Fasaana | फसाना | فسانا
:a tale; a romance; a fiction
Zoya had spent her entire life adhering to societal and parental rules, feeling trapped like a bird in a cage. But what happens when she decides to shatter those restrictions and soar freely?
Al...
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And I never got past what you put me through But it's wonderful to see that it never fazed you.
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Throwing a glance towards the clock, Zoya heaved a sigh and worked faster on the rajma that she was cooking. It was 8:30pm and he would be coming home any minute.
And five minutes later, the doorbell rang. Zoya turned the flame off of the rice cooker and hurried towards the main door.
"Assalam alaikum," She greeted her year and half old husband, Rizwan.
He was busy tapping on his phone, so without replying to her, or even looking at her, he walked inside the home and sat on the sofa. She went back to the kitchen to fetch him a glass of water.
"How was your day?" She asked, and waited for a reply. But none came from his side. He finished drinking water and gave the glass back to her. Then he took off his shoes and socks and handed her his dirty socks as well.
"I'm hungry. Serve dinner." He ordered.
"Umm, why don't you change first?" She nervously asked.
Finally, he looked at her.
"Actually I was just about to start making rotis. It'll not take more than five minutes." She said scaredly. "I'm sorry, I slept in the evening and lost track of time.."
"Very good." He humorlessly said, "I slog at work all day and don't even deserve food to be ready because my queen here was sleeping all day."
Zoya stayed quiet while looking at her feet and hoping that he'd just let the matter go and not remind her what a useless wife she was like the time he'd done two weeks ago because she had forgotten to switch on the geyser. She hated when he told her again and again how his life had ruined after marrying her and how he wished he could just divorce her.
Much to her relief, he padded off to the bedroom. Then she wasted no time in running to the kitchen and starting with the chapatis. She was in such a hurry that she even burnt her finger while flipping one on the tawa.
She was soothing her burn with ice when he came out of the room after changing. "Is the food ready now, or do I have to wait some more, my highness?" He tauntingly asked.
She threw the ice in the sink and picked up the cotton cloth casserole to serve it on the dining table along with the rajma and jeera rice she had made. After setting a plate for him, she took a seat beside him on the table and released a deep, tired sigh. Movements didn't come easy to her these days, and the reason for that was her six month old pregnancy. She caressed her belly lovingly when Rizwan spoke, "I need that mango pickle of ammi. This food is too bland to be eaten."
