After Midnight

11

I didn’t straight away go to my father. If I was to drop this news on him, I needed my husband by my side.

In the safety of my room, I dialed Harry’s number. He didn’t pick it up the first time, so I called him until he did.

“Woah,” he said groggily, yawning loudly. “What’s up? Everything alright?”

“No. I need you here. Come home.” Because he lived just down the street, it wouldn’t take him more than five minutes to reach me. That being if he came here on feet.

“What happened?” His voice turned panicky.

I suck in a sharp breath, big fat tears threatening to roll down. “Dad returned today, and he brought a man with him. He wants me to marry that guy, Aarif, but I told Aarif the truth about us, and now I have to tell my family as well. I don’t want to do this without you, Harry. Please come?”

“Obviously, Aabirah. I am coming in five. Just remain calm, okay? Don’t think about this too much. Remember what the doctor said on your last appointment; you can’t take stress as it could affect your health. And remember, we always find our way through.”

He is right. But does it do anything to calm my erratic heartbeat? To stop the release of adrenaline in my bloodstream after every minute? Not really. I wonder if the dreams that I dream about would really turn into reality, where I live without the fear of losing Harry all the time.

I nervously pace the room, biting at the edges of my nails. That’s the only way through which I let my tension be made visible. Exactly after five minutes, the door to my bedroom creaks open, and I almost burst out crying.

“Hey, shush,” Harry rubs away the tears with his thumb, stroking under my eyes. He grabs my chin and forces me to meet his eyes through the water in mine. “Whatever happens, we’ll find a way through it. Don’t lose hope on the first words that come out of your father’s mouth. You know he is going to lose his temper, and most probably hit me, but you stay out of it, alright baby girl? I can’t have your and our baby’s life being put into danger.”

I sniff, nodding my head in agreement. I could do that, couldn’t I? “What if he hurts you badly? What if he never lets me see you again—“

“Stop,” he interrupts. His eyes burn into mine. “We aren’t weighing our options here. We just face what comes our way, okay?”

I nod again. Then, my brows knit together. “How did you get in?”

A ghost of a sad smile touches his lips. “I welcomed myself in. There was nobody to stop me.”

My eyes shoot towards the door where I see my father’s figure blocking the doorway, his lips set in a straight line of fury. I could see him practically shaking with anger, as his hands balled into fists by his side.

Oh dear Lord, save us.

Harry senses the change in my features, and turns around.

“What is going on?” Father hisses, glaring at the two of us. I shudder voluntarily, taking a step forward, wanting to protect my husband in case father has a gun by him.

“I can explain—“

“I am not asking you, Aabirah!” he growls. His anger has reached the peak, causing the walls to vibrate from his fury. Oh God, this is going south pretty fast. “Speak, before I rip out your throat.”

Harry takes in a calming breath. He looks right into my Father’s eyes, and confesses, “Aabirah and I married some weeks ago. I am her husband.”

I wait.

I wait some more, bracing myself foe Father’s wrath to be unleashed on Harry. Or possibly me.

“Tell me he is joking.” Father steps inside, his steps slow and measured. A chill runs down my spine. Only I know how I am managing to hide the fear. His eyes fix on me, and he glares at me. “Tell me this is some sick joke.”

I won’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

Harry’s hand touches mine, but I pull it away. I don’t want to add fuel to the fire.

“He is not. I did marry him.” I try to soften my features. “Dad, I love hi—“

“Which,” he grits, “part of the rule you can’t have any relationship with Haaris did you not understand? Huh? Does your Father’s word has no meaning to you!”

I hadn’t realized Dad had stepped closer until Harry held a protective arm over my front. Of course my father saw this. Of course it worsened his anger. A scream builds up in my throat as my Dad lunges on Harry and grabs him by his shirt.

“How hard is it to stay away from my daughter!” Dad barks, his forehead veins popping. I don’t think I have seen him this angry in years. “Did you not get it when I told you to leave us alone!”

“Dad stop!”

“You divorce her right away. We are going to the lawyer and—“

Harry breaks free and jabs a finger in my father’s face. “You can’t do anything to separate us! Nothing! If it makes you feel any better, she is carrying my baby.”

Silence hangs in the air. I stop breathing altogether. This is definitely not going how I planned it to. I try to gauge my father’s reaction. Either he is actually not having any reaction, or he is good at masking it. I don’t know.

“Please, Mr. Shehroz, don’t do anything a father wouldn’t. I love her more than anything, and I would never, ever hurt her.” Harry’s eyes shine with hope. He glances at me. “And she knows that. Sadly, you all don’t. We were never able to find out the truth about why you elders forbid us from meeting, or even talking when we spent our days of childhood playing together.”

Dad says nothing, but just stares at him emotionless.

It’s my turn to convince him before Harry gets hurt.

“Dad,” I take a tentative step towards him. Harry gives me a warning look, but I ignore it and walk up to my Father. Taking his hand in mine, I meet my father’s gaze. “I love him. I have always loved him,” I say in a whisper. His eyes don’t budge. “Please accept us together, please.”

One moment I was pleading to my father, the next I was pushed back, almost losing my balance. As I regained control and straightened, it was already too late.

The bullet had pierced through Harry’s stomach and blood was gushing out of it.

The world blurs around me, everything slowing down. A scream built up inside me, louder than any cry of pain, while I rush towards my husband and yell his name. Harry loses his balance and falls on my carpeted floor, one hand pressed against his stomach and the other clutching my hand.

My heart seemed to slow down despite the rush of adrenaline in my veins. It was difficult to do anything when I felt helpless, and when I could just not stop crying.

“Please open your eyes,” I begged him, but he didn’t listen. Slowly, his eyes fluttered close. “Open your eyes!”

It was too late.