Be Hayaai Ke Nuqsanat

A cool breeze blew through the French windows as he ascended the stairs, slightly calming his racing heart. With his back straight, shoulders squared, beard trimmed to perfection, piercing yet mysterious gray eyes, and a kurta tailored to precision, he was the perfect, drool-worthy groom. A smile graced his lips as he passed his parents' and his little brother's rooms. This was the best part of the day - the time he'd be alone with his lovely wife. A blush crept up his neck as he recalled the heavily embroidered, blood-red lehenga that adorned her and the shy smile on her porcelain face. Never in a million years had he imagined marrying his younger cousin. He was six years older than her; he'd never looked at her as a younger sister or a potential wife - she was just another cousin. But a few days ago, that had changed. She'd been occupying his thoughts since his parents suggested he marry her.

He halted abruptly when he noticed Waqaas stepping out of his room, closing the door behind him. Just before Waqaas could walk toward his room, which was opposite his own, he strode swiftly toward him, putting on his sternest face. He knew Waqaas sometimes spoke to his wife, but he hadn't thought much of it - they were cousins, after all. Some cousins do speak to one another, but he disapproved because cousins aren't mahram. He trusted his brother to stay within limits, but he was giving him a friendly warning.

"What were you doing in my room?" He noticed that Waqaas's expression was unusually somber.

"Ammi wanted to give Naailah some milk, so I offered to take it since my room is right next door," he explained.

Daniyaal nodded curtly. "Okay, and by the way, she's Naailah Bhabi to you."

Waqaas winced at his brother's tone but nodded nonetheless. He didn't want to provoke Daniyaal's temper. Little did Daanyal know, he would do exactly that in the near future.