger than a mere crush, I knew that it was pointless of me to think about her. She was a married girl, Mrs Hania Hamza.

And while I didn't intend on using Rabia as a means to get over Hania, we had been messaging each other back and forth, and we came to a decision that we should let our elders know about this. It was wrong for us to stay in touch like this without their knowledge. Papa, Naz Mama and Hania's parents had always been aware of our communication, and had even told us what was appropriate and what wasn't. And now Rabia and I decided that if we didn't want this to develop into something haram, we should tell our parents.

However, I felt too awkward in telling Papa or Naz Mama, so I told the one person that I felt comfortable in talking about this to: Ahad Chachu.

I met him in his clinic during his break.

"What bring you here, Ismael?" He asked, sipping water and staring at me through his thin-rimmed glasses. 

"Chachu, I..." I was nervous as I spoke. "I wanted to tell you something."

"Go ahead."

"I have been chatting to Rabia, Hamza's cousin." I muttered. "It's nothing like that. It's a harmless conversation, like the ones that I had with Hania, but we just thought that we should tell our elders, rather than go behind their backs." 

"Ismael, you're a very good boy. A true reflection of Arhaan Bhai." He smiled. "I'm very proud of you for deciding to tell your elders. But have you told Arhaan Bhai or Naz Bhabi?" 

"C-Can you tell Papa?" I asked, hopefully. "I know what this seems like, but it's nothing like that! I promise."

"Okay, fine. I'll talk to Bhai." He said. "It's good that you decided to tell your parents. If you are open and honest with them regarding all matters, they can give you the right advice for everything, and can guide you if they feel that you are wrong. It's all for your own good and for your own future."

"I know, Chachu." 

"Don't worry. I'll tell Bhai." He leaned forward onto his desk. "Ismael, Zo and I try to instil the same values into our kids, but if you ever feel like they are going astray, talk to them with the wisdom that I know you possess. I mean, obviously we would do the same, but it's just a request from you." 

"Don't worry, Chachu. Bilal and Noor are like my younger siblings. I will always take care of them and look out for them." 

"Thank you, chotay Arhaan." He grinned. 

I wasn't trying to move on from Hania. I wasn't sure if I ever could. Hania was special, the kind of spouse that anyone would be lucky to have. 

But I knew that if I didn't try to move on, I would sink into a deep dark hole that I would never be able to come out of, and I had to avoid that for my family's sake.

****

How will Hania and Hamza's date go?

NOW, will Iman finally learn her lesson? 

Thoughts and comments?

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