Everyone attending the wedding thinks I’m happy to finally have gotten myself such an amazing husband. That the husband hater is finally happy since she too now has a husband. One of my aunts said I was unhappy with the concept of marriage because I hated not having someone myself. For the first time in my life, I let them muse.
I remain silent and laugh at their guesses, because none of them are right.
The only correct answer is; Mansha Haseeb is finally free.
And the only person who knows that answer is Khizer Malik.
“At this point I feel like I’m only a pawn on your chess board grump.” He grumbles as I drag him away from the stage, ignoring my mother’s glares and now grandma-in-laws pointed stares. “I was rather enjoying the conversation I was having back there.”
“With Maha and my cousins?” I scoff. “Are you mad?”
He glowers down at me. Even in my heels, I’m a solid foot shorter then him, much to my chagrin. “It might hurt your thirty karate gold plated ego to know that I enjoy their company more than I do yours.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh what have you done? How shall I now live with such a dreadful revelation?” I sneer.
He rolls his eyes. “It’s just like you to get jealous.”
I frown. “I’m not jealous!”
“Whenever I compliment someone’s humor you get jealous!”
I let out an incredulous scoff. “Has anyone told you how delusional you are?”
He let’s out a sad sigh, and pats my arm as if consoling me. “It’s okay grump, now that we’re married, I’ll help you.” Looking at me with wide, sympathatic eyes, he smiles. “Over time, we’ll try to ingrain an ounce of humor into that haughty brain of yours.”
I could punch him bloody this instant, then dip his black roses into it and turn them red. All thought of how handsome I thought he looked tonight leaves me, replaced by the irritation I feel whenever I’m around him, or any other male for that matter. “It’s just like you to measure a person’s worth by how much they laugh on your jokes Mr. Malik.” I shoot him a mocking smirk. “I thought there was more to you. Behind that goofy smile and careless attitude.”
He crosses his arms. “I have a feeling you’re disappointed?”
Not really. Not until my long awaited guest arrives anyway.
Instead of answering, I turn away, letting my gaze fall on the buffet table. “I made sure we had a lot of salad tonight. I love wedding salad.” I turn back to look at him. “What about you?” He doesn’t reply, looking at me thoughtfully. Probably processing the sudden change of subject.
“Look at you two!” One of his relatives comes rushing over. I think it’s one of his granny’s sisters daughter. “Just standing there in a corner! The photographer’s looking all over for you guys.”
Khizer smiles politely. “We were just talking.”
She laughs. “You have your entire life ahead of you to talk. Your wedding happens once in a lifetime. Save the emotions in the pictures you take tonight. Come!”
We go. I don’t tell her that if someone marries a second then a third then a fourth time, then for them a wedding isn’t really a once in a lifetime occasion. What if either me or Khizer is that someone. Because for all I know marriage holds little to no worth for either of us, and marrying multiple times wouldn’t really weigh down on my morality at least. Hell, I’d divorce Khizer this instant if I was sure I wouldn’t have anything to lose.
But that’s why we’re married to each other in the first place isn’t it? Because society has no place for the likes of us.
We follow his cousin to the other side of the Hall, where the photographer is waiting for us, smiling, surrounded by a couple of my cousins, Khizer’s granny and my parents.
“Mansha’s taking pictures!” One of my older cousins exclaim, clapping her hands gleefully. “What a sight this will be.”
I spent an entire week sulking after she got married. She was only eighteen, more like a little girl then a grown women. She got pregnant a month later, and now she has two children, at the age of twenty-one. I wasn’t surprised when I found out she’s not happy with her husband.
Khizer’s granny approaches us, smiling. “So you’re like Khizer too? Don’t take photos?”
I shrug. “There are better things to do then fake smile at the camera.”
She forces out a laugh. “Like what?”
I point to the buffet table. Khizer nods. “She’s in love with the salad.”
Granny shakes her head. “You two strike good poses for the pictures eh?” Then she’s smirking. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble doing that though huh?” She winks.
Aunty Sugra’s voice suddenly comes from behind me. “Every couple has trouble taking pictures.” She doesn’t sound happy.
I turn, pinning her with a scrutinizing look. “You’re forgetting ours is a love marriage.” Glancing at Khizer through my eyelashes, I reach out for his hand. “It comes naturally to us.”
Khizer grins, catching on with what I was doing. Raising my hand to his lips, he gives it a soft peck, marbles eyes looking into mine suggestively.
I almost don’t hear the gasps around me over the pain that suddenly shoots through my stomach.
The camera clicks. “Just like that! You two are naturals.”
Khizer smiles at him, casually entwining our fingers before grinning at Aunty Sugra still standing besides us. “Do you mind? Our photoshoot has begun I guess.”
It takes a lot of self control to not laugh in a jealous aunts face.
Khizer suddenly twirls me around.
“Hey!” I snap. “Careful with the man handling.”
“Look into her eyes.” The camera man’s voice says.
Khizer does. “It’s called twirling.” He says smiling.
I grunt. “Having an intimate photo session wasn’t part of our deal.”
His hand snakes around my waist. “Making your aunt jealous wasn’t either. You never told me I was signing up to be a trophy husband.”
I raise my eyebrows. “So that means you’ll grope me in return?”
He leans in closer to me. “You know grump, you’ve started speaking quiet a lot more then you used to.”
I frown. “I haven’t.” I pull back a little. “And keep your distance.”
His smile widens. “You’ve been smiling quite a lot too.”
I frown. “You have issues, do you know that? I’m not the one getting me a dozen black roses.”
He tilts his head to the side. “It was a celebratory present for getting fired. By the way, does that mean you’ll be ‘sharing’ my money now?”
My mouth falls open.
“Uh Ms. Mansha?” The camera man speaks up. “Could you please hug Mr. Malik from behind, and put your chin on his shoulder.”
I stare at him. “No.” I say incredulously.
Maha groans. “That’s a compulsory pose Apa! All our cousins did it.”
I glare at her. “Well.. I’m not doing it.”
Maha turns a pleading gaze to Khizer. He shakes his head. “You underestimate my shyness Maha.”
“Oh alright. How about you dip her to the ground.” He tells Khizer.
He shrugs, grabbing my waist and tipping me downwards.
I feel silly. And irritated. “Did you know Khizer Malik, your dislike for woman makes you a classic misogynist.” I tell him, his nose almost touching mine.
His lips tilt up. “Since you know so much, what do you call a woman who hates man?”
“A normal woman.”
He chuckles, pulling me back up with him. “I don’t hate woman.”
We stare at each other for a long time. Even if he doesn’t hate woman, he certainty has a problem with them. And recently, not knowing a lot about Khizer Malik has been icking me. I wanna know why.
I pull away first. “I have a lot of savings. I won’t use a single penny of yours.”
He let’s out an exasperated sigh. “You don’t understand jokes, sarcasm or passive aggressiveness do you?”
I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shakes his head. “It means you’re a boring person.”
Asshole.