Sadkey Tumhare. (For Your Sake)

two.

فأخلاقك هي جمال.  Your behavior is your beauty.

Aaina.

"Salam, aunty."

I greeted another woman who was in our house, I had no clue who she was but clearly she was an important person.

She called me near her and I walked ahead.

Ever since I was a little girl, my parents had taught me that I had to respect everyone older than me.

It didn't matter if I knew them or not, it didn't matter if they were good or bad people, I had to be nice.

And this was the sunday brunch.

"Yes, aunty." I walked near the old woman, who hardly looked old at all.

"How are you, Aaina? How's your university going?"

I smiled down at her.

How was university?

Well, apparently my semester in Barcelona that I had worked so hard for, that plan was diminished from my life. My friends were scoring better than me because I hardly got any time to study, and my parents were planning to marry me off to a man I didn't know.

"It's going okay, aunty." I lied.

She patted my back and I was about to question about her health when I heard my mother's voice.

"Aaina, come here."

"You'll have to excuse me, aunty." I excused myself and walked towards my mother, who was deep in conversation with someone.

"Yes, ammi?"

"Meet Rehana Gul. She's the new head of J group." She informed me.

I didn't really care. But she did. I didn't understand their purpose of making me meet all the influential people but I said my salams anyway.

"Oh, hello." I shook her hand.

"Aaina is in her first year of university.."

My mother informed her, eyes glancing at my father and then back at us.

"That's great, are you enjoying it?"

"Yes, it's going fine so far." I responded.

I stayed there for a little while as she told me all about her experiences, I told her about mine.

She was an interesting woman and I actually enjoyed her company. I wanted to talk more but I got snapped out of a deep conversation as I heard my father's polite, yet firm voice call me out.

"Aaina!" I hadn't greeted my father since the morning.

He had been busy with his guests anyway.

"Salam, abbu." I reached him. He put a hand on my head, returning back the Salam.

There was another man stood beside him. I knew he was the Prime Minister's advisor of health services, I had seen him multiple times before.

"Say Salam to Usman Sahab as well,."

I didn't need to be told twice.

"Salam. Nice to meet you."

"You too, beta."

"Imran Sahab, are you going to the PM's conference tomorrow?" The middle aged man asked my father. I felt uncomfortable even standing there but I couldn't leave.

It would be impolite.

"Ofcourse, I'm going." I heard my father say in response.

"I just received a call from him in the morning, you know we have family terms now. Infact, we have dinner arranged tonight." He continued.

I didn't know that.

Dinner with the Prime Minister? People would dream of that but we had already been invited to such dinners, we had attended them before.

"That is great. You know how much he appreciates your help."

"He's family." My father replied.

I stated at him.

Family? That easy?

"What are you staring at, daughter? Go on, help your mother."

He ushered me towards my mother, I gladly walked away.

My mother was stood in the hallway, telling something to Asif, our house cook.

"Ammi," I pulled at her sleeve, looking down.

"Yes?"

"Are we also going to Ziagil House tonight?" I questioned, biting my lip.

"I'm not sure if we are, Aaina."

I didn't understand why my mother hadn't even talked to me about any of this. She had simply hugged me at the dinner table, and that was it.

She didn't comfort me with any words. She didn't tell me it was going to be okay.

Her behaviour confused me.

"Ammi, I'm genuinely not happy with this. I'm okay with whatever decision you guys make for me but I'm not happy."

I still told her.

As my mother, she had to care for my happiness, she had to.

I knew she did, I knew she was scared for me and I also knew that she prayed for me all the time. But I also knew that she would never stand up for me.

Heck, even I wouldn't stand up for me.

"Why don't you go to your room? I'll handle things here."

She said instead. I couldn't help but walk away, yet again.

It wasn't the fact that that I was not aware, I knew one day something like this would happen.

I knew that my father would marry me off to someone of his own choice. That was the main reason why I never had any boyfriends, why I never fell in love.

But at the same time, It hurt knowing that no one cared about what I wanted. I felt like I was being auctioned off.

Marrying the son of a sit in Prime Minister was a big deal. My father knew what he was getting me into, I wanted to feel like I was honored to even be chosen to marry someone like that, but I didn't.

I didn't feel that way at all.

I remembered the face of Zaydaan Ziagil, I remembered his cold eyes and I remembered how I had once looked away because of the intensity.

I had only met him once before in my life, at a charity dinner, I had said a salam, he had said it back and that felt like it was enough for me.

How could I come to terms with the fact that I was going to be his wife?

How could I accept marrying someone I didn't even know?

But I had no choice.

Just like several girls of our society.

Tucking away all these thoughts, I switched off the lights and went to sleep.

If a day nap could help me forget all of this, I would gladly take it.

--

I woke up to the sound of someone jolting my body.

"Aaina bibi, wake up please."

It was Raisa. Our housemaid. Her eyes were panicked. But she was always panicked.

I looked at her with groggy eyes.

"What's going on?"

"Your mother has been calling you downstairs, she told me to get you ready. There are guests over for dinner."

I groaned.

Behnchod is ghar main har waqt koi nai koi aya hota hai. Kabhi lunch, kabhi dinner, kabhi tea parties. Abay apna ghar nahi hai kya? Ab neeche ja k sab ko Salam karo, phir woi ghise pite sawaal, wohi aunties, wohi uncles.

Kya bakwas hai yaar.

In other words, I couldn't believe I had slept for five hours and I still felt sleepy as f**k.

"I slept for that long?" I questioned her instead, ignoring the curse words that were right in my mouth.

I was a girl, well raised by an honorable family. Apparently so.

"Yes." She replied.

I sat up straighter, rubbing my face with both my hands.

"Who is there for dinner?"

I questioned.

I walked up to the window and that was all I needed to see anyway. Five bullet proof cars in sight and several others at a safe distance, military guards and police too.

Clearly the Prime Minister was here, with his family.

Wasn't father supposed to go today?

I wanted to act dumb and pretend like I didn't know what was going on, but I did.

The Prime Minster wasn't here for some freaking dinner, he was here to ask for my hand in marriage for his son.

Just the way our tradition demanded.

There would be a photographer downstairs too. I was sure of that. They would publisize this alot.

"I don't really know." I heard her response after a long while.

Raisa smiled at me.

"Ap tayaar ho kar neeche a jayein. Sab bula rahe hain ap ko."

(Get ready and come downstairs, they're all calling for you.)

It was quite shocking that my mother didn't even get me prepared for all this.

Sighing, I walked up and opened my wardrobe, taking out a maroon kurta. I knew it wasn't a very fancy dress but I didn't care about that right now.

I was in the process of wiping my face off with a towel that my sister entered the room with a loud bang.

She was seething. That much was visible.

While I was always calm on the outside, she was never the calm one. At sixteen, she had more tongue in her than I ever did.

"Oh my God, can you believe it? They're all down there discussing your dowry like you're some piece to be auctioned."

I closed my eyes for a second, hearing those words made me feel like an object.

"And that old ass? What kind of Prime minister is he? Who sits at someone else's home with their feet up? Disgusting."

He was the Prime Minister. He could go to anyone's home and sit whatever way he wanted to sit in.

I put the moisturiser on my face as my sister approached me. She looked at me from the mirror.

Her eyes sympathetic.

"Ammi sent me to get you to dress up. She tried to wake you before but I told her you were up all night." She informed me, taking out a pair of heels for me.

I knew she was only doing this to stop herself from crying. She cared about me too much to let it happen, but nothing had even happened.

I was not happy, but I was okay with the fact that I was marrying someone my father had chosen. 

I wanted to think about Barcelona, my freedom, my choice but I was just a girl. This was the fate that my father had chose for me. I had to be okay with it.

"What are you gonna wear?" I pointed at the maroon kurta.

"How are you feeling about this-"

I didn't want to talk about this. I interrupted her.

"Can you please stop talking? My head hurts." My tone might have been shaky but my sister nodded anyway.

I took off my shirt and changed in front of my sister, she just shrugged. I was in the process of applying some make up when the door opened yet again.

"Get out Affan! Aapi's changing."

It was my brother. My eleven year old brother who looked at me and then at Saira with a 'I couldn't care less' face.

"No! Abbu is calling you." He pointed at me.

"Ugh."

I quickly got done with my hair and wore my heels.

"Saira, who else is downstairs?"

I asked her, I wanted to know who else was there.

"The first lady, the PM, his sons and a few guards. Bahar itni cars hain, tobah." (There are so many cars outside)

She answered as she helped me fix a pin.

"Both his sons?" I enquired further.

"Yes,"

I drew a shaky breath.

"It looks nice." She referred to the kurta, trying to draw away my attention. But how could I get distracted?

I didn't want to meet him. I wanted to but I didn't want to. I had never felt so confused.

A part of me wished he would simply say no. But the real part of me knew that he would not. For men like him, for men in politics, power was everything.

And money was power.

"He's very quiet, he hardly said a word ever since he arrived." She mentioned as if that was going to help me..

It wasn't.

"His brother is slightly talkative though." She muttered.

I had heard all the playboy stories about Ahad Ziagil. That afghani girl scandal was still fresh in everyone's mind.

Aaina, go downstairs, meet them, put on a good show, come back, eat some Maggi and binge watch game of thrones episode.

I planned it all in my head.

"Okay, I'm ready." I muttered.

We were about to leave my room when the door got knocked once again.

"Come in." My sister yelled.

A guard entered my room, he looked around for a few seconds. I could only stare at him.

What the hell?

If I could describe how I felt as two men invaded my room, I would. But I had seen these two men before.

I wanted to stare at Zaydaan, I wanted to see if his features had changed from a year ago but I didn't have the courage to.

"Don't you know it's bad manners for guests to enter someone's bedroom?"

My sister had no filter.

She didn't care if it was the Prime Minister's sons or someone of an even higher status.

"Saira." I tried to stop her, mumbling her name. But she just shook her head.

"I'm serious, they should get out. This is private space."

My heart stopped right then. The man to his side took a step forward. The outline of a gun was visible under his clothes.

"Mhm."

There was not a yes or no, not even a name. He just mumbled a sound and the guard backed away.

But his tone had managed to make my sister shut her mouth, infact she had pushed herself a little to my side.

"What a warm welcome we get from your future sister in law, brother."

Ahad, spoke up. I stared at him, his eyes gleamed with mischief.

"Ahad."

Even though I could see him take his brother's name, he was still staring at me. I looked away.

For some reason, I couldn't meet his gaze.

"So disrespectful to your future husband, bhabhi. It's sad." Ahad spoke again.

Clearly, he was trying to mock me. I gulped.

"I'm sorry, she's just-" I tried to apologise but my apparent future husband beat me to it.

"Protective of you," He said simply.

His voice was deep yet lacked any emotion or warmth.

He stared at his brother for a while, and I saw him and the guard walk away.

They even took away my sister and my brother. I didn't understand how Saira went away so quietly.

Maybe, she felt intimidated too.

Silence filled the entire room. I wanted him to leave so I could actually breathe properly but he took a few steps in my direction instead.

"You are going to be part of the Ziagil family now. Lesson number one, don't make my father wait."

He said in clear words.

He was actually walking around me, it made me ever more nervous.

"There is no place for late comers in this family."

I was usually on time.

And I didn't want him to call me a late comer, infact I hated that he had already formed an opinion of me.

"I was coming downstairs but then you arrived with them and I-"

I tried to tell him, mustering up all the courage that I had, shaking away all of my nerves.

His thumb reached out and I almost stumbled back as he used his thumb to lift my chin up.

Thick beard.

Cold eyes.

Smell of cigarettes and cologne mixed together.

"Lesson number two, never talk back to your husband."

"My word is the final word, yes?"

I managed to nod and that was what it took for him to leave the room.

I was unhappy before, but now I was also s**t scared.