I saw the promo and started crying so bad. I need some distraction.

Listen to "Mai haar gaya"

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"Mustafa yaar theek ho tum?"

His head was bowed, hiding his face from Sharjeena, the very side he got slapped onto. More than the slap, his parent's mistrust hurt him.

He closed his eyes shaking off the emotions that seem to engulf him, he always had avoided confrontation, never talked back to his parents, but this was the first time he stood up for himself, "Mai loser hu, irresponsible hu, theek hai thoda careless bhi hu. Magar chor nhi hu..."

He felt a soft hand on his shoulder, "Mujhe maaloum hai. I trust you".

Trust... his mother who gave birth to him didn't trust him, the brother whom he looked upto all his life didn't care about him and his father for whom he gave up his entire salary slapped him without even listening to him. 

"Kyun?"

Sharjeena sighed feeling his pain, the bubbly Mustafa was gone.  She had never seen him this affected, and honestly she felt it was so unjust that Iftikhar slapped his own son. 

"Kyuki main tumhe jaanti hu, aur tum loser nahi ho, mera dil jeeta hai tumne. Na tum irresponsible ho, tumhe meri aur mere ghar waalon ki qadar hai. Sach kahu Mustafa mai jab udaas hoti hu toh kisiko pata nhi chalta, lekin tumhe meri fikar hai. You aren't careless."

Mustafa let out a bitter chuckle, his eyes still closed as he absorbed Sharjeena's words. "Dil jeetna... it sounds nice, but kaash ghar walon ka bhi jeet sakta," he muttered, his voice heavy with disappointment.

"Mujhe laga tha tumhe in baaton se faraq nhi padhta tha..." 

He shook his head hiding his face, his eyes from her, he didn't wanted to look at the pitiful look in her eyes, "Padhta hai, insaan hu mai, wo alag baat hai k mai dikhata nahi. Sharjeena Ammi Abbu ko lagta hai k chukey mai awaaragiri karta tha, chori bhi karsakta hu. Unhe lagta hai mujhe koi farakh nahi padhta, lekin mujhe unki baatein humesha chubti hai. Adeel ke pasand ka khaana banatey hai, Adeel ki biwi ka kamra sajatey hain, Adeel Adeel Adeel... har koi Adeel ke peechey hai, mere peechey koi hai hi nahi."

Sharjeena's eyes became moist, as she softly caressed his head, "Meri taraf dekho.."

He faced her, and she saw the tears falling down his eyes, the humiliating redness on the side of his cheek, "Kya kaha tha tumne? Mai beech raaste par chodta nahi doston ko, tumhe kyun lagta hai ki mai tumhe chodungi. Mustafa mai hu yaar tumhare saath."

He laughed softly, "Sharjeena be practical, mai road par sounga toh tum bhi mere saath waha rahogi?"

She nodded, "Tum jaha jaogey mai tumhare jaongi," she held his hand, "Haath pakadkar."

Mustafa stared at her for a moment, searching her eyes, trying to comprehend the depth of her loyalty. His heart ached, caught between disbelief and a flicker of hope. "Sharjeena, tum pagal ho," he whispered, his voice laced with a mix of sadness and awe.

Sharjeena smiled softly, her grip on his hand tightening as if to reassure him she wasn't going anywhere. "Haan, ho sakta hai," she replied with a small laugh. "Tumne mujhe zindagi jeena sikhaya hai yaar... aur maine sochliya hai ke aagey ki zindagi kahi bhi ho chahey road par ho, woh tumharey saath jeeyungi."

Her words hit him like a wave. In a world where his own family seemed to doubt him, here was someone willing to stand by him, no matter what. But the bitterness from years of neglect and comparison to his brother Adeel had built a wall around his heart—a wall he wasn't sure anyone could break.

"Par Sharjeena... kitna waqt tak? Tumhari family kya kahegi? Tumhe yeh sab bardasht nahi karna chahiye. Mere liye apni zindagi kyun muskhil banane ka iraada hai tumhara?" His voice was quiet, almost pleading. He couldn't understand why she would choose him, of all people—someone who felt like a failure in his own eyes.

She leaned closer, looking straight into his eyes with a seriousness he had rarely seen in her. "Isliye kyun ke tum mere liye zaroori ho, Mustafa. Mohabbat karti hu yaar tumse mai." Her voice was steady, unwavering. "Tum apne aapko itna chhota mat samjho. Tum sirf apne ghar walon ki nazar se apni value dekh rahe ho.  Meri aankhon se khudko dekho tum. Tumhe yeh samajhna hoga ke tumhari ahmiyat sirf unke faislon pe nahi tiki hui."

He had spent so long trying to win his family's approval that he had forgotten to value himself for who he was. He had defined himself by their perceptions—irresponsible, careless, a failure in comparison to Adeel. But now, Sharjeena was offering him a perspective that felt foreign yet strangely comforting.

He exhaled, the heaviness in his chest slowly lifting, though not completely. "Mere andar itni insecurity hai ke kabhi kabhi lagta hai k mai khud bhi apna dushman ban gaya hoon."

Sharjeena sighed, "Mustafa restart karey?"

"Kya matlab?"

"Matlab ek nayi shuruat karte hai, apna ghar banatey hai, jaha koi Adeel ya Rubab ka saya na ho. Saari negtivity ko bahar phekte hain, I know woh tumhare parents hai but unko tumhari ahmiyat nahi hain, phir kyun unke peechey zindagi kharab karey?"

He wiped his tear and nodded, "Apne Abba ko mat batana ye baat. Unke nazron me bhi mai gir jaunga..."

"Nahi bataungi aur bata bhi diya toh woh kabhi nahi maanenge ke tum chor hosakte ho. You know my always liked you more than Adeel, bas tumhari family andhi hai."

"Mujhe ab samajh aagya hai, insaan ki ahmiyat uske paise se hoti hai. Mujhe itna paise kamane ki zaroorat hai, takay mai apne ghar walon ko dikhau ki mai bhi kuch ban sakta hoon."

 He exhaled deeply, feeling a small spark of hope ignite within him. "Mai tumhare qaabil banna chahta hoon, Sharjeena."

Sharjeena's eyes softened, and without a word, she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him in a gentle, yet firm embrace. Mustafa felt her warmth seep through the cold layers of his heart, and for a moment, the weight of his insecurities and the sting of rejection seemed to fade away. Her embrace was a lifeline, a tangible assurance that he wasn't alone in this struggle.

As she held him, Mustafa's shoulders relaxed, and he buried his face in the crook of her neck. He could feel her heartbeat, steady and reassuring, a rhythm that seemed to sync with the uncertain beats of his own. Her touch was soothing, the kind that made him feel safe despite the chaos of his thoughts. The world outside seemed to blur into insignificance; in this moment, it was just the two of them, cocooned in a fragile sense of hope.

"Thank you... "

"Mustafa, the most beautiful thing about you is how you care about others, how you strive to be better. That's what makes you truly special. And that's why I'm here with you, for all the days to come," Sharjeena held him tightly, her own tears mixing with the fabric of his clothes. She whispered softly, her breath warm against his ear, "Jab mujhe madad ki zaroorat thi tumne apna haath badhaya tha, ab mai tumhe kaise akele chod sakti hu."

He finally pulled back slightly, looking into her eyes, which were now brimming with unshed tears. He saw the love and faith she had in him, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a spark of self-worth igniting within him.

"I promise, I'll work hard to be the person who is deserving of you," he said, his voice more resolute now.

Sharjeena smiled through her tears, "Mustafa you're deserving of me."

___

"Do hafte yahi adjust karna padega", Mustafa showed her the house.

He sighed, "Sharjeena tumhe tumhare Abbu k ghar chod du?"

She glared at him, "Jooti khaaogey?"

He laughed, his hands pulling his ears, "Nahi nahi".

"Chalo fir safayi mai lag jao."

Sharjeena directed him inside the house, "Yes Madam", holding a broom.

___

Sharjeena stood outside her husband's house feeling the rage bubbling in her, she didn't say anything then, but she couldn't stop herself now.They had mistreated her, but it didn't hurt her because it was her in law's house. Now they hurt her husband, Mustafa didn't deserve it. She saw the lost look in his eyes.

As Mustafa's mother, Shagufta, and his father, Iftikhar, emerged into the living room, their expressions were a mix of surprise and irritation. Sharjeena's eyes were fierce, her resolve clear.

She began, her voice steady and firm, "I need to talk to you about Mustafa."

Shagufta raised an eyebrow, her demeanor cold. "What is it now? Haven't you caused enough trouble?"

Sharjeena's eyes narrowed, her voice gaining strength. "Trouble? Is that what you call it when someone stands up for themselves? Mustafa is not a thief or a loser. He's a man who's been constantly undermined by all of you."

Iftikhar's face hardened, but Sharjeena pressed on, her words cutting through the tension. "You slapped him today. You questioned his integrity and his worth. But let me ask you something—Kya woh aapka beta hai ya sadak se uthaya hai? Maa Baap toh bacchon ki galityon ko chupatey hai, aur Mustafa ne koi galti ki bhi nhi phir bhi aapne usse thappad maara. Itne patthar dil maa baap nhi ho saktey?"

Her voice grew sharper, fueled by the injustice she had witnessed. "Uncle, aapke illaj k liye usne apni puri salary dedi, phir bhi aap log kehte hain k Adeel ne aapki jaan bachayi. Wahi Adeel jo aapke ek call nahi utha raha tha, wahi Adeel jo apne biwi ke paison se aapka ilaaj karne aaya tha, khudke nhi apni biwi k paise. Ek aur baat mere  paison se sabzi nahi aasakti magar Rubaba ke paison se ghar chal sakta hai?"

Shagufta's face flushed with anger, her voice rising. "Aye ladki, humne tum par itne ahsan kiye aur tum humse zubaan chala rahi ho!"

Sharjeena's laughter was bitter, but her gaze remained unflinching. "Ahsan aapne nahi, Mustafa ne kiya tha. Aur aaj jo usse thappad pada hai, usse use takleef hui hai, uske aankhon mai aansuon aaye hai. Aapko Mustafa chor lagta hai?  Aap apne khudke bacchon ko samajh nahi paaye. You failed as parents."

Shagufta's hand lifted, and her voice was laced with a threatening edge. "Mustafa ne kuch nahi kiya magar mujhpar haath uthaaya toh case kardungi. I know aapko paison aur apni izzat kitni pyaari hai."

Sharjeena's eyes flashed with resolve as she picked up her bag. "And I know very well that you value money and status more than your own son. But if you ever lay a hand on him again, or continue to treat him like he's less than he is, I will not hesitate to take action. He deserves better, and I'm here to make sure he gets it. Mustafa is not alone in this fight. Mai uske saath hu."