Chapter Eleven

"The court's a complete mess because of the Shahid Raza case. I sneaked in yesterday and guess who is fighting the case from the plaintiff's side?"

"I doubt it's someone well known."

"Exactly! It's an apparent nobody." Harris's voice came through the phone,  the disgust evident in his tone, "It's obvious Raza is going to win again."

Zahid leaned back, a sigh escaping his lips. At times like these, all of the cases he had fought for seemed pointless. As if injustice was invincible. No matter how much one tried to fight for justice- the amount of tyranny was always greater in comparison.

"Anyways, I'm not planning on going to the office any longer. You're quite an item, Zahid- first, you increase our popularity by winning three cases in a row, go away for a break, leaving me to deal with our increasing number of demands, prolong your break by deciding to get married, and don't even tell me until everything is finalized."

Zahid straightened up on his bed, smiling sheepishly. "I didn't plan any of this- and you're the first person I told. Also, I tell you nearly every day to take a break as well, but you go to the office willingly."

"Ai, It's not my fault that I get at least ten mails a day. Anyways," Harris said, " When I get married, I'm going to take a three-month break."

Zahid laughed. "Sure, dude. That is if you get married- I doubt any sensible girl would be willing to marry you."

"Ha ha. Very funny," Harris said, and Zahid could almost see him rolling his eyes.

Before Harris could go on with his long speech of why every sensible girl would want to marry him- Zahid changed the subject. "You're coming to the Nikkah, right? "

"Yep, Insha'Allah. I'll come- but I'll crash at your place for the night. Can't drive to Islamabad and back in a day."

"Yeah, that's fine. I'll inform Khala."

Chatting for a couple more minutes- with Harris trying to tease Zahid, but ending up being teased instead, the two of them finally said their goodbyes. As the call ended, Zahid put his phone aside. He has only just closed his eyes when a knock on the door startled him.

Zahid sat up as Mrs. Ahmed entered. Narrowing his eyes, he wondered if she was going to drag him to the market again, but she barely even glanced at him, her eyes fixed on her phone as she took a seat on the sofa.

"I invited Samina and her family, just now. Zahid-" Mrs. Ahmed looked up at him, "- I was going through the invitations. Do you want me to invite someone from your paternal side-"

"No," Zahid cut her off, his voice firm. "It's not like they'll care anyway."

Mrs. Ahmed sighed, tapping her phone. For a while, she did not say anything, and Zahid watched her cautiously. "What about your Phupo?  She was the only one who kept contact with your father after his marriage. She often calls me now as well."'

"Phupo?" Zahid lowered his gaze, heaving a sigh. Honestly, he was not in favor of inviting too many guests- he had hoped that the function would be limited to close family and friends. While his father's younger sister had been the only one who kept in contact with his father after he was disowned by his family, Zahid wasn't too close to her. "I don't know, Khala. Call her if you want," he finally said.

Mrs. Ahmed nodded, getting up from her seat. She had only just taken a couple of steps towards the door when she suddenly halted. Zahid raised a brow- watching as she turned around slowly, an expression of hopelessness taking over her features.

"I don't think I can call your Phupo," she muttered, beginning to pace the room. Zahid blinked, watching as she walked, biting her lip. "A couple of months ago- I was talking to her, and she was asking me about you, and then suddenly out of the blue, she asked for your hand in marriage for her elder daughter."

"What?!" Zahid stared at his aunt, horrified.

"Well- she didn't exactly do that. She hinted it more so, and I didn't even bother asking you because I know you-"

Zahid's expression relaxed as Mrs. Ahmed went on. "So I rejected politely- saying that you were busy with your work." Mrs. Ahmed stopped pacing, looking at Zahid helplessly. "I can't call her to your nikkah, now, can I?"

"No, please, don't," Zahid nodded fervently, "It won't be nice. I agree."

"Yeah, I think you're right," Mrs. Ahmed said, and Zahid mentally sighed in relief- Okay, no Phupo at the wedding. This was going good-

"Zahid," Mrs. Ahmed said suddenly, sitting down again. He looked at her cautiously- the thoughtful expression on her face dangerous enough. "Who did you invite for your nikkah?"

"Er... Harris... and Junaid Bhai."

Mrs. Ahmed blinked, waiting for him to continue with his list but when Zahid stopped there, blinking at her dumbly, her eyes widened. "That's it?"

"It's not like I have a lot of acquaintances, and we're keeping the nikkah event small, aren't we?" Zahid tried to explain but Mrs. Ahmed was hearing none of it.

"I invited four of my friends. Six people? That's all the people we're going to invite?"

"Well, I don't see what's so wrong-"

"No, no. We can't do that. I'm going to invite your Phupo," Mrs. Ahmed nodded firmly, "I'll tell her that you... er- took a liking to a girl! Yes, I'll tell her that-"

"But that's not what happened!" Zahid tried to argue, "This was arranged-"

"Do you not like Amal?" Mrs. Ahmed retorted, crossing her arms.

Zahid blinked. A bit flustered, he scratched the back of his neck. " No, that is not what I meant-"

"Exactly! I'm going to invite her," Mrs. Ahmed got up again, beginning to make her way out of her room, as she muttered under her breath, "Ai, so much work. I'll have to set the guestroom for her arrival-"

Zahid's ears perked up. "Will Phupo stay here?"

Mrs. Ahmed turned around, nodding. "She's coming from Faisalabad. Where else do you expect her to stay?"

"Khala!" Zahid sat up, "Harris is staying the night here as well!"

"That's no big a deal. He can stay in your room." With that, Mrs. Ahmed turned around, continuing to mutter under her breath as she made her way out of the room. Zahid watched her leave, an expression of despair taking over his features.

Slumping down in bed, he buried his face in his pillow. All he wanted was a bit of rest-

The door opened suddenly and Mrs. Ahmed peaked in. "Zahid, get ready. We're leaving for the market in ten minutes."

Zahid groaned into his pillow- dragging himself out of bed. Why were marriages so hectic?

Up in the Hussain house, Amal was thinking of something similar. These past few weeks had been far too chaotic for her liking. Every other day, her mother and Eman would drag her to the malls and markets, and the two of them would continue to shop till Amal's feet would become sore.

Sighing, Amal zoned back into her mother listing out everything that needed to be done, "We're almost done with the arrangements. Still haven't bought your dress yet. I think we should look for your clothes this time. Let's get some work done today since your Uncle is coming tomorrow and we won't be able to shop as much. " Sana said, taking off her glasses.

"Mama...please. I can't shop anymore. Buy whatever you want, I don't care."

"Am I the one getting married?" Sana said, her voice dangerously calm as she crossed her arms. "And what do you mean by 'I don't care'?"

Amal blinked, sinking lower into her seat, immediately regretting ever having spoken, for she had sparked her mother's anger, and for the next quarter of an hour, had to listen to her mother's lecture on 'responsibilities' and how she was getting married soon and needed to get a hold of her life. Sana only stopped lecturing Amal when Eman walked in, showing her some dresses she had found online.

Thankful for the opportunity, Amal rushed back to her room, sighed as she closed the door behind her, sinking down on the floor.

~~~

It was nearly evening when Amal's door slowly creaked open. Amal- wearing her hijab and coat, tip-toed outside, looking around cautiously. When she failed to spot anyone, she let out a sigh of relief. Slowly, she turned around to close her bedroom door when someone spoke from behind her-

"Where are you going?"

Amal nearly jumped out her skin. Startled, she turned around to face Usman, her hand over her heart. Usman remained unaffected- leaning against the wall and biting into an apple as he watched Amal questioningly.

Her breathing still slightly uneven, Amal looked around- as if afraid that someone would hear. "I'm going to the masjid. The November magazine just came out-" she paused, a sudden idea clicking in her brain. Meeting Usman's gaze, she tilted her head innocently, "Can't you take me to the masjid?"

"No."

"Bhai!" Amal whined, "Please? It will be a lot faster."

"I have loads to do," Usman said, "And anyway, why are you being so secretive about it?" he asked, his brows drawing together as he looked at her suspiciously.

"Mama is taking me to the mall after maghrib," Amal muttered.

"Ah." Usman tilted his head, a sudden mischievousness glinting in his eyes. "MAMA! AMAL IS-" Before he could finish his sentence, Amal had covered his mouth with her hand.

"Bhai, shush!"

Usman pried her hand away, about to shout again, when Amal spoke up quickly-

"I'll tell bhabhi that you bought an Xbox when she was gone."

Usman paused, slowly turning to look at Amal, who had crossed her arms and was looking at him, her eyes glinting dangerously. "Okay, okay- I'm not telling Mama. Don't you dare tell Eman-"

"You know what," Amal said suddenly, "You can tell Mama, I don't mind. I'll tell Bhabhi as well-"

"Oh God, what do you want now?"

"Take me to the masjid," Amal said, her expression smug. Usman narrowed his eyes, wanting to deny, but eventually gave in. Tossing the apple core into the trash can, he took out his key from his pocket.

Proud of herself, Amal grinned, leading Usman outside. They had only just closed the door behind them and had turned around when they spotted Eman, back from her afternoon walk, blinking back at them.

"What-" she began, but before she could complete her sentence, Usman had grabbed her hand and she was being swept along with the other two.

The car ride was a whole other story- Eman, furious at Usman for letting Amal leave when she was supposed to go shopping with Sana, was trying to lecture him, while Usman was trying to convince her that this would only take a few seconds, and anyways- his sister was getting married soon and he should, at least, fulfill her wishes, shouldn't he? "Anyways, love- don't you think you're working too hard? How about- when Amal goes in to get her magazine, we get some ice cream?" he said- and though Eman scoffed at that, muttering incoherently under her breath, both Amal and Usman knew that she was convinced. Eman never could say no to ice cream.

"We'll be back in seven minutes- max," Usman said, stopping his car in front of the masjid.

"Alright," Amal got out of the car, "Get some ice cream for me too!"

As the young couple drove off, Amal too, rushed inside. The masjid was nearly empty, for it wasn't prayer time yet, and the only people she spotted were the cleaners. Calling out her salam to each of them, she made her way towards the Women Wing meeting room, certain that her magazines were there.

As expected, she spotted the cartons right away. Sighing in relief, her heart leaping up in excitement for any new magazine issue had her feeling feverish, Amal quickly made her way towards them, starting to peel off the tape. Busy in the process, she did not hear someone else entering the meeting room.

"A bit too eager for showing off your writing, aren't you?"

Amal jumped, snapping her head around- only to look back into a familiar pair of eyes.

Asma.

Amal's expression hardened, and she did not bother replying to her. Turning around, she got back to removing the tape.

Ignore her. Ignore her-

"I heard you're getting married."

Amal's eyes narrowed as she tried to focus on the task at hand, her heartbeat escalating. She wanted nothing but to ignore Asma- but as Asma continued talking, Amal could not help but listen to her either.

"Mrs. Ahmed's nephew," Asma drawled, tilting her head, "I've seen him. He's good-looking, I suppose. Is he the reason you put up with that old lady-"

"You would do us both a favor if you would stop talking," Amal snapped, her fists balled. She did not bother to turn around and face Asma, getting back to the carton instead. Luckily, Asma had stopped talking and Amal quickly peeled off the last tape. Grabbing two magazines, she turned around, beginning to make her way outside. She was one step away from the exit when Asma spoke up behind her.

"Farha saw you that day."

Amal halted in her steps, her eyebrows drawing together. What was that supposed to mean?

"She says that she saw you sticking a note on his car," Asma continued, her voice devoid of any emotion.

Amal eyes widened. What?

"Must've been embarrassing when he came out while you were doing it." Asma's voice was almost playful, as she walked towards Amal, stopping when she was right in front of her. Amal was trying to calm herself- but was failing miserably, her breathing ragged as her hands clenched by her sides, her fingers digging into her skin. "The story goes, 'that was when she gave him her number.'"

As the words registered in her mind, Amal squeezed her eyes shut. Her stomach churned, the dread crashing over her like a wave. Her eyes blinked open, and as she met Asma's gaze- she finally felt the irony of the whole situation.

Amal could see it in her eyes. Asma knew Amal enough to be certain that she wouldn't do something like that. They hadn't once called each other best friends for nothing. As Amal stared at Asma in disbelief, Asma remained unaffected.

"Didn't know you were so good at chasing men," Asma said, her voice emotionless. With that, she walked away, leaving Amal to herself- her insides churning. 

For a couple of minutes, Amal could hardly move- still trying to process what had happened. She knew that Asma's words had been a warning... probably, this lie was already being passed around. A lump came up to her throat and Amal felt her eyes burning. She should've been angry, and perhaps she would have been- if anyone but Asma had told her this. Now, though, her heart clenched painfully inside her chest, a sickening feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. 

To hear such words from someone she had once told all of her secrets to... The ring of her phone echoed around the meeting hall, and Amal harshly wiped at her tears, composing herself. Taking a deep breath, she made her way back, masking her pain. 

Perhaps I'm hurt because I still care;
you were not the person you've now become.
I miss the old you,
and I see it in your eyes;
you miss the old you too. 

Assalamualaykum! 

 I quite enjoyed writing this chapter :) 

Oh, and what do you think of Asma?