7) ⛅️

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Haris's decision was hasty, but he didn't regret it at all. His mother had always told him to never leave someone alone in trouble and to help if he could. The way the people in Haya's house were treating her in front of him made him wonder what they would do when he wasn't around. Haris felt no regret as he married Haya, determined to protect her.

On the other hand, Haya couldn't comprehend what had happened to her in the past hour. She was still in her home clothes: light blue pants and a straight kurti, with a matching dupatta draped around her neck that someone had placed on her head without her noticing. Shortly after, Tabu came and covered her face with a red dupatta. The cleric arrived, and though Haya couldn't hear what he said, she absentmindedly said yes and signed wherever she was asked to. And just like that, in such a short time, so much had changed. From Haya Sikander, she had become Haya Haris.

•••

Haris stopped the bike in front of his house and motioned for her to get off. They had both travelled in silence from Haya's house to here, neither knowing what to say.

Haya quietly followed behind Haris, who carried her suitcase (Tabu had hastily packed Haya's belongings, as Haya herself was too dazed to do anything) and walked towards the house. He opened the gate and motioned for Haya to enter, then followed her inside.

Bilqees, hearing the gate open, emerged from the kitchen. "Haris, tum aa..." Her words trailed off as she saw the girl in the red dupatta. Confusion and surprise crossed her face as she looked at Haris.

(Haris, you come...)

"Maa, yeh Haya hai woh..." Haris struggled with the introduction. "Maa, main apko sab samjhata hoon," he said, excusing himself. He took Haya to his room first, not wanting to discuss everything in front of her.

(Mom, this is Haya, she...)

Bilqees stood in shock, watching her son and the girl who was following him step by step.

When Haris returned, Bilqees asked sternly, "Haris, yeh kon hai?"

(Haris, who is she?)

"Haya hai..."

(She's Haya...)

"Naam tum mujhe pehle bhi bata chuke ho, yeh batao tumhare sath kya kar rahi hai." Bilqees had always been like a friend to her children but wasn't so liberal to remain silent if her son brought a girl home.

(You’ve told me her name before, now tell me what she’s doing with you.)

"Maa, aap baithe, main apko puri baat batata hoon. Isme meri ya unki koi galti nahi..." Haris gently held his mother's hand and led her to the sofa. Then, he told her the whole story, not hiding anything.

(Mom, please sit down, I'll tell you everything. It’s not her fault or mine...)

"Isme Haya ki bhi koi galti nahi, unke parents nahi hain shayad issi wajah se unke ghar walo ne yeh sab kiya." When Haris saw that Bilqees was silent after he finished, he added, not wanting her to misunderstand Haya.

(It’s not Haya’s fault either. Her parents are no more, and maybe that's why her relatives did all this.)

Bilqees was still in shock, unsure of what to say. Could even blood relatives be so heartless? How could the members of that household do this to their own brother's child without any fear of God? Why do such people forget that they will have to answer to Allah on the Day of Judgment?

"Haris, mujhe fakhar hai tumpe. Tumne musibat ke waqt uss larki ko akela nahi chorha, aur ussey sahara diya, tumne sabit kiya hai tum meri hi aulad ho." Bilqees said lovingly, cupping her son's face in her hands. "Main toh bas Haya ka sochke pareshaan ho rahi hoon, Allah jane iss waqt uspe kya beet rahi hogi."

Pyar Ki Love Story  | Short Stories | 1st Book |Where stories live. Discover now