Izzat An-Nisa (Pakistani Short Stories)

Rehbar Part 3 🌺

Namal straightened her short black kameez, the edges lined with delicate gold trim. She wore a shalwar and a chiffon dupatta, her hair tumbling past her shoulders all the way to her waist. She was incredibly bored, sitting amidst a bunch of women at a dawat, anxiously waiting to go home. She volunteered to help clear the food, wiping the marble counters, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Winter was still in session. The weather was formidable and her midterms were done. Lately, her mother had started looking for proposals, insisting that 26 was a good age and that if she delayed it, she'll grow old and pop grey hairs. She was one hundred percent sure that her mother was coming up with false excuses.

But she relented. She didn't want to trouble her parents. They'd already been through so much with Waleed. A ghost of a smile played on her lips as her thoughts drifted to her brother. He was a hopeless romantic, claiming he'd lay the world at the feet of the woman he'd marry. So full of love. The kind of man who defied toxic stereotypes, who proudly clutched his sisters' hands in either of his and played with their dolls. Who cried when Namal had fallen off her bike and had to get stitches. Who never missed a single soccer game.

Her mother, who was previously speaking with another older woman, paused, looking at her eldest daughter. A fond smile took over her. "Na socho, Namal. Soch ne se taqleef na dho khudko."

Namal sighed, throwing away the wipe. "Bhool bhi toh nahi sakti."

The older woman ran her hand over her daughter's hair. "Did you eat?"

Namal nodded, toying with her bracelet.

"Why don't you head upstairs with the other girls?"

"I'm too tired to talk to anyone Ami." She replied. It was true. A muted headache was beginning to form in her temples. "I think I'll ask Azmeen and Dado if either of them want to head home right about now."

Zarmineh opened her mouth to insist, but then relented, noticing the worry etched in Namal's eyes. "Alright. Drive safe, OK?"

Namal nodded, making her way to the the foyer and bumping into someone. She panicked grabbing their arm. "Are you alright?"

When the stranger turned to her, it was as if his eyes lit up. "Namal, what are you doing in my house?"

She groaned internally, refusing to notice the way the black kurta hugged his broad shoulders or the messily styled ink like hair. "I've come to rob you."

He threw his head back and chuckled, his entire body turned to her as if to give her all of his attention. "Witty, huh?"

"Bitchy also in case you don't recall."

His eyes softened. "I've been meaning to talk to you."

Namal exhaled in annoyance. She was tired as hell and now she had to deal with this guy's nonsense. No matter how handsome he was, he pissed her off assuming she'd just give into his antics. "I think I've made it clear it's not me you should talk to if you're interested."

Riyaz nodded, an urgent look overtaking his features. "I know. I just wanted to ask you a question."

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "A question?"

"Suppose..." He paused, running his hands through his hair. The light glinted against the ring on his finger. "I-!"

"Listen, I don't have much-!"

"What do you look for in a guy?" He blurted, hazel eyes anxious and cheeks beginning to tinge in some pink.

Namal was puzzled. In the past five minutes they'd been standing there, everything about him was different. The self assurance was gone, his normally egotistical manner reduced significantly. His eyes held respect in them instead of dipping down to survey her body.

She didn't really know what to say. "I don't know Riyaz, I should be going home." She stepped around him determined to pass over the threshold of this extravagant house that was of course, his.

"Please, Namal. I-, I need to know." He called from behind her.

She didn't bother to turn around. "I look for them to have a good character, be sincere with their faith." She turned to him. "I want them to financially secure, not wasteful or prideful of their money and have a solid job. I want them to respect women and kids and people in general." Her cheeks heated at the intensity of his gaze.

"I want a man willing to stay even after the glamour has worn out. I want a man who will still love me once I am wrinkly and old. I want someone who will be there forever." She thought of her brother, his fiancee. The memory of tears in that poor girls eyes brought her own forth, surprisingly.

Riyaz stepped forward, unsettled by the glassy look in the girl's eyes. "Namal-"

"I want stability, Riyaz."

And then she turned on her heel and left.

///

Riyaz bandaged his knuckles, wincing as he placed the rubbing alcohol back into the bathroom cabinet. After his conversation with Namal, any thoughts of her beauty in the black shalwar kameez, her soft brown tresses and expressive eyes left him. He could only think of the hurt lacing her tone and her voice. The maturity of her words. He could only think of what she said and how badly it invoked a need to be those things within him.

He was 28. He was an adult. Had been one for nearly a decade. His life of fun didn't appeal to him anymore. Rebelling against his neglectful parents and never meeting their expectations. Impromptu vacations. He found solace in something that numbed him.

Was stability what he wanted as well?

In his near three decades of life, no one had made him rethink his life's decisions as much as her. It had been weeks since he had met her and he couldn't remember a single day he didn't think of her. He didn't simply want her for a few dates, hiding around cafes from the prying eyes of random aunties.

He wanted her in his life. In his apartment. He wanted to be the reason those heart shaped lips curved into a smile. He wanted to hear her speak of her life. Know why she seemed so lost and sad sometimes. He wanted everything and anything with her. He wanted to hold her hand and call her his wife. He wanted her in his bed not just for a night, but for all nights. He wanted his children with her.

He was utterly besotted.

He shuddered, taking a seat at the kitchen counter. He would give himself three months. Forget about her and fix his life. If he strayed then he didn't deserve her. If he were able to continue without the thought of her, then he'd ask for her hand in marriage.

He was going to be regular about prayers, fill that aching hole in his heart. He was going to start cooking and cleaning at home. He was going to stop dodging his own family and take the last few months of his residency seriously. He was going to choose a specialty and begin asking for recommendation letters.

Riyaz's heart raced with the possibility of a change. He took his phone out from his pocket, going to his social media accounts and deleting them.

He was going to prove to himself that he was capable of being an honorable man.