kabhi main kabhi tum [one shots]

Ganda Sa Hai Par Apna Hai

Summary: Sharjeena and Mustafa's first morning together in their new home.

_____

The birds singing outside of the windows of their new house pull Sharjeena from her slumber, inhaling sharply as her eyes slowly blink awake. When they do and her blurry vision sharpens, her gaze immediately lands on her sleeping husband beside her, Mustafa's chest steadily rising and falling with every breath.

A small, sleepy stretches across her lips as she watches him for a moment, admiring the relaxed expression on his face. He had been so tense and stressed for the last day and a half, his eyes heavy with weary and frustrated emotions he was warring against. Right now, he looks completely at peace, breathing softly as the bruise on his nose fades more day by day. Dark hair falls across his forehead, the ends brushing against closed eyelids as Sharjeena's hand reaches forward and, with a feather light touch, brushes his hair back, smiling when he only shifts a little but doesn't wake up. She doesn't blame him; it's been a long few days. He needs his sleep.

Sharjeena is careful when she gets off the bed—or, well, air mattress that Ali had kindly brought later on last night for them, along with some pillows and a blanket. It was enough for them to make do with for now. She gets up without jostling the mattress around too much, not wanting to wake Mustafa, feet sliding into her slippers as she makes her way to the bathroom, tying up her hair in a low bun as she goes.

After freshening up in the bathroom, she quietly makes her way to the kitchen, a smile curling at her lips as she steps into the open space, bright thanks to the windows and sunlight streaming through them. Outside, she can hear Karachi coming to life, the distant buzz of traffic and people chattering beyond, and a warm sense of peace falls over Sharjeena as she stands in the kitchen. Her kitchen—their kitchen.

This flat may be dirty and in serious need of some repairs, but it was hers and Mustafa's. After all of the uncertainty since the night they left his parents' house, Sharjeena finds contentment within the walls of her and Mustafa's new home, away from the toxicity of his family that suffocated them both. She tolerated it for him, but after the way they even treated Mustafa, Sharjeena knew they couldn't stay there. Leaving the way they did was emotionally impulsive, since they didn't have a place to go, but Sharjeena knew it was the right thing to do. She has no regrets.

For a second, her eyes dart around the kitchen, making sure there aren't any unwelcome mice around, before moving to make some breakfast. They didn't have much in terms of food, but Mustafa had gone out and brought a couple of essentials when he had gone to pick up dinner last night, and over the next few days they will go and shop some more. Fortunately, even Mustafa isn't too stubborn or proud to accept Sharjeena's money when it comes to grocery shopping right now, even if he accepts it reluctantly. But after Sharjeena pointed out—multiple times—that this isn't a time to be stubborn, he gave in.

They got enough last night for Sharjeena to make breakfast—tea with eggs and toast, which she manages to make in the small frying pan Mustafa had gotten last night. She makes some for herself, unsure of when Mustafa will wake and not wanting his food to get cold in the meantime, and eats at the counter, gazing out the window while taking occasional sips of her tea. Part of her still can't believe that they're out of that house, away from such negativity that she and Mustafa were constantly subjected to. And as grateful as Sharjeena is to be out of there, she is angry at the circumstances in which they left.

For Mustafa's family to accuse him of being a thief. . . Not believing Mustafa and choosing to trust Rubab—who, Sharjeena is sure, is behind all of this in the first place. She knows Mustafa didn't steal the money, and the familiar heat of rage simmers in Sharjeena's blood when the heartbroken, disbelieving expression Mustafa wore after his dad slapped him flashes across her mind. The way he was humiliated. . . Sharjeena's grip on the mug tightens, and not even the cool early morning air can soothe the way her skin heats in anger.