In My Sister's Shadow (Book 1)

25. Becoming Zeenat

There he came, standing in the doorway dressed in a smart black kameez I'd ironed and readied for him the night before. Zayn wore a white salwar and a white cap sat on the crown of his head. Mum reached out for his shoulder and he bowed before her so she could give him his blessings by running her hand along his back. The women watched at Zayn bowed for mum to bestow a kiss on each of his cheeks. I was delighted, watching mum shower him with love bought tears to my eyes. Zayn gazed through the group of women and met my eyes, melting me with pride. I was delighted to see him, through the mourning of sadness, a celebration of happiness erupted in my heart. A delight to see Zayn standing there and proving everyone wrong. He looked handsome in his black kurtha and smoothly groomed beard. It didn't matter that he didn't help with the caterers, he was here and mum was giving him her blessing. At that moment I realized how much he meant to me. I hated people looking down at him. I hated when he disappointed people. I felt responsible. It was a small victory, but this was our victory. His honour was my honour. His respect was my respect. The sight of him made me hold my head up higher

"Zo'hra." He called out to me. The ladies turned and looked at me. Yes, he called me. Me. His wife. I stood up and tiptoed answering the call of my husband.

Mum took Zayn into the kitchen and sat him on the stool. I followed behind and stood beside him.

"You came?" I smiled smoothing down his lapels.

"Why? Did you doubt me?"

Mum bought a plate of goat meat and soup which she had specially taken out of the curry and set it aside. The honour she bestowed Zayn took my breath away. It was a tradition where the cook, normally mum, would take a plate of the fine meat and stock and set it aside for the man of the house which was usually dad. It was the strongest cut of the meat and the finest stock so dad would get the nutrients. But today she had it put aside for Zayn.

"A strapping lad needs his vitamins." Mum placed a spoon in the plate. "The work you do, bread and butter won't cut it."

"It looks like mum's chosen her favourite." I teased Zayn. "You get the cream of the crop."

"And why not?" Mum brushed her hand over his shoulder and his back. "He's my puthar (son). He's welcome anytime here." Once again, she kissed his forehead leaving me taken aback with her change of demeanour. She looked at him longingly, with eyes filled with tears.

"Then you will sit with me when everyone is gone and we will talk more about my Zeenat."

Zayn placed the spoon down. "Yes, I would like that." He agreed.

Seeing mum and Zayn work together filled me with happiness.

"I like your mum." He slurped. "She makes me think of my mum. If she was alive, she would be like your mum."

"She's quite emotional today. I caught her crying many times. Be gentle with her. She isn't as tough as me or dad."

He slurped through the plate of soup and let out a reassuring burp.

"Sorry." He chuckled. "That's a compliment to the chef. Pretty good stuff." He licked the plate.

"Oh Zayn!"

"What has she put in here? You need to get the recipe."

Zayn washed his hands at the sink and gargled repeatedly.

"Finish up here. Dad's expecting you in the front room."

"I can't be in the same room as your dad. I'd probably deck him." He wiped his hands on the towel.