Their Last Season

"Open the door!" Sumaiya screamed, banging on the door.

She glanced around. Darkness was all she saw.

"Please, Hamza, please. I am sorry. I won't do anything disgraceful to you. Please..."

She heard herself begging.

Her words.

Her voice.

Remained unheard.

As if the echo of her voice couldn't match the frequency of Hamza's grace.

She was terrified. She looked at the floor painted in crimson red. The most favourite liquid of the human body, red in crimson.

She gulped.

Her heart pounded.

Then she heard,

"Whether it's you, I, or someone else, we are like moths and flames. Knowing it will burn us, but perhaps we love to commit sins."

The words were spoken in a very calm tone.

More than the words, the calmness terrified her.

"Come, Sumaiya. Continue the legacy," someone said warmly.

The warmth acted as venom.

She felt chills run down her spine.

She recognised the voice.

Then she heard herself whispering, "Shanaya."

She sank down against the wall.

Then she felt movement.

A key was inserted into the lock. She could hear it turning. The creak of the door opening.

She inhaled the perfume of her beloved.

She turned.

She saw her Hamza, dressed in a white pathani suit, looking mesmerising as always.

She was losing her heart again.

He came near her. She felt his arms wrap around her.

She felt profound.

He pulled away.

She felt him placing a red bridal chunri on her head, one she hadn't seen before.

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

There was mist in them.

When he had seen her for the first time in a bridal veil, she had looked profound to him.

Today she looked profound too. Perhaps the gazes were different. But the person was the same.

He pulled her into his embrace again.

He caressed her head as if telling her to sleep.

Then she saw it.

His white kurta was being painted with red liquid.

The source of the liquid was her back.

The one who had caused it was her beloved.

"Hamza..." she heard herself whisper.

"Hamza!" she heard herself scream as she gasped for air.

She sat up on her bed.

Her scream echoed through the room. Hamza woke up beside her.

He saw her shivering, gasping for air.

"Sumi, Sumi, calm down. I am here." He pulled her into his embrace and began caressing her back.

His voice registered in her mind. She looked up and saw him watching her with a frown, his eyes singing a song of worry.

She glanced around the room.

It was their room, bathed in the golden light of the night bulb.

She was on her bed, a pink floral bedsheet spread on it, in the embrace of her beloved.

She glanced at the floor. It was a white canvas.

She inhaled.

The same scent.

Hamza pulled away, took the glass from the side table, and filled it with water.

He handed it to her.

She took it with shivering hands and took a sip.

"It's okay. It was just a nightmare," she heard Hamza saying.

He was coaxing her.

"Sleep, Sumi," he said while helping her lie down on the bed.

She felt him sitting beside her and caressing her hair.

She lay on the bed.

His hand was still in her hair, caressing it.

She didn't know when sleep embraced her.

But Hamza was not able to sleep.

Something was not right.

His heart whispered.

He shook his head and lay down on the bed.

*******

The sun was cascading its rays.

The clouds were painted in a light reddish-orange hue.

She stirred first.

It was 6:30 in the morning, she noted while glancing at the wall clock.

She glanced beside her. He was sleeping peacefully.

She slowly got up from the bed and made her way towards the bathroom to freshen up.

It was 7:00 in the morning.

She tiptoed towards the kitchen when she heard someone talking.

The tone of the person stopped her.

The tone of someone who had lost everything.

Just tired.

It was Amina aunty.

"You want me to forgive you, but for what?" Amina aunty said monotonously.

Her posture was rigid.

The other person said something.

Sumaiya understood Amina aunty was talking on the phone.

She heard her saying,

"Isn't it the unsaid rule? The cost of a mistake - sorry, a grave sin is expensive.

Don't worry, beta. You did absolutely right.

You have taken over the legacy."

Her voice was slow.

Firm.

But something was there that Sumaiya couldn't pinpoint.

The word legacy made her stumble.

The dream.

Shanaya's face.

Her beloved.

All flashed before her eyes.

She gasped for air.

She sank down to her knees.

A vase fell due to her stumbling.

Amina aunty turned. Her face turned pale.

She hurried towards her.

"Choti Bahu, what happened? Are you alright?" she asked worriedly.

She caressed her back.

She went into the kitchen and came out with a glass of water.

"Choti Bahu, look at me."

She held her chin and made her look into her eyes.

Those eyes haunted Sumaiya.

She brought the glass to her lips.

Somehow, Sumaiya took a sip.

Her breathing slowed.

With Amina aunty's help, she stood up.

"Are you okay?" she heard her asking.

Sumaiya nodded.

"Sit down. I will bring coffee for you," Amina aunty said, moving towards the gas stove.

"Aunty, when breakfast is ready, please inform me. Hamza and I will eat together," she said.

Aunty nodded.

Breakfast was ready.

Amina aunty informed her.

She took the breakfast tray and headed towards their room.

Reaching there, she saw the door was open, meaning Hamza was ready.

It was Saturday.

He wouldn't go to the factories today.

She didn't know why her heart felt something at that thought.

She liked being around him.

It didn't matter whether he was busy or not.

Just his presence.

She cleared her throat.

He looked back and smiled.

That smile, and Sumaiya's heart did a somersault.

She knew she was deeply, irrevocably in love with this man.

She put the breakfast on the table.

He sat down beside her.

They ate in silence.

The last morsel of aloo paratha was extended towards his mouth.

He looked up to see her gesturing for him to eat.

It was his turn to blush.

A man's composure melts when his beloved does something like that.

He smiled and ate it.

She saw his flustered face and burst out laughing.

"You are cute," she stated.

"Sumi." He fake-glared at her.

She raised her arms in surrender.

Then they both smiled.

Life was beautiful with the right companion.

"Are you okay?" he asked after breakfast, remembering the night.

She didn't know what happened.

She looked towards him.

Her eyes collided with his brown eyes, and wetness reached her cheeks.

He hurried to pull her into his embrace.

She broke down.

He let her.

No questions were asked.

Only solace was provided.

After some minutes, she calmed down.

"Are you feeling lighter?" he asked.

She nodded.

He knew she needed comfort.

She knew he was her comfort.

Allah told us to become each other's peace.

Indeed, they were.

"Sumi, will you come with me this evening?" he asked.

"Where?"

"It's a surprise," he told her.

She nodded but scrunched her nose.

She hated surprises.

She was very curious.

******

It was 5:00 in the evening when she received a message from Hamza.

"Get ready."

After some time, Hamza entered the room.

His eyes found her immediately.

She was dressed in a white and purple chikankari suit with a purple hijab covering her hair.

She wore a bracelet on her right hand and a watch on her left.

A small earring peeking out from her hijab made her look ethereal.

"You really want me to have tachycardia," she heard him say as he walked towards her.

"Well, Mr. Hamza, I don't do anything. It's your heart that is being rebellious," she said with a smirk.

He shook his head and disappeared into the bathroom.

After ten minutes, he came out in a white shirt.

They were twinning.

She chuckled.

He shot her a look.

After informing their elders, they left.

They were in the car when Sumaiya asked,

"Where are we going?"

Hamza glanced towards her.

"Patience, sweetheart. Patience."

She blushed.

After twenty-five minutes, the car stopped near a small bungalow in the middle of a garden.

The scene was beautiful.

A house surrounded by a garden on all sides, coloured in plum paired with golden hues.

A dark brown gate.

With some glittery strokes.

A rainy evening.

A total bliss.

She gave a wide smile to Hamza.

"Wow. It's profound," the words escaped her mouth.

"It's yours," she heard Hamza say.

She looked at him, confused.

"Huh?" she asked.

He took her hand and went inside the main gate, stopping at the threshold of the house.

He took out a pair of keys.

"Sumi, I always heard about a woman's maternal home and her husband's home, but never her own.

So I decided I would build a house for my wife and my daughter."

He paused and looked at her.

"So it's just yours, Sumi.

Not mine.

Not ours.

Not anyone else's."

Her eyes welled up.

Every day she was falling for him more.

He shook his head, indicating that she shouldn't cry.

He took her palm and placed the keys in her hand.

"Open your house, Mrs. Hamza," he uttered softly.

She placed the key in the lock and opened it with a shaky hand.

She was not happy because he had gifted her a house.

She was happy because of the thought behind it.

She held his hand, and together they crossed the threshold.

They were in the hall when he handed her the papers of the house.

Sumaiya looked at each and every corner with immense excitement.

The house was themed in shades of sea green and cream.

With cream-coloured carved wooden furniture.

"Well, Mrs. Owner, will you give me the pleasure of an evening walk?" he asked dramatically.

"Hmm... let me think," she said playfully.

"Huh?"

They burst out laughing.

It was nearly sunset.

It looked beautiful from the nearby lake.

The serenity of the wind.

The symphony of flowing water.

The clouds painted blue.

And the hand of her beloved.

The romantic evening.

"I love you," she whispered, breaking the comfortable silence.

He looked at her, amused.

Her eyes had always given testimony.

Today her words were giving it too.

He tightened his hold on her hand.

"I love you too."

They smiled.

The drizzle.

The pitter-patter of rain.

The music of the wind.

And their love confession.

She was standing on the balcony when she saw the house help talking to someone outside the house.

When the woman turned around to leave, she recognised the woman from the muh dikhai.

She gulped, a lump forming in her throat.

The woman went away, and the maid came back inside.

She hurried downstairs.

"Listen," she began.

"You were outside," she stated.

"Yes, Bibi," the house help replied. She was a woman in her mid-thirties.

"You were talking to someone," she said, measuring her words.

"Yes, Bibi. I was talking to my madam. I work there as well," the house help replied.

"Oh. Is everything okay?"

"Yes, Bibi. You know, my madam has suffered a lot."

That caught her attention.

"Initially, she lost her sister in an accident. And just three

months ago, she lost her daughter-in-law, who was like a daughter to her."

Sumaiya's heart stopped for a moment.

"And you know, her daughter-in-law, what was her name? Mahira. She was pregnant."

Sumaiya gasped.

"Since then, my madam has lost her smile."

It flashed before her eyes.

The muh dikhai.

Amina aunty's eyes.

Bi jaan's eyes.

And the grief.

It was not just the grief of losing someone.

It was more.

The melancholic melody.

"What is the name of your madam?" she heard herself asking.

"Silah."