Yaar-e-Bereham

Chapter Four

محبت اب نہیں ہو گی یا کچھ دن بعد ہو گی
گزرجائیں گے جب یہ دن انکی یاد میں ہو گی

Mohabbat ab nahi hogi yah kuch din baad ho gi
Guzar jaenge jab yeh din un kii yaad mein ho gi
~Muneer Niyazi

I woke up the next morning wide spread on the bed with an empty space besides me, and the horrifying events of last night filled in.

Since childhood, I have had the habit of sleeping sprawled on the bed, heightened by the fact that I slept alone on the bed as I didn't share a room like my younger sisters.

Moving around on the bed in sleep was one thing, but unintentionally slapping the person beside you was another. My hands somehow ended up landing on my Husband's handsome face multiple times during the night, each time being jerked away by him. When my hands decided it was enough smacking for the night, my legs took their turn, somehow ending up on his thighs. Like my hands, the legs met the same fate and were thrown off by his rough hands. To the point that he had had enough and sometime during the night got off the bed and sat on his chair, where I found him dosing off in the morning.

Guilt, shame, and embarrassment attacked me at the same time as I saw his head slumped against his shoulder. Not only had I used my new husband as a slapping bag, but I had also driven him from the bed.

Damn him; if only he hadn't challenged me last night, I would have used the pillows instead of him.

I got up from the bed, barefoot, and walked towards him. Standing in front of him, I debated with myself for a little while, then hesitantly reached my hands out and shook his shoulder.

"Suniye," Getting no response, I shook him again, this time a little harder than last time. ("Listen.")

His head rolled, and before he fell forward, I quickly held it in my hands, holding it against my stomach, giving his body support that had somehow put its whole weight on me.

This was the closest we have ever been, and my heart sped up at the contact. Even with my shirt as a barrier between us, my skin felt like it was burning from where his forehead was placed.
Subconsciously, I moved my hand to touch his hair. His black hair felt silky soft, and I quickly drew my hand back, realizing the position we were in.

"The first ever guy to be this close to me, and he isn't even conscious." I rolled my eyes, pushed him back in his chair, and shook him, this time even harder.

That must have done the trick, because his eyes opened. The confused, sleepy look turned into a glare when they landed on me.

"Ap bed per so jaye thori deir ke leye, ab mujhay waisay bhi neend nahi ani." I said to him, my smile was very timid. ("You can take the bed, I won't disturb you.")

His glare intensified as he lightly pushed me aside, getting up from the chair, stretching his body, and walking to the bed, where he laid down.

I sighed, shaking my head, and went to the bathroom to get ready.

When I came back, he was deep in sleep. Knowing that because of me, he wasn't able to sleep last night, I tried not to disturb him while I dressed. For today, I chose a light pink short kurti with tiny pearl work done over it, a patiyala shalwar, and a chiffon duppata hanging around my neck. After applying my normal routine make-up, I curled my hair and left it hanging on my back. Wearing my matching khussa with it, I walked out of the room very quietly, closing the door behind me, and went to the kitchen, where I already knew that Mama was in there, helping the maids prepare breakfast.

"Suba bakhair, Mama." I hugged her from behind as she stirred the pot of nihari. ("Good Morning, Mama.")

"Acha kiya uth gai bus nashta tayar hai, phir tum Zain ko bhi bula dena." She said her hands were busy with work. ("Good that you are awake, the breakfast is almost ready, then you can call down Zain.")