Their Last Season

The morning breeze kissed my face and I smiled.

The sunlight cascaded through the clouds.

The birds were chirping.

The crackling of leaves due to wind was resonating.

I felt an arm wrapping around my shoulder pulling me into a side hug.

I leaned into the touch knowing it's my dear husband.

I felt his gaze on me, I looked up and I was again mesmerized by his blue orbs, the ones I fell for.

He winked, I came out of my adoring session.

Flustered I huffed, he smiled.

We headed towards the room.

The room was quite large having a balcony and a large window.

A master bedroom.

A bed was placed slightly far from the window having a side table near it.

A dressing table was placed in front of the bed. A wardrobe was adjacent to it.

Near the window a couch was placed.

The colour theme of the room was a soothing teal green and beige. The lighting complemented it.

****

I woke up from a nap when my eyes went towards the wall clock.

It was almost evening.

I hurriedly got out of bed and disappeared into the washroom.

I wore an elegant sea-blue gharara with golden work on it.

I was placing my veil on my head when I felt a hand on mine.

I looked up and saw in the mirror, his reflection.

My favourite sight to watch.

He helped me in setting the veil.

I completed my look with the diamond jewellery he gifted on the wedding night.

My makeup was subtle but I went with red lips.

I love red colour on brides.

And here, I am the bride.

I looked in the mirror when I heard his whisper.

"MashaAllah."

A wave of heat rushed over my cheeks.

I bit my lips to stop smiling.

"My bride is profound."

He uttered while maintaining eye contact through the mirror.

I stood up.

He engulfed me into a hug.

We heard a knock, I separated myself from the hug.

He opened the door, my lovely sister-in-law greeted us with her charming smile.

"Devrani ji, sorry to disturb your romance but it's time for your muh dikhai."

She said with a teasing smirk.

I blushed and he laughed shaking his head.

I went out with my sister-in-law who is his elder brother's wife.

We reached the courtyard.

The pillars were draped in multicoloured fabric.

The entrance was beautifully decorated with pink roses.

The waiters were serving snacks.

Kids were playing. My mother-in-law came towards me.

She smiled.

She took me to the stage which was decorated in rosy pink and multicolour theme.

I sat.

It all gave a celebration vibe.

My face was covered with veil.

Many women greeted me, some patted my cheek, some lovingly patted my head with a ton of wishes for a prosperous marriage.

I smiled at them.

But my eyes snagged on one face.

I didn't know her but her eyes gloomy, singing songs of melancholy.

She came towards me, lifted my veil and the moment she saw me her eyes were overwhelmed.

She leaned towards my face and kissed my forehead, studying me as if memorizing my each feature.

The kiss spoke something — as if she was searching for someone else within me.

She gave me an envelope and went away but I was stuck, my eyes followed her.

The ceremony continued.

Some complimented me.

Some teased me.

But I was physically there, mentally I was stuck at her face, her eyes, and my overwhelming emotions.

Later, in my room, I thought maybe she was of my mother's age that's why I got worried after seeing her agony. But still... this "but" was there echoing in my heart.

I shrugged my shoulder.

I turned around, my gaze went to the mirror and I saw my reflection.

The girl was the same but her face was glowing.

Maybe the glow of getting the right partner.

I heard a knock on the door, followed by the creaking sound of it opening and the room filling with my favourite smell.

"You haven't slept?" asked Hamza looking at the wall clock.

"I was waiting for you." I shrugged.

He smiled.

We retired to bed and I closed my eyes to see new rays of sunrise.

Definitely new rays....

I was doing my touch-up when I heard a knock, and by the style of knocking I knew it wasn't Hamza.

So I grabbed my hijab first then opened the door.

There was Amina Aunty the head maid of the house with a tray of breakfast for me.

She was a woman in her mid-fifties, tall but she carried herself with grace, always wearing pastel clothes.

I smiled and gave her way to enter.

While she was keeping the breakfast on the table her daughter called her from the threshold of my room.

The girl was dressed in a salwar suit with a braid and curious eyes.

"Come." I called her.

She nodded and entered.

"She must be your daughter Aunty, because she looks just like your younger version," I said with a smile.

"Yes, Choti Bahu." Aunty replied.

I made a face. "What is this Choti Bahu title Aunty, call me Sumaiya."

I had repeated this sentence for almost the nth time.

But she shook her head with a smile.

"Are you Hamza Bhaiya's wife?"

I heard the little girl ask.

"Yes." I said with a smile.

"I am Shanaya and Hamza Bhaiya is my favourite in this haveli, he always brings chocolate for me from the city!"

She exclaimed happily.

I smiled.

Then her question caught my attention.

"How did you guys get married?" She asked.

"Shanaya." I heard Aunty calling her in a warning tone.

Ahh... the same tone my mother uses when I have crossed a line according to her.

Mothers when it comes to warnings.

Terrifying...

I glanced towards Aunty and shook my head.

Aunty left.

"Ok Shanaya, I will tell you the marriage story of your favourite brother."

"Hamza and I got married in an arranged marriage setup.

My uncle was the one who fixed our marriage." I told her.

"Do you love my Bhaiya? He is very cute, you should love him Bhabhi." She said with utmost seriousness.

I was amused by her protectiveness towards Hamza.

"Being with him it feels like I have always been in love with this man." My mind whispered.

And the winds blew.

The moment became an alibi.

I nodded, she looked satisfied.

"It has been 30 days since we got married in our city." I told her.

Later she asked some questions, I answered her.

She was about to ask another when Aunty called her from the corridor.

She hurriedly got up, gave me a quick hug which surprised me.

She was about to leave, I don't know what came over me.

"How old are you?" I asked her.

She turned back.

"Sixteen!" with a grin.

I smiled.

Too young and too enthusiastic.

She was a chatterbox.

But I loved it.

This home is his ancestral home on the outskirts of Fatehpur.

A haveli with royal architecture, coloured in brown with deep red borders.

Trees making a canopy shielding the haveli.

We had come for the formal introduction of us as a couple.

I ate the breakfast.

At night it was 11. Hamza hadn't come yet.

The winds were stormy.

The thunderstorms were making their presence known.

And my heart was playing beats of anxiety.

I was waiting for him.

The creak of the door was heard and I turned to look at my peace but my eyes caught a dishevelled Hamza.

He was in pain.

His face was telling me.

I hurriedly went near him and hugged him.

He relaxed in my touch.

And I felt wetness on my shoulder.

It was shocking. What had happened? But it wasn't the time to ask.

It was the time to provide comfort.

After five minutes he calmed down.

We were sitting on the bed.

"What happened Hamza?" I asked warmly.

When I felt it's correct time to ask.

He looked at

me with pure sorrow and I knew I would not like what he was going to say.

His lips moved to form the sentence.

But my world stilled.

I felt as if someone just plucked out the bud of an exotic flower.

Indeed a storm had come.

"Shanaya committed suicide."