Qurbat

-12-

"I knew you'd love it! Its my choice anyways." Isha jumped smiling.

Osman sat still at the sight of a pastel pink button up shirt with white stripes going vertically on it, in his hands.

"Hey, no need to be that happy. It's just a shirt anyways." Isha continued waving in front of his mannequin figure. 

Osman's gaze stayed on the shirt as he left a tired breath before slowly saying in a low voice, recovering from the shock.
"Do I look like a japanese highschooler to you?"

"What? No! You? as a highschooler? Gave me an ick for a second." Isha placed her hand on her chest with a 'ick' expression.

"Then why?" Osman slowly whispered helplessly. He was so helplessly done at this point.

"Beacause we are going on a date this friday!" Isha spoke intervening her hands together.

"Date?" Osman's gaze finally lifted from the traumatic shirt at her.

"Yes!" Isha smiled widely.

"And, when did we decide that?" Osman asked her letting the shirt go making it fall in his desk, placing his arms on the desk raising his eyebrows.

"Now." Isha replied resting her palms on the desk , leaning on it.

"Now when?" Osman questioned his memory.

"Tch. Abhi tou decide kiya. When I said we will go on a date." Isha now rested her palms of her hips, tilting her head a bit.

"That's called informing. Not deciding." Osman replied raising his eyebrows as if pointing her mistake.

"Whatever you call it. We'll go. That's it." Isha finalised before proceeding to walk out.

"I won't come! I have a..uh..meeting!" Osman got up from his seat quickly trying to make reasons.

Isha completely ignored his words and walked out of the office, closing the door behind her.

Silence filled the room as Osman sat back to his seat his eyes not leaving the door.

His eyes slowly drifted to the bunched up shirt on the desk.
He slowly picked up the shirt looking at it.

Suddenly the door jolted open making his flinch as he quickly put the shirt back, intertwining his hands looking up as if thinking something.

Isha pressed her lips as she entered picking up the bags she had forgotten.

Her movements stopped at the misplaced shirt on the desk. Holding back her smile she stood back straight.

Just as she was about to turn back she stopped.

"By the way,..." she spoke making Osman look up acting as if he came out of deep thought while he had been secretly noticing her every move.

"I'll be wearing pink. Pastel pink." She completed eyeing at the shirt with a small smile.

She turned and left the room, not before waving 'bye' to him, which of course was ignored.

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Isha stepped out of the car as it stopped in front of the Shahid villa.

She made her way inside the house looking into the bags counting and memorising what she bought for whom. It made sense with the amount of family members she had.

Just as her feet met the first stair, a voice stopped her. Yes, it was Abida.

"Yeh kaha gyi thi tum? Na kuch poocha, na bataya. Bs nikl pari. Tum na bohot apay se bahar horhi ho." Abida's lecture started just as her eyes caught the sight of her daughter.

"Amm-" Isha's wrds were cut off.

"Aur yeh itne saare bags? Sach sach batao kya krrhi thi tum?" Abida glared at her, crease forming on her forehead the at the worry crossing Abida's mind.

"Nhi amma-" Isha's words were again cut off by Abida gasping before looking at her with worried warning eyes.
"Kahin, kahin tumne yeh...chori?" Abida covered her mouth at the horrible thought.

"Nhi! Tauba! Astagfirullah! Yeh smjhti hain aap!?" Isha spoke with a panicked voice, justifying herself.

"Phir? Phir yeh sb kaha se aya? Batao zara mujhe." Abida plams rested on her hips as she investigated her daughter.

"Woh...woh...haan! Maham ke bhai ne dilaye." Isha replied snapping her fingers.

"Osman?.." Abida's forehead again creased but with confusion.

"Ji!..wohi." Isha replied but lowered her head at last words, feeling her amma's deathly glare.

"Tumhara dimag theek hai?! Aise tum uske paise kaise ura skti ho?" Abida looked around before lowering her her voice, as if her relatives had their ears on the door, which they would if they could.

"Log kya kahenge? 'Dekho abhi sirf mangni hui hai aur aise paise urrhi hai Malik sahab ki beti.' Achi baat hai yeh?!" Abida scolded her daughter making Isha's scrunch her face with an irritated look.

"Aare amma unhone khudi dilaye hain! Maine tou itna mana kiya tha." Isha widened her arms visualing her words.

"Lekin phir bhi, achi baat nhi hoti. Khaas taur pr jab woh tumhara shohor nhi hai abhi." Abida gently lectured.

"Tumhare abba se maine shaadi k 4 mahine tk koi farmaish nhi ki thi." Abida remembered , explaining in order to make her daughter understand.

Isha played with her dubatta, clearly bored with the lecture. "Amma sedha bole na k abba kanjoos the." Isha said , a bit too honestly.

Flinching at the smack she received , she finally pouted. Looking down at the bags she picked them up.

"Acha mein ooper jarhi hun. I bought gifts for everyone, especially you, meri favourite amma. Acha? I'll show you. Abhi mein bohot thk gyi!" Isha quickly said in one breath before running up, leaving her mom calling for her.

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The young male figurine sat a couch inside his bedroom as he worked on his laptop. His spectacle reflecting the bright screen as his fingers worked with quick motions on the keyboard.

A loud ringtone interrupted the focused man making him rip his eyes off the screen and looked at it for good two minutes. The screen displayed a name.

The name surprisingly made him nervous. A little tho, as he believed.

"Hello?" He asked after he picked his phone.

He patiently waited for a reply which he never got.

All he got to hear was the sound of something that almost sounded like a fish market.

Soon he got the reply which did'nt help his nervousness.

"Hello." A woman spoke.

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