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"Who is she?"
I glanced up to see Sobia walking down the stairs, her gaze locked on the woman standing beside me. She had just placed a plate full of aloo ka paratha and a cup of tea in front of me.
Sobia’s eyes met mine, her eyebrows raised in silent question. Muffin, our cat, was also watching me, his big, curious eyes peeking out as he nuzzled into her side, enjoying the gentle strokes she gave his fur.
I cleared my throat, feeling the tension in the air. "This is Parveen," I said, gesturing to the woman beside me. "She’s just started helping around the house."
Sobia’s expression remained unchanged as she scrutinized Parveen for a moment longer, her gaze sharp before shifting back to me. "Helping around the house?" she repeated, her tone neutral, but the underlying edge was unmistakable.
"Parveen, meet my wife, Sobia," I added, my voice firm but calm. "She’s the one whose instructions you'll follow from now on."
Parveen nodded respectfully, her hands clasped in front of her. "Of course, sir. Ma’am, if there’s anything you need, just let me know."
Sobia didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, her eyes flickering between Parveen and me, as if weighing her next words. Finally, she spoke, her tone laced with an air of authority. "I’ll let you know when I need something, Parveen."
But before Parveen could leave, I spoke, my gaze fixed on Sobia. "Bring breakfast for her too."
Parveen nodded, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, and quietly excused herself.
Once the door closed behind her, Sobia's eyes locked onto mine, her expression unreadable. "Maid rakhne ki kya zarurat thi, Shahzain?" (What was the need to keep a maid, Shahzain?)
"Zarurat thi, Sobia. I don’t want my wife doing household chores," I replied, my voice firm as I leaned forward. (It was needed, Sobia.)
"Is this because of what happened yesterday?" She asked softly, her gaze drifting to her bandaged finger.
My eyes followed hers, settling on the small bandage, a reminder of what she had endured. I nodded. "Yes. I can't afford to see you hurt—physically or mentally."
For a moment, silence lingered between us, the tension almost palpable. I wondered if I had pushed too far, but then she gave a small nod, her expression still guarded. "We'll see."
The weight of her words hung in the air, and after a long pause, I broke the silence. "My friend Ghulam has invited us for dinner tonight."
Sobia, who had been absentmindedly stroking Muffin's soft fur, finally looked up at me. Her fingers paused on the cat's sleek coat, her brow knitting slightly. "Dinner?"
