Their Last Season

"No matter where you visit, home is the ultimate place of peace," Sumaiya said while kneading the dough.

Hamza nodded mischievously.

As Sumaiya turned to grab the rolling pin, Hamza quickly took a handful of flour and smeared it across her face.

She gasped.

A second later, she heard him laughing like a maniac.

"You are so gone, Hamza," she warned, already chasing after him with flour in her hand.

"Sumi, no! It was just a harmless prank," he said, trying to coax her into mercy.

She narrowed her eyes.

Without another word, she showered him from head to toe in flour.

And just like that, a flour fight began.

By the time they finally stopped, both of them were breathless.

Sumaiya glanced around the drawing room.

It was covered in flour.

"I am not cleaning this. You started it, so you clean it," she declared, dusting off her hands.

Hamza looked at her with a betrayed expression.

"This is not fair, Sumi!" he exclaimed.

"Fair would have been not starting this mess in the first place," she retorted.

He opened his mouth to argue, but she simply handed him the broom and dustpan.

"Work like a good boy," she said, patting his cheeks.

He gaped at her, his mouth hanging open.

Then, with a dramatic sigh, he begrudgingly started cleaning.

Meanwhile, Sumaiya returned to cooking their meal.

*****

It had been days since they had returned to Delhi and settled back into their daily routine.

They were having dinner when Hamza received a message.

"Can we meet tomorrow at your home?" he read aloud.

"Sumi, Danish wants to visit us tomorrow," he informed her.

"So?" she probed further.

"Will it be okay with you?" he asked, seeking her opinion.

A smile spread across her face.

"Of course."

He grinned at her before typing a reply.

"Why not? Dinner at my place."

He sent the message and returned his attention to the meal, while Sumaiya shook her head fondly at his enthusiasm.

******

It was almost lunchtime.

Sumaiya was putting the final touches on the dishes, carefully garnishing them.

Hamza and Danish were sitting in the drawing room, engaged in conversation.

Yet Danish seemed distracted.

Hamza noticed it.

Sumaiya was dressed in a plum-colored long kurta and palazzo, paired with a blush-colored hijab.

Hamza walked into the kitchen to get the refreshments.

However, as he reached the doorway, he paused.

His gaze traveled from head to toe.

"Begum, your intentions aren't right," he declared dramatically.

She shook her head.

"Maybe your heart isn't in the right place," she shot back.

He chuckled.

"That's the point," he whispered softly.

A serene smile passed between them.

Soon, it was time for lunch.

Hamza and Sumaiya served the food together.

Danish looked toward Sumaiya.

"Assalamu Alaikum, Bhabhi."

"Wa Alaikum Assalam," she replied politely.

"Bhabhi, the chicken curry was delicious," he complimented.

"Thank you," she said with a smile.

"My begum has an aura in everything she does," Hamza boasted proudly.

Danish smiled.

But a lump formed in his throat.

A memory flashed before his eyes.

---

"Ira, you've truly outdone everyone this time with your designs," Danish exclaimed, looking through her sketches.

A smile graced her lips.

"You know what? You should start your own business," he suggested.

She chuckled.

"You're overpraising me. These are quite common designs," she replied while folding the clothes.

"Don't belittle your work," he said firmly.

"My wife does everything with perfection."

"Aye, aye, Captain," she laughed.

"Danish."

Hamza's voice broke his trance.

He blinked and returned to the present.

After they were done with lunch, they settled onto the sofas in the drawing room.

A comfortable silence lingered in the air.

Then Danish cleared his throat.

"Bhabhi, I have to tell you something."

Sumaiya exchanged a glance with Hamza.

The seriousness in Danish's voice immediately caught their attention.

She turned toward him.

"Go ahead," she said softly.

Danish clasped his hands together, as if gathering the courage to speak.

His eyes briefly dropped to the floor before meeting theirs again.

"When I saw you for the first time, my eyes stopped at your orbs."

He paused.

"Your eyes resembled my beloved's a lot."

Sumaiya stiffened, remembering his expressions.

He passed his phone to her after scrolling through his gallery.

She took it.

The moment she glanced at the picture on the screen, her eyes widened.

She felt the same pair of black orbs gazing back at her.

Hamza also looked at the phone.

He was equally stunned.

"She is my late wife, Mahira," Danish said.

Sumaiya quickly looked toward him, raising an eyebrow for him to continue.

"The resemblance between you and her was something I couldn't ignore.

And I had an intuition that you were connected to her.

This doubt of mine was proven when, at the supermarket, I saw the photo in your wallet," he told her carefully.

A frown covered her face.

"What do you have to do with that photo?" she asked.

He again scrolled through his gallery and passed her the phone.

This time, Sumaiya was utterly shocked.

On the screen was a photo of her mother.

She looked at him.

"She is Mahira's mother, and she died twenty years ago," he said, reading her expression.

"Are you out of your mind? She is my mother. She is alive, fit, and fine," Sumaiya said, an edge creeping into her tone.

Hamza placed a hand on her shoulder to calm her down.

Danish shook his head.

"Bhabhi, your mother is fine, but the woman in the picture is no more," he tried explaining.

Sumaiya stood up abruptly.

"You are saying the same thing again by rephrasing your words. My mother is fine," she said in a warning tone.

"Sumi, calm down," Hamza said gently.

She looked at him pointedly.

"I mean, let him explain," he quickly corrected himself.

"Okay."

She turned toward Danish.

A scene flashed before his eyes.

He had called his father-in-law.

After exchanging greetings, he came straight to the point.

"Abba, do you know any Safa Hussein?" he asked carefully.

Silence greeted him from the other side.

He waited.

"What do you have to do with this?" he finally heard his father-in-law ask.

"That means you know her, and Amma, and that they are related," he concluded.

A sigh came from the other side.

"They are twins. Safa Hussein and Marwa Hussein."

His father-in-law's words stunned him.

"Why are you asking this, Danish?" he heard him ask.

Danish narrated the chain of incidents to him.

"That must be Sumaiya.

She and Mahira have the same pair of orbs as their mother.

Those identical black eyes," his father-in-law said.

"That means Mahira and Sumaiya are cousins?"

"Yes, they are," came the confirmation.

"But I haven't ever seen her at our family functions."

"Because the conflict between the elders caused an almost irrevocable rift.

I can't tell you more than this, beta."

And the call was cut.

Sumaiya gasped audibly.

Her eyes widened.

She couldn't fathom it.

She had an aunt she had never known about.

And a cousin.

Hamza gently caressed the back of her palm.

He was too shocked to say anything.

"Why are you telling me all this now?" she asked.

"I don't know either, Bhabhi, but I couldn't keep quiet after learning all this."

He paused.

"I should leave now."

He stood up.

Hamza escorted him to the door.

Sumaiya called her mother.

The moment the call was answered, she blurted out,

"Ammi, who is Marwa Hussein?"

Her mother had not expected this question even in her wildest dreams.

"My sister," she replied in a defeated tone, knowing that Sumaiya would not be coaxed into dropping the matter.

Then she explained the entire chain of events to her mother.

Her mother couldn't believe her ears.

Her beloved sister and niece had bid goodbye to this world.

They had not been on speaking terms for years, but she had always prayed for her sister's well-being.

Her mother was shell-shocked.

"Ammi, what was the reason behind this rift?" she asked softly.

"Your Nanu's ego," her mother replied bitterly.

"Your Mamu wanted to marry Marwa's sister-in-law, but she refused. Your Mamu and Nanu humiliated their family because of it.

Marwa's in-laws gave her a choice between her family and them. So did your Nanu.

She chose her husband.

She was angry with me for not taking a stand.

Abba gave me a choice between him and her.

Abba was not well.

I couldn't choose.

And just like that, we lost each other."

She hiccupped.

Sumaiya bit her lips to stop the sob threatening to escape.

Hamza gently patted her shoulder and pulled her into a side hug.

"You know, we both decided to keep our daughters' names starting with our initials.

Safa's daughter was Sumaiya, and Marwa's daughter was Mahira."

She broke down into tears once again.

A few moments later, the call ended.

Tears streamed down Sumaiya's cheeks.

"Is a girl's rejection such a big thing that an entire family can be humiliated?"

"That ties of kinship can be broken?"

"The death of a beautiful relationship because of ego..."

"Was preserving a fragile sense of honor worth the destruct

ion of so many relationships?"

Honour was more precious than a daughter.

Separating a mother from her daughter.

A sister who had shared the same womb.

A woman whose sense of security lies in her maternal home.

Does a male's fragile ego have no limits?

A sister was gone.

A niece was gone.

And their loved ones couldn't even mourn them.

Sumaiya wondered.