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Okay, so, I'm obsessed with aesthetics. I chose darker shades for these two because of their cheekier, 'bad' personalities. :D

****

Zafar

A policeman was hesitant to talk to a person with a personality like Fawad Bhai. 

It was like a hilarious joke, but I couldn't even crack a smile at this point. I was regretting stopping here to talk to him. I should have just listened to Fariha. What if I screw things up for everyone?

"Look, Bhai." I cleared my throat. "I don't mean to cause any offence, because I respect you all: you, Bhabi, Ahad and Zoya Bhabi. But those gifts were too much. I know nobody has any ill intention towards anyone, between the six of us, but..." 

He put his hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry that you felt bad, Zafar, but this matter has been resolved, and I can assure you that, from our end, we'll be more careful the next time. But, I have a request."

"Of course, Bhai." I nodded, eagerly.

"Let's end this matter here. It's just a small request from me for you or Fari to not mention this to Mina. She's been feeling awful about it, and I can tell just by looking at her facial expressions."

"Don't worry about it. The chapter is closed here." I sighed, relieved. That had been easier than I thought.

I just wondered if dealing with the hot-headed Ahad Sheikh would be just as easy.

We heard loud cries and turned to see Bhabi getting out of a rickshaw with a screaming Hania. The toddler didn't seem to want to get out of the rickshaw now.

"What the...?" Fawad Bhai rushed over, and I followed. 

"Assalam Alaikum, Bhabi." I said, politely.

"Walaikum Assalam." She replied, distracted as she pulled Hania lightly. "Initially she was terrified when we got on, but now she doesn't want to get off." 

"Hania, come on, jaan." Fawad Bhai grabbed his daughter. "I'll take you on another rickshaw ride one day, but come on now." 

Hania was crying, but then she saw her father was wearing sunglasses, so how could little Hania allow that? She immediately pulled them off and put them on her own small face, making us all laugh. 

"I'm sorry, Zafar Bhai." Jasmina Bhabi said, unable to meet my gaze. "I didn't mean to be inconsiderate." 

That was Jasmina Fawad (nee Sheikh). If she felt bad about something, or if she felt that she had made a mistake, she admitted it. It was who she was.

"Don't worry about it." I shook my head. "You and Zoya Bhabi both had good intentions, and that's all that matters." 

I suddenly realised how tensed I had been, and I uncurled my fists. Why do the wife's father and elder brother intimidate the hell out of a guy?

"Well, I better go and run some errands." I smiled, sheepishly. "Thank you both for being so understanding." 

The couple exchanged a look, before glancing back towards me. 

"We have great respect for you, Zafar, and I know that I always did, even before you married my little sister." Fawad Bhai said. "We would never intentionally do anything to hurt your self-respect." 

"I know. I never doubted that." Giving them one last smile, I turned to go. "Allah Hafiz." 

"Bye!" Hania called out.

"Bye, Fari's heart." I chuckled, glancing at her over my shoulder.

As I headed back to my car, I wondered if Fari was going to forgive me for this. She had told me not to talk to her brother or Ahad, but I hadn't listened...well, not completely anyway.

I mentally reminded myself to pick some gajray up on my way back from work. I would need to seriously grovel to my wife, possibly.

****

Zoya

I went to work for the charity, the one which helped patients suffering from brain tumour. I lost Mamma to it, and for some reason, being here made me feel closer to her.

Each time I entered the main office, and saw photos lined up on the wall of the survivors of brain tumour, my eyes welled up. I wished Mamma was one of the survivors.

I was busy planning a fundraiser with the other members of the team, and before I knew it, it was lunchtime. 

"Zoya?" One of the interns called out to me. "Someone's here to see you."

"Me?" I frowned. "Who?"

"He says to tell you that it's Doctor Sahab." The intern looked as confused as I felt.

Dr Ahad Sheikh. I bit back a smile as I got up and headed out, thanking the intern.

Indeed it was Ahad (who else could it be?). He was pacing around the lobby, looking a little out of place in his almost completely black outfit: black jeans, black boots, a black leather jacket and a white t-shirt: the stereotypical bad boy outfit.

And damn, my bad boy was hot. Ma Sha Allah.

"Yes, doctor? Did we have an appointment?" I called out, making him turn and look at me with a crooked grin.

"This doctor doesn't need an appointment with this gorgeous lady." He said. 

"What do you want?" I pretended to look impatient, even though seeing him made me want to take him to a private room and...spend some private time together.

"I'm taking you out for lunch." 

"Is that an order, Ahad?" I loved teasing him.

"Doctor's orders, baby." He winked at me.

"Okay, but I only have fifty minutes." I glanced towards the large clock hanging over the receptionist's desk. "Let me go get my stuff." 

"Waiting right here, Mrs Ahad." He gave me an obedient-boy smile, which made me laugh.

****

"I don't know why, but ever since Jasmina and I bought the gifts for Fariha's kids, I have been feeling a little weird." I frowned, glancing at my mushroom lasagne thoughtfully. "I grew up with a single mother, who worked at a food-packaging factory to provide for me. People just assume that if you're from London, you'll automatically have a lot of money and luxuries. That's not true. We struggled at times- well, Mamma did, but she never let me suffer." My eyes filled with tears.

Ahad was listening attentively, without interrupting, a concerned frown on his face. He put his hand on mine as I spoke, rubbing a thumb gently over the back of my hand, in silent reassurance. And it helped...a lot.

"I once received a really expensive looking bracelet from a friend on my birthday." I said. "That friend of mine came from a slightly well-off background, and so she could afford it. Mamma apologised to her parents and said that we couldn't accept the gift." I looked at my husband. "After being raised by a mother like that, how could I make another mother feel the way my Mamma must have felt that time?" 

"Zo, your intention wasn't bad. Your heart was absolutely at the right place." 

"Yes, but, it doesn't matter, Ahad! Sometimes people get hurt even if the other person's intentions were pure." I groaned lightly. "I should have been more thoughtful. And now, I can't even apologise, because that would be more insulting!" 

"You're overthinking." He said, calmly. "If Fariha Bhabi and Zaf can forgive me for my s****y behaviour, they can certainly disregard your innocent act. They're mature, sensible people. Trust me, nobody knows that better than I do." 

"I need to remember my roots, and where I came from." I whispered, almost to myself. "My mother would have been so disappointed with me for my behaviour." 

"I think that your mother would be incredibly proud of the wonderful person you are, Zo." He smiled. "I know that I am proud of my beautiful, amazing wife. You're strong, confident and gorgeous on every level, Ma Sha Allah." 

"How do we make it up to Fariha, Ahad?" 

"You want me to talk to Zaf?" 

I shook my head. "Maybe they didn't even think about this? Maybe I'm just overthinking? And if you speak to them about it, the thought might occur to them, and then they'll feel hurt and..." I shook my head. "I never wanted things to get so complicated between us. We were all friends, as well as an extended family." 

"These kinds of things happen sometimes in family and friends." He said. "If we don't want to make them feel bad by mentioning this to them, we should just promise ourselves that we'll be careful next time." 

I nodded. "Absolutely." I gave him a small smile.

****

Fariha

"You what?!" I asked, horrified.

Zafar was eating his dinner that night, after just having returned from work, and he had just admitted that he had spoken to Bhai- well, he tried to, but didn't need to because Bhai was pretty understanding.

"I thought I told you that I'll handle it!" I looked at him. "Did you not trust me?" 

It was late, and my parents-in-law had gone to bed, as had Mahnoor and Dua. Saad and Omar had fallen asleep a long time ago, and as Zafar hadn't been back yet before my parents-in-law had headed to bed, Ammi Jaan offered to take Zaid again, so that I could properly eat dinner with Zafar. She also believes that a married couple should be able to probably talk to each other at the end of each day, especially tiring days, because it helps their relationship.

"Fari, of course I trust you, but this was a huge burden on me. I had to get rid of the burden, and I knew that Fawad Bhai would be understanding, and I wasn't wrong. He just doesn't want us to discuss this any further with Jasmina Bhabi." 

I wasn't sure how I felt about all this. This was so awkward. I didn't want anyone looking at me or Zafar with pity. I was happy in my life, Alhumdulillah, and I didn't want anyone thinking otherwise. "Koi aapko ehsaas-e-kamtari mehsoos karwaye, woh mujhe bardasht nahin hota, Zafar. Aur chahye koi kuch verbally kahe ya na kahe, behaviour se hi pata chal jata hai ke woh hum pe tars kha rahe hain."

*"I cannot tolerate anyone making you feel inferior in any way. And whether someone says it verbally or not, their behaviour shows that they are pitying us."

"No, Fari. While I generally agree with you, your Bhai and Bhabi, and even Ahad and Zoya Bhabi are not like that. They don't pity us, and you know that very well." He said, in a very gentle tone. "You know your Bhai and Bhabi, obviously, but trust me when I say that Ahad has always had my back, even when everyone at school laughed at me. He stood by me through everything, and our friendship hasn't ever suffered because of class differences. Alhumdulillah. And Zoya Bhabi doesn't seem like the type to care about this crap either." 

I nodded, before I glanced at the bag on the other charpai. "So the gajray were a means of apologising to me?" I felt my cheeks warm up. 

He looked sheepish as he finished off his daal (lentil curry) and paratha. With a limited amount of flour at home, I'd planned on making plain rotis for everyone, but I knew that my husband loved parathas, especially after a long day, so I wanted to surprise him. 

When it comes to spouses, even the smallest gestures can have a huge impact on your relationship. When Zafar had found out that I'd especially made parathay for him, a huge grin had lit up his entire handsome face. 

May Allah bless my husband and sons with a long life, good health and eternal happiness. Ameen. I sighed in content, as I glanced around the veranda of our beautiful home. 

Spoilt brat Fariha Ali has certainly come a long way. Now I know certainly that no luxury in the world could make me as happy if Zafar and our sons weren't in my life.

****

Here you go, MehweenGR and shraddhakim.

WARNING: Mature scenes ahead.

Zafar set the gajray in my hair, and I closed my eyes, smiling. He put his hands on my shoulders and gently turned me around and I kept my eyes closed as my cheeks turned pink.

I should have been mad at Zafar for not listening to me, but I wasn't. He had given me so much happiness, love and respect that I was going to overlook this. And besides, I didn't want him to feel a burden on his gorgeous soul. 

A thought suddenly entered my head and I opened my eyes. "Zafar, go and sit on the bed and keep your eyes closed." 

"What?" He looked confused.

"Please." I whispered softly, staring up at him pleadingly. 

"Fine." He walked over to the bed and sat down, closing his eyes.

"But don't fall asleep!" I warned him, as I locked our bedroom door and grabbed what I needed. I was smiling cheekily as I did so. 

A few moments later, I turned and cleared my throat. "Okay, you can open your eyes." 

He opened his eyes and his mouth actually hung open as he stared at me from my toes, up to my head. His gaze ran slowly over my bare legs, and onto his police uniform shirt, focusing briefly on the unbuttoned two buttons at the top, before landing on the police hat resting on my head. Hooked on my index finger was the handcuffs he had bound us together by once. With the gajray in my hair, I looked like a weird policewoman. 

I stifled a giggle as I slowly walked over to him. "Arrest mujhe be karna aata hai, Zafar Sahab."

*"Even I know how to arrest, Mr Zafar."

"Jaan laina illegal hai, jo aap abhi meri laine ki koshi kar rahin hain, Dr Sahiba." He whispered, his eyes wide as he stared at me.

*"It's illegal to take life, and that's exactly what you're trying to do to me right now, Madam Doctor."

"In this bedroom, I am the law." I almost burst out laughing at my boldness. I had never behaved this way before, but Zafar brought out this side of me because he has grown my self-confidence in a way that was almost surprising. 

"What am I getting arrested for?" He raised an eyebrow.

Come on, brain, come up with a s*xy answer! I begged internally. "For...umm..."

He chuckled, standing up. 

Suddenly feeling shy, I turned to head towards the cupboard to change into something more Fariha like.

But of course my husband was not going to let go of me. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me back, and my back slammed against him so hard that the hat fell off my head and the handcuffs dropped down to the floor. 

"Thank you for respecting me, for loving me even though I cannot provide you with a life full of luxuries." He whispered, kissing the back of my head, before nuzzling my neck.

"I've had a life full of luxuries, and they mean nothing if you're not in my life." I admitted, emotionally. "I love you so much, Zafar, that I would not give you up for anyone or anything in the world." I turned to face him.

"I just keep thinking that I might not be enough." He admitted, pressing a kiss against my forehead. "You're Dr Fariha, a brilliant, strong woman, capable of so much. And I am..."

"A man who risks his life every day for the general public, for people he doesn't even know." I finished the sentence for him. "You're more than enough, Zafar. In fact, you're too good for me. Your financial status means nothing to me. Your personality, on the other hand, is everything." 

He grabbed my hands. "You won't get tired of this, right? Of constantly feeling like our family cannot match up to your parents or your brother's family?" 

"When did I ever say that? I don't feel like that, Zafar." I reassured him. "You took me out of my darkest times and brought me into bright light, into happiness. Zafar, you're my hero in more ways than one. I'm crazily, completely and unconditionally in love with you, and I'm telling you this right now, our family is perfect that way it is." I leaned forward to peck his lips. "But now that we're discussing our insecurities, I keep thinking that you deserve better. A beautiful, single girl who could have provided everything for you without the extra baggage." 

"Well, you're beautiful, Ma Sha Allah, and you've provided everything for me. Three amazing boys, a happy home and the feeling of coming home to a caring and loving wife." He kissed each of my cheeks, and I clutched at his shirt as I felt strong desire for him built up inside me. "And I love your parathay." 

I giggled at the random compliment. "You love my parathay?" 

"My wife made them so lovingly. How can I not love them?" He kissed my chin.

And then I couldn't stop laughing. One minute we were about to get intimate and the next minute he complimented my parathay, which I found hilarious.

He looked at me amused. "Keep laughing like that Fariha. That's how you should be, every single day for the rest of your life. You've suffered enough, so it's time for you to be showered with immense happiness." He put his hands on my waist and pulled me closer so that our lips were inches apart. "Yeh pyari si muskurahat, yeh chehre ki laali. Aapki yehi khushi hai zindagi humari." 

*"This lovely smile, this pinkness of your cheeks. This happiness of yours is my life." For some random reason, I've been writing up my own Urdu poetry in my stories lately. But it's so, so romantic in Urdu, that I can't help it!

It was funny, how a tense incident had brought us closer together.

"Zafar..." I whispered as he gently sat me down onto the bed.

"I confess my crimes, officer." He kissed my forehead. "I'm guilty of falling in love with a woman way out of my league. I'm guilty of being selfish of putting her, and our sons, above everyone else. I'm guilty of wanting to kill anyone who wishes you harm. I'm guilty of wanting to destroy anything or anyone who brings tears into these beautiful eyes." 

"I'm a corrupt police officer, because despite your confession of your crimes, I won't arrest you. In fact, I'm going to reward you for your crimes." I pulled him down onto the bed and he lay almost on top of me. My hands were on his shoulders and we were staring into each other's eyes. 

He began to slowly unbutton my shirt- his shirt, before leaning down to press his mouth against mine in the hottest kiss of my life. "I love you more than life itself, Fariha Zafar." 

"I love you too. So, so much, Zafar." 

And he proved to me how much he truly loved me, as he made passionate love to me. 

We were truly blessed to have a love like this.

****

The smell of jasmine flowers was strong as a loud knock on the door brought me back to earth. I was curled up in Zafar's arms, and we both had been blissfully sleeping after a beautiful lovemaking session. We'd needed this. A 'quick one' hadn't been enough anymore.

"Fariha? Zafar?" Ammi Jaan's voice came through, followed by the sound of Zaid crying.

"Allah! Zaid!" I jumped up from the bed, panicking. "Coming, Ammi Jaan!" 

Welcome to parenthood. 

I quickly pulled on my discarded kameez shalwar, using the torch light of my phone, and then headed to the door. As I opened it, Ammi Jaan stood there, looking sleepy as Zaid cried at the top of his lungs.

"He wouldn't stop crying." My mother-in-law told me, almost looking guilty.

"I'm so sorry, Ammi Jaan. You go back to sleep. I'll take care of him." I gave her a small smile as I took my baby son from her. After she left, I closed the door and turned on the main light, before walking over to the bed. "Zafar?" 

My eyes widened as I saw why there had been such a strong smell of jasmine everywhere.  During our passionate session, my ghajray had scattered and the bed was covered with the beautiful scented flowers. There was even one in Zafar's hair, as he slept peacefully.

"Zafar, Zaid ko sambhal lain, maine shower lena hai." I told him. 

*"Zafar, take care of Zaid, I need to have a shower." 

I hated to wake him up, but I couldn't feed my baby without a shower for hygiene purposes. 

The poor husband of mine was so tired that it took six or seven times of me calling his name loudly before he even moved. 

"Romantic time over. Time to be parents again." I said, handing him our son as he sat up.

"What did you do on the bed, Fari?" He held up a jasmine flower as he cuddled our baby son against his broad chest. He smiled teasingly at me and gave me a wink.

Cheeks warming up again, I grabbed fresh clothes and headed for the bathroom.

****

Ahad

"What's up, bro?" I slapped Arhaan Bhai on the back as I entered the kitchen to get some water.

He looked at me. "Sadia and I will be flying to Karachi tomorrow, with the boys." 

"That's great. You guys can really use the break." I grabbed a small mineral water bottle from the fridge. "So why do you look like your cat just died?" 

"I've been thinking things lately, Ahad." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

I frowned in concern. My older brother always had a tendency to suffer in silence. While Jazzy and I expressed ourselves quite clearly, Bhai was the silent one.

"Is there even a point in trying?" He asked, almost to himself. 

"Don't say that, Bhai." I said, quietly.

"I don't think she's going to change." He shook his head. "She's hurt so many people, people that I care about. She's said unforgivable things, Ahad."

"At least give her one more chance." I said. 

"I was willing to." He laughed sarcastically. "Instead she decided to suddenly leave for Karachi tomorrow, after I had told her that I wanted to hang out with Fawad because they'll be leaving in a couple of days. I wanted to try and salvage some of our old friendship, but clearly that is unacceptable for her." 

I knew how important his friendship was with Fawad Bhai. The two had been the Troublesome Twins, known throughout our social circle. They were always together, always up to no good. And they even completed their education together. They were best friends, almost brothers. 

Until Sadia Bhabi had messed with Jazzy and Hania. 

"Do whatever you feel is right, Bhai." I said. I wasn't as good as advice as he was, but I tried. "If it doesn't feel right to leave for Karachi tomorrow, then don't go. Talk to Bhabi, she'll have to understand for the sake of your mental wellbeing. I know you hate how your friendship with Fawad Bhai has turned out, and I know that you really want to fix it, so do it. I'm not saying that you should not worry about your marriage, but Fawad Bhai isn't just your best friend anymore, but he's our brother-in-law, and it's important for you to fix your issues with him as well as with Bhabi." 

And I knew that if he didn't take this opportunity to work on fixing his dosti (friendship), he was going to feel really guilty. 

He nodded. "You're right. I'm still shocked when you say something wise, Ahad." 

I laughed. "Get used to it, bro." Before I headed out, I looked over my shoulder. "I think he still has a great deal of respect for your friendship, Bhai. He took a difficult step by sending Hania and Jazzy to stay the night over here, despite everything. It's time for you to take a step forward as well." 

He looked lost in thoughts as I exited the kitchen. If he didn't follow my advise, I'll have know choice but to work together with Jazzy to sort the issues out for them. These two were acting like kids now, seriously. 

****

Fawad

Another unusually warm day, and I was sitting on the ground in front of my mother in the garden, having oil rubbed in my hair. Yes, I still do that whenever I visit Lahore because I find a lot of peace in it. A mother's hands truly has magic. 

Jasmina stood by Hania's play area, watching our daughter run around, having the time of her life. Papa sat nearby, reading a newspaper and enjoying a cup of tea. 

I was getting sleepy because of the head massage.

"Meri wajah se abhi tak itne thick baal hain tumhare, Ma Sha Allah!" Ammi said, fondly, before she lightly slapped the back of my head. "Warna tumne to kasam khaiye hui hai apna khayal na rakhne ki. Woh to Jasmina ki wajah se mujhe tasali rehti hai, warna meri fikar se jaan hi nikal jaati ke tum kaise apna khayal rakhte ho."

*"Because of me your hair is still so thick, Ma Sha Allah."
"Otherwise, it's like you have sworn not to look after yourself. With Jasmina, I feel relaxed, otherwise I would have been worried sick about how you look after yourself."

How do mothers make head massage into an emotional monologue?

Mina must have heard that because she turned to smile at me. 

"Ma Sha Allah, thirty-three saal ka hai, surgeon hai. Bacha na banao use, Fatima." Papa also smiled, his gaze still on the paper.

*"Ma Sha Allah, he's thirty-three, he's a surgeon. Don't treat him like a child, Fatima." 

"He'll always be a kid to me." Ammi said. "And Fariha as well." Her fingers froze. "Hania, be careful, my love!"

I opened my eyes and saw Hania lying on the grass, clearly fallen over. She was giggling, Mina was smiling and even I found it amusing, but my parents looked almost terrified. Grandparents.

Papa relaxed first, but Ammi continued to look worried.

"Ammi, even Hani is laughing. Relax." I told her, chuckling. 

Mina turned to look in our direction, smiling again, but then her smile faltered as she saw something behind us. I turned to look and was surprised to see Arhaan walking towards us.

"Assalam Alaikum." He said, politely and respectfully.

"Walaikum Assalam!" We all replied.

"R'aan!" Hania cried out, rushing up to him with her arms held out.

During our stay in Lahore, she kept coming up with new names for her relatives.

"Meri gudiya." Arhaan lifted her up in his arms and kissed her cheek. She began tugging at his beard as usual.

*"My doll."

"Come, sit with us, Arhaan. It's been such a long time." Ammi smiled at him. 

"Actually, Aunty, I would like to talk to Fawad, if that's okay?" Arhaan looked at me.

I looked at him, confused.

"Hania, come on. Mamu needs to talk to Papa." Mina said to our daughter, and Arhaan set Hania down. My wife was smiling, clearly happy about seeing her brother here to talk to me.

I stood up. "Fine. Let's go and talk." 

****

Will Arhaan and Fawad be able to fix their friendship before the Fawad family leaves?

Thoughts and comments?

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