Zainab Finds a Real Man

"Lucky bastard," I murmured softly.

Savio, my Goan friend sitting to my right overheard me and grinned in agreement.

We were at my friend Sohel's wedding when I saw his bride, Zainab, for the first time--as the cloth separating the couple was lifted during the Nikah ceremony.

She was stunning--sharp yet gentle features, high cheekbones, and flawless, marble like skin. Her eyes sparkled, and she had a smile so beautiful it could stop anyone in their tracks. She was in a very regal-green dress adorned with gold zardozi and looked like a princess.

She was so breathtaking, I couldn't get her out of my mind for the rest of the evening. I'm sure it was the same for many of the guys there.

Later, in the evening at the walimah, or the wedding reception, we went to greet them and hand over our gifts.

After handing my gift, I hugged Sohel and whispered in his ear "you're one lucky bastard, you know that?" making him laugh out.

Perhaps I'd said it a bit too loudly, because Zainab looked at me with a shocked look on her face, and then blushed.

"Bhabhi, do you have a sister?" I asked her, using the term for sister-in-law.

"No, sorry I don't," she smiled.

"Oh, what a pity."

After we'd finished wishing them, Sohel's brother Shoaib took us around introducing us to his family, and later of course we attacked the lavish buffet spread.

The next day, we said our goodbyes and headed back to our respective hometowns.

On the flight back to Bangalore, I thought about the wonderful time we'd had over the last three days, and how Sohel had literally struck gold by marrying such a breathtakingly beautiful woman.

Back in Bangalore, I got pulled into my crazy work schedule and soon forgot all about the trip to Lucknow. Apart from the occasional forward or casual banter on our friends chat group, I didn't have much contact with Sohel.

***

About two year later, I got a call from him.

"Hey Sohel, long time. How is married life?"

"All good Samir. Look, I called to tell you that I've got a job offer in Bangalore, and I have to join in two weeks."

"Wow, that's great. Will be good to have you in the same city."

"Yes, bhai."

"So where in Bangalore is your new company?" I asked.

"Some place called Electronic City. Do you know where it is?"

"Of course. Everyone knows Electronic City. Its where all the big tech companies are located.

"Okay, I have no idea about Bangalore. We're going to stay in a serviced apartment for a few weeks, until we find a good flat."

"Like hell you're staying in a serviced apartment. You're going to stay at my place till you find a flat," I replied.

"No Samir. I have no idea how long it might take to find a nice place in Bangalore. I would have settled on a place in a couple of hours, but your bhabhi is very choosy. For her, everything has to be just right."

"Doesn't matter. You guys can stay with me as long as you like."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure. It'll be good to have some company. It gets quite boring when I return from work."

"Hmmm. Okay, thanks a lot. I'll keep you updated on our plans."

*** Two weeks later ***

Sohel and Zainab arrived at my flat quite late on Sunday evening after a three hour flight and an almost two hours cab ride from the airport.

I embraced my friend and bowed down slightly for Zainab.

"Welcome to my home bhabhi. Please consider it your own home. It is at your disposal for as long as you like," I told her. I knew I didn't have to be formal with my pal.

"Thank you, bhaijaan," said Zainab, with an adab.

This was only the second time I was seeing Zainab, and she looked even more stunning than I remembered, in a natural look without all the wedding makeup.

She was in a lemon yellow salwar kameez and a sky blue hijab that covered her head only partially, leaving some of her soft brown hair uncovered. She was about five and a half feet tall, with a slim frame and full, medium-sized breasts. The more I looked at her, the more I felt envious of my friend.

I showed them their room and excused myself so they could freshen up.

About an hour later, we were seated in the living room. Zainab was still in her hijab, but I didn't mind because I knew she was not supposed to take it off in front of a non-mahram (non-family).

I would normally have offered a whiskey to Sohel which I knew was his favourite drink, but was not sure about Zainab's views on drinking alcohol, so I got some iced tea for all of us.

"So, it's great to see you again," I said.

"Many thanks for letting us stay in our home, bhaijaan," Zainab said, I bit formally.

"Bhabhi, this is the front door key," I said, handing her the duplicate.

"Thank you," she replied.

"Please don't keep saying that, you are embarrassing me, Sohel and I go way back. This is your home too--no formalities, please."

She smiled. "Sohel always said you're more like a brother to him."

"Yes, bhabhi," I nodded.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

"Oh, that must be the food I ordered," I said, getting up.

"You ordered from outside?" asked Zainab.

"Yes, Bhabhi."

"So do you eat outside food very often? That's not healthy at all."

"Only now and then. Maybe a couple of times a week. My cook has a limited menu, so it gets a bit boring," I said, transferring the food from the plastic containers into serving bowls.

"This won't do, bhaijaan. You need to get married," she said with a playful shake of her head.

"That's why I asked you at your wedding if you had a sister!" I grinned.

"Yes, I remember. Don't worry, I have many beautiful cousins. I'm sure you'll find one of them compatible with you," she said with a smile.

"Thank you. If you'd told me that day, I'd have extended my stay in Lucknow," I joked.

"Oh, don't worry. One of them is going to be visiting me once we find a nice house and settle down. I'll introduce you to her then."

Sohel, who'd been quietly listening, jumped in. "Yeah, yeah, introduce him to someone. But be warned--he had a new girlfriend every two months in college."

"Really?" Zainab asked, raising her eyebrows at me.

"No, he's exaggerating."

"Well, two that I know of. Aisha and Zeenat from the girl's college nearby. And maybe a few others..." Sohel added, smirking."

"Aisha wasn't even from the girls' college--she was two years senior to us in our own college."

"Still counts," Sohel grinned.

"Older, hmmm? So, you like older women?" Zainab teased.

"No, no, Bhabhi! It's not like that at all," I laughed, giving Sohel a playful slap on the head. "He's just trying to ruin my reputation!"

"Oh wow, someone has quite the history," Zainab teased. "What about Sohel? Did he have any girlfriends?"

"No, he didn't. He was the good boy in the group."

"I don't believe that. Are you just covering up for your friend?"

I laughed, and Zainab shook her head, smiling.

"Okay, okay," she smiled. "Let's eat before the food gets cold."

Once we sat down and started dinner, Zainab looked up and said, "Tell me the story about those crazy guys."

"Which crazy guys?"

"About a fight you both had with some crazy guys. Sohel's brother told me that Sohel once got attacked by four guys and you guys fought them off."

"Oh that one. We'd all gone out after our third year exams. Sohel got into a scrap with some drunkards over something. I don't even know what the issue was. We had gone to one fast food restaurant. While I was standing in line to collect our food, I heard a commotion and saw these four guys attacking Sohel." I asked him.

The actual story was a bit different from what I told her. The scrap had actually happened in a pub and Sohel had been drunk, which I didn't want to tell her. I was at the bar ordering our next round of drinks when Sohel got into an argument with the guys at the next table over them talking too loudly. The argument escalated quickly, resulting in them attacking him.

"Oh no. But why did they attack you, Sohel?" asked Zainab.

"They were drunk and looking for a fight. It could have been anyone."

"And then what happened?"

"I heard the commotion and rushed over," I said. "somewhere during all that, one of them pulled out a knife and stabbed Sohel. Then they all took off. We had to rush him to a hospital--thankfully, it was close by. The staff were very helpful."

"You forgot to mention that you tackled two of them before they ran," Sohel added, turning to me.

"Tackled meaning?" asked Zainab.

"He practices MMA. So he was able to tackle two of them. Otherwise, I would have been done for," replied Sohel.

"Alhamdulillah. Thank God," Zainab said, her voice soft.

"Yes. I was bleeding so heavily, I would have died. Samir saved my life that day."

"Actually, my dad's a doctor," I added. "Luckily, he made me do a first aid course one summer, so I knew to apply pressure and control the bleeding. And thankfully, none of the major organs were affected."

"Thank you for helping Sohel," said Zainab.

I gave her a small smile and nodded.

"Hmmm... so you can fight as well as save lives? My cousins are definitely going to fall for you when they hear this story," she said with a teasing smile.

"Well, I hope so," I grinned.

She laughed.

"So what's the plan tomorrow?" I asked.

"Tomorrow I have to report to my new office at 9 o'clock. What time do you leave for work?"

"Same. I need to be at work by 9 too. But I'm lucky--my office is just a 10-minute walk from here."

"Wow, you're so lucky to have an office so close. How long do you think it will take me to get to Electronic City?" asked Sohel.

"E-city is a one-hour drive from here. You can take my car. I usually walk to office."

"One hour?" Sohel asked, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"Yup. Welcome to Bangalore," I chuckled. "You'll get used to it."

"Thanks, buddy. That's very nice of you."

After dinner, we hung around chatting for a bit while Zainab watched her serial on TV. Once it ended, she and Sohel retired to the guest bedroom, and I stayed back at the dining table with my laptop to finish some pending work.

"Such a relief to take off this hijab. I've been wearing it since 6 o'clock in the morning," I faintly overheard Zainab saying, through the closed bedroom door.

"You know you have to wear it," replied Sohel.

"Yes, but Samir is like your brother. Do I really need to wear it in front of him too?"

"Yes."

Not wanting to overhear any more, and needing to focus anyway, I picked up my laptop and moved to my room, shutting the door behind me to continue working in peace.

***

The next few days were quite uneventful. Sohel and I got into our work routines, leaving for work in the morning and getting back around 6-7 o'clock in the evening.

Zainab would be at home, researching apartments to rent, on the internet, and talking to the owners. Like most women, she was very exacting, so by Friday, she had shortlisted only a few places.

She also took over the kitchen, even though I told her she need not bother because my cook would cook all our meals.

But she insisted. "What else will I do all day?" she said. "I can't just sit and watch TV. And I'm pretty sure I can cook better than your cook anyway."

"Thank you. I hope the cook learns a few recipes from you," I replied.

"Don't worry, I'll teach her."

"Thank you."

I was quite bored of the cook's repetitive meals, so was quite glad that she would be learning some new recipes from Zainab. I was looking forward to some delicious Lukhnowi food.

And Zainab didn't disappoint. She was a fantastic cook. It had been a while since I'd eaten anything close to that kind of homemade flavour. It was a welcome break from the usual fare.

They had planned to check out the shortlisted apartments on the weekend, but on Friday, Sohel announced that the workload at his new office was really heavy and he would need to work over the weekend as well.

"Oh no, Sohel. Then how will we finalise the apartment?" Zainab asked, visibly disappointed. "I've already scheduled to see a few apartments with the owners tomorrow."

"What can I do, Zainab? I happen to have joined in the middle of a project and the person before me left abruptly, leaving the project hanging. I'm expected to get it back on track."

"So what about the appointments I have fixed for tomorrow with the apartment owners?" asked Zainab, looking annoyed.

"Samir, I know you have already done so much for us so I feel embarrassed to ask you. But would you be able to take Zainab to see the apartments?"

"Yes, of course. I don't have anything tomorrow," I replied.

"Why don't you go with Samir? He knows his way around Bangalore also, so will be able to give the right advise on which area is the best to stay in."

Zainab responded with just an "Okay."

"Don't worry Bhabhi, I know my way around quite well, and I'm also a safe driver," I told her with a smile.

"I'm sorry, Bhaijaan. Please don't misunderstand. I'm so grateful to you for all your help," she replied.

"Don't worry," I assured her.

The next day, we set out early on our apartment-hunt, while Sohel went to office by cab.

We saw four apartments in the first half, none of which were to Zainab's liking. By lunch-time, we were both quite tired and headed to the food court in a mall for a quick lunch, after which we could resume our apartment search. While we were at the table, Zainab continued to call apartment owners, to setup appointments, but all of them seemed to be free only after 4 o'clock.

"Wow, Bangaloreans, really like their afternoon siesta. So what do we do till 4?" she said.

"We could watch a movie, or go bowling. They're both right here. The multiplex is on the fourth floor, and the bowling in on the third floor. Whichever you want."

"Let's go bowling," Zainab said.

We headed to the third floor, bought the tickets and spent the next two hours bowling and playing the other games like foosball and air hockey.

We had a great time, and Zainab finally loosened up, laughing and giggling freely. She had been quite formal till now, so this change was refreshing. I'd started to think she might be one of those strikingly beautiful women who are so self-conscious of their looks that conversations with them tend to be dull or one-sided. But she turned out to be a lot of fun and surprisingly down-to-earth--quick to laugh, sharp with her comebacks, and never missing a chance to tease me if I threw a gutter ball or failed to defend my goal.

Once the teasing started--her mocking me for a gutter ball, and me throwing the banter right back--everything changed. She was sharp, playful, and full of energy. The two hours flew by, and before we knew it, it was time to get back to the apartment hunt.

"Thank you," said Zainab, when we were in the car, heading towards the first apartment.

"What for?"

"For such a fun time. It's been so long since I had real fun like this. I used to go bowling with my friends before marriage, but now it's all stopped."

"You're welcome, Bhabhi. You can tell me whenever you want to go bowling. I will convince Sohel also."

Zainab had been formal and reserved until now, but something shifted after our time at the games centre. She was suddenly more relaxed--laughing, giggling, even humming along to the songs on the radio. Her energy was lighter, warmer, and I found myself enjoying her company far more than I had before.

We finally got back home at about seven o'clock, and Zainab retreated to her room. She did not come out until Sohel was back at about nine, after which we all had dinner and retired for the day.

Sunday went quite similar to Saturday. Sohel left for office, while Zainab and I continued with our apartment search. For lunch, we went to the same mall and thereafter hit the games center for some games.

By the time we got back in the evening after seeing more apartments, we were no closer to finalising one than when we had started. From that angle, the weekend had been a bit of a letdown, though I didn't feel that way--I'd genuinely enjoyed spending time with Zainab. We'd developed a good rapport, and a good unspoken understanding.

The following week went quite similar. Sohel and I would head to office in the morning, while Zainab did her homework on finding apartments.

I was enjoying Zainab's company, so I made it a point to started coming home a bit early around 5 -- 6 o'clock, so I could get some time to chat with her before Sohel got back.

She was quite surprised when I offered to help in the kitchen and refused at first, but relented after I insisted. I helped her with simple tasks like washing and chopping vegetables, and generally followed her instructions.

It helped me to learn some recipes also, which I jotted down in a notebook.

Sohel had to go to work the next weekend as well. His new company really seemed to be squeezing him for work.

So on Saturday morning, Zainab and I went apartment hunting again, while Sohel went to office.

We continued with the same routine of apartment hunting in the morning, followed by lunch and games, and then apartment hunting again.

By about 7 o'clock, we were done with our list of apartments for the day, and were on our way back, when Zainab's phone rang.

"What? I can't believe this, Sohel. You won't be home even for dinner?" she spoke into the phone.

Then there was a long pause, while Sohel was speaking, after which Zainab said, "How late, Sohel?"

"So where will you have your dinner?" she asked into the phone.

"Okay," she said after another pause and hung up.

"He says he will be very late. Maybe even 1-2 o'clock," she told me, irritated.

"It's okay. Something important must have come up," I said.

"Something important always comes up."

"He's in an important position in his..." I said and stopped when she gestured to me to stop talking and started staring out of the window.

I didn't say anything more, not wanting to wade into their personal issues.

After a couple of minutes of driving in silence, she asked me, "Can we eat out today?"

"Uhhh... sure. I know a nice restaurant nearby. I think you'll love the food there," I replied.

"Okay," I said, and turned the car towards a popular restaurant and pub close to where we were.

We were early, so the restaurant was still quite empty and we got a table easily.

A short while after we had settled in, the waiter came with two menus, one for food and the other for drinks.

"Please let me know when you are ready to place your order," he said before stepping away.

"So, what would you like to have?" I asked, handing her the food menu.

She quickly scanned through the menu and said, "It's the same old regular stuff. What's in the other menu?"

"This is the liquor menu," I told her.

"Okay, let me look at it," she said, reaching out her hand.

"Bhabhi..." I said, not sure of what to say.

"My name is Zainab, so call me Zainab."

"Yes, Bhabhi," I said.

"Zzz-aaiii-nnn-aaa-bbb," she said, like a school teacher tutoring a pupil on how to pronounce a difficult word, and smiled.

"Yes, Zainab," I smiled.

"Now, give me the liquor menu," she said.

"I thought you would not be interested," I said, handing it to her.

"What do you suggest I should have? Something that will not smell so much?" she asked, after studying it for some time.

"Have you had any alcohol before?"

"Once. At my friend's birthday party during college."

"What did you have?"

"Vodka. With orange juice."

"Okay, did you like it?" I asked curiously.

"It was okay. I got a buzz, and after that I felt very sleepy."

"That's called a screwdriver cocktail," I said.

"What's a cocktail?" she said with a mischievous giggle.

"It's an alcohol mixed with a soft drink or a juice to sweeten it. You could have the same, if you liked it the last time."

"Fine, I will have that. Then I can also tighten the loose screw in your head," she joked.

I ordered a screwdriver for Zainab, and a whiskey for myself, along with some snacks.

Zainab took a sip of her drink and said, "This is nice."

Before I had taken 2 sips, Zainab had already downed her screwdriver.

"Go slow, Zainab. Or else you're going to get drunk."

"Sorry, I was really thirsty. And this tasted so good," she said and giggled.

"Can I try something else?"

"I think you should take it easy," I told her.

"Don't worry Samir. I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself," she said and went through the cocktails list.

"Oh, there's one called Sex on the beach!" she said and laughed.

I just smiled, hoping she would not get drunk. It would be tough explaining to Sohel.

"Come on Samir. Are you always so shy? Is this a good cocktail?" Zainab teased, laughing as she glanced at the menu. The alcohol was clearly beginning to kick in.

"Yes, that's a good cocktail," I said and placed the order with the waiter.

"Oh my, this one is even better, " she exclaimed after taking a sip of the 'sex on the beach'.

"Zainab, take it easy. I'm serious," I said, gently pulling the glass away from her.

"Okay, okay," she said with a mischievous smile, taking it back from my hand.

After some time, she asked me, "Samir, I want to ask you something. Please tell me truthfully."

"Okaaaay," I said, wondering what she wanted to ask me.

"Samir, are you really a Muslim?" she asked.

I was quite surprised by her question and asked, "No, Zainab. I'm not. But why do you ask?"

"But, Sohel told me you are," she said, with a surprised look.

"No... why would he think that?"

Zainab shrugged, "No idea."

"But is that a problem?" I asked, cautiously.

"No, of course not. I'm here drinking alcohol with you, aren't I?", she replied.

"So, is it okay for you to drink alcohol?"

"Actually, not. But I'll ask Allah for forgiveness later. They say he is most merciful," she said, with a ghost of a smile.

"But why does Sohel think you are?" she asked after a pause of a few seconds.

"I had no idea. And I never knew he thought I was. Very strange."

We both sat in silence for some time, with me wondering why Sohel might have come to that conclusion.

"You know, your name does sound like a Muslim name, I suppose that's the reason," she said thoughtfully.

"It does?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes. Actually, Sohel has a cousin called Samir. That must be the reason why he thought that way," she told me.

"Hmm. It does explain a lot of things," I said finally.

"Like what?"

"I've always noticed Sohel had a habit of lecturing me on what is halal and what is haram, and that I should focus more on my deen and some other stuff--half of which I didn't even understand."

"He did?"

"Yes, but I would always ignore his statements. But why did you ask me that question, in the first place?"

"My turn to confess, I guess. I hope you won't be angry, Samir," she said.

"No, of course not. Unless you tell me your pretty cousin has refused to meet me!" I joked.

She laughed, and said, "No, no. Nothing like that. I will introduce you guys, don't worry."

"The washing machine detergent got over a couple of days ago, so I went to your room to see if you have any more stored somewhere. I saw the Ganesha and Krishna idols kept on your dressing table. I hope you don't mind my going into your room?"

"Of course not, don't be silly. But did you tell Sohel?"

"No, I didn't," she replied.

I didn't say anything, unsure whether I should tell him or not.

"So since you're not a Muslim, I'm sure you wouldn't mind me taking the hijab off?"

"Not at all," I said.

She removed the hijab, and loosened the bun, letting her soft, chestnut-brown hair fall freely around her shoulders. With practiced fingers, she fluffed it and tucked a few strands into place.

She looked ethereal--so breathtaking that I forgot to breathe for a second. My eyes lingered, captivated by her effortless beauty.

"That's so much more comfortable," she sighed and took a sip of her drink.

She noticed my wide-eyed stare and raised an eyebrow. "What?" she asked, a half-smile playing on her lips.

"Nothing," I muttered sheepishly, looking down at my glass, trying to mask the fact that I'd been shamelessly admiring her.

"Then drink..." she said, nudging her chin toward my drink.

"Yes," I said, and sipped my drink, with an embarrassed smile.

"Don't worry, I will introduce you to my cousin," she said playfully, as if reading my mind.

"Is she as beautiful as you?" I asked, leaning into the banter.

"No, I'm the prettiest in the family. Sorry, you missed your chance," she said with a teasing twinkle in her eye.

I clutched my heart dramatically. "Oh no."

"Okay, okay... maybe she's actually prettier than me," she replied.

"I seriously doubt if that's even possible," I said, getting a bit adventurous.

"Oooh, is it?" she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

She held my gaze for a moment, the air between us suddenly a little more charged than before.

She tilted her head slightly, her smile softening. "You're good at this, you know."

"At what?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Making a girl feel seen," she replied, swirling the straw in her drink.

"I meant every word," I said, this time without a hint of flirtation. Just honest.

She looked down at her glass, then back at me. "Well... I guess it feels nice. To be looked at like I matter."

"You do matter," I said quietly. "To more people than you think."

She smiled again, but this time it wasn't teasing. There was warmth in her smile.

"I want to thank you, Samir," she said.

"For what?"

"I didn't expect things to feel so easy and relaxed with you," she admitted. "I thought I'd be awkward. Reserved. You know, like some polite guest tagging along. You've made me feel comfortable and at ease."

"To be honest, I thought the same," I said, chuckling. "I thought you would be like an ice queen... cold... distant. I didn't expect you to be... this fun."

"Why would you think of me like that?" she asked, her eyes wide in surprise.

"Well, in college there was this insanely beautiful girl... not as much as you, of course," I added quickly.

"Of course," she said and grinned.

"So she was like this ice queen. If any guy so much as said hi, she'd hit him with this cold-icy stare that could freeze water."

"Oh really," replied Zainab.

"Yes. I tried once, and got such a look that I had nightmares for days," I laughed.

Zainab laughed. "So you just assumed I'd be the same?"

"I mean, with your looks, anyone would expect you to be untouchable. But here you are... cracking jokes, teasing me, ordering drinks like a boss. Total surprise."

"Oh, I'm full of surprises," she said, some of that spark returning.

"I'm starting to believe that."

She smiled. "Well, I guess I hide my fun side until someone's earned it."

"Then I'm glad I passed the test," I said, raising my glass toward her.

"You did," she replied, clinking her glass with mine. "Barely."

Zainab twirled her straw absentmindedly in her drink, her expression softening. "You know... I haven't laughed like this in a long time."

"Then I'm glad I could change that."

"I don't know why, Sohel is always serious. He doesn't like to have fun," she said ruefully.

"Yeah, he's a bit of a serious kind of guy. But he's a good guy," I replied.

"Yeah," she said, taking another sip and leaned back in her chair, her hair catching the soft lights of the restaurant.

"I think I'm going to have one more. This really tastes nice," she said, holding her empty glass up.

"I guess you can go for it. By the time Sohel comes back, you'll probably be fast asleep," I said.

She was already two drinks down and one more wouldn't hurt.

"Samir, are you trying to get me drunk?" she asked, smiling with one eyebrow raised.

"Maybe," I said with a mischievous smile.

"Okay then," she said, gesturing to the waiter. "Let me surprise you. You might just see another side of me tonight."

While she was ordering another 'sex on the beach', I caught myself thinking what it would be like to actually have sex on the beach with her with the sound of the waves in the background, and quickly pulled myself away from the thought.

She was the woman of my dreams, but there was no point in fantasising about something that could not and should not happen.

"So, tell me about your girlfriends. How many did you have?" she asked, narrowing her eyes playfully.

"I'll tell you if you tell me about your boyfriends," I countered with a grin.

"All right. Deal. So, I already have two names: Aisha and Zeenat. Who else?" she pressed.

"That's all. C'mon, I wasn't that bad in college," I said.

"And why didn't it work out with either of them?"

"Well, with Aisha, it was always casual. We both knew from the start it couldn't go anywhere... interfaith and all. You know what I mean."

"I know what you mean," she said, nodding. "What about Zeenat? Were you serious?"

"Yes, we were," I said, not going further.

"So, what happened?" she persisted.

I went quiet, staring into my glass. A part of me wanted to divert the conversation, but something in her eyes made me feel she'd actually listen, without judgement.

"I got scared. One day, we were in a café, and her brother and cousins barged in. They took her away forcibly, and threatened me. I didn't even get to say goodbye. There was nothing I could do," I said, softly.

She reached out, placing a hand lightly on mine. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to bring that back up."

"Its okay. It helped me evolve. I don't run anymore," I smiled.

She looked at me for a long second, her gaze searching. "And you started learning MMA after that."

"Yes."

She tilted her head, her voice a little softer. "So, if you liked someone now... you'd fight for her?"

My smile faded into something more grounded. "Yes. I'd fight."

She held my gaze for a moment. Something unspoken passed between us--warmth, curiosity. Maybe something more.

Then she glanced down, flipping open the menu again with an awkward little smile. "Well then... I'll have to tell my cousin all this. She'll want a full dossier before she meets you."

"Of course," I laughed.

"Okay, your turn," I said.

"For what?" Zainab asked, playing innocent.

"How many boyfriends have you had?"

"None," she said, and laughed loudly.

"Hey, not fair. You promised," I protested.

"I swear! I didn't have any boyfriends. My father would have killed me if he found out. Plus, my cousins were in the same college," she said.

"That's cheating," I teased.

"Okay, okay. I'll tell you," She said, grinning. "So there was this guy, Subramanium in my BSc Chemistry. He was super smart. Like scary smart. He knew everything, and was a whiz in all the subjects."

"Okay..."

"I had this massive crush on him. He wasn't just brilliant, he was also very kind and helpful. Always ready to help. Organic Chemistry, Inorganic, Physical Chemistry, projects--you name it, he knew it all."

"Of course he helped you," I grinned.

"No, not just me. He helped everyone. That's why I liked him so much. And his way of explaining was so nice and comforting," she replied.

"Comforting? Chemistry?" I exclaimed and laughed, to which she made a face.

"Anyway, then what happened?" I prodded her.

"Same story. Interfaith thing. I didn't have the courage to go beyond asking him doubts," she said with a shrug.

"Hmm."

"I still remember him. Always in a crisp white shirt, and trousers. And he'd have this white tikka on his forehead every day."

"Yes, he sounds very Tamil," I replied. "They're known to be super smart. Maybe something about their sambar, or filter coffee."

"Last I heard, he was doing research at some fancy university in the US," she said, a little wistfully. "Sometimes I wonder... if I'd just had the courage to tell him..."

"Well, maybe it's all for the best. Otherwise, I would never have met you," I said gently.

"Yes... all for the best," she replied, her eyes meeting mine. There was a flicker of something--regret, perhaps--in her gaze.

We finished around 10 o'clock, by which time the crowd had really built up. After I settled the bill, we got up to leave--but just then, the alcohol seemed to hit Zainab. She paused, closed her eyes, and slowly sat back down again.

"Oh God, I think I drank too much," she groaned.

"Yeah, maybe a little," I said with a gentle smile, sitting down beside her and holding a glass of water to her lips. "But don't worry. You're going to be fine."

She took a few sips, then looked at me anxiously. "What's Sohel going to say if he finds out I've been drinking? He'll kill me."

"He doesn't need to know," I said, calmly. "Like I said, by the time he's back, you'll be fast asleep."

Zainab didn't reply but stood up again slowly.

I quickly pulled the chair back and stepped in beside her, placing my right arm around her shoulders and taking her left hand in mine to steady her.

"It's okay. I've got you," I said, and we slowly moved out of the restaurant and towards the car.

Once in the car, she leaned back in the seat, eyes closed.

We had been driving for about ten minutes when she mumbled, "I think I'm going to be sick."

I quickly pulled over and helped her out, guiding her across the pavement to a bare patch of land where she bent over and threw up everything she had eaten and drunk.

When she was done, I helped her wash up with a bottle of water that we'd bought earlier in the day.

Back at the car, instead of getting in, she leaned against it for support.

"The water's finished," she said quietly, looking down at the empty bottle.

"Just stay here. I'll get another one," I said, spotting a small roadside shop about fifty metres away.

While I was buying a bottle of water, a bike with two men pulled up behind my car. One of them walked over to Zainab.

"Sirji, is that your car? Please see what is happening," the shopkeeper called out.

Forgetting about the bottle of water, I sprinted back towards the car.

Just as I got there, the other man got off the bike and tried to block my path.

"What happened, bhai? She's not feeling well. My friend's just helping her."

I tried to push him out of the way, but he was ready for it, and we ended up in a scuffle.

As we struggled, I glimpsed the first man tightly gripping Zainab's arm with one hand while clutching her jaw with the other, forcing her face towards his as if trying to force a kiss.

Already unstable from the alcohol, Zainab was struggling weakly, unable to break free from his grip.

Realizing the man blocking my way wasn't going to budge easily, I drove my knee sharply into his groin. He groaned and doubled over in pain.

I lunged forward, grabbing the other man's hair and yanking his face away from Zainab, then kicked him hard, sending him sprawling to the ground.

I used the few seconds of respite to quickly open the car door and pull out a long screwdriver from the glove compartment.

By the time the fellow recovered and came at me again, I was ready, using the screwdriver to keep him at bay.

Just then, the shopkeeper arrived at the scene with a few others, and together they caught hold of the two men.

"You please go sir," he told me. "We will take care of these rascals."

"Thank you, sir," I said, genuinely grateful for the unexpected help. I don't think I would have been also to handle the situation otherwise, especially with the other guy starting to recover from my knee strike.

"I should thank you, sir. These rascals have been creating a nuisance of themselves, molesting decent people like this. Because of them, this area has got a bad name and our businesses have suffered."

I shook his hand to thank him, and then used the screwdriver to stab the front tyre of the bike, deflating it instantly.

Without wasting a second, I helped Zainab into the car and jumped in myself.

Back behind the wheel, I slammed my foot on the accelerator, and the car screeched away. Once we'd put some distance between ourselves and the scene, I eased off and slowed down to a safer speed.

Zainab had tears in her eyes, "What did I do? How could I be so foolish?"

"You did nothing, Zainab. None of this is your fault. There are good people and bad people. It's just our bad luck today that we encountered the wrong kind. But also think about it... we also met some good people who helped us out."

"But I was the one who drank and lost control of myself. If I'd not drunk, none of this would have happened. Even though I know very well that it is haram to drink alcohol."

"I don't know about all this halal-haram stuff, but trust me, nothing that happened today is because you drank, or because of you in any way. It could have happened even if you had not drank."

"Allah will punish me for what I did," she whispered to yourself.

"No one is punishing anyone here, okay? Just get all that nonsense out of your head."

She chuckled softly and repeated what I'd said, "No one is punishing anyone here. You're very funny."

"Seriously," I added, trying to lighten the mood. "I've heard there are gangs out there who even go around molesting guys."

She let out a soft giggle. "Shut up. Now you're just making things up."

A few minutes later, I glanced over and noticed her quietly staring at me. I raised my eyebrows in curiosity.

She smiled, then leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.

By the time we reached home fifteen minutes later, Zainab was fast asleep.

"Zainab, we're home. Wake up," I said, gently shaking her shoulder, but she didn't stir.

When I persisted in my efforts, she half-opened her eyes, murmured something like "I'm so sleepy. Please let me sleep," and drifted off again.

Seeing she wasn't going to wake up, I walked around to her side, opened the door, and gently lifted her out. She was surprisingly light. I swung her foot gently to close the door.

Fortunately, the lift was empty, and I made it to my apartment without attracting any attention from neighbours.

Once inside, I laid her down on the bed and carefully slipped off her silver-coloured sandals.

I glanced at the clock -- it was just a little past ten. Still plenty of time before Sohel got back.

Switching on the air conditioner, I pulled a blanket over her and gently stroked her hair.

"Goodnight, Zainab," I whispered.

As I turned to leave, she suddenly caught my hand.

Wide-eyed, I turned towards her again. I thought she wanted to say something.

She didn't say anything, but her grip remained firm. Gently, I sat on the edge of the bed, watching her beautiful face.

After a few seconds, instead of releasing my hand, she shifted onto her side and tucked my hand between her pillow and cheek, nestling into my palm.

"Okay, now what?" I asked myself.

While I waiting for her hold to loosen, my eyes strayed over her body. Though covered by a blanket, I could still makeout the curve of her slim waist, the swell of her hips, and the contours of her shapely thighs.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. My body responded to her proximity and her curves, my dick hardening in my jeans.

"I have to get out of here, before I end up doing something I should not," I thought to myself.

But my hands were not obeying my mind.

I brought my other hand to her jaw, tracing her jawline till I reached her earring. Taking a moment to admire the intricate design, I slowly moved my fingers down her neck, till they reached the top button of her kameez.

I paused a while, contemplating, and then, slowly undoing the button, I moved my fingers slightly inside the kameez.

She drew in a slow, deep breath--her body responding to my touch in undeniable ways.

My fingers hovered over the second button, just about to undo it, when the notification ping of my phone snapped me out of the trance.

"What am you doing? This is your friend's wife! A guest in your house!" the voice in my head thundered.

Resisting the powerful pull I felt toward the woman before me, I slowly rose, carefully sliding my hand from beneath her cheek.

As I turned to leave, I heard her murmur sleepily, "You fought for me."

Yes, I had. And I knew I would again. But I didn't know what to say --so I bent down and pressed a kiss to her head.

"You can stay if you want," she whispered.

"We've both had too much to drink, Zainab. You need to rest," I replied softly.

"Good night," I added, my fingers brushing through her hair one last time.

"Good night," she echoed faintly, as I pulled the door shut behind me.

I went down to the car to retrieve her handbag, which had been left behind.

When I returned to her room to drop it off, she was still in the same position and fast asleep.

Returning to my room, I changed into a pair of boxers and got into bed. Lying there for a long time, my mind wouldn't settle. I wanted her so badly in that moment, but I also knew I'd done the right thing. Crossing that line would leave a guilt I couldn't live with... especially when I had to face Sohel.

I don't remember when I finally drifted off, but around 2 a. m., the sharp sound of the doorbell woke me.

It was Sohel, back from work.

"Wow, your new company's really squeezing every drop out of you," I said as I opened the door.

"Tell me about it," he grumbled.

Without any further conversation, we said our goodnights. As he passed by me toward the guest bedroom, I noticed he staggered slightly--and the distinct smell of alcohol lingered in the air behind him.

"So he's been drinking as well. Good, at least he won't be able to smell the alcohol on Zainab," I thought to myself.

***

The next day when I came into the kitchen, Zainab was already there, in a hijab. She was preparing khagina which she made exceptionally well.

"Good morning, Bhabhi. The eggs smell delicious," I said.

"Thank you, bhaijan. I'll serve you if you're ready for breakfast,," she replied.

"Sure, please give me fifteen minutes."

Then she quickly looked in the direction of the guest bedroom and seeing the door was closed, whispered, "I've got such a terrible headache! I'm also so hungry."

"Don't worry. Have a heavy breakfast and drink lots of water, and you'll be fine," I whispered back.

"I've already drunk two glasses of water."

"Why don't you eat?"

"No. I have to serve Sohel first, otherwise, he gets very angry."

"Don't worry. Have it quickly and keep the empty plate at my place on the dining table. So Sohel will think it's my plate. I'll serve myself again later. I'm not so hungry as you are."

Her eyes met mine, filled with hesitation.

"Hurry up," I whispered, gesturing towards the bowl.

"Thank you," she whispered, as she served herself in a plate and attacked the khagina hungrily.

I smiled, watching her hungrily devour the food.

About halfway through her meal, Zainab had just bitten into a morsel of chapati and khagina, when there was the sound of Sohail unlatching the bedroom door.

She froze instantly, her hand pausing midair before she placed the half-eaten morsel back on the plate.

Luckily, Sohail did not come out immediately.

I caught the fearful look in her eyes and quickly took the plate from her hands. There was a bit of the gravy still on her lower lip which Sohail would surely have noticed and without thinking, I wiped it off with a quick swipe of my finger.

"Oh, thank you," whispered Zainab.

I gestured for her to quickly wash her hands, and returned to my usual seat at the table.

Just as I sat down, the door opened and Sohail came out and said, "Good morning, bhai."

"Good morning Sohail. I've started breakfast. After all the house hunting yesterday, I was feeling terrible hungry and bhabhi's khagina was smelling too good. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. Why would I mind?"

"Zainab, get me my breakfast," Sohail called out, his tone more like a command than a request, as he settled into the chair across from me.

The way he had called out to her made me look towards the kitchen, and I saw Zainab staring at me, with her finger on her lip, the spot where I'd wiped off the gravy.

I picked up her half eaten morsel and put it in my mouth. As I chewed, I caught a fleeting smile on her lips before she turned away to serve Sohail's his breakfast.

Sohail seemed to completely ignore her, and chatted with me as he ate.

After finishing my breakfast, I excused myself and went back to my room to get ready for office.

I closed my bedroom door, but their voices carried through, the tension unmistakable.

"Why didn't you change before sleeping last night?" Sohail's voice was sharp, almost accusatory.

"No, I didn't," Zainab replied meekly.

"I could see that. I'm asking, why?" he snapped.

"Sorry, I was too tired after going to all those places yesterday. By the way, did you like what I made?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

"It's your responsibility to make sure your cooking is good, not mine to keep giving you feedback," he retorted coldly.

I couldn't help but feel uneasy. This version of Sohail--two years into marriage--was not the friend I had known. I didn't like the way he spoke to Zainab.

By the time I stepped out after my bath, Sohail was also ready to leave for work. As usual, I told him to take the car.

We left together, and he dropped me off at my office before heading to his own.

At about eleven o'clock, I got a call from Zainab, "I want to apologise to you, Samir"

"For what?" I asked, surprised.

"For making such a mess yesterday. I know I ruined your day."

"No, you didn't ruin anything. Why are you even thinking that?"

"I know I did, Samir. I drank too much and made a mess. And you had to help me clean up."

"Happens to everyone. It's perfectly normal, so don't worry about it. And please do not apologise for anything."

"But I still feel so bad," she murmured.

I didn't reply.

"And then those two guys. What if they had hurt you?"

"Well, whatever would have happened, would have happened. But I couldn't have let them hurt you."

A brief silence followed before she softly said, "Thank you for keeping me safe, Samir."

"You're welcome. And please don't feel bad about anything. I just loved spending time with you and hope we can spend more time together."

"Yes, I hope so."

"Also thank you for taking the trouble of driving me around town and showing me the apartments, and for showing me how much fun bowling can be, and for taking me to my first pub."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"And also for carrying me up," she added.

"Oh, I thought you were asleep."

"Was I heavy? I know I have put on weight lately," she teased.

"Not at all. You're actually quite a lightweight," I replied.

"Oh, you mean compared to all the other girls you've carried?"

"Actually, I've never carried any other girl," I said, laughing.

"Good. My cousin will be relieved to hear that," she teased.

"Oh yes, your cousin," I smiled.

"Okay, if I wasn't too heavy, you can carry me again. It'll save me the trouble of walking," she said with a laugh.

"Of course, whenever you want. It's my pleasure."

"By the ways, did you like my earrings?" she asked with a playful giggle.

"Yes, they're very nice. Intricate design," I played along.

"And the buttons of my kameez. Did you like them as well?"

"Yes, very nice as well," I replied, slightly embarrassed.

I realised that just her playful voice was making me aroused. Luckily, I was sitting at my desk and no one could see.

"Ohhh, are you feeling shy? You don't have to be shy with me, Samir."

"I know, Zainab. I'll try to remember that."

"Bye, Samir," she sang playfully.

"Bye, Zainab," I replied, smiling.

I turned off the mobile and leaned back in my chair with a smile on my face and one thought in my mind, "God, why is this woman married to that jerk Sohel? He doesn't even respect her."

****

After that day, Zainab began subtly flirting with me, sometimes even when Sohel was around. He rarely paid her any attention, so it went unnoticed by him.

At first, it was just playful little gestures--her gorgeous eyes locking onto mine, a subtle smile, making adorable faces at me, and occasionally sticking her tongue out teasingly while Sohel and I would be talking.

One evening, Sohel and I were lounging in the living room, half-focused on the cricket match playing on TV, when my phone rang from the bedroom. I got up to answer it, and as I spoke, my eyes drifted toward the open door of Zainab's room.

She was standing in front of the mirror, completely absorbed, examining a selection of earrings laid out across the dressing table. Her head tilted slightly as she held each one up to her ear, trying to decide. There was something quietly captivating about the scene--simple, unguarded, and effortlessly graceful.

Suddenly, she caught me watching her. Instead of looking away, she lifted two pairs of earrings and raised her eyebrows slightly, gesturing with her eyes in a silent question--Which one?

I squinted, trying to make out the details, but it was too far to see clearly. I gestured to let her know, and without missing a beat, she picked up her phone and sent me a photo of both pairs of earrings displayed in her elegantly curved hand.

I texted back, "The one on the left."

A moment later, her reply popped up: "Thank you," with a heart.

That little heart at the end lingered in my mind longer than I expected.

Another morning, as we were leaving for work, she stood by the door, holding it open for us.

Sohel stepped out first, and she handed him his tiffin with a quiet nod. He didn't even glance at her.

When it was my turn, she passed mine to me--but for a brief moment, our fingers lingered, entwined in a silent pause before letting go. As our hands touched, her eyes met mine--soft, searching.

I was falling hopelessly in love with her, and no matter how much I tried to rationalise or resist it, there was no stopping it. She had taken over my thoughts--morning, night, and even in my dreams.

***

The following weekend, with still no progress on finalising an apartment, Sohel and Zainab went house-hunting again. Much to my disappointment, they finally settled on a place close to Sohel's office and decided to move out three days later.

Over the past few weeks, I hadn't just grown fond of Zainab's company--I had fallen hopelessly in love with her. And I was fairly certain the feeling was mutual.

Though my heart sank at the thought of her leaving, I knew deep down that it was for the best. Had she stayed any longer, it would have only been a matter of time before something irreversible happened between us. Something that should not happen.

That day was difficult for both of us. Zainab seemed on the verge of tears, her expression distant and withdrawn. And every time our eyes met, it felt like a knife slowly twisting in my chest.

***

After they moved out, I threw myself into work, trying to distract myself from the hollow silence she'd left behind. I missed our evening conversations--the gentle teasing, her light-hearted flirting, the warmth in her voice. Mostly, I missed her presence.

They kept in touch, though separately. Zainab and I would speak on the phone every few days. Our conversations still carried that familiar spark--playful, affectionate, caring. She'd check on me like she always did, asking if I was eating well, sleeping enough... small things, but they meant the world. She'd send me jokes, random forwards, even the occasional meme.

Sohel would reach out once in a while--maybe a quick message or a short call once a month. But even those faded eventually, and I wasn't surprised when they stopped altogether.

After waiting a few days, I called her. She didn't take the call.

I called again the next day. And the day after that.

Each time, it rang out. No reply. No call back. No message.

Just... silence.

It wasn't like her.

She always replied. Always. Even if it was hours later.

And with every passing day, a quiet dread began to grow in my chest.

Was she okay?

Was Sohel behind this sudden silence?

Or... had she chosen to cut me off completely?

When I didn't hear from them for a long time... some five or six months, I messaged him, "All well? You guys have just disappeared."

He called back in the evening.

"Hey Samir, sorry for not being in touch, but things seem to have gone crazy lately. Both at home and work."

"Yes, I can understand."

"It's Zainab. I don't know what's the matter with her. She's very distracted all the time and talks back in an irritating voice every time I say anything to her. She wasn't like this earlier, but ever since we moved to Bangalore, she's suddenly become very rebellious."

"Rebellious? What the hell did he mean by rebellious?" I thought to myself.

Anyway, my heart jumped on hearing this. Could her change in behaviour towards Sohel be because she was missing me? I had noticed how sad she'd looked on the day they moved out of my place.

But then logic took over, and I reasoned that if I was indeed the cause for it, she would surely have communicated in the last three months. All kinds of thoughts started going around in my head.

"Hello, are you there?" he asked, when I got lost in my thoughts.

"Yes, yes. I'm here. Maybe she's missing her family in Lucknow," I said.

"Yeah. Could be. Anyways, why don't you come home for lunch this Sunday? I will tell your Bhabhi to cook your favourite nihari."

"Yeah, man. I would love that." I was thrilled I would get to see Zainab again.

On Sunday, I reached their place around noon. It was the first time I was seeing Sohel and Zainab since they'd moved out, and I was taken aback when he opened the door.

He now sported a full beard that reached down to his neck, but had no moustache. There was also a distinct, darkened mark on his forehead--something I hadn't noticed before. I'd not seen this version of him earlier and couldn't help but wonder what had brought about such a change.

"So, what's with the new look, Sohel?"

"Well, long story. I've joined this Madrasa close by, that needed a mathematics teacher. I wanted to do something to give back to our community, so I volunteered to teach there thrice a week, after office."

"That's nice."

"So, they told me that the cleanshaven look does not go well with the students, and asked me to grow a beard."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. By the way, I have also started attending Quran classes. I think you should also start."

I just nodded silently, remembering what Zainab had told me earlier.

Just then, Zainab came in from the kitchen, "Hello bhaijaan, how are you?" she smiled warmly.

"Hello bhabhi. I'm well. How about you? You look radiant as always," I said.

Zainab, blushed and said, "Thank you, bhaijaan. You are always so kind."

I thought I saw a look on Sohel's face--like he wasn't too thrilled about me complimenting her on her looks.

"Come, lets sit on the balcony and chat. Its nice and breezy there," said Sohel.

I hoped Zainab would join us, but she returned to the kitchen. A few minutes later, she came out with two glasses of Rooh Afza on a tray. She handed them to us with a smile and quietly slipped back into the kitchen without joining the conversation.

After about half an hour, she announced that lunch was ready. We washed our hands and made our way to the dining table.

"Bhabhi, aren't you going to give us the pleasure of your company?" I asked, noticing only two plates set.

"No, I'll eat later. You two enjoy," she said, glancing at Sohel nervously.

While she served us, I noticed she was wearing more makeup than usual, her face almost appearing painted, in stark contrast to the Zainab I had known when they'd stayed at my home--naturally radiant with zero makeup. Today, it felt like she was hiding behind a mask, and it troubled me.

After serving, she retreated to the kitchen, returning periodically to refill our plates whenever she saw them getting empty.

The nihari was delicious--fragrant, and rich, that could only come from a traditional home, far surpassing any restaurant version.

Just as she was serving us, it began to rain. The veranda had a plastic awning, and when the raindrops fell on it, it created a hell of a racket, even though it was not raining very heavily.

When I finished, I excused myself and headed toward the common bathroom to wash my hands.

"Not that one, Samir," Sohel stopped me. "There's some plumbing problem there."

He turned to Zainab and said, "Show him the one inside."

His tone was rude, almost a command.

Zainab led me down a corridor with two bedrooms at the end, one on either side. She went into the one on the left, and showed me the door to the bathroom.

She stood outside with a hand towel while I washed my hands.

"How are you, Zainab?" I asked, keeping my voice low so Sohel wouldn't hear us.

"I'm fine," she murmured, but her eyes betrayed her. The sparkle I'd grown fond of was missing.

"Really?" I asked, looking into her eyes.

She hesitated for a moment, then softly placed her right hand on my left cheek, taking a deep breath as if trying to gather courage.

I brought my hand over hers, and kissed her palm softly.

I felt she wanted to tell me something--but just then, the harsh scraping sound of a chair being moved made her quickly pull her hand away.

I quickly kissed her on the forehead and headed back for the dining room, my mind clouded with concern.

"Amazing meal. Thanks for inviting me, buddy," I said, forcing a smile.

"I'm glad you liked it. Zainab will now serve us phirni."

Zainab soon came back with two bowls and a larger serving dish of phirni. As she served me, a little phirni spilled off the spoon onto the table.

"Zainab, what are you doing? Can't you even serve properly?" Sohel snapped sharply, his voice rising in anger.

I was taken aback by his reaction to such a small thing, and even more by the frightened look on Zainab's face.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, almost inaudibly.

"What sorry? You've embarrassed me in front of my friend," Sohel fumed.

"It's okay, Sohel. Seriously--relax. It's not a big deal," I said quickly, hoping to diffuse the moment.

But he wasn't done. "At least apologise properly!" he barked, his hand lifting as if to strike her.

Instinctively, my hand shot out and grabbed his wrist firmly, stopping him mid-motion.

Both Sohel and Zainab looked at me, stunned.

"Sohel," I said calmly but firmly, "you need to calm down."

"I'm sorry, bhaijaan," Zainab whispered softly, tears brimming in her eyes as she hurried back into the kitchen.

"We need to talk, Sohel," I said, releasing his wrist after she'd left.

"Let's talk on the balcony," I added, knowing the rain hitting the awning would mask our conversation from Zainab's ears.

"You were going to hit her? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"She keeps doing stupid things. Sometimes I think she does it purposely to make me look bad."

"Don't be stupid. It was a genuine mistake. You know it. How can you hit her?"

"Why can't I? She's my wife," he said.

"So?"

"This is my personal matter. I can do whatever I want with her. You should know that. Actually, I'm not surprised you don't know. That's what happens when you become too modern. You don't know anything about your own culture."

"Fuck you, Sohel. I don't give a damn about any culture. You will not hit her."

"Don't tell me what I can and cannot do with my own wife," he said, glaring at me.

"I've known you for over ten years, and I think I have the right to put some sense into you when you need it," I said.

"Oh, come on. Don't make a big issue of a small thing," he said, shaking his head with an annoyed look.

"Its not a small thing," I told him.

He didn't reply, fuming silently.

"I saved your life in college. You owe me your life, Sohel. Promise me you are never going to hit her," I said.

"Promise me," I added when he didn't reply.

"Okay," he said, grudgingly.

I sighed in relief and changed the topic. I tried to lighten the mood by talking about college days and the crazy stuff we sued to do, but something had clearly changed between us.

In about half an hour, I said, "Okay Sohel, I had a wonderful time. I guess I should head back now. Thank you so much for inviting me."

"You're welcome, Samir," he replied with a level of formality in his voice.

"I would like to thank Bhabhi. Could you please call her?"

"No, I think she must be busy with some housework," he replied.

"Okay, please thank her from my side," I said, and left.

All the way back, my thoughts were clouded with worry for Zainab. I had never seen Sohel behave like that before. Sure, he'd always been a little curt in how he spoke to her, but this was the first time I'd seen him actually raise his hand. If I hadn't been there, I was certain he would have hit her. I couldn't help but wonder--if this is how he acted in my presence, how did he treat her when no one was around?

That evening, I received a text from Zainab, "Thank you."

"If he ever hurts you again, tell me," I replied.

Then she texted me something that hit me hard, "Samir, please don't misunderstand me, but I have to ask you this. I have no choice. Could you please not message or call me in future? Sohel checks my phone regularly. He's suspicious for no reason."

I stared at the screen in disbelief, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, not knowing what to say.

After a long pause, I finally typed: "Okay. Please take care of yourself. Please tell me anything you need, any help of any sort," I replied after some time.

"Thank you," she replied.

I put down the phone with a heavy heart. It wasn't just the sadness of her cutting off contact--it was the helplessness, the worry gnawing at me. Things between her and Sohel were clearly far worse than I'd imagined. He wasn't just distant or harsh towards her--he was abusing her, physically as well as mentally. And she was enduring it alone, quietly, with no one to protect her.

And the worst part was... I couldn't do anything.

***

A few months had passed since Zainab's last message. I had tried to push her from my thoughts, telling myself it was for the best--that maybe she was better off without any outside complications.

But not a single day went by without me wondering if she was okay.

A few months later, on a Friday afternoon, I was in the middle of an important meeting when my phone lighted up in silent mode. It was Zainab. I let it ring, thinking I'd call her back later--but then it rang again. And again.

Three missed calls in a row.

It had to be urgent.

I excused myself from the meeting and called her back.

"Hi Zainab, is everything okay?"

"Samir... I'm sorry to disturb you after all this time. I know I asked you not to contact me... but I really need your help. I didn't know who else to call," she said, her voice full of fear, exhaustion, and a quiet desperation.

My heart skipped a beat.

"What happened?"

"I can tell you when we meet,"

"Okay. Where do you want to meet?"

"Can you come home?"

"I think it would be better if we met somewhere outside," I said gently. It wouldn't be easy to explain if Sohel walked in and found me there. Even if it was an innocent conversation, the consequences for Zainab could be serious--especially given how he'd been treating her.

"Okay, when can you come?"

"By five?"

"Alright. I'll meet you in front of Food Bazaar."

"Again, I'm sorry for troubling you. But I didn't know what to do."

"Zainab, don't say that. I told you--you can call me anytime, for anything. No apologies."

"Thank you," she replied. There was a noticeable shift in her voice--lighter, like a weight had just been lifted from her shoulders.

***

At five, I drove up to the Food Bazaar departmental store.

There she was, standing under a tree in a sky blue salwar kameez with a white dupatta draped gracefully over her shoulders. Her wavy brown hair tumbled down freely, catching the golden hue of the evening sun. She looked absolutely breathtaking--more like a vision than someone going through the turmoil I knew she was in.

I pulled up beside her, and leaned over to open the passenger door.

"Wow, you look... absolutely stunning," I said as she slid in.

"Thank you," she said with a faint smile, fastening her seat belt.

"I'm sorry," she whispered after some time. "I know I shouldn't have messaged you... but I didn't know what else to do."

"Don't," I said gently. "You did exactly what you should have. You messaged me."

We drove in silence for a few minutes, letting the traffic noise fill the space between us. I didn't want to rush her.

"So... what's going on?" I finally asked, keeping my voice soft.

She hesitated, staring ahead. "Samir, please... whatever I tell you, please don't tell anyone."

"Of course," I said. "You know you can trust me."

"Can I?" she asked, turning to look at me, eyes searching mine.

I met her gaze. "Have I ever done anything to break your trust?"

"I'm just asking because Sohel is your best friend," she replied.

"Well, after that day, I'm not so sure anymore," I replied.

She exhaled, as if she'd been holding her breath for days. "Sohel is planning to get married again."

"Wait, what? What do you mean?" I asked, shocked.

"He told me last week."

"Such a bastard. How can he do that?" I asked, then stopped myself. "Sorry for my language."

"He can, so he's doing it," she added with a tired, bitter smile.

I stared at the road ahead, jaw clenched, trying to steady the anger rising in my chest. "And what reason did he give?"

"He doesn't need to give any reason," she replied flatly.

I didn't know what to say. Here he was married to this goddess, and still he wanted someone else?

"He says I've not been able to give him a baby," she said, after a long silence.

I looked over at her. "And how do you know it's not him?"

She said nothing.

"If his new wife has a child... do you know what that will mean for me?" she asked, her voice cracking.

I didn't know, and I didn't want to hazard a guess.

"I'll become a maid in my own home. She'll be the queen and I'll be her servant. He already treats me like I don't matter. Afterwards... I cannot even imagine," Her voice broke as tears spilled down her cheeks.

It shattered me to see her like that--vulnerable, helpless. I wanted nothing more than to wrap her in my arms and take all the pain away. But I stopped myself.

"So what are you going to do now?" I asked softly.

"I don't know. I really don't know," she replied with a sigh, leaning back in the seat, staring up at the ceiling of the car and wiping her tears with a handkerchief.

Seeing her in tears, I so wanted hold her close and comfort her. But I held back--it didn't feel right. Doing so now would be taking advantage of her in her time of vulnerability, and I couldn't do that.

"Let's go bowling," I said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Now?" she looked at me, surprised.

"Yes. We'll have fun--just like old times. I'm sure it'll help you feel a little better."

"I don't want to feel better," she murmured. "I just want this to end."

"I understand," I said gently. "But sometimes, the answers come when your mind is calm. Let's just take a break. You might see things more clearly afterward."

She looked out the window for a moment, then sighed. "I doubt it'll help... but okay. If you want to."

We returned to the same games arena we used to visit before. And slowly--almost reluctantly at first--Zainab began to let go. Her smile returned, her laughter found its way back, and the weight on her shoulders seemed to lift.

At one point, after throwing a gutter ball, she let out a sigh in frustration, pulled off the dupatta draped across her torso, and tossed it onto a chair.

It was the first time I'd seen her without it.

And for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

She had a stunning figure, graceful yet alluring--perfect curves, with beautifully shaped breasts that drew the eye effortlessly, making my heart skip a beat. Hers was the kind of beauty that never sought attention, yet commanded it effortlessly.

I must've been staring longer than I realized, because when she looked my way, she caught my gaze--and smiled quietly to herself, as if she knew exactly what I was thinking.

We were having so much fun that time passed quickly. When I checked, I was shocked to see it was seven o'clock already!

"Oh God, you must get back. Sohel will be home soon," I said to her.

She looked at me calmly. "Sohel's gone to Lucknow for a few days. I think... for the same reason I told you."

"Oh, I see," I replied.

She gave a faint, bitter smile. "Besides, even if he finds out, what difference will it make? What will he do... hit me? That's what he's been doing anyway. He's a namard. Hitting his wife is all he's good for."

I stared back at her, lost for words. There was so much pain behind her words. I felt sad for her and her situation. I wanted to help her, to protect her, but how?

We had also finished our time slot at the bowling alley, so I suggested to her, "How about that restaurant we went to earlier?"

"Just what I was also thinking," she replied in agreement.

"Okay," I said and we headed towards the car park.

Again, we were quite early in the evening at the restaurant and it was not too crowded. We had our pick of tables and chose one tucked away in a corner, partly hidden by a pillar, offering us a bit of privacy.

After we'd settled in and our drinks and snacks had arrived, I raised my glass and said, "Cheers. I'm sure Sohel will come to his senses and things will work out for the best."

"I thought you had me best interests at heart, Samir. Why do you want to send me back to Sohel?" she replied.

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could say a word, she lifted her glass with a smile. "I'm not going back to him. Cheers!" she said, clinking her glass against mine.

I watched as she took a long sip, her eyes steady on mine. I raised my own glass and followed suit, but my mind was already racing.

How had things gotten to this point? What had really happened behind closed doors to bring her here--to this moment, this decision?

I needed to know the whole story.

After we were a few sips down, I asked her, "Why didn't you take up a job?"

"Sohel didn't want me to work."

I didn't reply, letting her continue.

"Before marriage, he told me he had no problem with my working. I even continued my job until we moved to Bangalore."

"So he changed after you moved to Bangalore? What was the reason?"

"A couple of months afterwards, his cousin visited us. Everything changed after that. He started poisoning Sohel's mind with all kinds of nonsense."

"His cousin? Which one?" I asked. I'd met a few of Sohel's cousins earlier and wondered who she was talking about.

"Yes. His name is Armaan."

"I think I've met him. The thin guy with glasses, right?"

"You know him?"

"I don't know him as such, but I have met him a couple of times. Long ago during college. He was quite a chilled out guy. Used to be fun to be with, used to pull a lot of practical jokes."

"Well, he's nothing like that now. He's got a big beard, kurta-pajama-topi and very orthodox."

"Oh."

"After Sohel started spending time with him, his whole outlook changed. His attitude towards me also changed. He started speaking very rudely and insultingly, even started getting physical."

I nodded my head. I'd seen a bit of that the other day when I'd gone to their house for lunch.

"After some time, he even started insisting that I wear a burqa, which I never used to earlier. He became very insecure about letting me talk to other men."

"Initially after we moved to the new place, things were quite okay. I asked him again if I could take up a job, and he had agreed," she continued.

"Okay..." I said.

"But then that damn cousin of his landed up in Bangalore for a few weeks to give lectures in some madrasa. They used to spend a lot of time discussing, and he brainwashed him completely. He even took him to that madrasa. Now, he's gone completely crazy."

She took a sip from her glass, contemplating whether to go on or not. I didn't press her.

"I had even got a job offer. Unfortunately, it coincided with when Armaan was here and had started brainwashing Sohel. When I told Sohel about it, he lost his cool and forbade me from taking it up. We got into a huge argument over it. He said it was not allowed for women to work and that was it. Nothing I said would change his mind."

"And he made you leave the offer," I completed for her.

"Yes. When I kept insisting that I wanted to take up the job, he slapped me and threatened to give me talaq on the spot if I continued on that path."

"Oh my God. Just what did Armaan tell him that changed him like this?" I exclaimed, shocked.

"I don't know. He's member of some preaching group and he brainwashes Sohel's mind regularly."

Looking at her, I got lost in thought if there was any way to resolve this matter amicable. After all, Sohel was my closest buddy. I wondered if there was any way to "unbrainwash" him.

"What are you thinking now? Why are you quiet suddenly?

"I'm wondering if there's any way to get Sohel back to normal."

"What on earth is wrong with you? I've already told you twice... I'm not going back to him," she burst out angrily.

"Don't get angry. I'm just trying to help... to save your marriage, Zainab. Besides, Sohel is my closest friend from college. I feel I have to at least try and bring him back," I replied.

"Best friend from college. That's exactly what I was afraid of," she said with an exasperated sigh.

"The Sohel who was your friend in college is gone. The Sohel I married is gone. And he's not coming back," she continued after a while, her voice low but intense.

I remained silent, unsure of what to say.

"What proof do you need? Should I show you the bruises he's left on me?" she said, her voice trembling with anger as she started undoing the buttons of her kameez to reveal a blue mark on her shoulder.

"Hey, hey, stop. You don't have to show me anything. I'm sorry, I understand now. I won't mention it again," I replied quickly, taking her hand in mine.

"My God, what has he done to you?" I whispered, holding her hand gently.

"It's okay," she murmured softly, her voice breaking slightly.

So now that it was final she wasn't going back, we had to find solutions for her future.

"You could go back to your parents in Lucknow," I offered, though even as I said it, I knew how hollow it sounded.

"And they'll just send me right back. Women don't get choices in our society--we're just told to bear it all, quietly," she replied.

I didn't know what else to suggest to her.

"So, what's your plan now?"

"I have no idea. But one thing I know... I'm not going back to him."

"I think you used to work in HR before, right?" I asked, nodding at her statement.

"Yes," she replied. "Why?"

"My company has an opening for an HR position. I could forward your resume."

"You would do that?" She exclaimed, excitement returning to her voice.

"Yes, of course." I replied.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she cried happily and grabbed my hand and kissed it.

I was taken aback by her sudden display of emotion, and smiled, my heart skipping a beat.

I found myself staring at her hand, gently clasping mine, the silence between us filled with unspoken emotions.

After a while, I spoke softly, "Zainab, please don't take this the wrong way. I know you don't have a place to stay right now... You're welcome to stay at my place for as long as you need. You can have the other room all to yourself."

"Thank you, Samir," she replied, her voice trembling slightly, her eyes glistening with tears as they held mine. "You're a good man."

We remained like that for a while, her hand in mine, eyes still glistening--no words passed between us, the quiet conveying all the words that neither of us needed to say.

After some time, I released her hand and took a sip of my drink. She too sat back, clearing her throat and sipped her own drink.

We changed the topic.

Now that we both understood she wasn't going back, and she'd accepted my offer, she was more relaxed--like a heavy weight had finally lifted from her shoulders. Her smiles returned, brighter and warmer; she joked, laughed, and spoke with an ease that made me feel a lot better.

The dance floor had come alive by then, nearly packed, the energy building with every beat.

"I want to dance," Zainab said, her eyes lighting up as she watched the crowd.

"I'm not much of a dancer," I admitted sheepishly.

"Don't worry, I'll teach you," she laughed.

I quickly paid the bill and let Zainab pull me onto the dance floor.

She immediately fell into rhythm, gracefully swaying to the music.

I tried my best to follow along, feeling slightly self-conscious, but the way she looked at me--her eyes sparkling, warm and encouraging--soon made me forget my awkwardness.

There were some fast numbers playing, and Zainab was enjoying herself. She was an excellent dancer, and I wondered where she learnt to dance so well.

I tried to match her moves, but with my two left feet, it was a struggle to keep up.

Soon, the dance floor filled up, and people kept bumping into each other. Wanting to protect Zainab from any unwelcome contact--whether accidental or intentional--I took her hand and guided her to a quieter, less crowded corner, shaded in comforting darkness.

Almost as soon as we settled there, the music shifted to a slow, romantic melody and the lights dimmed further.

Zainab stepped in closer, her hands slipping around my neck. I could feel her breasts pressing lightly against my chest, and I instinctively moved back a little, keeping my hands respectfully at my sides.

Noticing my hesitation, she leaned forward, her breath warm against my ear, and whispered gently, "C'mon, Samir. Don't be shy. Hold me."

I kept trying to keep a safe distance from her, when she said sharply in my ear, "Don't be such a frikkin pussy, Samir. Hold me and dance properly."

I opened my eyes wide in surprise and smiled, surprised to hear such unexpected language from her.

"There's a lot you're yet to find out about me," she murmured softly, holding my gaze with a gentle, inviting smile.

My heartbeat quickened as her fingertips lightly traced circles at the nape of my neck, sending pleasant shivers down my spine. Her eyes--deep, soft, and shining with emotion--never left mine, as if reading every secret thought crossing my mind.

Slowly, I tightened my arms around her waist, gently pulling her closer. She sighed softly, leaning her head against my shoulder, her breath warm against my skin.

The feel of her delicate frame pressed close to mine filled me with a deep longing I'd never felt before.

Zainab leaned in closer, and practically moulded herself to me.

Her warmth, the press of her curves against me, and the intoxicating mix of her perfume and womanly scent too much for me, my breathing deepened, and my cock hardened and strained against my trousers for release, pressing against her lower belly.

We were dancing so close, that there was no way she couldn't have noticed.

And notice she did, because slowly, her hands moved down from my shoulders to my waist, pulling me closer to her.

"Mmm, that's better," she whispered.

In response, my hands moved up--one wrapping around her back and the other resting on her shoulder, gently cradling the back of her head.

After some time, I felt Zainab raise herself up, using my shoulders for support, so that my cock was nestled between her legs, pushing against her mound.

Slowly, she started grinding herself against me, rubbing herself, up and down.

Then at one point, when I felt my cock was perfectly nestled between her labia, I held her by both her hips and pulled her hard to me.

"Samir," she moaned, biting her lower lip as my cock found the spot it wanted to be, but was frustratingly prevented from entering her because of our clothing and the crowd surrounding us.

When her eyes met mine again, I immediately recognised that look. An unfiltered, unadulterated look of lust and desire.

I hesitated briefly, words hovering unspoken, before whispering gently, "I want to be alone with you."

She licked her lips slightly and nodded.

I took her hand, and led her off the dance floor, through the crowd towards the exit.

Her fingers tightened around mine as we stepped out into the cool night air, the sounds and lights of the club fading behind us.

We walked silently towards the car, the anticipation building with every step. When we reached the car, I opened the passenger door for her, our eyes briefly meeting again. The unspoken desires between us felt palpable, charged with an electricity that made my heart race.

Once inside, I turned to her, softly brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. She leaned into my touch, closing her eyes briefly as my fingertips grazed her cheek.

"Are you sure?" I whispered, searching her face for any hesitation.

"Yes," she replied softly, meeting my gaze.

I nodded, feeling my heart swell as I started the car. Our hands intertwined again, and I kissed her hand, an unspoken promise flowing between us, binding us together.

As I was turning the car in the direction to my home, she placed her hand on my thigh. "No... HSR," she said, referring to the locality where she stayed.

I noticed she did not say, "my home," or, "my house." I wasn't sure if it was intentional... or just slipped out that way.

When we reached the gate of her apartment complex, the security guard stopped the car, not recognising it.

He was about to ask me to enter my details in the register when Zainab leaned over, so that he saw and recognised her.

He looked momentarily confused to see her with me, but after a brief pause, nodded and waved us through.

"Why did you let him see you?" I asked quietly, aware that the security guard seeing her with a man who wasn't her husband--especially this late at night--would certainly set tongues wagging.

"I wanted him to see me. I want them all to see me," she said simply.

When I looked at her questioningly, she said, "I want them all to see me with you because Sohel is not able to satisfy me and keep me happy. I want them to look at him with the same look of pity that they have been looking at me until now," she added.

As soon as I parked the car in the guest area and locked it, she grasped my hand firmly and guided me straight toward the lift.

Some neighbours were out for their after-dinner strolls. Clearly recognizing her, they stared openly, their curious eyes following us as we walked hand-in-hand to the lift.

As soon as we entered the apartment and shut the door behind us, I pulled her close, kissing her urgently, my restraint finally giving way.

She responded immediately, matching my urgency, her hands sliding beneath my t-shirt, gripping my back tightly and pulling me even closer.

I was already hard, and the sensation of her body pressed against me, her silky soft hair on my cheek, the intoxicating mix of her perfume with her womanly scent and the forbidden line we had already crossed was driving me wild.

"Zainab," I breathed as I kissed her.

Just as she'd unzipped my trousers and was about to pull it down, I realised with a startle that we had an audience.

The curtains were not drawn over the large French windows to the balcony and there was a women standing on the opposite balcony, staring at us.

"There's someone there," I said quietly, nodding toward the window.

"I don't care," she murmured, her voice low and husky. "Right now, all I care about... is this. I want this inside me," running her hand over the bulge in my trousers.

I smiled, gently guiding her toward the sofa.

But she paused, shaking her head slowly. "No, not here," she replied softly, intertwining her fingers with mine as she quietly led me toward the bedroom--hers and Sohel's.

I noticed that the curtain on the window here wasn't drawn either, so the woman across would continue to enjoy a clear view of us.

The bed was elegantly draped with a beautiful cover embroidered with intricate handwork. Without a word, she grasped one corner and jerked it away, revealing a pristine, pure-white bedsheet beneath.

Standing by the bedside, she slowly unbuttoned my striped office shirt, her fingers trailing lightly across my chest with every undone button. Once she was done, I slipped it off and tossed it onto a chair in the corner.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled me closer by the band of the underwear so that I was just a few inches from her, standing between her splayed out legs.

"And now, my prize...," she whispered with a smile, slowly pulling down my trousers and underwear, freeing my hard cock, which sprang up suddenly, catching her by surprise.

She gazed at it for a moment, a mesmerized smile playing on her lips.

She lightly licked her lips, then softly held it with both hands, tracing the veins with her fingers. "You're so big," she breathed.

I shuddered as she gently pushed the foreskin back to reveal the thick pink head, glistening with pre-cum.

"It's so beautiful, like a ripe strawberry," she murmured.

She then looked up at me, as if asking for permission.

I nodded my head slightly, and she leaned in, bringing her mouth closer.

Her tongue darted out, to lick the drop of pre-cum, taking a moment to savour it on her tongue. Then, with maddening slowness, she wrapped her lips around the crown, the warm, wet heat of her mouth almost sending me over the edge.

I glanced to see if the woman across was still watching us. But she was gone and had drawn her own curtains. Perhaps too embarrassed by what she'd seen and was going to see.

I brought both my hands to her shoulders for support, as her manipulations on my knob, the feel of her warm wet mouth around me, her tongue doing a dancing movement around it and her teeth grazing gently threatened to buckle my knees.

My fingers dug into her shoulders as she worked me deeper, her throat flexing around me. The rhythm of her mouth, taking me in and out--alternating between slow sucks and rapid strokes, brought me to the edge.

Then she began moving her mouth, sucking and pulling, taking me in and out--slowly at first, and then with increasing speed, edging me closer to release.

"Zainab," I groaned, my hips jerking involuntarily, my fingers tangling in her hair as the overwhelming sensations took hold.

Sensing my impending climax, she abruptly pulled away with a small pop, leaving a string of saliva stretching between her lips and my throbbing cock.

"Why did you stop?" I groaned in frustration.

"Not yet," she smiled. "I want you inside me when you cum."

She reached down, grabbing the hem of her kameez and pulling it up, revealing her breasts straining against her bra. With a slow, deliberate movement, she pulled it over her head and tossed it aside.

I knelt down so that her breasts lay exactly where I wanted, running my fingers over their softness before undoing the clasp and sliding her bra off.

Her breasts were full and heavy--creamy white with brown -- pink areolas and nipples that just begged to be sucked.

"Do you like them?" asked Zainab, a nervous smile on her face.

Without answering her, I moved forward and clamped my lips around one nipple, while cupping the other with my hand. I sucked her nipple like a baby expecting to be rewarded with milk, and simultaneously massaged the other.

"I guess you do," she said with a quiet chuckle, her fingers weaving through my hair.

I then shifted my attention to her salwar, carefully undoing the knot before pulling it to take it off. She lifted her hips to help.

I buried my face between her thighs, inhaling her scent from her panties, her musky smell driving me wild with lust.

Here she was, the most beautiful woman in the world, a goddess, in front of me with her legs spread out wide, offering me to take her and make her mine.

I shifted her panties aside with one hand, exposing her glistening slit, already wet and inviting. I ran my thumb over her swollen lips before using my forefinger to lightly tease her entrance.

She drew a deep breath and her hands gripping head, soft moans escaping her.

Her panties were restricting my access, so I took my hands to her waist, pulling it off, revealing her clean, hairless pussy before me, glistening with her juices.

She shifted back when I leaned in. "No, you shouldn't. I'm dirty there," she said, but I silenced her with a lick, slow and deliberate, along the full length of her slit to her clitoris.

"Oh, Samir," she cried, her body arching as I lavished attention on her pussy, alternating between deep kisses entering her with my tongue, teasing licks, and gentle tugs on her lips. The sensations overtaking her, she collapsed onto her back.

I continued until her moans turned to screams, her breathing ragged.

I knew she was close, and I increased the pressure, my tongue getting rougher in its licking. Finally, she came, her orgasm shaking her body as her juices flooded my mouth.

I swallowed up the sweet cream hungrily, and pushed my tongue into her, as deep as it would go, so I wouldn't miss on even a drop. As her breathing steadied slowly, I swiped some onto my tongue and slowly crawled upward along her perfect body.

Bringing my lips to hers, I offered her my mouth, so that she could taste herself on my tongue.

"You're not dirty. You're sweet like honey," I whispered.

She wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tight.

I reached down to position myself to enter her, but she brought her hand to prevent me,

"Wait, baby," she whispered.

"Now what?" I thought.

She reached out with her hand to find her mobile, and then pulled herself higher up so that we were in the middle of the bed.

"Okay, now. Make me yours, Samir," she said, bringing her hand down to hold my cock and position it at her entrance.

I pushed in, slowly entering her, a millimetre at a time, savouring the feeling of her warm, wet womanhood, enveloping me bit by bit.

She gasped, her eyes dilating as I filled her up.

"Oh my God, you're so thick," she breathed, reaching down, as I stretched her, entering her slowly.

I kept pushing in further and further, until I was touching the roof of her vagina, But I still had some more to go, and kept pushing until my pubic bone grinding was against her clitoris.

"You're so deep inside me, Samir," she said.

I stayed like that for some time, savouring the feeling of her hot vagina hugging my cock like a sheath, and then kissed her, pushing my tongue between her lips to meet hers. She responded back, kissing me with equal fervour.

Slowly, I pulled back until I was almost out, before pushing in again, building a rhythm, but still slow and steady.

Her breath grew ragged, heaving like she was running a race, as I drove into her relentlessly.

"Faster," she moaned, her fingers holding me by the hips.

I speeded up, but gradually, letting her writhe under me, repeating herself, "Please, faster. Faster."

Finally, I started thrusting as fast as I could, pistoning in and out of her like a machine, and soon felt the familiar sensation in my cock. I was fast approaching my release.

Suddenly, she gave a loud whimper and her legs wrapped around my waist, drawing me deeper as her orgasm washed over her, as a came inside her, flooding her fertile womb with potent sperms.

Feeling my sperms hitting her inner walls, she dug her nails into my back, and whispered, "Cum baby cum. Give me your seed."

I pumped my complete load into her, my cock throbbing to release the last drops.

After there was no more, I staying inside her as I softened, and collapsed on top of her gorgeous body.

She smiled up at me, her body bathed with sweat. "I love you, Samir" she breathed, her chest heaving as she caught her breath.

"I love you too, Zainab," I said, as I kissed her.

I stayed inside her as we kissed for a long time, with her crying out, "Love you, love you, love you," in between kisses.

When I pulled out of her, I noticed a small puddle of our combined juices had already formed on the pristine white bedsheet, which steadily increased in size as a stream leaked out of her.

"Oh, you were so good I totally forgot this," she said, pointing to her mobile lying beside her.

"Don't worry, I'm not done with you yet," I said, kissing her.

"Aren't you tired?" she asked, astonished.

"Not at all," I hugging her and I rolled over, so that I was below and she was above.

"I'll have to get you ready first," Zainab giggled, moving down my body to take hold of my cock and licking it.

"Mmmm, we taste so good together," she remarked, as she licked our combined juices. "Do you want to taste?"

"Yes, of course," I said, and she took a swipe from her leaking pussy with her fingers, and brought it to my mouth.

I sucked her fingers clean, and agreed with her, "You're right. We taste so good together," I smiled.

She took her attention down, licking, sucking and using her hands to bring me back to full arousal again so my cock was standing straight up to the sky.

I glanced at her hand holding the mobile, she said, "I want him to watch."

I understood what she meant, and somehow, that turned me on even more.

I took the mobile, and held it so I could get a clear view of her, and gave her a thumbs up.

She settled onto my thighs, her fingers wrapping around my throbbing cock with deliberate slowness. Her touch was teasing, almost maddening--pulling the foreskin back and forth, her nails grazing the sensitive head just enough to send electric jolts down my spine.

I adjusted the phone, angling the camera to capture only her face as the call connected.

"Hello?" Sohel's voice crackled through the speaker, irritation lacing his tone before he realized it was a video call. "Yes, what happened?"

Zainab's lips curled into a smirk. "Hello, Sohel?"

"What do you want?" he snapped, ignoring her pleasantries.

"When are you coming back?"

"In a few days."

"Are you bringing her with you?" she asked, her fingers never ceasing their slow, torturous rhythm.

"Yes."

"Good. I'm preparing the bed for the two of you," she purred.

"What... what do you mean?"

"You'll find out when you come back," she said, her eyes flickering to me in silent command.

I shifted the camera lower, revealing inch by tantalizing inch of her bare skin--her collarbone, the swell of her full breasts, her tantalising nipples, the curve of her stomach.

"What are you doing?" Sohel's voice sharpened. "Why aren't you wearing anything?"

The camera dipped further, exposing her hand wrapped around my cock, stroking it with lazy confidence.

His breath hitched audibly before the screen erupted with curses, ""What the fuck are you doing, you bi...." But I quickly turned the volume off so Zainab wouldn't have to listen to his filthy abuses.

But I left the mic on--let him hear every gasp, every moan.

While the speaker volume was off, the mic was still on, and he would be able to hear clearly.

"Look how big he is," Zainab taunted, pressing my length against her belly, her fingertip tracing a path to almost her navel. "Can you imagine how deep he can go and how much pleasure he can give me?"

Sohel had gone quiet, watching helplessly.

Her laughter was wicked as she lifted herself before taking me inside herself little by little, her moans soft and breathless. The camera captured every detail--the way her lips stretched to accommodate me, the wet gleam of her arousal coating my length.

I noticed, she had still not taken all of me inside her. Her chest rose and fell in a slow, deliberate rhythm, like an athlete preparing for a sprint.

"Oh God," she moaned, as she finally slowly lowered herself further, locking her eyes with mine as I penetrated her depths further than even before, until she was sitting on my lap and couldn't go any further.

"You've made me yours baby," she breathed.

I adjusted the angle, zooming in as she rose again, this time my cock glistening with her juices.

My free hand found her breast, kneading, pinching her nipple softly as she rode me... slowly at first, and then faster and faster. Her breasts bouncing with every movement as she rode me, her expressions shifting between pleasure and defiance.

When her legs began to tire, I sat up, pulling her into my lap, her legs wrapping around me in the lotus position.

I switched to the front camera, propping the phone against a pillow to capture our joined bodies, our faces hidden but our passion for each other undeniable.

"Zainab," I moaned, our arms entwined, drawing each other closer. We were no longer two but one.

We held each like that, embracing each other, eyes locked, breath shared, our bodies locked together, our souls finally one.

Finally, I brought my hands to her buttocks to lift her so that my cock was almost out of her, before lowering her again. She helped me, using my shoulders for leverage. I kept it up until after some time, her moans growing louder every time I lowered her, my cock pushing against the very depths of her vagina.

As we built speed, Zainab's moans deepened, her breath heaving, she whimpered, "Samir," as she approached her orgasm.

For a brief second I wondered if Sohel had heard that, then dismissed the thought.

There was total silence from the other end, as Sohel watched Zainab in the throes of her orgasm, moaning and heaving, in the throes of passion with another man.

The knowledge that she was exacting sweet revenge on Sohel must have been that much more of a turn-on for her, because her second orgasm was much longer and intense than the first.

Her pussy clenched around me as she came, causing me to orgasm as well, cumming deep inside her, flooding her fertile womb with my hot sperm, and giving me a sweet release.

She dug her nails into my back, and whispered, "Yes my love. Cum inside me. Lets make a baby together."

After I was done, I gently lifted her and as soon as my cock exited her, a gush of our juices splashed out of her now vacant pussy,

After she'd caught her breath, Zainab turned to the camera and saw that Sohel was still there, watching us. Instead of the crazed angry look he had before, he now had a mesmerised 'deer in the headlights' look on his face.

"What? Did you seriously enjoy watching another man fucking your wife's brains out?" she laughed.

Snapped out of his trance by Zainab's taunt, he quickly ended the call.

I burst out laughing, watching the happenings. "Okay, What you wanted is done. Forget about him. It's just you and me from now on."

She nodded with a smile and wrapped her arms around me. "I love you, Samir" she breathed.

"I love you too, Zainab," I said, as I kissed her.

I looked down to see we'd created another large stain on the white bedsheet.

We went at each other like we were on a mission to repopulate the world. By four o'clock, we were both totally exhausted, and fell into deep sleep, holding each other's naked bodies, slick with sweat and our juices.

There were three stains on the bedsheet and one on his pillow, though every subsequent one was a bit smaller than the previous.

It was eight o'clock when I woke up to the sound of activity in the room. Looking through groggy eyes, I saw Zainab packing her things in a large suitcase.

"Good morning, lover boy" she chirped, seeing me awake.

"Good morning, angel," I replied.

"Are you hungry? I've made your favourite khagina."

"Yes, thank you. My stomach is rumbling."

"I put on my underwear, and we walked to the kitchen, hand in hand. She served onto a single plate, and we ate from it, with her seated on my lap."

"Look at this," she said, showing me her mobile phone. There were 27 missed calls from Sohel.

"He seems to be missing you suddenly," I said and chuckled.

"I hope he burns in hell," she replied.

"Okay, forget about him. Delete him permanently from your mind. Its only you and me now," I told her.

"Yes, Samir," she replied with a smile.

After we'd eaten and bathed, and Zainab had finished packing, we set out for my place.

Just as the lift doors were beginning to close, a soft voice called out, "Please hold the lift."

I quickly reached out and stopped the door. An elderly lady, likely in her seventies or eighties, stepped in slowly.

She looked at Zainab with the big suitcase, and then at me and exclaimed, "Going somewhere, Zainab?"

"Yes, auntie. I'm leaving," replied Zainab simply.

The elderly lady remained quiet a moment, letting that sink in, her eyes examining Zainab and me, holding hands.

"I'm happy for you," she said at last, gently.

"Let me be honest--I've heard him yelling at you. I've heard you crying. Screaming. So many times. I know he mistreats you. He's a brute," she added, her voice low but firm.

"I always wanted to intervene. But I never had the courage. I'm so sorry I couldn't help you, Zainab," she continued.

Zainab smiled faintly. "It's okay, auntie."

"You're such an angel. You deserve someone better than Sohel," she said, her eyes shifting to me with a thoughtful, scrutinizing gaze--measuring, and assessing me.

"Thank you, auntie," Zainab said, her voice warm and emotional.

Just then, the lift reached the ground floor, and as we all stepped out, the lady turned to Zainab again.

"I know he loves you deeply. At my age, I can make out when a guy is crazy about a girl," she said to Zainab, nodding towards me with a smile.

"Yes, he does," Zainab whispered with a smile.

"Well, I wish you all the happiness. Do keep in touch. And don't hesitate to call me. And if you ever need someone to support you--legal matters or anything--my husband and I will stand by you" she said.

"Thank you, auntie," repeated Zainab and hugged her, tears brimming in her eyes.

"Don't cry, Zainab. I know he will take care of you like the angel you are. May God bless the two of you always," replied the lady.

I too stepped forward, hugged her, and thanked her for her wishes and blessings. Then, instinctively, I bent down and touched her feet in respect.

Zainab, seeing my example, did the same, her eyes still glistening with emotion.

As we moved towards the car, the elderly lady quietly walked alongside us, a silent show of support.

Some of the apartment folks, saw Zainab walking with a big suitcase and a strange man not her husband. Their curious glances turned into snide miles and quiet sniggers, the kind that stung more for what was left unsaid than what was spoken aloud.

One of them called out, "Hello Zainab, are you going somewhere?"

Before Zainab could respond, the elderly lady stepped in firmly, "Yes, she's leaving. I'm so happy for her."

After we loaded her suitcase in the boot, we thanked the elderly lady again.

In the car, I noticed Zainab looking at her apartment building in a thoughtful and pensive manner.

I placed my hand gently over hers. "Shall we go?"

She turned to me and nodded. "Yes, Samir. Take me away from here."

***

"Where are we going?" she asked, as I was driving.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. I've shifted houses. I'm living in a different place now, not the one you came to earlier."

"Good," she said with a hint of relief. "At least he won't show up there and create a scene."

That made me grin.

"By the way," she said with a teasing smile, "I've been thinking about your offer to move into the other room. Do you still want me to do that?"

"No, now I want you to move into my room now, with me," I chuckled, sliding my arm around her and pulling her close. I leaned in and kissed her.

"Watch the road," she said with a smirk, gently turning my face forward.

Later in the day, we visited my lawyer friend Neha, and apprised her on the situation and asked for her advice on how to proceed.

On hearing our case, she laughed lightly, "Oh no, not again. First it was Vishal, and now you?"

"Is it possible?" asked Zainab, anxiously.

"Of course," replied Neha. "Physical and mental domestic abuse is a very serious matter. You have every right to free yourself from him--you have a strong case."

***

Three days later on Monday evening, I was sitting on the sofa watching a cricket match, with Zainab sprawled out with her head resting in my lap, casually scrolling through YouTube videos, when my phone buzzed. It was Sohel.

In the last couple of days, Zainab had already got a number of calls, all of which she ignored.

I took the call, and put it on speaker.

"Bhai, where are you?" he asked.

I could sense Zainab stiffen on hearing his voice.

"At home," I replied.

I gently placed my hand over Zainab's mouth, to keep her from saying anything before the right time.

"Bhai, I'm facing a big problem."

"Okay, tell me," I said and winked at Zainab.

"I don't know how I missed. I should have told you earlier," he continued.

"Okayyy...?"

"I got married again, bhai."

"Okay, so why are you telling me this?" I asked curtly.

There was a long silence from his end and then he finally spoke, "Bhai, I know you're upset at how I spoke to you the last time. I'm really sorry about it."

"You piece of shit, I'm not upset at how you spoke to me. I'm upset at how you spoke to Zainab, and how you've been treating her. How dare you raise your hand on her?" I said, raising my voice.

There was another silence from his side.

When he spoke again, his tone was different. The preachy tone that I'd been hearing since college. "As her husband, I'm allowed to do whatever I want with her. You know that."

"I don't give a damn what you're allowed and what you're not."

Ignoring what I'd just said, he continued, "There's one other thing I wanted your help with, bhai."

"Okay, what's that?" I asked him.

"She's gone missing. When I came home from Lucknow, she wasn't there."

"Yes, I know," I replied.

Another silence.

"How do you know?"

"Because she's with me now."

"With you?"

"Yes."

Long silence.

"You bastard, how could you do this to me? I trusted you, and you are having an affair with my wife?" he started off, realisation creeping into his thick head.

Hearing his angry rant, I couldn't help but laugh out loud. And seeing me laughing Zainab also joined in, pulling my hand off her mouth and laughing just as hard.

Hearing us both laugh, there was a shocked silence from Sohel.

"You good for nothing namard, you failed Zainab in every way possible. You were supposed to keep her safe and happy, but instead you were beating her and abusing her? Instead of giving her Jannat to live in, you gave her Jahannam? Instead of treasuring her, you brought another woman into the house? It's you who is at fault here, you shit."

"She couldn't give me a baby. She's barren. Obviously, I had to bring in another wife," he replied, lowering his voice a bit, trying to justify himself.

"It's you who is barren you impotent bastard, not her. You're not good enough for her. You never were. She's a goddess, and she will give me a beautiful, healthy baby. She needs a real man, not an impotent loser like you. I won't be surprised after couple of years when your new wife also leaves you because you're not able to get her pregnant," I told him.

"You can ask Samir to satisfy her also, you namard. You saw he's double of you, didn't you?" yelled out Zainab.

He cut the phone off immediately, hearing her taunts.

When I looked at Zainab, she was smiling broadly. "Yes!" she exclaimed, pumping her fist in the air.

I grinned, seeing her do that.

"So... I'm a goddess, is it?" Zainab asked with a playful glint in her eyes, her smile spreading wide across her face.

"Of course, my love," I replied, grinning. "You're nothing less than a goddess to me."

"Okay, this goddess wants to make a beautiful, healthy baby with you," she giggled, climbing on top of me.

"Yes, my goddess," I whispered with a smile, leaning in and gently brushing my lips against hers.