Bitter Sweet | ✓ (rewriting)

10 • manzoori | منظوری

•| willingness |•

•••
kuch ajeeb sa hota hai tume dekh kar
samajh nahi aata jaan aati hai ya nikal jaati hai
•••

It was a bright Friday morning when Fidah had decided to take control of her life. The incoming golden treads of streaming sunlight had transformed her prayers to optimism. She didn't want her grief to weight her down more so than it already had.

Even if it didn't matter she had decided to lie to herself, because she was fed up of the realities of her life. This wasn't the end of the world even if it did seem like it at the moment.

Walking to her now fully curated closet, courtesy of the man she was married to, she picked up a soft tissue pink organza anarkali dress, paired with a flowy dupatta. She remembered the designer that had come with an array of dresses of all types, despite her constant denial they had stocked up her wardrobe with timeless pieces that she knew costed more than she could imagine.

Her husband, the only thing keeping her grounded in between sanity and insanity. He had spent so much money on her, gotten her clothes/cosmetics, a brand new phone (an iPhone at that), asked her if she wanted to pursue her studies further and even informed her about a job opportunity in his friend's hospital that provided treatment for underprivileged people, it wouldn't pay much but at least it was for a good cause. He brought her the most mundane things everyday, to prevent her from being holed up in her room. Some days it was snacks, some days flowers, and somedays even baking supplies.

Fidah's heart swelled in her chest, at his adorable efforts to make her feel at home. Him calling her his wife, in public only seemed like a cherry on the top. Her mind however, reasoned profusely to not take favours or become dependent on him. Alas, the inner turmoil left her in further in un-equilibrium

Dressing up, and applying a little bit of concealer under her eyes and a light tint on her cheeks and lips, she strutted out of her room, the mandatory Friday prayers were done and she had made up her mind to cook something for Zarrar. To show her gratefulness for his generosity towards her.

"Baji? You are looking so pretty today." The househelp, Kashana beamed seeing Fidah walk into the kitchen. Basim had come early in the morning and finished prepping for lunch.

"Thank you!" She blushed red in return, dwindling with the edge of her dupatta, as she opened the pots seeing what was cooked. It looked like a hearty chicken gravy with yakhni pulao, kebabs and salad on the side.

Deciding to make just a sweet dish today, she ambled her way to collect the ingredients. She had seen Basim cook numerous times while they simply conversed during the day so it wasn't difficult to find the needed amenities. And within the next half an hour she had made Firni and decided to serve it with the Naans she had baked yesterday.

Just as she walked into the living room, the locks on the main door twisted, the door swinging open to reveal Zarrar, dressed in a modest ebony black pathani, a Tissot watch wrapped around his wrist, the sleeves of his kameez folded up to his elbows, giving Fidah a clear view of his muscular forearms.

Her eyes drifted towards his eyes, holding them prisoner. His eyes were so intense that Fidah couldn't decide if she wanted to look away or never look at anything but them. They held a silky admiration for her, almost just as dazed as her if not more.