Asya FF ~ Dekh Dilne Seekhli Baatein Sufiyana ~

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Tu hi haqeeqat...khwab tu

She stood in the middle of the living room, her breath unsteady like her pulse. The silver moon gleamed through the large window as it stood bare of the curtains.

And there he was...just casually staring back into her soul. His eyes glittered and sparkled much like the ring he had placed on her a moment ago.

It was her turn now.

She looked at the hopeful faces of her Aapi and Jeeju as she raised her hand to place the ring on his finger.

Her hand shivered­– much too visually to her annoyance– as she slid it on.

She was about to extract it back when she found Asad's fingers curling against hers. And before she knew it, he had intertwined their hands.

That whisper of a smile that seldom graced his lips, touched his eyes too.

It didn't make his gaze any less intense.

But it held promises and reassurances...it comforted her heart and sent it into a frenzy at the same time.

She would have a million questions for herself tonight.

What was she doing? She should talk to him...Why wasn't she talking to him? Was she that afraid of rejection that she evaded the topic? What if one word from her pushed him in the other direction? She wanted him so much that it almost felt wrong...almost.

But the questions flew away as the eyes entangled...their feathers flocking to the same unsure place she had locked them in.

Right now, all she saw was him. All she felt was him.

His ring on her finger...his hold on her hand...his gaze on hers.

She would open the box of pandora in seclusion...later in the safety of her room when the night was a little darker.

For now, she just belonged.

Xx

Asad cringed slightly as the contents of the suitcase landed messily on his bed. As he unsuccessfully tried to glare, his wife just shrugged.

"Phuphi...I mean Ammi told me we should make time to arrange the closet today". Asad opened his mouth only to be cut off by her. "Ab please yeh mat kahiyega ki organize bhi organize hoke karo"

He resorted to shaking his head. There was just no winning with her.

Plus, if he was being honest, he really didn't care much. Zoya stood there a couple feet away, in his room, as his wife, arranging their closet. She could wind up a storm right there, right then and he still wouldn't bat an eye. He was a happy man!

"Here let me make some space" Asad offered as he moved to the other end of the room.

He already had.

He had heard Najma talk about how much Zoya loved the makeup dresser in the guest bedroom and how sad she was leaving it. So, he had decided to systemise his shoes and clothes and make some space for a new dresser on its way.

"Wow Jahapanah, you must be a vampire. Itni jaldi sab clear kar diya" she said smiling as she inched closer with hangers in her hand.

"Vampire?" Just how many nicknames was he going to get.

"Edward, the vampire?...umm Twilight?" she continued when he gave her a blank stare... "It's a reference because he moves really fast."

"Oh"

Asad decided to drop the subject. He really didn't want to explain that he was just a human who had been slowly doing this, every day, for the past three days.

As they completed the task of setting the closet, Zoya peeked a look at his face.

A mellow Mr. Khan? Looks like her pitara of duas at the dargah this morning had worked.

Although they had been silent for the past hour, her grumpy husband did not complain once about the mess or how the hangers weren't equidistance from each other.

In fact, he had been acting abnormally cheerful for his Jahapanah Bond self.

Maybe he did get bit by a vampire last night when she was busy pretending to sleep. Who knew at this point?

xx

The silence didn't last for too long.

They had just gotten into a fight about what color codes her jeans should be set up in.

She had been amused, even a little smitten when he had arranged her shoes by style, heel size and then color. Then he had categorised and subcategorised her clothes into Indian and western, again with his specialised color code.

And she had let him.

To her, it was totally unnecessary and crazy; it's not like she was ever going to keep it up. But he had been so invested and helpful she couldn't stop him –until he touched her jeans that is.

Nobody moved the order they were in. It always went from the ones she wore the most to the ones she never touched.

"Why do you even keep these if you never want to wear them?" Asad argued

"Because I might want to someday"

"And when exactly is that day going to be?" he challenged

"I don't know but I would like to be prepared just in case"

"I still think you should donate these and keep the ones you wear in a proper order" he crossed his arms across his chest putting a little too much pressure on the word proper.

"Well, I don't care what you think, how about that?" hands on her hips, Zoya fired back into his proud face.

The thought mustn't have settled too well with him since a crease appeared on his forehead as he uncrossed his arms restlessly.

But then his stance changed.

"Really you don't?" he asked in a hushed tone as he moved closer.

Her hands dropped from her waist as she took a step back effectively trapping herself between the strong frame of his body and the closet.

"No no I mean..."

Zoya trailed off, her mind going blank as she watched his stare travel to her lips. Allah miyan, just how many times am I going to end up in this torturous situation!

His bold hand travelled up to her face to tuck that errant strand of hair behind her ear.

"What do you mean Mrs. Khan? Because I'd like to think that you do in fact care... Mrs. Khan"

Stop calling me that or I will melt into a puddle right here ­– and his smirk told her he knew it. Damn it!

Asad couldn't stop the smile from slipping through. The erratic pulse at the base of her throat gave her away. He let his hand rest there.

There, this was it! The moment was here.

He needed to tell her how much he cared...how deeply he loved. Her reaction to his touch was electric. It made him confident...bolder. He stepped forward effectively erasing all space between them.

"Zo.." he began when,

"Bhaijaan!"

Ya Khuda, what does a man have to do to successfully confess his love to his newly wedded wife?!

Najma shrunk under both her Bhaijaan's and Bhabhi's glare as she entered the room.

Maybe whisking Zoya away for a honeymoon wasn't a bad idea after all.

xx