After hours of planning, when Ismail came out of his room, he was somehow at ease. He saw his wife spread on the couch and ignored her. It was only a matter of days before he dropped her to his father's place, and establish himself as a bachelor once again.

Now that he was aware to have backups, he chose to meet a lawyer to get divorce papers. Although it would be the last step for him, he would grant her lifetime separation and freedom.

The prayer for Asr was called, and he went out to pray. He was not a proper Muslim because he missed a lot of his prayers, despite having a prayer room in his office. According to him, he was already gifted and all he had to do was acknowledge the same. So, he prayed once in a while when he got free time.

After he was done with the prayer, he went straight to his corporate lawyer. Through their influence, he could file for divorce and keep those papers safely with him. The advisor asked him about his troubles, and a short duration to get the notary papers ready.

Satisfied, Ismail quickly pinged Hayat to meet. When she told him about her health, he offered to meet her at her place. Although he knew that her retired journalist father would be present, it was still okay. He needed to see her and propose to her as soon as possible.

*****

Hayat lived in a residential area similar to Ismail's. He was glad that their choices matched a lot more than he assumed, adding up to their compatibility. By the time he reached her house, he was happy to see her receive him at the door.

Her father was out to get some things for her, and she had invited him in his absence. Well, Ismail was simply impressed to see her being an opportunist. And he didn't want to reveal about his marriage to her yet. He would sow a seed in her heart with his proposal and go ahead with his plan if she agreed.

Sitting on the opposite side to him, he smiled at her seeing her in a proper hijab and decent clothes. He gave her a bag of fruits that he had purchased on his way there.

"Thank you for this, and I'm happy that you're back," she genuinely smiled.

He nodded, feeling the same way. Her smile was intoxicating and he loved how amazing she smelled.

"I am back," he agreed, "but the village project is incomplete."

"Is it? I heard you went there to check the electricity plant and-"

"I know. I have completed all of it but the whole thing had to be made secured first and then worked on. It's more complicated."

"I understand," she nodded, glancing at him a little longer than expected.

Now was the time to tell her how much he liked her and to know if she felt the same. He wanted to narrate his Kolar tale from the start to the end and to know if she was still interested in him. But he knew that it would simply not happen as planned.

"Hayat, I want you to know something," she leaned ahead in interest and he cleared his throat, "I know this is completely out of context but I needed you to know this before I take a step."

"Ismail, you are scaring me," she said, "please go ahead with whatever you want to say."

"I want to marr-"

The doorbell rang and their conversation was disturbed by an intruder. Hayat excused herself to open the door and wasn't surprised to see her father, Nazakath Ali.

Entering inside, he enquired, "Who is it?"

"Baba, this is my colleague, Ismail," she introduced them, "Meet my father, Ismail. He is a retired journalist."

Although Ismail was upset about being interrupted, he outheld his hand towards him for a handshake.

Her father examined the man and then his hand, and shook it reluctantly. Despite such a clean attire and polished demeanour, Ismail had already upset him. His fault was that he was in the senior's house in his absence to meet his daughter.

"What brings you here?"

On such a question, Ismail quickly glanced at Hayat for help. She interfered, "Baba, he is here to check on me."

"Ismail, is it?" He asked, "I believe you are of that age where you know where to not cross a line."

Ismail was upset and sat straighter when the man occupied his seat on the couch. He nodded, "Yes, I am. I just wanted to visit Hayat since she wasn't in the office and I was passing by."

"Do you enquire about everyone in your office like this?"

"No. Like I said, I was passing by."

Hayat spoke, understanding that her father would not let the man sit peacefully for long, "I told him to come."

Nazakath glanced at his daughter and said, "I know you better than yourself," and he turned to Ismail, "Mr Ismail, my daughter is well and I believe you have seen her enough. She will join work when she feels better. You may leave."

At the abrupt response, Ismail was left embarrassed. After a brief nod, he stood up and looked at Hayat who had an apologetic expression. He walked to the door accompanied by the senior male.

Walking out to the basement, Ismail was filled with anger and embarrassment. He was never treated this way by anyone. And it was not such a big deal to be there with a woman he liked to marry. He wished to tell him about his proposal already but he wanted to be sure first. He never wanted to force anyone into marriage.

So, he decided to go back to his home and order some dinner. He seemed too tired to deal with anyone at that time. As soon as he started his car, his cell phone rang and his father spoke, "Ismail, are you at home? I'm dropping by."

"Abba, I'm outside."

"Is Munazzah with you?"

"No."

"Ismail, you should know not to leave her alone in your apartment. I expected more from you."

"Fine, I'm going home now."

"Good. I will join you in some time."

Adding to his anger, he drove as fast as he could. It seemed like his father was a blocker on his path to pursue his plans. Initially, it was the Kolar village project, and now it was Munazzah. His father seemed to like what he hated.

*****

Hayat sat on the couch beside her father and looked at him. Conscious of her questioning gaze, Nazakath asked, "Yes?"

"Baba, I did not expect this from you."

"Expect what?"

"The way you treated my colleague."

"Well, he was out of his lane. Does he not know that a man and a woman should not be alone because Shaytan is the third?"

Hayat rolled her eyes at the mentioned Hadith and his judgemental opinion. She said, "You know he is a Muslim too. And he was just dropping by to say hi."

"To say hi? What happened to Assalamu alaikum?"

"Babaaaa!" She whined, "You know what I mean, don't change the topic."

"I'm not changing the topic. I'm looking out for you like every father does. A man must respect a woman's privacy and only check on them if required."

"I understand, but you know he is the son of my boss. So having a good connection adds up to an advantage."

"Yes, but that connection is better if not personal. You are his colleague, nothing else. And I best believe that it's better to have minimal contact with a person of the opposite gender."

"Ji," she sighed, "He was telling me something, I wonder what."

"Stop wondering, Hayat. You can ask him when you return to work tomorrow."

"Yes, okay."

He stood up and offered, "I'm making tea for both of us. Do you want anything to eat?"

"Some pakoras would be nice."

Upon receiving the order, the man silently walked to the kitchen, obeying his daughter. After his wife's death, she was his sole support. She was now well-settled and earned enough - her growth was something he was very proud of. And as a father, it was his duty to protect her at any cost.

*****

Ismail reached his apartment to find his wife praying Maghrib. He had not realised the time as he took a long ride back home. Going to the kitchen, he made himself a black coffee with no sugar and checked if there was enough milk and snacks to serve his father when he visited them.

After he was done with his coffee, Munazzah appeared and asked, "Where had you been?"

"Outside."

She rolled her eyes and tried again, "I know outside but where?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"Because I'm your wife."

"A forced one," he irritatedly stated, "Anyway, I don't have to be answerable to anyone."

"You are my forced spouse too, but I'm not as rude to you because I know how to be a human."

He sighed, "Look Munazzah, I'm not interested in you. So you should live your life and I can live mine."

"But-"

The doorbell rang and this time, Ismail was very glad that it had interrupted their conversation. He stood up to greet his father and invited him in. Munazzah smiled upon seeing Nayaz and greeted him.

As they started talking, Ismail quickly fetched some snacks from the kitchen. Although he hated their growing bond, he did not voice it out.

When he came with a tray of biscuits, mixture and fruits, she offered, "Let me make some tea for you."

"Arre beta, that's okay. I don't drink tea as much."

She insisted, "You will get addicted once you have the tea I make for you."

Impressed by her confidence, Nayaz nodded, "Okay, if you say so."

She entered the kitchen and struggled to find a vessel to make tea. She called Ismail and he appeared.

"Which vessel should I use for tea?"

"Use the same one that's there for coffee," he pointed at the sink behind her.

"Okay," she said, grabbing the stainless steel saucepan from the washed vessels. She found some dried ginger and milk in the fridge. She got the sugar and tea powder boxes on the top shelf which was reachable.

When the tea finally came to a boil, she called out for Ismail again. This time, he was frustrated when he called. Knowing that he could not shout at her in his father's presence, he whisper yelled, "Now what?"

"I need a strainer and tea cups from there."

She sheepishly smiled at him and looked at the closed glass cupboard from where she wanted the cups. He was behind her as he got the cups and held them in his hands. When she turned towards him, she took them and looked at him.

"Uh, thanks."

He did not move an inch and she felt odd as he stared at her. The distance between them was small and worry marred her face, wondering what had gotten into him.

"Ismail, can you please move?"

When he did not seem to hear her, she pushed him slightly and moved to strain the tea. She sighed and put all the cups on a tray. When she turned again, she was surprised to see him disappear, joining his father on the couch. Both of them seemed to be worried, so she cleared her throat and entered.

"Here is your tea."

She gave one cup of tea to Nayaz and took one cup herself.

On seeing this, Nayaz asked, "What about Ismail?"

She glanced at him, "he doesn't drink tea."

"Oh right," he sipped on the tea and appreciated, "Ma Sha Allah, this is good. I never expected my daughter-in-law to have culinary skills."

"Well, you can just stay for dinner and I can show you more."

Upon the invite, Nayaz happily accepted. Ismail did not seem to mind since it was his father although he never expected anything from her.

"I hope you don't mind me staying."

Ismail shook his head and smiled vaguely at his father, excusing himself. He went to his office room and thought about what Nayaz had said.

Clearly, he was against the idea of divorce, asking Ismail to give a chance to Munazzah. To give her what a wife required - love, care and patience to make their relationship work. He had explained that Allah has set them to pairs and his nonacceptance was not going to change his destiny. He had made him think twice about all the plans and the past plans that had failed only for him to meet and marry Munazzah, as decided by Allah.

When he heard a knock on the door once again, he opened it to see Munazzah standing with a cup of tea.

"What?" He examined her look.

She was still wearing the same loose outfit and a veil was simply put on her head. Her brown eyes seemed to gain his validation, and her lips were small as if holding a secret. Her skin seemed to radiate under the yellow light. Her forehead creased and she lifted her hand to wave right at his face. He immediately returned to the present and heard her,

"Are you listening?"

He nodded quickly, "Uh, yes?"

"I said to drink this tea and get some chicken from outside. I will make biryani."

"Fine."

Quickly doing as told, he drank the hot tea, burning his tongue in the process and ordered some chicken online. He was too lazy to go and bargain with local vendors at that time of the hour.

Coming to the balcony where his father smoked, he scolded him about his bad habit. Munazzah was busy in the kitchen, so Nayaz praised her in front of his son to bring him to his senses. And he was satisfied to see Ismail pondering over it.

About an hour later and Ismail's multiple visits to the kitchen, the biryani was finally ready. She served them dinner and they happily ate. Nayaz gifted some money to her since it was her first time cooking.

Nayaz soon left the couple alone despite her persistence to make him stay the night. She kept everything back in place and Ismail was taught manners which is why he did not just watch but also helped her. While she cleaned the counter, he put the leftover bones in the trashcan. When she was about to wash the utensils, he stopped her.

"I have hired a maid who will clean the house and wash dishes," he said.

She made a face, "I don't mind cleaning the house but dishes and cooking is something I will do."

"I have hired a cook as well, so you don't have to do anything around the house."

She scowled, not understanding that this was common in the city unlike her village, where men basically married women to treat them like housemaids. Honestly, she did not expect such an action from her husband who seemed to remind her of the forced marriage every time.

"I don't want a cook. I can make good food."

"I know that," he retorted, "It is for your own good."

"But I don't want to have food cooked by someone else. I can make my own food."

"Well, you had it in the cafe today."

"I meant at home."

"I have already done the payment. You can cancel her if you don't like her service."

"But-"

"I said it and it's final. I'm too tired to be arguing with you."

She remained silent as he left the kitchen and went to the bedroom. She was unsure if she should just follow him or finish up everything else. Choosing the latter, she cleaned all the items and quickly moved to the bedroom, turning off the lights on her way.

He was still awake, standing on the balcony as he smoked a cigarette after a very long time. He was not an addict and he smoked a certain rare type which had very less nicotine. He was too stressed at the moment, once again in a state where he did not know what his future held. 

On one hand where there was Hayat who was on the same level of understanding and compatibility; On the other, there was his wife - a complete mismatch. At this point, he was confused between accepting the Qadr of Allah and putting in effort to follow his dreams.