Izzat An-Nisa (Pakistani Short Stories)

Rehbar Part 6 🌺 (Final)

Namal adjusted the saree, and then slipped her hand right back into her husband's as they stood near the foyer, sneaking away from the guests in Riyaz's familial home for just a moment. He was looking at her in that dazed way he always did before he kissed her and she turned her face right in time, letting his mouth hit her cheek.

"Control yourself, anyone can walk in." Namal was adamant they keep it PG and it was driving him insane.

He let go over her hand, sneaking his arm around her waist and pulling her into him. She looked like a hoor in the black saree, eyes as seductive of a siren's and all his. "So what? Tum meri biwi ho. Tumhe nahi kiss karoon ga toh phir kisko?"

She burst into laughter at his indignant face, fixing his gelled hair. "Besharam." Upon noticing the pout on his face, she moved closer to him, turning to face him. "I'll let you do a lot more than just kiss me later if you behave."

His eyes dipped dangerously, the desire in the impossible to see. Ever since she had relayed her worries to him, expressed and finally grieved over her brother's untimely death at the hands of a thief during an armed robbery where he was the first respondent on the scene, he'd been more upfront with his affection, knowing that she had trouble saying that she loved him, not that she didn't.

He had never known Namal to be that vulnerable, but when she had started talking about her brother, reciting memories as if from an old story book, he too couldn't help but mourn the man he'd never known. And he finally understood her fears when she told him about Waleed's fiancee, the girl who still couldn't proceed normally with life because of the man she had lost.

He had comforted her, holding her to him and learned that there were a billion ways Namal told him she loved him. The way her eyes would seek him out. The coffee prepared in different ways to fuel his caffeine addiction. The lingering kisses and touches. And now, she was more comfortable with verbal affirmations too.

Namal had no idea that Riyaz was insecure of his change. That he thought she had doubted his transition. Riyaz had been so broken as he told her of his boxing hobby and how it had turned from that into a stress relief method. She had held his hands and kissed those bruises and told him how proud she was of him. Of how far he had come.

"You're the man I'm proud to call mine. My husband. When I look at you, I see someone honorable. Someone who my children will proudly call their father, someone who is on the right path. To me, you are the most perfect man."

She had brought him to her, hugging him and whispering how much she loved him in a rare moment, opening their relationship up to a new horizon, where there lay zero insecurities.

"Oh yeah? What does that entail?" He murmured, caressing the skin hidden under the drape of her saree.

She moved a little to the side, so that they wouldn't be seen. "You'll only find out if you behave, Riyaz."

He had dipped his face into her neck, inhaling her scent. "Yeah. Fine. You're the only one keeping me sane here anyway."

Riyaz slid both hands around her waist, swirling her around as she giggled, her hair falling back and his lips finding the beauty mark on her cheek. "I'm here. I'll see how someone picks on you."

His grin was almost instant. "My protector. So strong and handsome." He teased her, nuzzling her cheek with his nose.

They had been to rock side to side, following the faint music in the isolated hallway. "Namal, be real. Did you or did you not think I was hot when you first saw me?"

She glared. "Seriously?"

He spun her and then pulled her into his chest. "Seriously."

"I thought you were the hottest man ever and I wanted to grab your hand and take you to the nearest mosque and marry you ASAP."