My Quiet Wife

Chapter 11: Unexpected Warmth

Jahanara's nerves felt jittery as she walked down the stairs, her footsteps quiet on the plush carpet that lined the Baig mansion. She took a deep breath, adjusting the soft blue dupatta draped over her head, and stepped into the living hall. There, seated with an air of comfort, were Sufiyaan's parents, sipping tea and chatting softly. Jahanara's heart fluttered. She hesitated for a moment before mustering the courage to approach them.

"As-Salaam Alaykum," she greeted softly, her eyes lowered with a hint of nervousness.

"Wa-Alikum Salam," they responded warmly in unison. Anila's eyes softened as she looked at Jahanara. "Did you sleep well, beta?" she asked.

"Yes... Aunty," Jahanara replied politely, but she was caught off guard when Anila's face turned playful.

"Don't call me Aunty," Anila said, gently shaking her head. "Call me Ammi, just like Sufiyaan and Reyan do."

Jahanara's eyes widened slightly, unfamiliar warmth spreading through her chest. She hesitated, unsure, but nodded with a shy smile. Malik, Sufiyaan's father, chimed in.

"Yes, and you can call me Papa," he said firmly but kindly.

The words felt foreign on Jahanara's tongue, the titles of "Ammi" and "Papa" never ones she thought she'd use. Yet, she nodded, overwhelmed by the acceptance offered by these strangers. Anila's smile widened, and she patted the seat next to her.

"Come, have some tea with us," she urged.

Just as Jahanara settled into the armchair, Sufiyaan appeared, his presence commanding as always. He wore a sharp, perfectly tailored black suit that accentuated his broad shoulders. A watch glinted on his wrist, and his dark hair was swept back, giving him a polished, almost regal look. He greeted his parents, barely sparing Jahanara a glance, which she returned by lowering her gaze to the teacup in her hands.

"Going somewhere?" Malik asked, noticing his son's formal attire.

"Yes, I need to check on the Khan's project at the office," Sufiyaan said, straightening his tie.

Anila scowled, clearly displeased. "Your reception is tonight, and you're running off to the office? You're not going anywhere. Stay home!" she insisted.

Sufiyaan gave his mother a look she knew too well. "I'll only be gone two hours, Ammi," he said, his tone unyielding. Anila sighed, knowing she couldn't change his mind.

"Ibrahim will join us directly at the reception," Sufiyaan added, with a hint of irritation. Unknown to everyone else, his brother was racing against the clock to gather every detail he could about Jahanara's past.

As Sufiyaan left, Jahanara was tasked with gathering the children for breakfast. She started with Reyan's room, only to find it empty. Her curiosity piqued, she moved to Malika's nursery, where she was greeted with an unexpected scene: Reyan was holding Malika in his arms, spinning gently as she giggled with delight.

"Mama!" Reyan exclaimed excitedly upon seeing her. He began chattering nonstop about his likes and dislikes—his favorite color (blue), his love for chocolates (which Baba never let him have), and his favorite foods (pizza and noodles). Jahanara's heart warmed at his innocent enthusiasm. She listened, her guard melting away in her son's presence, smiling as he spoke.

The day passed in a blur of laughter and light, with Jahanara preparing breakfast and playing with the children. For the first time, the house was filled with joy, and even the usually stern atmosphere seemed to soften. It was into this warmth that Sufiyaan returned hours later, surprised to hear the joyful noises echoing from the living room. He stopped, momentarily taken aback by the sight of his family—laughing, playing, and sharing moments he had rarely witnessed before. It made him... happy.

Lunch was soon served, and as they sat around the dining table, a sense of normalcy settled over the family. Malik took the head of the table, Anila to his right, leaving the chair to his left empty. Jahanara instinctively moved to sit beside Anila, but Anila stopped her gently. "Sit next to Sufiyaan," she said with a smile. Reluctantly, Jahanara obeyed, feeling her cheeks flush as she took the seat beside her husband.

Sufiyaan joined them moments later, his eyes lingering on Jahanara, who sat quietly, her gaze locked on the table. He caught himself thinking of her as "his wife," a thought that unsettled him. When had he begun to accept her in that role? Before he could dwell further, Anila's voice broke through his thoughts.

"Let's eat. After lunch, you two need to get ready. The reception is in a few hours," she announced.

As they ate, Malik turned to Jahanara. "Beta, what are your plans now that you're married?" he asked casually.

Jahanara froze, her hand pausing mid-way to her mouth. Sufiyaan, who seemed as curious as his father turned towards Jahanara. Jahanara mind blanked, unprepared for such a question.

"Do you want to work? Start a business? Maybe study further?" Malik offered, seeing her hesitation. "Whatever you choose, we will support you."

Jahanara's brow furrowed in confusion. No one had ever asked her what she wanted. The choices were overwhelming, alien even. "I... I'll do the house chores," she stammered, defaulting to the only thing she knew.

Three faces turned to her in shock. Anila's expression softened with concern, and Malik shook his head. "No, you are our daughter now. You're not here to do housework," he said gently. Even Sufiyaan looked taken aback, though he remained silent, deep in thought.

The evening arrived, and Jahanara stepped into the reception hall in a light blue maxi dress, the delicate fabric flowing around her like water. Tiny pearls were stitched along the neckline, catching the light, and the sleeves ended in lace cuffs that whispered against her wrists. Sufiyaan was a mirror of elegance in his black suit, the deep hue accentuating his dark gray eyes, and a silver tie clip added a touch of sophistication. Reyan matched his father in a mini suit, grinning widely, while Malika mirrored her mother in a soft pastel gown, the two of them a vision of grace and sweetness.

They arrived separately at the grand reception hall—a lavish, elegant ballroom decorated with crystal chandeliers, heavy drapes of velvet, and flowers cascading down from golden arches. The Baig name carried weight, and it showed in the extravagant decorations, the glimmering gold, and silver accents that screamed of wealth and power. Business partners, rather than family, filled the room, there to celebrate not only a marriage but the cementing of alliances.

As the night went on, Jahanara remained quiet, staying by Sufiyaan's side but never truly with him.

They returned home late, exhaustion lining their faces. Before Sufiyaan could join Jahanara in their room, his phone buzzed. It was Ibrahim. "Meet me in the study. I've found everything you need to know," he said, his voice serious.

Jahanara made her way upstairs to change, unaware that the truth about her past was about to unravel, and that tonight was just the beginning.