Out Of Wreckage?

Chapter Thirty Three

I picked the scissors and cut through the excessive fabric of my saree.

Gaurav squealed in his chair, trying to get my attention.

It was a peaceful afternoon with Aslam at work and Bushra at school.

Finally! It's Saturday tomorrow and I don't want any hindrance in my plan.

Even if I don't have the money to buy new clothes, my daughter will have something new to wear.

I picked the dress made from my saree and aligned it with her other dress to check the measurement.

Feeling satisfied with myself, I focused on Gaurav who had his thumb in his mouth.

He was anything but a nuisance.
I gently removed his hand and wiped it with a towel after he giggled lightly.

"Are you hungry dear? Let me just keep these dresses otherwise Bushra didi will notice and spoil our surprise."

He bumped his fist in the air while I neatly tucked the dress on the hanger.

This doesn't look exceptional as I had thought earlier but it will be something different for her to wear.

"Okay boy. Let's get your tummy filled." I tickled him and he laughed.

As I cradled Gaurav in my arms and fed him, a sudden knock on the door got my attention.

I kept him on the bed and adjusted some pillows to make a bunker for his protection.

"Who's it?" I called out.

"Courier, madam!"

I quickly covered myself with the scarf and opened the door.

"I have a parcel for Mrs. Rabia." I looked at the big box which he had placed near the threshold.

"Yes. That's me. Who is it from?"

"Please sign here." Instead of answering my question, the courier guy passed the notepad and pen.

I did as I was told and returned it to him.

He picked the huge box and gave it to me. The box was heavy.

"Thank you. Do you need some water?"

He simply shook his head and left.
I collected the box and place it on the table in my room.

My eyes immediately went to the shipping label.

Hamza!

What did he sent me?
And how he got my address?

Oh right! I only gave him the other day.

I neatly opened the box and gasped.

The box had different and colourful dresses, shoes, hairbands and lastly, a note.

I picked up the note.

"To the prettiest young girl who turns a year older tomorrow. I hope you like it. Happiest birthday Bushra.
Your Uncle Hamza."

My eyes immediately welled with happy tears.
A smile broke on my face.

These were exactly what I was expecting to buy from the money I earned.

How did he know?

He was truly a God-sent messiah.

I glanced at the shipping label and saw his number.

I fished out the mobile phone which Chhavi had given me for getting updates on Gaurav while she's at work.

I hardly used it, fearing if Aslam saw it then he'll definitely throw it out.