After a long and exhausting day at work, Sharjeena finally made her way home, only to be greeted by an unusual flurry of activity. The house was bustling with preparations, the aroma of spices wafting through the air, and the clinking of dishes echoing from the kitchen. She couldn't help but feel a sense of curiosity mixed with a bit of apprehension. As she entered the living room, she saw Shagufta, who was busy directing the house staff, her face set in its usual stern expression.
"As Salamu Alaikum,Ammi."Sharjeena greeted, her voice laced with both fatigue and curiosity. "Is there a dawat happening here or any guests coming? I'm just curious about all the preparations.I have no idea what's going on."
With her usual cold demeanor, Shagufta replied, "Yes, Rubab has invited some friends over, and all this is for them." Her tone was dismissive, as if Sharjeena's presence was more of an inconvenience than anything else. Sharjeena nodded, feeling a bit out of place in her own home. "Did I help you in the kitchen?" she asked, hoping to find a way to contribute and perhaps bridge the gap between them.
Shagufta's tone remained icy. "The people who come to our house are not middle class like us. They won't even notice what you made for them. That's why Rubab has already ordered food from a luxury hotel. She's very concerned about our reputation. May Allah bless her.You just decorate the table,that would be a big favour for us."
Sharjeena stood there, silent, feeling a mix of emotions—hurt, frustration, and a longing for acceptance. Mustafa, who had been watching the exchange from the corner of the room, gestured to her not to feel bad. His eyes were kind, and his small smile offered a bit of comfort. He then turned to his mother, trying to lighten the mood. "What's the menu for tonight, Ammi?"
"I have no idea about the food elite class people take. Rubab will order according to their taste," Shagufta responded, clearly irritated and preoccupied with the preparations.
Mustafa chuckled, trying to diffuse the tension. "I know, Ammi, about their food. When you open the food box, you'll see Aloo ka Bharta, which the elite class calls mashed potatoes." Sharjeena couldn't help but hide her laughter behind her hand, while Shagufta shot Mustafa a furious look, her lips pressed into a thin line. The moment was fleeting, but it brought a brief sense of normalcy and connection in the otherwise strained atmosphere.
---
Rubab's friends were already in the house, their lively chatter creating a symphony of voices that echoed through the room. The aroma of freshly cooked food wafted through the air, adding to the warm, welcoming atmosphere. Sharjeena, with meticulous care, decorated the dinner table, ensuring every detail was perfect. She adjusted the flowers, straightened the napkins, and placed the cutlery with precision. As she was engrossed in her task, Rubab entered the room, her face lighting up with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Thank you, honey, for all your help," Rubab said, her voice dripping with a false sweetness that made Sharjeena's skin crawl.
Sharjeena nodded her head, focusing on arranging the table settings. She felt a twinge of anxiety at the thought of mingling with strangers, preferring the comfort of her tasks.
"Why don't you meet my friends yet?" Rubab asked, her tone inviting but with an edge that hinted at her true intentions.
"I feel awkward there, that's why. You go and entertain your guests," Sharjeena replied, her voice tinged with discomfort. She glanced at the group, feeling like an outsider in her own home.
Rubab's smile turned into a smirk. "Oh, come on, honey. Come and meet them, you will feel good," she said, her words more of a command than a suggestion.
Sharjeena sighed, "As I said before, I don't want to meet them. They are your guests, and there's nothing for me. I hope you understand." She looked down, avoiding Rubab's gaze, hoping to be left alone.
But Rubab was determined. She grabbed Sharjeena's hand, her grip tight and unyielding. "I'm not listening to you. Come and meet them, honey," she said, her voice taking on a menacing tone.
With that, Rubab dragged a reluctant Sharjeena towards the group of friends, her grip ensuring that Sharjeena had no choice but to follow. The moment was filled with a mix of anticipation and dread, as Sharjeena prepared to step into a social circle she felt so distant from.
Rubab entered the room with Sharjeena, her posture confident and her smile wide, like a performer stepping onto a stage. "Guys, meet Sharjeena," she announced, her voice ringing through the room. "She is my sister-in-law and the younger daughter-in-law of the house."
Natasha, always the welcoming one, turned to Sharjeena with a bright smile. "Hi, Sharjeena," she said warmly.
Sharjeena, feeling the weight of the room's attention, managed a hesitant, "Hello." Her voice was soft, almost lost in the buzz of conversation.
One of Rubab's male friends, his curiosity piqued, asked, "Where's Adeel's brother? We haven't met him yet. But we're gathering here at your house to meet your new family."
Adeel, sensing the awkwardness, began to explain, "He is..."
Natasha, ever the diplomat, quickly interjected, "We can understand, Adeel. He must be busy. Your brother is probably working at a high-level job like you."
Rubab's laughter cut through the room, sharp and mocking. She didn't bother to hide her amusement, her eyes glinting with a cruel satisfaction. Sharjeena glanced at Rubab, and in that instant, the truth hit her like a cold wave. This was all part of Rubab's plan. She had orchestrated this gathering not to celebrate their new family but to humiliate her.
The room, once filled with the warmth of camaraderie, now felt suffocating to Sharjeena. She stood there, surrounded by strangers, feeling more isolated than ever. Rubab's friends, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, continued their chatter, while Sharjeena's heart sank, understanding the true nature of Rubab's intentions. The realization settled heavily on her, and she felt a pang of betrayal. This wasn't a welcoming party; it was a stage set for her public shaming.
Just then, Mustafa entered the house, his hands full of water cases. The sweat on his brow glistened under the light, a testament to the effort he had put in. Sharjeena, standing in the corner, cursed him silently. Why did he have to come now, looking so disheveled? She could almost hear the whispers and see the smirks forming on Rubab's friends' faces.
Rubab noticed Mustafa and, with a forced smile, called out, "Come here, Mustafa, and meet my friends." Mustafa, trying to balance the water cases, made his way over. Adeel, always the one to assert dominance, snapped, "First, keep the stuff to the side, idiot." The word 'idiot' hung in the air, sharp and piercing. Mustafa's face flushed with embarrassment. He quickly put the water cases down, the sound of them hitting the floor echoing in the room, and then returned, trying to muster a polite, "Hello."
One of Rubab's friends, with a mocking grin, asked, "So, where do you work? I mean, which company? Your company must be high-level like your brother's." The sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable.
Before Mustafa could open his mouth, Rubab, eager to maintain her image, cut in, "No, no, he isn't working at any company. He's staying at home." She tried to sound nonchalant, but the words carried a sting.
Natasha, always quick to join in the mockery, said with a laugh, "You mean to say he is jobless?" The laughter that followed was cruel, a chorus of mockery that filled the room.
Sharjeena, watching the scene unfold, felt a pang of empathy for Mustafa. The atmosphere was thick with humiliation, and she could see the hurt in Mustafa's eyes, the way he tried to stand tall despite the barrage of insults. The scene was like a cruel play, with Rubab and her friends as the orchestrators, and Mustafa as their unwilling victim.
Adeel leaned back in his chair, a smug look on his face. "Actually, Mustafa can't complete his graduation, that's why he can't get any appropriate job," he said, his words dripping with condescension. The room fell silent, everyone exchanging uneasy glances.
Sharjeena, who had been quietly fuming, finally couldn't hold back any longer. "But Mustafa is not jobless," she said, her voice trembling with restrained anger. "He can make games. Currently, he is working on it." Her eyes darted around the room, daring anyone to challenge her.
Natasha, always quick to seize an opportunity for gossip, leaned forward. "It's good, but that job doesn't have any guarantee. People must have a guaranteed job to run a middle-class household. By the way, how much does he earn from that job? Oops, sorry, but I heard this household is run by Rubab and Adeel, am I right?" She smirked, clearly enjoying herself.
Adeel sighed, shaking his head. "What can we do if my brother doesn't understand his responsibilities?" he said, sounding more resigned than angry.
That was the last straw for Sharjeena. She stood up, her face flushed with anger. "Did you guys gather here to meet your friend or to inquire about my husband?" she demanded, her voice rising. "Why are you so curious about him? Don't you have the manners to know that asking about someone's income is inappropriate? Why do you all sound like nosy neighbors who have no work but to collect gossip from every household?"
The room fell into an uncomfortable silence. Sharjeena's words hung in the air, making everyone shift uncomfortably in their seats. The tension was palpable, and for a moment, no one knew what to say.
Sharjeena's voice rang out clear and unwavering amidst the gathering. "As a wife, I have no objections to how much he earns in a month. I know that whatever hard work he is doing, it's for me. And we are content with this." Her words carried a weight of sincerity and pride.
She continued, looking directly at Rubab and Natasha, "Mustafa is a very good man, a very good son, and most importantly, the best husband. He knows his responsibilities towards me. He is loyal to me. I didn't marry him for his wealth like some girls marry sugar daddies nowadays, nor did I buy my husband with my wealth."
Rubab and Natasha felt the sting of her pointed remarks, their faces reflecting discomfort. The room was silent, hanging on to Sharjeena's every word.
"In this era of cheating and disloyalty, the best thing that happened to me was getting a husband like Mustafa. With him, I can get angry, I can fight, and I can shower love. He is my best friend. My life is complete with him. I don't find any flaws in him, and the most surprising thing is that I pray a gratitude prayer to Allah every day. If it weren't for all the bad situations He put me through, I would never have found a gem like Mustafa. So, don't anybody ever try to insult my husband; I will not tolerate it."
The room was stunned into silence. Sharjeena's words had turned the tables, leaving everyone speechless. She reached out and took Mustafa's hand, her fingers intertwining with his. "Let's go from here," she said softly, but with a resolute firmness.
Adeel's face twisted with jealousy, his plans to humiliate Mustafa and Sharjeena thwarted. Rubab's frustration was palpable, her carefully laid plans crumbling. The room watched in silence as Sharjeena and Mustafa walked out, hand in hand, leaving behind a room full of people who had underestimated the strength of their bond.
---
At night, Sharjeena stood by the window, her eyes lost in the tranquil beauty of the moonlight that cast a silvery glow across the room. The night was silent, save for the gentle rustling of leaves outside. Suddenly, she felt a warm embrace envelop her from behind, and the tender touch of warm lips brushed against her neck. She turned around, her heart skipping a beat, to find Mustafa standing there, his eyes filled with an intense, unspoken love.
"You never say you feel this way for me," Mustafa murmured, his voice a soft caress.
Sharjeena gazed deeply into his eyes, her own filled with a mixture of love and vulnerability. "There are many things we might not express, but we feel them deeply in our hearts. Whatever I say, I already feel for you."
Mustafa's face lit up with a tender smile. "You are the best thing that ever happened to me. Maybe I did some good deeds, and that's why I was blessed with a wife like you. I love you."
Sharjeena's heart overflowed with emotion. "I love you too," she whispered, her voice trembling with sincerity.
Mustafa leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving hers, as he slowly closed the distance between them. The world seemed to fade away as their lips met in a kiss that spoke of a love that was deep, pure, and everlasting.
THE END
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Dear Readers
"Thank you for loving my previous one-shots. I hope you enjoy this one too! Your feedback would be greatly appreciated."
Warm Regards
Humna Syed