Hasan hadn't expected to wake up and a few hours later land up at a funeral. Fortunately, he had a white Pathani Kurtha set. When he had arrived with Anaisha at the Singhaniya Villa, there were many relatives minus the NRI relatives who had come to attend their wedding. Hasan felt uncomfortable with the way they were looking at him. Few shot him a weird glance while others looked uneasy in his presence. He wondered why.

Anaisha had chosen plain white mulmul saree and matching high neck, quarter sleeved saree. The deep maroon sindoor in the parting of hair was a glaring contrast to the color of her dress. In respect to the occasion, she had chosen no jewelry except for the heavy pendant and chain that Shambhavi had given her, and Hasan had made her wear it- she almost never removes it.

Hasan was with the gents, Abhinav performing the rituals as Aryaman was bounded in his wheelchair. Anaisha was surprised to find Minal walk in with her parents. She looked around, and Tahira wasn't present. She was glad Abhinav respected their grandmother enough to not bring his mistress here.

Anaisha was never, ever close to Anahita Devi. She couldn't recollect talking to her, ever. Did they ever talk? Still, she did feel the loss. She wanted Anahita Devi to regret what she did to Kairavi and Anaisha in the name of reputation, but she hadn't expected her to—

Anaisha glanced at Babita, she had her mouth covered with the veil of her pastel blue saree. It appears; she was hiding her smile.

When it came to lifting the body, Hasan thought it would be wise to step in. Being the son-in-law of the family, it was his responsibility. But before he could touch the pyre, Abhinav held his hand.

"Arey, Beta, you don't know how this works. Let Abhinav handle this." One of the uncles spoke kindly.

"Yes, Kakasa." He replied.

There was awkward silence amongst everyone.

"It is okay, Kakasa." Hasan stepped back. The rest of the rituals continued normally.

Soon, Anahita Devi's body was carried for cremation.

Anaisha and Hasan returned home, still, everything haunted her. A dark gloomy feeling filled her mind and she pondered how Shambhavi will react. Anahita Devi's arrogant face still flashed before her eyes. There wasn't anything pleasant to remember her by nor was there anything unpleasant. Hasan had advised her to not keep grudges with the dead, as they have left the world and now are facing their "Lord." They will be getting their due and answering for their deeds, instead, she should pray for her to be in peace. But Anaisha couldn't bring herself to do so. Perhaps, she should, she was anyway better than what happened to her mother. But then, was she to be blamed as well, Anaisha wondered. Should she forgive her grandmother?

To make her comfortable, Hasan switched on the AC. Anaisha sat down on the single sofa and threw her head against the back of the soft cushion.

Within seconds, she felt the cool breeze of the AC on her, and slowly, she opened her eyes. Hasan cared for her; this feeling comforted her. And then, she was surprised with a glass of Rooh-afza.

"Here." He handed her casually. She admired him, but he was oblivious. Hasan sighed heavily sitting on the divan.

Anaisha straightened in her seat, - "Today morning, why were you sitting and praying? Is everything alright?"

Hasan blushed, avoiding her. After she nudged him further, he answered, - "Yaar, do want to know the answer from me after last night." He blurted. Anaisha paused and then chuckled.

"What?" She fell against the armrest and continued to laugh.

Hasan sighed looking away, - "My body is still aching. I never ever had so much sex in my life."

Anaisha leaned, and held his hand, - "Me neither."- she moved back, - "Anyway, in the next few days you won't be getting any sex."

Hasan almost choked on his drink, - "Why?" He sounded aghast, - "Are you getting your periods?"

Anaisha bit her smile, - "No! Also, I don't mind period sex as long as you are okay with it."- she took out her phone. Hasan gulped, awkward by her straightforwardness. She flashed her phone at him. He squinted his eyes, seeing an ovulation calculator on the screen.

"My fertile window is opening soon and there is high risk for pregnancy. So."

Hasan was confused and amused, - "You are talking as though getting pregnant is a deadly disease."

Anaisha sighed sadly, - "I don't want to complicate my life with babies. I know we should have spoken about this before deciding to be together. But. Look, Hasan, I am being straightforward here, I don't think I could be a good mother, also I don't want to bring a life into this world and torture it as I have been."- She lowered her gaze momentarily and then looked up again.

"Also, I don't know if my body could carry a baby after—"

Hasan held her hand, giving her his moral support. His hold strengthened her. Once again, she was going to tell him something she has not told any other soul.

"I had two voluntary abortions," Anaisha confessed. Then, she noticed Hasan's hold loosened. It was for a second, he held her hand again. This time tighter.

"Yuvaan doesn't even know, no one knows. I did it on purpose. I didn't want those innocent babies to suffer because of my indecisiveness and unreadiness. Yuvaan was too casual, impulsive, and unpredictable. With parents like this, what future did those kids have? They would have ended up in a damaged family or worst, in any foster home. I don't want any more Anaishas."- Her eyes pooled with tears, and a painful lump in her throat obstructed her words, - "I am sure, they are in a better place now." Anaisha felt emotional. Her voice betrayed her.

Hasan got up and sat on the armrest. He enveloped her in his arms, and she leaned against him.

"Don't think about it, Anaisha." He caressed her head. Anaisha quickly wiped her tears and moved away from him. She excused herself for the washroom and Hasan doesn't interrupt her.

Hasan returned from college and noticed Anaisha was on her computer. He didn't disturb her and quietly walked into his room.

After he came out, Anaisha stood Infront of him with a tray carrying a glass of cold water. He raised his eyebrow, an amused smile on his face.

"Has the sun risen from the west?" He joked.

Anaisha rolled her eyes, thrusting the tray into his hands. Hasan noticed she was disturbed. Perhaps, it was because of her grandmother.

She sighed, dropping on the chair, - "I quit my job, and now, looking for another one is a pain."

Hasan nodded, he sat beside her, - "But why do you need to work. You are already a trustee of St. Xavier."

She shook her head, - "I want to do something independently. On my own." She rubbed her face with her palms. He held her shoulder and encouraged her.

Later Hasan cooked dinner for them, and Anaisha was still working.

"Come on, yaar. You won't get a job offer in one day." He placed her plate next to her.

"I will eat later, you eat," Anaisha replied without looking at him. Hasan sighed, pressing his lips.

Then, he tore a small piece of roti and generously dipped it into the dal.
"Okay, let me feed you." He forwarded her the morsel. Anaisha looked away from her computer and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Really? Are you for real?"

Hasan shrugged, - "What is so unreal? I used to feed Sanam many times. Isn't it natural? Plus, if a husband feeds his wife, he will be rewarded by God." He smiled towards the end. But Anaisha suppressed her smile.

"I don't believe in God, but this I don't mind." She leaned towards him. Purposefully, she bit his fingers.

"Ouch!" He winced, jerking his hand away. Anaisha laughed at him.

"You always do this." He twisted his lips. She awed, pinching his cheek.

Later in the night, Hasan was troubled after a call with his family. He had told them about his marriage. Momina had a near heart attack while Mahmood reprimanded him. And in the background, Bilal kept chuckling throughout.

Hasan sighed, tossing his phone on the bed. Just then, Anaisha walked in from the bathroom. She looked at him, raised, and dropped her eyebrows at him. Hasan shook his head in response.

He watched her sit at the dressing table and apply moisturizer cream on her hands and face. She removed her necklace and picked up her herbal sindoor.

"Shoot! It is over so soon."

Hasan straightened on the bed as she searched the drawer for more. Luckily, she found one. Whilst muttering about buying a new one, she dipped the stick into it and carefully filled her parting. Even after washing it, a tinge of red remains.

Hasan cleared his throat, - "I thought you were an atheist and a modern woman. It is surprising to see you religiously apply sindoor. You never leave your hairline bare." He sat on the bed. Anaisha smiled at him through the mirror.

"I was always fascinated with sindoor."- she replied combing her hair, - "In fact, ever since I was a child, my sole reason for marrying, if I would, was because I would get to wear sindoor." She giggled.

Hasan just smiled. Anaisha got up and casually sat beside him, - "Besides one can take modernity and traditional hand in hand. But FYI, I am not applying this for you."

Her smile faded as she noticed he looked bothered and enquired about it.

"There is prob—problem. I told my parents and—they are fired. I couldn't help it, my mom was pressurizing me to marry a girl, she had selected. I had to tell them. Finally, it is decided that we will have to go there. My mom wanted Walima—reception there."

Anaisha patiently listened to him and then nodded. He shifted closer.

"They wanted you to be Alisha again. But I refused. I don't lie. Abbi feared there might be complications and all, but you don't worry. I will handle everything." He held her hand.

Anaisha smiled, resting her head on his shoulder and looped her arms with his. Hasan was relieved, he gently patted the back of her palm.

Okay, Anaisha chali Sasural. Are we expecting another Dhamaal there? Also, my lovelies drop your thoughts about the chapter in the comments, please and Stay Tuned for the next update *lots of love* *hugs and kisses*