Shamsherpur-er Jaamidarni

Chapter 5

The night had settled in quietly, its stillness enveloping the city like a heavy velvet cloak. Two days after their wedding, Umair and Nazlae spent the evening at her family's flat, a modest yet warm abode in the heart of the bustling city. The flat was a blend of old-world charm and contemporary comfort.

The evening had been one of effortless hospitality, rich in the warmth that only family can provide. The dining table was a witness of the care and affection that had gone into the night's preparations. It was laden with a lot of dishes, each one a labour of love: fragrant biryani, tender kebabs, and an assortment of sweets. The air was filled with the comforting aromas of saffron and cardamom, mingling with the soft hum of conversation.

As the evening drew to a close, and the last of the tea had been poured and savoured, there came a moment when the couple were left alone in her room. Umair found himself taking in the room around him. It was a simple space, the walls were painted in soft, warm shades, creating a cosy atmosphere. A small bed was tucked against one wall and a wooden table by the window, both well-used and well-loved.

What caught Umair's attention most, however, was the sheer number of books. A large shelf dominated one corner of the room, filled to the brim with all sizes and genres. The books were stacked neatly, but there was an undeniable sense of organized chaos as if they were constantly being pulled from their places and put back.

Their tainted pages, where she had escaped into a world of stories and ideas. Beside the books, the room was alive with greenery. Pots of various sizes and shapes were scattered throughout the space, introducing a touch of nature indoors. A small potted fern sat on the table by the window, its fronds gently swaying in the evening breeze that drifted in through the open balcony door.

On the shelf, nestled between the books, were succulents and trailing vines, their green leaves adding a softness to the otherwise angular lines of the furniture. The balcony itself was a small oasis, filled with potted trees and flowering plants that created a sense of seclusion and peace.

As Umair lingered by the solitary of the place, saw Nazlae emerging from the washroom, her movements quiet and careful. The scent of jasmine lingered around her—a fragrance he was beginning to be familiar with. She moved towards the bed, her eyes downcast, and as she sat down, Umair noticed the subtle way she kept a slight distance between them. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her gown.

There was a quiet tension in her movements, a hesitance that had caught his attention immediately. "Umm," she began, her tone laced with a delicate vulnerability. "I'd like to stay here tonight... with my mom."

Her words hung in the air between them, as fragile as a spider's web, glistening with the sincerity of her plea. There was something in her eyes—a yearning, perhaps, or a simple need to stay a little longer in the embrace of her mother.

Umair paused, his gaze meeting hers, reading the depths of emotion that she didn't put into words. In that brief moment, he understood, more deeply than words could express. He nodded,  reassuring her. There was no need for further explanation, no questions asked. He respected her unspoken wish, acknowledging the subtle pull that home often has on one's heart.

After a few more lingering goodbyes and quiet exchanges with her parents, Umair had taken his leave, the door closing softly behind him as he stepped out into the cool night air.

-*-

As the day began, the sun had already risen, and the city was slowly awakening, though the lingering warmth of slumber still hung in the air. Nazlae was seen sitting on the floor of the rooftop, her hands full of rich, dark soil. Her long dupatta trailed slightly on the ground as she mended her vegetable plants, the only place they could thrive beyond the confines of her room or balcony.