"I was willing to go as far as becoming the villain in her life just to be able to call her mine."
***
An accidental run-in with the city's infamous criminal brings Hayat Azhar right in front of the barrel of a gun. If that wasn't bad enough, things...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
(a/n : I couldn't find a better quality but the above picture will give you an idea of how some Pakistani women cover up, including Hayat.)
Hayat Azhar
I looked down at the pair of pale green shalwar kameez I had ironed and bit the inside of my cheek.
So this was it.
Life was really unexpected. I couldn't believe I was actually going to work at someone's house.
But our financial situation wasn't getting better and my options were limited if I wanted to continue my studies as well.
I agreed to work at their house under the condition that I'd go to the university in the morning and work there when I returned.
The lady of the haveli agreed and so, my mother didn't have any problem with my demand too.
I wasn't sure whether to feel grateful or pitiful knowing that they weren't in need of a maid. I was an extra. They merely wanted to keep me because they intended on paying back my mother's kind gesture of taking kheer with her.
They were willing to help us and yet I was reluctant to accept their help.
Beggars can't be choosers.
A bitter voice echoed in my ears and I got a reality check. I had no right to complain.
But not complaining didn't mean I wasn't nervous and scared. Those people were of high status, who knew what they were like?
First impressions were important and so, I chose one of the neatest pairs of shalwar kameez I owned to go with my new shoes.
Gathering my hair, I twisted them into braids. The bangs I had gotten a few months back hung over my forehead. Picking up some bobby pins, I set them back before draping my dupatta over my head and wrapping my chaddar around my shoulders.
Would there be a day when I'd move to a place where I could do proper pardah like those women who wore abaya and hijab? I had grown interested in wearing those some time ago. But I couldn't wear them here. It was going to make me stand out and give people around us a chance to start gossiping.
Sighing, I cleared my head and mustered up the courage to leave for my job—if it could even be called that.
The haveli was mere minutes away from our house. Large gates stood frighteningly above me as I raised my finger to ring the doorbell. Anxiety and fear had started to creep up my throat and I took a deep breath to calm my nerves.
Some guard who I failed to notice by the gate previously cleared his throat and I quickly uttered my Salam.
He returned the greeting before inquiring me of my visit.
"I'm from the neighborhood. Saima's daughter." Of all the introductions out there, I chose the shortest of them all.
He pressed his earpiece and murmured something into it while I stood in silence. After a while, he gave me a once over before moving out of the way, allowing me an entrance to the haveli.
