Zoya

TWELVE

The next day, Zoya woke up still shaken by the events of the night before. Her long hair was her pride. Something that reminded her of her mom. It was chopped off. All that remained were memories. How her brothers would tug at to annoy her, how Zayyad ran his fingers through them late at night. Her hair played an important part in her life and now most of it was gone. She never thought her step mother would go to such lengths to torture her. The poor souls heart was broken and she was left with tiny pieces of it.

Zayyad turned in his sleep. His eyes slowly opened and he turned to see Zoya. She was sitting upright, staring at the wall. The traumatised face of hers broke his heart. He had no idea about what should he do. The woman he loved was tortured ruthlessly. He had been working so hard to return her her voice but after last night's incident he knew they had taken ten steps behind. But he was ready to help her again.

Lifting his arms he grabbed Zoya by the waist and pulled her onto his chest. His muscles flexed as he did the motion causing Zoya to unconsciously drool.
"Zoya what is wrong?" His calm voice resonated through their bedroom. Zoya simply shook her head.
"Zoya tumhe mujh sai baat karni paray gi, I will not let this matter go so easily". The finality of his tone had her lift her head, she spoke slowly as if not understanding what she was about to say.
"Zayyad kal raat... mera bharosa un sab par aai uth gaya hai. Meray abbu meray liye kabhi larai nahi kisi sai. Mera dil toot chuka hai. Samajh nahi aati kiya karun". The pain and despair clouded her voice as she looked at him with bloodshot eyes.

"Zoya calm down. Agar tumharay abbu aisay han tou bhul jao. Mein tumharay saath labi ziyadati nahi honay dun ga. Iss ghar mein sab tumse mohabbat karte hain. Un logon ko bhul jao jinhon nai tumharay naseeb mein sirf dard likha. Samjhi?" Seeing his face, Zoya nodded and got out of bed.
"Let's get ready for the day then. I promise to be strong from this dat forward". Zoya's determination made him smile and he headed into the bathroom with her.

They took a quick shower and got dressed. Zoya wore a plain white chicken kari dress with red duppata and straightened her short hair. If she was to be honest, she was kind of liking the new her. Zayyad dressed in his classic grey suit with a dark blue dress shirt and the briskly walked downstairs. Starving.

Dadi saw the duo heading towards the dining table.
"Zoya idhr aao meri baat suno," the elder woman called her over. Zoya sat next to her, dadi ran her hand over her head with shafqat and kissed her forehead.
"Beta kal raat ko bhul jao. Jaisay woh eik drauna khwab tha," the wrinkles on her face were lifted upwards as she smiled at her grand daughter in law. Zoya promised and then went to sit next to her needy husband.

Serving Zayyad before she helped herself to a hearty meal full of carbohydrates, Zoya seemed to feel much better. The talk she had had with everyone this morning helped lift her mood. She chewed the sausages slowly, savouring every little bite when a loud voice took her out of her trance.
"Zoya tum theek ho na? Tumharay baal hi tou sirf khubsurat thay. Jab woh nahi rahay tou......," Zeenia rubbed salt in Zoya's wounds. However, the latter remained unfazed. She had long learnt that the best way to deal with her step sister turned sister in law was to ignore her.

Zeenia was burning inside. She had never thought a day would come when the woman who trembled like leaf at just the sight of her would have the audacity to ignore her. She felt wronged. How dare the daughter of a second wife live a better life than hers? Her mind was occupied with these thoughts that she did not notice Ali leave without eating a single bite, not that it even mattered to her.

Zoya, on the insistence of Zayyad had decided to take a day off and relax. Letting the tiredness of the day wash away. Sitting inside the large, comfortable bed, Zoya was scrolling through Netflix to find a good movie, when a knock on the door was heard. The door opened and Zain stepped inside. Twisting his fingers around the walking stick he was using to help him, his face held a look of mischeif. It seemed that he had another trick up his sleeve.