Their Last Season

"Tell me you're joking."

As soon as the call connected, Sumaiya asked.

She heard a laugh from the other side.

"I'm not."

"Is he Danish Usman?" Sumaiya asked, praying her intuition was wrong.

"Yes," Rahila replied.

Her breath hitched.

"How did you meet him, Rahila? And what are you doing in Fatehpur?" she asked.

"Sumi, Sumi, relax. I'll tell you."

Rahila cut her off.

"One month ago, a boy came to me seeking justice for his sister. And that case has landed me in Fatehpur."

The sun was at its peak, blazing relentlessly.

It had been twenty minutes since Rahila's cab tire had punctured, and something else had also gone wrong with the engine.

She stood under the scorching sun.

Her face was flushed, and her heels were making her ankles ache.

"Uncle, how much more time will it take?" she asked.

"Beta ji, I don't know. You sit inside. I'll do something," he said politely.

"Uncle, we'll manage together," she said. She wasn't feeling good about sitting inside while the elderly man worked under the scorching heat.

Just then, a car stopped beside them.

The driver and Rahila glanced at each other.

A moment later, the window glass rolled down.

Inside sat a woman in her early fifties in the back seat, while a driver was behind the wheel.

"What happened, bhai?" the driver asked.

"The tire is punctured, and something is wrong with the engine," Uncle explained.

The driver nodded.

"You won't find a mechanic for another fifteen kilometres."

Rahila and Uncle exchanged frightened looks.

The lady silently observed them.

"Are you people new here?" the driver asked again.

They nodded.

"Where are you people going?" they heard the lady ask.

"Aunty, I'm going to Fatehpur," Rahila replied respectfully.

"We live there, beta. If you don't mind, we can drop you," the lady said with a polite smile.

Rahila thought for a second, contemplating whether it would be safe.

She scrutinized the lady and the driver.

When her lawyer's instincts permitted her, she nodded.

The car began moving.

"What is your good name, bachcha?" the lady asked warmly.

"Rahila Siddiqui," she replied with a smile.

"And yours, Aunty? I hope I can call you that?" she added.

"Of course, beta. I am Silah Baig," she said.

Rahila nodded.

"What do you do, beta?" she asked, further continuing the conversation.

"Aunty, I am a lawyer," she replied.

"Ohhh, you are from?" she asked.

"I am from Raibareli," she answered.

"Hmm, I am born and brought up in Raibareli," Silah replied.

"Oh."

Just like that, they indulged in a conversation.

They reached Fatehpur while talking and laughing.

"Beta, where do I have to drop you?" the driver asked.

"Uncle, at XYZ Guesthouse." She told him the address.

She and Silah exchanged numbers.

And just like that, Rahila Siddiqui landed in Fatehpur.

She thought it would be a memorable journey.

Indeed, time would tell her that.

***********

The next day, her assistant, Anaya, arrived.

She and Anaya decided to stroll through the streets of Fatehpur before starting their work.

They were near the fields when her legs got stuck. She hurriedly tried to escape, resulting in her bumping into someone.

Her ice cream fell, so did her purse.

Anaya gasped.

She looked at her fallen purse and ice cream with immense sorrow.

Then she looked up at the person she had bumped into.

"When you don't know how to walk, why can't you sit at home?" she fumed.

Danish looked at her with a done face.

It was her fault, and this mohtarma was screaming at him.

He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off.

"Say, say something. Why are you staring at me? Haven't you seen a beauty with a brain?" she retorted.

Danish fumed.

Is the girl even in her senses? he thought.

"Who is beauty with brain here?" Danish said, looking here and there.

Rahila looked at Anaya as if confirming whether she was hearing right.

Anaya vigorously nodded.

Rahila felt like strangling him.

He smirked, looking at her expression.

"Such an ill-mannered man you are," she stated.

He shook his head, his lips curling up.

"And I will sponsor your treatment. Get yourself an appointment with an ophthalmologist," she said while folding her hands.

"My eyes are absolutely fine, madam. But your brain isn't. I will sponsor your treatment. Get one with a psychiatrist," he said while keeping his hands in his pockets.

Anaya looked at Rahila. How could this man not call her ma'am beautiful?

She was dressed up in a pink loose kurta paired with white palazzo pants, a dupatta in muffler style around her neck.

A pair of sunglasses rested on her head.

Her features were sharp.

Almond-shaped eyes. The colour of her eyes was brown. Her long eyelashes were the cherry on top.

She was looking infuriatingly beautiful.

Rahila opened her mouth to say something.

But Danish gestured with his hands as if saying, Let it go. I don't have time.

And he vanished.

She stomped her feet.

"Ma'am, he is indeed blind. Couldn't see your beauty," Anaya said, but when she looked towards her, she saw her smiling.

"Ma'am," she called her.

Rahila looked at her.

"I am impressed that he doesn't notice my beauty because this is what men notice first in me," she said distastefully. She hated this. "I didn't want to impress him with my beauty," Rahila stated.

"But you were angry," Anaya said.

"I was angry at his tone, how he talked to me.

But I was amused by how different he was," she said.

"Interesting character," she muttered.

"Don't forget, Rahila. He insulted you," she scolded herself.

*******

Rahila was talking to a private investigator regarding Sahil's sister's case.

"Ma'am, it doesn't look like a dowry case."

Rahila's brows furrowed.

"How?" she asked.

"Ma'am, they are pretty rich, and recently their younger son got married without dowry, and he and his wife are happily living together," he said.

"If they assaulted her for dowry, they would have done it to the new bride also."

"Anything else?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am. The victim's husband is well-educated, but he has a backward mindset. And he is quite egoistic.

"He doesn't use a pen that has been used by someone else first," he told her.

Rahila's brow furrowed.

"So who will tell me this? The most important information you are telling me now," she scolded him.

He sheepishly whispered, "Sorry."

After cutting the call, Rahila took out her diary.

She wrote the victim's name, then her husband.

Then, writing their characteristics, she thought for a moment.

Just then, her phone rang.

She glanced at it.

Silah Aunty calling.

She received the call.

After greetings, Silah came to the point.

"Rahila beta, I want you to have dinner at our home," she said.

Rahila wanted to deny, but Silah cut her off.

"I am not taking no as an answer, beta. You are coming," she said firmly.

But beneath the firmness, there was warmth which Rahila couldn't ignore.

She accepted the invitation.

"Bring your assistant with you, and I will send you the address," Silah said before cutting the call.

Rahila wore a mustard-coloured cotton Anarkali, pairing it with silver jhumkas.

Her hair was tied in a loose braid. She applied lip balm.

Without makeup also, she looked ethereal.

Anaya wore a red suit. She looked decent and charming.

Both the girls reached Silah's house.

Before they could enter through the main gate, Rahila again bumped into someone.

She looked up.

Her eyes got wide.

"You?" she exclaimed.

"You," Danish said with a done tone.

"This day can't be more bad," he whispered, but she heard it anyway.

"Excuse me," she retorted.

"You are excused," he replied.

Rahila looked at him as if her eyes would slap him.

Danish's lips curled up.

"Okay, get aside. I am here to meet Mrs. Silah," she said.

Danish looked at her.

"Don't tell me you are here as my mother's guest," he said.

"I am Silah Aunty's guest," she replied.

Then it clicked.

"Silah Aunty is your mother?" she asked.

He nodded.

Just then, Silah appeared at the door.

"You came, bachcha," she said with warmth.

Rahila forgot Danish. She looked at Aunty.

"You invited me with so much love. How can I not come, Aunty?" she replied, moving forward to hug her.

Anaya also greeted Silah.

They went inside.

Danish followed them.

Once they were settled, Silah went for beverages.

Danish was going out of the room when Rahila stopped him.

"Wait, Mr. All Perfect Eyes."

Danish turned back.

"Yes, Miss Not-So-Beautiful-Brainy," he said, stressing the last words.

"Take it."

She thrust two bags into his hands.

He was bewildered.

"What is it?" he asked.

"When you visit someone's home for the first time, you bring them gifts. But you wouldn't know because you lack basic manners," she said with an infuriatingly calm smile.

Danish opened his mouth to retort.

Just then, Silah entered with the servants.

She had heard the last line.

"Do you both know each other?" she asked.

"Yes," came both of their answers.

She nodded.

Danish went out of the room, but not before shaking his head.

A smile threatened to form on his face.

Which didn't go unnoticed by Silah.

Later on, they were having dinner.

During dinner, Rahila observed how Danish helped his mother.

How he made sure his mother ate.

"Aunty, the palak paneer is delicious," Rahila complimented.

"Thank you," Danish said, entering the room. He had forgotten his mobile earlier, so he came to take it.

"I complimented Aunty, not you," she gritted her teeth.

"Beta, it's him who made it," Silah informed her.

Rahila looked at him with unreadable expressions.

She didn't remember the last time her father entered the kitchen or the last time her brother entered.

They were loving but never this caring towards the lady of their house.

She felt something which was ineffable.

"Oh."

She just said this.

Danish looked at her.

"Miss chatterbox, just have this. Say, 'Oh!' Lemme guess, you wouldn't have eaten something this delicious earlier," he teased her.

Silah whipped her neck to see her son.

He smiled in Rahila's presence.

He teased her.

Is he really Danish?

Her old Danish.

Then she looked at Rahila, whose cheeks were faintly pink.

She smiled.

Rahila glared at him.

After dinner, Rahila was sitting on the bed.

Her mind was flashing today's events.

She bit her lips.

She knew she was in a mess.

A beautiful one.

She liked Danish Usman.

Despite how much she hated his teasing and answers.

She buried her face in the pillow.

And then she smiled.

---

"So, just after my realization, I messaged you," she said.

Sumaiya gulped the lump forming in her throat.

"Rahila..."

Her tone was cautious. It caught Rahila's attention.

"You remember my cousin, the one I told you about?"

"Yup," Rahila replied.

"She is Danish's late wife.

"And Danish loved her immensely."

Rahila Siddiqui felt as if someone had poured freezing-cold water on her in the middle of a December night.

Her legs gave up.

She stumbled.

"What?"

Only this could escape her mouth.

Sumaiya's heart broke on hearing her tone.

Indeed, it was a mess.