Inaya sat quietly in front of her mirror, her delicate fingers adjusting the white dress her mother had chosen for her. The fabric flowed around her, simple yet elegant, but her heart felt heavy beneath its weight. From childhood, she had been taught one thing obey your parents, no matter what. And today, once again, she was surrendering.
Her lips carried a soft pink tint, cheeks brushed with a faint blush, and her almond brown eyes framed with a thin line of kohl and mascara. She looked beautiful yet something was missing. The glow. Happiness. Her reflection stared back at her with emptiness, reminding her that this wasn't her choice.
A knock on the door snapped her out of her thoughts.
"Inaya, neeche aaja beta... guests aa gaye hain," her mother's voice called.
She exhaled deeply, gathering courage, and stepped out.
Downstairs, the atmosphere was filled with polite smiles and formalities. Inaya slipped into the kitchen, picked up the tray carefully, the cups of steaming chai and coffee rattling slightly under her trembling hands.
Walking into the drawing room, she lowered her gaze, greeting respectfully.
"Assalamu Alaikum, Aunty..." she said softly, placing a cup before Ruksar Sheikh, the groom's mother.
"Wa Alaikum Assalam, beta," Ruksar aunty smiled warmly.
Then Inaya turned to the elder man beside her.
"Assalamu Alaikum, Uncle," she greeted Mirza Rasheed Sheikh, the groom's father, handing him his cup.
Parents discussing families, background, values. Ruksar aunty asked inaaya softly:
"Beta, tumhe cooking aati hai na? Aur padhna likhna continue karna hai shaadi ke baad bhi?"
Inaya forced a smile, "Ji... thoda bahut sab aata hai, aur main padhna bhi chahti hoon."
Her voice was steady, but deep inside she was numb.
Finally, Ruksar aunty again softly asked her:
"Beta... sabse zaroori baat... tum khush ho na iss rishtay se? Hamaare bete se shaadi karne ke liye tayyar ho?"
For a moment, the tray in Inaya's hand almost slipped. Her face turned pale, heart racing, but she curved her lips into a practiced smile. Before she could even respond, her father, Mustafa Khan, chuckled and interrupted:
"Arreh... bachon ko poochhne ki kya zaroorat hai? Jo humne faisla kiya, wohi unka faisla hai!"
The room filled with laughter, everyone nodding in agreement. Everyone except Inaya, whose smile didn't reach her eyes.
And in that laughter, her silence was buried.
The morning sun filtered softly through the curtains of a lavish bedroom. Mirza Ayaan Sheikh stirred awake, his hazel eyes fluttering open. For a moment, they looked almost golden under the sunlight. His sharp nose, the faint curve of his lips into a half asleep smile, and that mess of brown hair falling across his forehead he looked like the kind of man who carried charm without even trying.
Dragging himself out of bed, Ayaan ran a hand through his messy hair and walked lazily to the washroom. Moments later, the sound of running water filled the silence. A quick shower, a neat brush of his teeth, and when he stepped out, he was a different man polished, confident, untouchable.
He slipped into his three piece black suit, adjusting the cufflinks with practiced ease. A faint cologne lingered around him, bold and fresh.
Downstairs, the dining table was already set. His parents and younger cousins chatted lightly over breakfast. Ayaan joined them, greeting politely.
"Assalamu Alaikum," he said, taking a seat beside his father.
"Wa Alaikum Assalam, beta," his mother, Ruksar, replied with a smile, placing a sandwich on his plate.
Ayaan picked it up and took a single bite. Before he could continue, his father, Mirza Rasheed Sheikh, cleared his throat meaningfully.
"Beta, kal hum ek ladki dekhne gaye the... aur humein woh pasand aayi," he began casually. "Hum chaahte hain ke tum bhi usse milo. Tumhari opinion bhi zaroori hai."
The sandwich froze midway in Ayaan's hand. His hazel eyes darkened, sharp jaw clenching as he placed it back on the plate.
"Abbu, maine pehle bhi kaha tha... mujhe kisi se shaadi nahi karni hai. Mujhe yeh sab mein koi interest nahi hai."
His voice was low but firm leaving no room for argument.
Before anyone could respond, he pushed his chair back and stood up. His mother called after him, a hint of pleading in her tone.
"Ayaan, kam se kam nashta toh complete kar lo, beta..."
But Ayaan didn't stop. Without a glance back, he walked out of the house, the echo of the slammed door leaving his family in stunned silence.
The mansion was silent that night, its golden chandeliers dimmed, the clock striking past midnight. Ayaan finally walked in, his tie loosened, his steps heavy after a long day at work.
As he entered the dining hall, his eyes fell on a familiar sight his mother, Ruksar Sheikh, asleep on the dining table, head resting against her arm, waiting.
His lips curved into a faint smile. He walked closer, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Assalamu Alaikum, Ammi... areh yaar, kitni baar kaha hai aapko mera wait mat kiya kariye. Mujhe late ho jaata hai aane mein..."
Ruksar stirred awake, blinking at her son, her tired eyes softening with love.
"Wa Alaikum Assalam, mere bache... areh yaar, aise kaise wait na karun? Mera beta itni raat tak kaam karke bhooka ghar aata hai, aur main chain se kaise so jaun?"
Ayaan sighed, shaking his head slightly, though his expression softened.
"Ammi... main bada ho gaya hoon."
She cupped his face for a brief moment, her voice gentle but firm.
"Bacha kitna bhi bada ho jaye, maa ke liye toh hamesha chhota hi rehta hai."
He couldn't argue. He simply nodded, the usual arrogance in him melting away before her words.
"Chalo, tum upar jao, freshen up kar lo. Tab tak main dinner ready karti hoon," Ruksar said, standing up.
Minutes later, Ayaan returned, now in a crisp black t-shirt, his hair still damp. His mother served him the dinner lovingly, sitting beside him with her own plate. The silence of the night wrapped around them as he ate.
Halfway through the meal, Ruksar finally broke the silence.
"Sun na, beta... tujhe pata hai, mere paas zyada saal nahi bache. Main chahti hoon ke tu settle ho jaye apni life mein... teri khud ki family ho. Bas itna chahti hoon main, phir main sukoon se... mar sakun."
The spoon froze in Ayaan's hand. His hazel eyes immediately lifted to hers, a storm of emotions flashing across them.
"Areh Ammi, please... aisi baatein mat kiya karo yaar. Aapko kuch nahi hoga. Main aapka treatment karwa raha hoon na Hyderabad ke best doctor se. Aap jald hi theek ho jaogi."
"Beta... par main chahti hoon" she began, but Ayaan immediately cut her off, his voice low, firm, yet trembling with emotion.
"Theek hai, as your wish. I'll do whatever you want. But please, Ammi... aisi baatein dobara mat kiya karo."
For a moment, her tired face softened with relief. She placed her hand on his, smiling gently.
"That's like my boy."
And for the first time that night, Ayaan let out a small breath half frustration, half surrender. He could fight the world, but never his mother.
To be continued...