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*

'Romeo, save me, they're tryna tell me how to feel,

This love is difficult, but it's real...

Don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess,

It's a love story, baby, just say 'Yes'.'

'Love Story' - Taylor Swift

*

Rehan

I lay on my back on my bed back at home, flicking through the photos of Anabia in Times Square. Her happiness was radiating as brightly as a lighthouse provides light for sailors in a dark, moonless night.

But her expressions at JFK airport were the exact opposite. There was deep, immeasurable sadness in her eyes.

I tossed my phone aside and folded my arms under my head. 

*

"How is this your luggage for barely two days?" I asked Anya in disbelief as I lifted her luggage onto the trolley.

"These are necessities!" She protested.

"How many of these 'necessities' are books?" I grinned, knowingly.

"Books are necessities too." She shrugged. "What if I'm bored and my phone stops working?" 

I laughed, shaking my head at her. "Is Saim coming?" 

"Nope. Even better." She replied.

Hareem Jamshed was standing right at the exit, holding a small banner that read: Welcome Home Anabia!!!!!

"Weren't you just gone for two days?" I glanced down at my wife as we walked side by side.

"For best friends, it might as well be two decades." Anabia simply replied, as she rushed to meet Hareem. 

The two hugged each other like...well, like it had been two decades.

I approached them, amused. "Wow." 

"Assalam Alaikum, Rehan Bhai!" Hareem grinned at me, her arm through Anya's. "Thank you for bringing her back safely and soundly. She has a tendency of getting hurt when she's abroad."

Anya rolled her eyes. "Quit exaggerating, Harry."

"Fractured wrist in Rome, twisted ankle in Paris, broken heart in Lahore when you thought that you and your bae author could never be...oof." Hareem groaned as Anya lightly elbowed her in the stomach.

I just chuckled as my wife's cheeks turned a beautiful shade of pink.

"BHAI!" Yasin's voice made me turn and I saw him running up to me, followed by a wary looking family driver. My little brother came and threw his arms around me. "I missed you, Bhai."

"I missed you too, kid." I kissed the top of his head. He had insisted that he would come and collect me.

"Bhabi!" An excited smile appeared on Yasin's face as he handed her a bouquet of yellow daffodils. "Mum sent this, not me. Mum doesn't think it's appropriate for me to be giving you flowers." 

Anya took the bouquet from him. "Thank you, Yasin. Yasin, this is my best friend, Hareem. Hareem, this is my dewar, Yasin." 

"Hey." Hareem greeted him, politely.

"Hi." Yasin said, almost shyly, before turning to me. "Shall we go?"

"Yes, Yas." I nodded at him, before glancing at Anya.

The cheerfulness had disappeared from her face, and she stared down at the ground, biting her lower lip.

"Yasin, mate, come here for a sec." Faisal called out to my brother. "I took a photo in New York that I think that you'll like." 

Yasin immediately walked over to him.

"I'll be somewhere there." Hareem pointed in the general direction of the exit, before walking a few feet away.

I moved closer and engulfed Anabia in a hug, tightly holding onto her. "It'll be fine, In Sha Allah."

"It's not fair." She sniffed against my chest.

"I know, but remember, patience in hardship brings nothing but rewards." I kissed her forehead. "I love you, and I'm here for you no matter when or where. We're not separated. It's just something that you need to do, remember that."

*

Anabia

"We're not separated. It's just something that you need to do, remember that." Rehan's words echoed in my mind as I leaned my head against the window of the car.

I'd barely woken up from my post-flight nap, when Laila and Hareem had practically dragged me to the car. I had no idea where they were taking me, but I did not have the energy to fight them off.

Mama had greeted me coldly, but at least she hadn't pushed me out of her house.

Hareem drove us, blasting the air-conditioning up high against the unusually warm British summer. "I wish we had a convertible. How could would that be?" 

"A cousin of mine has it." Laila shook her head. "It's overrated. I get a headache every time I ride in an open-top one." 

"What's Saim up to?" I hadn't seen my terror twin since I had returned.

"Working. He had to do overtime due to some severe technical problem in an aircraft bound for the Far East." Laila explained.

"So, about that psychiatrist?" Hareem spoke. "Shahzaib's brother? Is he helping Aunty out?" 

"Emaad Bhai?" Laila asked. "I'm not sure yet, to be honest. I think he'd rather have Aunty voluntarily turn to him, than to get some sneaky counselling done. He says it's easier when the person is willing to open up, and it's also more respectful." 

"Shahzaib was such a bad boy wannabe. I have to admit, because of him, I was wary of Emaad." Hareem glanced in the side-view mirror before changing lanes.

"Where are we going?" I asked for at least the fifth time.

Neither of them replied, but both were smiling.

I shook my head, knowing it was pointless to even waste my energy. Hareem, I had known forever, but I'd also known Laila since school days. Both were good at surprises, because neither of them even gave a hint, unless they wanted to.

And when we arrived at our destination, a nostalgic feeling stabbed at my heart. 

Virginia Water Lake. 

We used to come here for picnics with our school, during the post-exams summer period. Mama and Gul Aunty, as well as Hareem's sisters, had also often brought me and Hareem here. It was a huge park, with walking trails, hiking in shallow woods, and a path around the lake that could be used for biking or walking, which is around four to five miles long.

"Oh my God, the memories..." I whispered.

"We thought you could do with an outing in a place like this." Laila told me, softly placing a hand on my upper arm. 

Hareem took out a picnic basket from the car boot. "Let's do this, ladies."

"You guys really didn't have to." I said.

"Yeah, we did. We are sort of bound to do things to cheer you up, out of sisterhood." Laila replied. "We had no choice, unfortunately." She grinned at me.

"So, if you had a choice, you wouldn't do this for me?" 

"Nope." Hareem instantly shook her head. "We all have better things to do with our lives." She had recently got a job in marketing for a major online delivery company, and these days she had part-time hours which were work from home. In August she was going to start full time hours in an office.

I shoved her lightly, as they both laughed.

"How was New York?" Hareem's eyes sparkled mischievously. "I bet Rehan Bhai was really happy that you joined him so spontaneously." 

My cheeks warmed as I felt his muscular body pressed against mine as he kissed my neck and shoulders. "You have no idea what it means to me that you're here, Anya."

They both cackled seeing my expressions, high-fiving each other.

"Stop being annoying." I muttered, grumpily.

"So, what did you bring for us?" Hareem asked. "A keychain? A pen? A baby?" 

"Hareem!" I slapped her arm as Laila burst out laughing.

Flames of embarrassment seemed to be spreading across my cheeks as I increased my speed, walking ahead of them. The late afternoon sun was reflecting beautifully on the water of the lake, and it created serenity in me, the kind that I had been yearning for. Families had blankets spread around the lake and were laughing and chatting as they ate. Kids ran around screaming and chasing each other. Bikers rode past on the trail, while dog walkers strolled leisurely, basking in the beautiful summer sunshine and breeze. There were some couples as well, lost too much in each other to look around at the natural beauty surrounding them. Or maybe, the natural beauty just increased the romance between them.

"Okay, I'm sorry." Hareem caught up to me, sliding her arm through mine. 

We spread out a blanket in a less busier part, and sat down. 

Hareem took out sandwiches, and cake slices, as well as juice bottles and disposable glasses. "I made the sandwiches and Laila made the cake slices."

A gentle breeze tugged at my hair, and I glanced towards the lake again. It was so beautiful that I couldn't stop staring. Here, it was hard to believe that fear and negativity existed. Here, I could only imagine the world as bright and cheerful.

I had to admit, it was nice to be out with the girls. 

And then I glanced towards the ruins on the other side, and I smiled as I remembered one particular school trip.

*

"I wonder what used to be here." I walked around in wonder around the ruins, my eyes widened in awe.

"Twin siblings, a boy and a girl, had an argument in which they destroyed the place." Saim suggested helpfully, tugging at my braid.

"I'm sure it was the brother's fault." I grinned at him.

"Yeah, brothers suck." Hareem added. "Always causing damage and destruction."

"Faiz Bhai is so nice, though. Unlike Saim." I stuck my tongue out at my twin.

Saim had a cheeky grin on his face as he unscrewed the lid of his coke. "COKE SHOWER!" He yelled.

I shrieked and ran away. "No! Saim!" 

He chased me, and Hareem chased him in an attempt to stop him. It was hilarious, actually.

Too bad that the teachers were not amused.

*

"It has been nice to come out here, right?" Laila asked me.

"Yeah. I don't know if this will make any sense, but I find such safety, comfort and happiness in some childhood memories. I want to lock myself in those memories because they provide me with so much positivity."

"But that's life, Anabia. It always gives you moments to be happy, to smile, even in the most difficult of times." She said. "When Allah gives us hardships, He also finds a way to give us support and strength. For you, it's the people who love you."

"Frankly speaking, Laila, this isn't even a hardship compared to what other people suffer in this world. I feel ungrateful. But what can I do? I'm hurting." Tears filled my eyes again. "I'm so confused, and this is all so difficult." 

My friends, in a way my sisters, hugged me from each side as I silently sobbed.

Mama's coldness and aloofness was unbearable to me, and no matter how hard my poor friends worked, the cheerfulness was temporary for me until I earned back my mother's support.

*

Saim

I came to my mother's house and saw Mama come out of the living room, looking worried. "Assalam Alaikum. Aren't the girls back yet?" 

"Walaikum Assalam. They're having dinner at a restaurant." She replied.

"I'll be upstairs in my old room until they are back." I muttered, heading towards the stairs.

"Are you mad at me?" She asked.

"You are being unfair and unjust to my sister. You are letting your fear ruin her life." I headed back downstairs and walked towards her. "I know you're my mother, but she's my twin. I am a hundred percent with her on this." 

"It was out of the blue, you know?" She whispered, walking into the living room.

"What was?" I followed her inside.

"Your father's...betrayal. There were no signs, no clues. He acted like a caring husband, a loving father." Her voice broke. "I never saw it coming." 

"Look, Mama. There's no doubt about the fact that that man has lost his morals, or he never had them in the first place." I sat down beside her on the sofa, taking her hand in mine. The wrinkles on them saddened me, as I realised that she was aging, and yet her mind was constantly jumbled in anxiety and fear...for me and Anabia. "But not all men are like him, and not all marriages end up a disaster." I paused. "I want you to talk to Emaad. He can help you through this fear. He himself has offered to help you." 

"You told him?"

"I just told him that you are letting your fear overpower you." I spoke gently and softly to her. "Mama, imagine if Anabia ends her marriage, and you later found out that your reservations about her marriage had been wrong? How will you feel then?" 

She didn't reply, but I saw the sadness on her face. 

"Mama, you supported yourself, me and Anabia." I continued. "If there's even the slightest of chance that your worry is justified, then she has me, Laila, Hareem, but most of all, you to support her. Either way, Anabia has a lot of people to love and support her. Ma Sha Allah. So, let go of those fears and let her have a chance."

"Letting go of fears is not that easy, my sweet boy." She whispered. "But, I am willing to allow Emaad to help me."

"Good. That's the best first step." I kissed her temple. "Ana and I love you so, so much. This is why she is agreeing to everything, Mama. She doesn't want to lose you. We've already lost Papa, but neither of us can afford to lose you."

"I can't afford to lose you both either, Saim." 

"Then let us help you through this, okay?" 

She nodded.

Don't ever lose patience with her, Saim. Talk to her with love and affection, because her love and affection is causing her to react this way. She has no ulterior motives, unlike Mr Zohaib Waleed. She's just scared, and is being misguided by her fear. But family takes care of each other through fear, and that's what me and Anabia will do.

*

Anabia

I opened my eyes, turning over to lie on my back, as morning light spilled in through the cracks in the curtain. 

"Good morning." 

Surprised, I looked to my right and my eyes widened when I saw Rehan lying there on his side, propped up on an elbow, staring at me with a smile. "What are you doing here?" 

He lifted my hand up, pressing our palms together as our fingers intertwined. "What do you think I'm doing here?" His morning look was so s*xy. Ma Sha Allah. The light beard, the ruffled hair, the bare torso...

I smiled back at him. His eyes reflected so much adoration, so much warmth. The sunlight reflected in them reminded me of warm melted chocolate. "Rehan..." I leaned over to hug him...

...and almost got a heart attack as I almost fell off the side of my bed, eyes flying open. I groaned as blood rushed towards my head, as I hung halfway from the bed, my pony swinging down the side of my face. I sat up, closing my eyes tightly as the room started to spin in front of my eyes due to the sudden blood rush.

Disappointed that it was only a dream, I dragged myself out of bed and towards the bathroom. 

Around twenty minutes later, I made my way downstairs, yawning. I could smell coffee and parathas, and my stomach rumbled with hunger. "Assalam Alaikum, Mama."

"Walaikum Assalam." Mama put a freshly made paratha on a plate from the tawa, and smiled at me. "You came just in time." She handed the plate over to me.

*Tawa: flat, round pan.

I sat down at the kitchen table, ready to eat.

"I know that you feel like I'm your enemy." Mama set a mug of coffee in front of me, before taking a seat opposite me.

"If I felt that way, I wouldn't be here." 

"A few days of pain is better than a lifetime of pain, Anabia." She spoke gently, putting her hand on mine. "All I wanted to do was to protect you from that lifetime of pain, my love." She took a deep breath. "Your brother's friend, Emaad, I will be speaking to him for professional help. I need to learn to control my fear, and to not let it control me."

"Mama, the two days I spent in New York with Rehan gave me so much happiness. It made me realise how important he is to me. My lifetime happiness is linked to him, not pain. I'm happy. Alhumdulillah."

She stared thoughtfully at the table.

"Life has no guarantees, Mama. We never know which of our choices will give us happiness, and which will give us pain, but many times we have to go in blindly, trusting our instincts to guide us to the right choice, but more importantly, trusting Allah to do what's best for us." 

She squeezed my hand, pursing her lips as if fighting back tears.

"You think I will be punished for my father's deeds, as a Makafat-e-Amal for him. What if, instead, you are rewarded for your patience and strength by seeing me happy in my life, as well as Saim? In Sha Allah."

She looked thoughtful. 

"I'm glad you have decided to talk to Emaad Bhai. Trust me, Mama, it's wrong to stigmatised mental health, whereas it should be looked after just as much as physical health, if not more." 

She placed a hand on my cheek. "Go."

"Go where?" 

"Home." She sighed. "These are your newly married days. These days should be spent with you both building up your relationship and your bond, not in appeasing me."

"We need to appease you because we need your duas."

"Anabia, no matter what, my duas will remain with you like a shadow, anyway. A mother can be angry, or upset, but her heart will constantly wish for the best for her kids." 

"Are you okay with us now?"

"No, meri jaan. Fear doesn't just vanish. I'm going to need professional help to get rid of it, or at least to help me overpower it." Her eyes brimming with tears. "I just never want you, or Saim, to feel the pain that I've felt, Anabia. May Allah protect you both, and your spouses, from the wicked intentions and actions of the devil. Ameen."

*

My senior managers begged me to come for overtime that evening due to staff shortage.

*Reality based. Where I work, we can be called anytime, even during holidays. We are not obliged to accept, but they don't stop asking.

I decided that I would go straight home-to mine and Rehan's home- from work, and would probably buy a bouquet of roses from M & S. 

And I was in such a happy mood that even a bunch of argumentative idiots on the flights did not annoy me.

"Anabia, I'm so tempted to give them the middle finger and just walk off, sometimes." Raj, a fellow duty manager shook his head, as we both stood next to each other, observing check-in.

"Sometimes? You mean most of the times." I shook my head.

And that's when I saw him. 

Standing by the terminal entrance doors, shoulders hunched, stood Zohaib Waleed, staring my way.

"I'll be right back, Raj." I told my colleague, who nodded, his focus on a passenger who seemed to be getting agitated over something.

I walked over to the terminal entrance, a professional look on my face. "What are you doing here?" 

"It's an airport, a public place." 

"For passengers. And people seeing them off. You should not be hanging around the airport like it's a park." I pointed out.

"How do you know that I am not travelling?" He straightened up to his full height, which wasn't really much a difference from mine.

"If you are travelling, check in and move along. Why are you standing here, observing me?" I snapped.

"Why can't a father watch his daughter work? It's a proud moment for me to see you in such a powerful position, Anabia."

I rolled my eyes and turned to walk away, but he grabbed my wrist in a tight grip. "Let me go." I hissed at him.

"I want to talk to you."

"Let me go!" I whirled around. "I will call security. Don't create a scene."

"You are the one creating a scene! I just want to talk to you!" 

I shook my head. "Don't do this. This is my workplace. Don't embarrass me." 

He took a deep breath, as if to calm himself down. "Anabia, my dear, I just want to talk to you. Look, my family and I are struggling. We are in serious debt. If you can help me out a little. My young daughters can't be homeless, right?" 

My mouth literally dropped open in disbelief. "Are you serious?" 

"Deny it or not, but I am your father, Anabia. And you have a duty towards your parents..."

Was I dreaming again? Was I hallucinating? Was this actually happening? "You need help. Serious professional help." I turned away again, but this time his reaction was rough. He released my wrist and slightly shoved me. I stumbled in my heels, but was fortunately able to keep my balance. "Sharmeen was right. You are a gold-digger, obsessed with the money. You accused me of treating you like a business deal, and what did you do? You did exactly the same thing and married an older guy, simply for his wealth." He spat out onto the floor. "I cannot believe that you are my blood."

Don't let his words get to you.

Raj had jogged over. "Excuse me, is there a problem?" He glared at my father.

"I'm her father, stay out of this." Zohaib Waleed snapped.

"This is her workplace. She's not your daughter here. She's a duty manager for this airline, a colleague of mine, and we have zero tolerance policy for assault or abuse against our staff." Raj said. He glanced at me. "Are you okay, Anabia?" 

Zohaib Waleed walked out, muttering under his breath.

"Can I get you anything?" Raj asked. "Shall I call the security?" 

I shook my head. "No. But I need to go, Raj." 

*

Saim

"Saim?"

"What's up, Ana?" I answered, before I felt that something was off about her voice. "What's wrong?" 

"I'm in a lot of pain." 

"What? What happened?! Did you hurt yourself? Were you in an accident?" I jumped to my feet, and my colleagues glanced at me, startled.

"I can't tolerate it anymore. It's too much." She started sobbing.

"Whoa! Hey, easy, okay? Tell me where you are. I'm coming." I felt an icy grip of fear around my heart. "Ana, don't do anything rash, okay? Please tell me where you are."

"He came to my workplace."

"Who?" I raced towards the staff break room. 

"Zohaib Waleed."

My blood froze inside me. "What did that b*****d do now?" 

The call ended abruptly.

"Anabia! ANABIA!" I yelled, attempting to dial her number again with my shaking fingers. I couldn't thing straight. My twin was hurting badly, and God knows where she was. If anything happened to her, I will be guilty of patricide, no doubt. As I was losing my mind with worry, she messaged me.

<Anabia: Don't worry. I won't do anything drastic. I just can't talk right now. But, Saim, I feel like a punchbag. On one side is Mama, and on the other is Papa, and they both are taking turns to hit me until there's nothing left inside me anymore.>

My heart actually broke as I read her words. This has to end. They need to remember that Anabia is a living, breathing human with emotions. One claims that their actions were due to her love for us, and the other does everything for the love of money and wealth.

They don't even realise that this is THEIR battle, and that Anabia was unnecessarily getting crushed in this.

*

Anabia

I sat in my car for a long time, parked in the staff car parking, trying to detangle my jumbled mind. Thoughts and emotions all crashed together, spinning around in an internal tornado. I have to be strong. I have allowed too many people to hurt me. Not anymore.

Parents had a right over our lives because they gave us life, but that does not mean that they completely hijack our lives and used  them for their own benefits and purposes. Even those who had good intentions must realise that the kids have grown up and should allowed to live out their lives responsibility, with guidance from the parents when necessary.

I grabbed my phone and unlocked it.

<Anabia: Where are you?>

As my heart had once again shattered, I had turned to my twin, because he felt my emotions as strongly as I did myself, and who could understand our parental drama better than him?

But I also had a life partner now, the one who I could share anything with.

"I love you, and I'm here for you no matter when or where." Rehan's parting words at the airport returned to my mind.

The message notification on my phone made me glance down at the screen. 

<Rehan: At my parents'. Everything okay?>

I could almost hear him asking me that in his concerned voice.

<Anabia: Yes. Everything's ok.>

I entered his parents' address into my car's GPS, and pulled the car out of the parking space.

*

It took me almost an hour to get there. And when I pulled into the driveway, my eyebrows furrowed together as I saw many cars parked there, with the house brightly lit up by exterior lights. I glanced down at myself. I was in my uniform, wearing flats for driving. A quick look in the rear-view mirror showed the stray locks of hair that had escaped my braid, and my swollen eyes from crying.

They have guests. I really shouldn't go inside like this.

Instead, I got out and strolled around the side of the house, towards the expansive garden. I was too tired to drive all the way back. As I approached the patio desk, I could see inside. Quite a few well-dressed people were gathered in the room, with laughter and chatter and soft classical music pouring out through the open doors. 

What am I doing here? I pulled my blazer around myself. I don't belong here. This isn't my world.

Where did I belong then? I'd been a puppet in the Great Parental War, a soft target for each side to attack. My heart had been slammed around like a football in the FIFA World Cup. I'd been treated like I was just a doll with no emotions, no will of her own.

I saw Rehan, well dressed in formal trousers and a button-down shirt, chatting to glamourous and elegant people of his age group. He was smiling as he talked to them, completely at ease.

My head was hurting, and I just wanted to go somewhere where I could have a bit of a peace of mind. 

I wanted to leave, go away from everyone. I was hurting, and this was in turn hurting people I loved. My pain was contagious. I glanced at Rehan one more time. He didn't need to tolerate all this drama. He deserved peace and a wife who people would accept with him. I smiled sadly as I saw him grin and shake his head at something his friends were saying. I love you, Rehan.

*

Rehan

"He's whipped." My cousin Danish laughed. "I'm just annoyed at you, man. This was a good chance for you to introduce Bhabi to those of us who haven't met her yet."

His wife, Sanaya, the investigative journalist who had helped me find out about Zohaib Waleed and the Chughtai family, shook her head. "You just want to tell her embarrassing stories about Rehan, don't you?" 

"Obviously." Danish took a sip of his lemonade.

I grinned, shaking my head. 

"I'm glad you found such a good one, Rehan." Sanaya said, softly. "Despite the crap surrounding her father, Anabia seems like a gem."

"She is. Ma Sha Allah." I nodded.

A waiter scurried into the room and towards me. "Mr Rehan?" He called out to me quietly.

"Yes?" 

Upon seeing his serious expressions, I followed him out. "What's wrong?"

"Ms Anabia is outside." He told me.

He barely finished the sentence and I raced out. As I came out of the front door, I saw Anabia opening her car door, about to get inside. "Anya!" 

She looked up, wide-eyed. She looked like a beautiful mess, but her appearance didn't bother me. What bothered me was the fact that she looked broken.

I jogged over to her. "Hey, you. Where do you think you are going?" 

She tugged down the left sleeve of her blazer, not meeting my gaze. "Assalam Alaikum." 

"Walaikum Assalam." I frowned. "Where are you going without meeting me?" 

"It seemed like a fancy gathering and I..." She gestured to herself.

"The belle of the ball has just arrived." I placed both hands on her cheeks. 

"Belle? More like hell." She scoffed, shaking her head.

My frown deepened. "Hey, don't say that. Come on. What's wrong?" I took her hand. "Let's go inside."

She shook her head. "I can't go in there." 

"Okay, then why don't we go out there?" I nodded towards the garden, before leading the way there, her hand tightly held in mine.

*

We sat side by side on the bench overlooking the pool. The pool lights made the tears on her cheeks glimmer like precious gems, but the pain in her eyes was so vast that it made me feel like I had personally been targeted by all the sorrow and grief of the world. 

She told me how happy she had been when her mother had finally agreed to start the journey of acceptance. Anya had been ready to come home after work. But then Zohaib Waleed had shown up at her work place, humiliating her and degrading her publicly. 

My jaw was clenched and my hands were in fists by the time she was done. "That b*****d."

Anya was hugging herself, sobbing softly. I got down on my knees in front of her, grabbing her hands. "Anya, do you want to be with me?" 

She nodded.

"We're staying together now, okay? You and me." I whispered softly, squeezing her hands. "Anya, sweetheart, you have done enough for other people. You've been too considerate of those around you. It's time you live your life the way you want to. You're a married adult, not a minor. You can decide how you want to live your life."

"They're my parents, Rehan. Their actions hurt me."

"I know, jaan, I know they do." I sighed. "I have a great deal of regard and respect for your mother, and yes, in her mind, she was protecting you, but somewhere along the way she failed to take your feelings into consideration. She decided what was right for you, and without listening to any arguments or debates, she set her mind on it, determined that you were better off without me. Let's not even begin talking about Mr Zohaib Waleed."

"Shariah gives a huge amount of respect to parents, Anya, but it also greatly emphasises on the importance of Nikah, and of not breaking someone's heart." I continued, lifting her hands to my mouth and kissing them one at a time. "And I'm sorry to say, but I have not seen anything but you being constantly hurt by them, intentionally or unintentionally."

"The things he said about me..."

"Are they true though?" I took my wallet out of my pocket and put it onto her lap. "If it is, here. All yours..." I gave her a soft, fond smile.

She looked up and met my gaze, and then to my surprise, she got up and raced away, holding my wallet. "Okay!" 

"What?" I stood up, staring after her confused.

She giggled. "All mine now." 

I jogged after her. "Give that back."

"No." She shook her head, her eyes finally sparkling with something other than tears. "You gave it to me..."

"Well, yeah, but I didn't think you'd actually take it." I reached for her, but she jumped back with a squeal, running towards the opposite end of the garden, away from the house.

Smiling, I ran after her, easily catching up to her. Wrapping my arms around her, I held her tightly as she shrieked with laughter. "Give that back, Anya." 

"No."

"Rehan?" Mum's voice came from somewhere near the front of the house.

Anya looked at me wide-eyed, a small smile on her face. In that moment, I took the wallet from her with a smirk, and turned to walk away.

"Rehan, beta, where are you?" 

Anya place a finger over her lips, shaking her head as she looked at me almost pleadingly.

"Revenge is sweet." I kissed the tip of her nose and walked away. "Mum, your bahu..." I glanced at my wife over my shoulder, winking.

Mum was standing at the front door. Anya was out of sight at the side of the house. My mother looked confused. "Is Anabia here?" 

"I was talking to her on the phone." Wrapping my arm around my mother's shoulders, I led her inside, before taking my phone out.

<Rehan: Go upstairs and you can get freshened up in my room. If you want to come downstairs, most welcome. Otherwise let me know and I'll have dinner sent up.>

*

The atmosphere was chilled and relaxed, as I sat amongst my cousins and friends. I felt more cheerful now, knowing that Anabia was here, even as a part of me was worried about her.

"Assalam Alaikum." 

We all glanced up towards the doorway, and my heart skipped a beat. Anabia was standing there, now wearing black skinny jeans and a long ankle-length navy blue lace kurta. Her hair hung loose around her face and she had reapplied her make-up. 

"Walaikum Assalam!" Surprised voices greeted her.

"Oh, Anabia!" Mum stood up and walked over to her, immediately pulling her into a hug. "Oh, this son of mine is so sneaky." She glared at me over her shoulder, before turning back to face her bahu. I'm so glad you're here, my darling. We were missing you."

I briefly wondered where she got a change of clothes from, but then I remember that she was about to come home to me after work, so her luggage from New York must have been with her in the car.

"Today you could have asked for a million pounds, and your wish would have been fulfilled." Sanaya teased her husband. "You wanted to meet Bhabi to tell her Rehan stories."

"You will do no such thing." I warned Danish.

Anya greeted everyone, hugging the ladies, before taking a seat beside me.

"Oh, Bhabi...there's so much to talk to you about." Danish began, as everyone laughed, knowing his nature exactly.

*

Anabia

How did I go from feeling that I don't belong, to feeling so accepted?

Feeling better than I had when I arrived here, I headed upstairs after the guests had left.

"...I really don't understand why Anabia is being treated like a human punchbag." Rehan's furious voice made me pause in the hallway. "Saim, I know it's not your fault, man, but this is a joke."

I froze as he voiced out how I'd been feeling: human punchbag.

"She's here with me, don't worry." He continued, and as I entered the room, I saw him pacing the room, speaking on the phone.

I knocked lightly on the door because I didn't want to feel like I'd been eavesdropping.

Rehan turned around, his expressions softening. "As I said, don't worry about Anabia, Saim. We'll talk another time. Allah Hafiz." He ended the call, and our gazes remained locked for a few moments. 

Again, there was a whirlwind of emotions inside me, this time all positive. "You know...I really liked the chocolate mousse." I closed the door and kept facing it because I was unable to control my desire when I looked at him. It wasn't just about his physical hotness. It was more about the amount of love he had shown for me. "It's so hard to find a halal chocolate mousse sometimes."

"It wasn't halal."

I looked at him, my heart sinking. "What?!"

He chuckled. "Just kidding." Then he paused. "Or am I...?"

"Rehan, don't do that to me!" I glared at him.

"Anabia, are you kidding me? You really think I will give you something forbidden in our religion? Or, that anything will be served or given to anyone in this house that's haram?" He grabbed my wrists and pulled me closer. "The only thing haram here are my thoughts towards you right now, except that even they are not technically haram because you and I are bound by Nikah."

I freed my hands from his grasp, snaking my arms around his back instead, reaching up on my tiptoes to rest my chin on his shoulders. I closed my eyes, breathing in his scent, feeling his strong, warm form against mine; a feeling of security and peacefulness radiating from him. 

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"For once...nothing." I replied, kissing the side of his neck.

We rested our foreheads against each other, both of us smiling. The relief of being together again was mutual, but for me it was much more than that. The conflict of emotions that I had been faced with recently, one that had torn me up from the inside, was settling down now. Mama was starting to come around, and I was back with Rehan. I no longer was in the dilemma of having to have to make a choice. 

I was at peace.  Alhumdulillah.

*

The first rays of the morning sun found me sitting at the desk in Rehan's room at the Tariq family home, my fingers running across the keyboard of his laptop. Wearing a yellow tank top and grey cotton trousers, my I remained focused on the laptop screen, even as the gentle sunlight started to submerge me in its golden glow through the narrow gap in the curtains. My hair was up in a bun, kept away from my neck, as I often found it irritating like that.

I had a beautiful, peaceful sleep at night, snuggled in Rehan's arms. We'd woken up for Fajr, and I hadn't slept after that because my mind had suddenly become a city of creativity, with ideas hustling and bustling about, rushing to burst out into words.

I was so focused that I didn't even noticed Rehan walk up behind me until he leaned down to kiss my shoulder and neck. "Good morning. What are you doing, Mrs Rehan?" 

I instantly minimised the page and looked up sheepishly at him. "Is it okay that I borrowed your laptop?"

"No, not okay at all. How dare you?" With a soft chuckle, he kissed the side of my head. "Don't tell me that you're doing one of your training modules at this time of the day?" He straightened up and stretched out.

"I'm writing." I told him, softly.

He froze, staring at me in disbelief. "You're what?" 

"I felt inspired." I shook my head. "It's nothing, just random ideas and..." I trailed off as I saw the grin appearing on his face. "Oh God, Rehan, don't overreact. This is just a bunch of nonsense... nothing at all. Nothing special."

"I better start practicing standing in queues to buy a book on the first day." He walked towards the bathroom.

"I said: no overreaction!" I called out after him, but I couldn't help smiling, before turning back to the laptop. As I lost myself in words again, I felt refreshed. My mind felt free of anxiety and stress. I was finding myself in a different world, far away from my reality, and as I wrote, I smiled to myself.

"Anya?" 

"Hmm?"

"I can't wait to read it." Rehan came back into the room, a towel draped over his left shoulder. 

"You won't be interested. It'll be a love story, not a dark thriller." 

He came over and crouched on the ground beside me. "Anya, you can write about the intricate details of paint drying, and I will be the first one to read it. Just keep on writing. You're very talented, Ma Sha Allah, and I would love to see that talent grow." As he began to stood up, he pressed his mouth against mine and I felt the minty freshness of the toothpaste. 

"I love that toothpaste." I said, randomly.

He laughed. "Oh yeah? Want another taste of it?" 

I giggled as we kissed again. "Where are you going?" 

"To the gym. Want to join me?" He raised a teasing eyebrow at me, knowing very well what my answer was going to be.

"Aww, you and your fantasies, Rehan." I stood up, pressing my hand over his chest. "So cute."

"Aren't you going to see me out?" He asked.

"The gym is literally inside the house. What do you want me to do, walk you to the bedroom door?" I smiled.

"Why not?"

I laughed harder. "Rehan..."

"Fine." He shrugged. "I guess I'll have to walk alone."

"You're so dramatic!" I couldn't stop laughing. "Come on, dear husband, let me walk you out." I slid my arm through his and led him to the bedroom door. As I grinned, he kissed me, pressing me against the door.

It took a few minutes for him to open the door and walk out.

"Shall I wait up for you?" I joked.

His laugh rang out in the hallway. "Keep writing. Don't lose focus. Love you, Anya."

"I love you too." My smile wouldn't leave my face as I watched him walk down the stairs. And as I turned to go back to my room, I saw Nina Aunty standing down the hall, a pleased smile on her face. My cheeks turned warm. "Assalam Alaikum, Aunty."

"Walaikum Assalam." She said. "May Allah fill both your lives with such eternal brightness. Ameen." 

"Ameen." I realised that I was still in my tank top and I rushed into the bedroom, feeling embarrassed.

But once I was in the safety of the room, door closed, I couldn't help quietly squealing in happiness. Ya Allah, please let this happiness and peace last in our lives. Ameen.

*

Just as a reminder, this story was meant to focus more on sweet romance than drama. But, obviously, drama is mandatory in my stories.

Do you agree that Anabia has been treated like a human punchbag?

So, she has finally started to write! I know, she's my own fictional character, but I'm feeling excited for her.

Will Khadija find the help that she needs to overcome her fears?

Thoughts and COMMENTS!!!

Thank you for reading and don't forget to vote!