Urooj (Pakistani Short Stories)

Raqs |V|

Sunehri brushed through her wet hair, pinning it back with a clip as she tightened the knot of her silk robe. A bath was just what she had needed to soothe the soreness of her body. She hadn't expected her husband to join in.

And she hadn't expected the hanky panky that came with it. Noon had rolled around and they were finally getting ready for the day. She sat in her vanity's chair, a dull ache between her legs and a neck covered with the scratches that could only come from a beard and bruises from a mouth.

She was just about to get started on her makeup when Hadeed, half dressed in sweats, pulled back her chair. She looked up at him in surprise as he grabbed her arm, hoisting her up and dropping himself into her chair and pulling her down onto his lap. His lips instantly went to her neck as he looked at her through the mirror.

She blushed deeply as he raised a brow. "Go on. I'm just watching."

She looked at him for a minute before grabbing her moisturizer. Turning in place she unscrewed the lid and added dollops of the cream to his face as he watched her. Gently blending it into his skin she let her fingers touch the sides of his s face, over his nose and and forehead, and then pressed her lips tongue mouth curiously. She could do this. She was allowed to do this. He grunted in response, kissing her back shortly.

"I'm not trying to distract you, hmm?"

"You're not a distraction. I'm wholly focused on you." She responded, moisturizing her own face.

"Sunehri." His voice sounded pained.

"Gee."

He chuckled lowly. "Let me blow dry your hair at least? We'll multitask."

She eyed him for a moment. "You won't get late for the checkup at the site?"

"No, darling. I won't."

She turned back around. "Then get to work, dude."

A laugh broke out from his throat which elicited one of her own as he brought the brush through her hair and started the drier.

///

He was in a good mood, sipping on his coffee as he surveilled the foundation being laid for a new project: a multi use office unit.

When his phone beeped once, he simply thought of it as a text from either Momina which would be some silly video, or Sunehri.

But it was an unknown number.

He opened the chat, shocked to find a video of him and Sunehri after the motorcycle race yesterday , his hand on her waist as he spun her around and then in her hair as he held her face.

Who could've sent this?

A text came after that.

Men will be men. A new, younger piece came along and you forgot how pathetically you begged me to stay huh? Well have fun pretending to be young with some kid, you pervert.

He read the message, then reread. Setting down his coffee, he looked it over again utterly distressed.

Amna.

He had never know her to be so poisonous. Even during their separation. She would be mean, yes, but this cruel?

He felt shame burn at his face.

She wasn't even 30. She liked rides, and playing Ludo, and messily painted her toenails and licked her fingers clean of frosting and ended up with it all over her face.

It was wrong. He was bringing her down with him. He was ruining her. She was so sweet, so full of excitement and energy and he was almost to his 40s.