"Ye kese lga rahay hain ap, theek se lgaen naa," This was the fifth time in the last thirty minutes of Umeed Pasha complaining about her husband's lack of creativity when it comes to mundane tasks. Comfortably ducked against the sofa arm, her feet rested on the cushion perfectly placed on Farjaad's lap, while he applied a bright yellow shade (his favorite) on her toenails. He was always vocal about what color he liked on her but this was the first time he was performing the deed himself in two years of their marriage because earlier Umeed wouldn't trust him with these things but now the situation called for it.
The salon won't be comfortable for both of you - he reasoned when Umeed asked him to drop her at the salon, all ready and excited for her day out.
Though she tried persuading him that she still wasn't that huge for the seats at the salon, her dear husband was far more concerned about her frequent backaches, knowing very well she won't be comfortable there, let alone sit for hours around people who'd be too busy with other customers to look after a heavily pregnant lady. He told Umeed he was also concerned for the staff because what if she threw something on their heads in anger given her frequent mood swings these days?
To appease his sullen wife whose mood swings have been all over the place lately he volunteered to perform the deed himself, after all, how difficult it could get. And if you ask him, it was going pretty well so far. The nail paint didn't look as bad as Umeed dramatically made it sound. There were a few smears here and there that Farjaad successfully wiped using the cotton swab.
"Umeed mein ne saari zindagi ye kaam nhi kiya lekin mujhay lgta hai tumhari khatir mujhay ab bakaida course krna pdega," he muttered, each word going perfectly in sync with the stroke of each brush he was applying with concentration. Umeed smiled in awe whenever he'd turned his torso in different angles each time to take a better view of her toe, ensuring the nail paint was applied perfectly, the perfectionist in him never settling for less.
"Haan to? Log toh muhabbat mein kohkaaf chalay jatay hain ap itna nhi kr sktay mere liye?" She asked mischievously, never tired of the way he pampered her and she unabashedly demanding more of it.
"Jee, muhabbat mein ab tk pool mein gir chuka hoon, deewarein phalang chuka hoon, apni neendain haram kr chuka hoon, meetings delay kr chuka hoon, lekin theekh hai ye bh kr lenge apkay liye,"
"Theek hai, Theek hai. Umeed wriggled her toes and pointed her eyeballs to her toes reminding him of his due task. " Now continue,"
"Hello, Bakhtiar!" The name was enough for Farjaad to stop in his tracks and divert his complete attention to his wife's conversation. While Umeed responded to the caller, she fiercely glared at Farjaad to continue his job and stop the intrusion.
"Haan haan, tumhe fikr krne ki KOI zroorat nhi hai, araam say lay kr jao Mimi ko dinner pr, koi baat nhi , haan Haan tum khud drop kr dena, Farjaad ko bhala kya problem hogi"
While Umeed's words were laced with honey, she was having an eye war with Farjaad followed by phone-snatching attempts that were tragically unsuccessful. He muttered under his breath, flaring his nose, asking Umeed to not allow that but his wife never listened.
Bakhtiar was Mimi's fiance and someone who had to do a LOT to get into Farjaad's good books. Even though the latter had no issues with whom his sister dated or married, ever since Asad Ullah Khan's arrival in their life and the sudden departure that left his little sister heartbroken, Farjaad grew a bit more possessive of his baby sister. This is why when Bakhtiar came into Mimi's life, he was skeptical of how rapidly their love bloomed, even though Umeed tried to explain a hundred times that just because it took him a while to confess doesn't mean his sister was bad at judging people.
