Episode.7
Zaryab gently took Mashal's hand and began walking slowly down the flower-decorated aisle. With every step, Mashal's heartbeat grew louder. They stopped at the door of the room, gazing into each other's eyes for a moment. Zaryab softly touched her cheek with the tip of his finger and took a deep breath, as if trying to capture this moment in his heart forever.
Mashal slowly lifted her gaze, but as soon as their eyes met, her heart began to race even faster. A soft blush crept onto her cheeks, one she couldn't quite hide. Zaryab noticed it immediately.
"What are you looking at?"
Mashal's patience finally gave way, her voice as delicate as marble.
Zaryab gripped her hand just a little tighter, wordlessly saying, "You."
Then he stepped forward, leading her inside the room.
"You are the moon that everyone wishes for… but only a few are lucky enough to have."
He brought her to the window, where moonlight poured over her face like a blessing from the night itself. Mashal felt her soul slowly drown in the intoxication of the moment.
"See that moon?"
Zaryab gently held her shoulders and turned her towards the window.
"Yes," she whispered softly.
Zaryab wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.
"I used to look at it and envy the sky… but tonight, under its light, I feel like I have everything. I no longer envy the moon… I envy myself—because my moon is right here, in my arms."
Mashal turned to look into his eyes—those eyes she had prayed countless times to be close to. And tonight, every prayer had been answered.
"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
Zaryab teased her.
"I'm your wife… can't I look at you?"
Mashal blurted out.
Zaryab's eyes widened in surprise—he hadn't expected her to say that.
"And I'm your husband… I can do much more than just look at you."
Her blush deepened.
"When you get all shy like this… I feel like never letting you go."
"Zaryab… bas bhi karo!"
She shyly pushed him.
"But I haven't even done anything yet, and you're already saying 'bas'?"
he said with a mischievous grin.
"I'm going!"
Mashal tried to turn away, but Zaryab instantly grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.
"Where do you think you're going? I barely just got you—don't start talking about leaving already!"
His tone was soaked in intoxicated affection.
"Well, you've been romancing for so long, I'm honestly exhausted!"
Mashal giggled, blushing.
"Should I stop romancing… and show you what real romance is?"
He wrapped both arms around her, voice teasing.
"Zaryab!"
She looked overwhelmed.
"Okay okay, sorry! I was joking."
He quickly softened, though the smile on his lips still lingered.
"You're the worst!"
Mashal pouted and rested her head on his chest.
"If I were so bad, then why would you marry me?"
He kissed her forehead gently.
"I still would've married you,"
she whispered, and Zaryab brought her hand to his lips.
Mashal lowered her gaze, and the silence between them said more than words ever could.
☆☆☆
"MashaAllah! My daughter looks so beautiful. May Allah protect you from the evil eye. Come, I'll walk you to your room."
Tehmeena Begum smiled softly as she cast a protective gaze over her.
"Mom, you must be tired. Please rest. I'm here—I'll take her,"
Atish suddenly entered and said seriously.
"Alright then. Go, my dear,"
She lovingly placed her hand on Meher's head and walked towards her room.
As soon as she was out of sight, Atish grabbed Meher's arm like a restless lion.
"Atish! What are you doing? Let me go!"
She winced, crying out in pain.
"Don't you dare say my name again!"
He snarled and dragged her toward the room.
The moment they reached the room, he forcefully pushed Meher toward the sofa.
"I told you not to marry me! But you didn't just ignore my words—you didn't even listen! What did you think? That everything would be fine after the wedding? That I would accept you? Such delusions, Meher Mah Atish—such massive delusions!"
He paused, eyes blazing, face red with fury. He placed both hands on the edge of the sofa and leaned in toward her.
"That will never happen!"
Meher sat frozen like a statue made of ice. Atish, fuming, yanked her veil off. She looked at him with trembling lips and teary eyes.
Suddenly, his tone changed.
"Oh hey, are you crying? Please don't. Your tears are really hurting me!"
He said with a mischievous smile.
Meher looked at him, stunned. His face showed a mix of mockery and carelessness.
"You really thought I meant all that? How innocent can you be? What a fool!"
He shook his head and straightened up, but Meher's eyes were now truly filled with tears.
Atish grabbed her wrist tightly—glass bangles snapped and shattered on the floor. Blood began to seep from the cuts.
"Cry! Scream and cry! So you'll realize what happens when someone dares to go against Atish!"
Meher yanked her hand free with all her strength, wiped her tears, and stood with fierce determination, staring into his eyes.
"You hate me, right? Can't tolerate me? Then divorce me—right now! I don't want to live with you anyway. Say it—divorce me! And I'll leave this place forever!"
She stood firm, arms crossed, eyes blazing.
Atish's eyes burned with fury.
"Do you think marriage is a joke? If you wanted a divorce, why get married in the first place?"
"I never wanted this marriage. No one even asked me if I wanted it. They just said you're a good man, that you'll keep me happy. I stayed silent. Mom and Dad were so happy—I didn't have the heart to say no. I thought maybe it would be for the best. But now..."
She paused, her voice trembling, eyes glassy.
"Now I feel like I made the biggest mistake of my life. I'm leaving."
She turned toward the door, but Atish grabbed her arm again.
"I said—you're not going anywhere! Stop this nonsense!"
His grip was so tight, her arm began to swell.
"Don't touch me!"
She screamed, her face flushed with pain and rage.
Atish stared at her. For the first time, he saw a pain in her eyes that actually held his anger back.
He suddenly let go of her arm.
"Go! Go change. I don't want a scene right now!"
"I'm not changing!"
Meher's voice was firm.
Atish narrowed his eyes.
"You don't understand the language of love, do you?"
He shoved her into the dressing room and slammed the door shut.
Inside, Meher clutched her injured wrist, sobbing. Outside, Atish stared at the broken glass pieces scattered on the floor.
He remembered the mehndi night—how she had bumped into him and fallen. He shook his head, pulled off his shirt, tossed it on the sofa, and lay down on the bed.
Half an hour later, Meher came out, wearing a simple dress, face washed.
Atish glanced at her casually.
"Mashal had the sofa removed so you couldn't sleep on it. You can sit, but sleeping's not allowed."
He taunted.
"Come here and sleep properly. I need to sleep too. And listen—if I hear any noise..."
Meher understood the threat clearly.
She was burning inside.
"Wasn't he just saying he can't tolerate me? And now he wants me on his bed?"
Fuming, she lay down on the opposite side of the bed. Holding her wounded wrist, she closed her eyes—silent tears soaking into the pillow.
Why couldn't she tell him that she wanted him? That she didn't want to lose him? But having him hurt more than not having him.
Atish stared at her hair. One thought echoed in his mind—why did she ask for a divorce?
He had wanted to hurt her—make her regret everything. But her asking to walk away—
He hadn't seen that coming.
"Don't worry, Meher. I'll fulfill that wish too. But not now. First, you'll regret it—every moment, every second."
He unconsciously started running his fingers through her hair, then suddenly snapped out of it and pulled his hand back, turning to the other side.
☆☆☆
The very next day, Atish went to the office.
Tehmina Begum tried to stop him.
"Take a few days off, at least! You just got married!"
But he didn't listen.
He'd already done a huge favor by agreeing to the marriage — he had no plans of doing more favors any time soon.
While getting ready for work, his gaze kept drifting toward Meher, who was still asleep.
He thought about waking her up multiple times, but couldn't bring himself to do it.
She was sleeping so soundly that it surprised him.
"After everything that happened, she's still sleeping like a baby?
Let her sleep or die, for all I care!"
Shaking his head, he left.
The entire day passed in office work, but his mind kept wandering.
His phone kept ringing until he finally turned it off out of frustration.
Focusing on work had become impossible.
"Sir, we need your signature on this file,"
an employee said as he approached.
Atish looked up —
"Don't bother me. Get out!"
he snapped, and the employee quietly walked away.
He knew his boss was in a bad mood — again.
But Atish's mind was no longer in the office.
"What's she doing now?"
The thought kept coming back, followed by a wave of anger —
"What do I care what she's doing!"
Around 9 p.m., he left home. Everyone else had already gone to the hall.
As soon as he arrived, Amaan stopped him.
"What are you doing, Atish?"
Atish looked at him, confused — Amaan's tone had a rare sharpness in it.
"What am I doing? You tell me."
"Your phone was off?"
"I was busy at the office. Couldn't pay attention," he replied carelessly.
"You're not doing right — not with Meher, not with yourself."
Amaan spoke gently.
"I don't need your concern."
"And I'm not worried about you — I'm just reminding you: don't do something you'll regret later. I'm saying this because I'm your friend. Otherwise, I know how to stay quiet too."
He patted Atish's shoulder and walked away.
Atish watched him go, suppressing his temper, then walked toward the stage.
There she was — sitting with Mashal — whispering, smiling, laughing.
Her face was glowing like a freshly bloomed flower.
Mashal blushed at her words, and she —
She was laughing as if she had just won the lottery.
Atish's temples started to burn.
"She's already adjusted to everything, and I'm the one stuck in hell!"
The lights, the laughter, the noise…
All of it felt meaningless.
He wished he could just mute everything around him.
Zaryab helped Mashal down from the stage, holding her hand —
Both were meeting guests, posing for selfies.
Atish quietly sat beside Meher.
"I thought you'd learn some manners after marriage,"
he said softly but with sarcasm.
"And I thought you'd learn to smile,"
she replied instantly and then turned away to talk to someone else.
Atish clenched his fists, picked up a glass of water, and gulped it down in one breath.
"Her tongue's getting sharper — looks like she's forgotten everything already."
"You know, I actually thought you'd spend the night at your office…
But relax, Mr. Serious — you're only here because now, you can't run anymore."
Atish was about to speak when Meher cut him off again —
"Let me guess — now you'll go home and tell me how I've ruined your life, how I'll regret everything, blah blah blah…
I've already heard that speech, how many more times will you repeat it?"
Atish's patience finally snapped —
He slammed the water glass on the table.
"You just wait till we get home… then I'll show you!"
he said in a low, threatening voice.
And Meher fell completely silent.
Inside, she was praying:
"God, I hope this Walima never ends!"
☆☆☆
Unbuttoning his shirt, he walked into the room with swift, angry strides. In contrast, Meher followed slowly, her face showing a slight trace of nervousness — but fear was never really her thing. Atish was a different matter altogether, but now… even he didn't intimidate her anymore.
"Have you always been this insensitive, or do you just enjoy messing with me?"
He snapped the moment he stepped into the room.
"What did I even do now?"
She looked at him, surprised.
Atish walked closer, barely keeping his anger in check.
"Do you even realize the things you say? You knew I was already angry, but your tongue — as usual — just wouldn't stop."
He clenched his teeth.
"So what do you want me to do? Live my whole life scared of you?"
She didn't budge as she responded.
Atish looked at her for a moment, expecting her to back down in fear — but the fire in her eyes matched his own.
"You're making me even angrier now,"
he said, leaning in slightly.
"If that was the case, I would've done it long ago,"
she replied calmly.
For a second, silence fell between them.
Atish took a deep breath, then ripped off his shirt and threw it harshly onto the sofa.
Meher watched him silently, then without another word, adjusted her dupatta and walked toward the dressing room.
For the first time, she truly realized — making this man understand was anything but easy.
To be continue...