Zaib prayed his sunset prayer when unintentionally his eyes swayed to his wife who sat on the edge of the bed, playing candy crush on his phone for the second hour today. He eyed her as she competitively tapped on the widescreen of the iPhone and bit into her lip, anxiously.

Every day, returning from university, she'd sit for three hours in their study, immersed in highlighting things on her textbook while he would sit on the opposite desk, admiring her, barely getting any work done himself.

Then he'd pull her out of her books, to the kitchen where he'd make her something delicious to eat— well, mostly it was him scrounging for her to make some food since he had finally admitted defeat and called Zoya the best cook. After they'd have a romanticized lunch, she'd spend an hour playing candy crush while Zaib left for any afternoon appointments.

As soon as his meetings were over, he'd immediately rush back home, avoiding any after parties with his colleagues, to spend more time with Zoya. She would lovingly welcome him and they'd spend the rest of the night talking about their day.

He didn't realize how long he had been staring at her as he sat immobile on the prayer rug. His heart was so full of her that every time his eyes met her, he'd forget his consciousness.

"Zaib?" She stepped down from the bed curiously as she neared him. He blinked rapidly as his trance broke and then smiled as she sat beside him and dropped her head on his lap, laying on the marble floor.

She gazed up at him with her wide blue eyes. "Are you thinking of me?" She wondered, quirking an eyebrow. He nodded without hesitation, "Always," he confirmed. Her eyes sparkled up and she giggled into her palm.

"Did you win the level?" He asked, questioning her perky behaviour. She nodded with triumph, a satisfied smile on her mouth. Zaib chuckled, realizing he knew a bit too much about his wife's mood swings. Zoya sat up giddily.

"You're done, now let's go! We'll be late to mama's dinner!" She complained, even though they were an hour away from the designated time. Zaib wanted to object but seeing her so impatient, he shut himself up, nodding and dashing to the washroom.

He took a quick shower and wore the lemon-coloured collar shirt along with high waisted baggy jeans and a denim jacket, which Zoya had matched with her sunflower top. He stepped out with the towel in his hand as Zoya was also prepped with her top, mom jeans and a cardigan. He surveyed her as she stood tall against the mirror, wrapping her hijab.

He walked closer and closely hugged her waist, watching her smile pop up on the mirror. "You matched us well," he told her and she nodded, her eyes bright. "When I was a teenager, I thought of buying similar clothes for me and my husband. We'd get to show them off and look cute," she confessed.

Zaib's hold tightened as he realized, he was the lucky man. It was him who she wanted to match with and him who could see her all ecstatic for an outfit. "I'll wear everything you like," he warmly kissed her cheek and she bashfully pulled away, grabbing his hand and luring him out to the main door.

They settled in the car and drove away towards Zoya's parents house. Midway, Zaib received a call from an office junior who notified him about an urgent meeting regarding a mishandled project. Zaib wanted to ask for an alternative member to attend the meeting on his behalf but he realized Ehsan had taken a few weeks off, and nobody was capable of representing his position.

He sighed, ending the call and looked at Zoya nervously. "Urgent meeting? It's okay. I'll go in alone. You can come a little late Zaib," she placated, understandingly.

Zaib nodded back apologetically.

"Thirty minutes. Not a second more," he assured her and she giggled, nodding.

()()()()()()()()()()

Zoya found herself flooding with glory as she sat sandwiched between her mother and father on the couch. Reuniting with her family made her feel more alive than ever even though she grew up seeing these same old faces. There was an unexplainable comfort residing within her chest as she leaned against her father.

"Is the housework too much to handle?" Her father inquired, his eyes small, full of concern for his only daughter. Zoya shook her head deploringly.

"Baba, since I have to go early for classes, Zaib makes the breakfast and sweeps the house and when I return, I make dinner and mop the floor. Then I study for a few hours," she explained, a smile uplifting her lips as she thought of her husband.

"He even asked if I needed a helping hand but I refused. If Fathima (r) could do all the work for her family, then I should too," Zoya stated, thinking of all the inspiring women of Islam and their exceptional attributes. She felt proud for being a part of such a community.

"That's great, Zoya." Her father smiled gently and patted her head, commending her.

"And you know, Zaib also likes to read the Quran to me? At night, before we're about to sleep, he reads a chapter of the Quran and it's so soothing," Zoya further added, her heartwarming with the memory of last night.

Last night, Zaib arrived a little late from the office and seemed completely drained, his eyes were droopy and words were indolently short. She quickly served dinner and after a few bites, he carried her into his arms and walked to their bedroom. He laid with her, eyes shut and began reciting Surat Al Naba. By the time he reached the fifth verse, his words were soft mumbles and his eyes were shut.

She had pecked his lips and slept the night away.

"Okay, you've been talking about Zaib for so long. We get it, he's a cool husband. How's uni going?" Bilal interrupted. Her mother burst into giggles and her father only surveyed his daughter with joy while Zoya grew flushed, embarrassed. She immediately threw a kick at Bilal's stomach and he chuckled immaturely.

"Mr Robert is more analytical and quiet so I don't have any feedback yet. When exams roll in, he'll speak to all of us individually," Zoya reported, wondering if her professor's unchanging expressions were a good thing or not.

Her father left to the bedroom and her mother went to the kitchen to check in on the food. Bilal and Zoya talked about their future job opportunities when it suddenly hit Zoya that Zaib did not like cumin seeds on his plate. Zoya wandered to the kitchen but noticed it was empty and the cumin seed bottle was left untouched on the top shelf so she sighed in relief and went past the kitchen.

Suddenly she heard an austere whisper from the hallway. It was so faint, she almost thought she imagined it. Then the voice grew a little audible, confirming her doubts.

"There's no need to tell Zoe. She's happy with her husband and that's all that matters!" Her father's whisper shout echoed within her ears, her heart palpitating at their worried tone. Her eyebrows pinched upwards, muddleheaded.

"They're calling again. We have to do something! If they file a lawsuit, they can take away everything from us by this month." She heard her mother's aggrieved voice.

"What's wrong?" She felt her voice crack, her head thumping with all the possible catastrophes as she showed herself. Her father was the first one to look up, his face losing its colour. He strenuously arched a smile.

Her family was now delivering fake smiles.

Zoya almost cried when she stared at them unexplainably at a loss of words. Her mother edged forward, forbearing a dishonest smile. "Zoe, everything's okay. Is Zaib not here yet?"

"So, you all are now unwilling to share any problems of this house with me?" She grimaced. Her father shook his head scornfully, his eyes wide with gloom.

"No Zoe. We just don't want to tell you things which you can only stress over and do nothing about," he clarified as he maintained his soft gaze on his daughter.

Zoya frowned. This was the bitter taste of feeling like an outsider in her household. She gulped and exhaled deeply through her nose. She reticently eyed her parents. "What happened? What were you talking about?"

Her mother with discernment looked at her husband and then sighed. "Around the time of your marriage, your father's company contacted him and asked for a payment for breaching their contract," she started speaking. Zoya listened with her fists clenched.

"The company accused your father of disclosing personal information to rival groups out of spite when in reality, it isn't true. Your father hasn't said a word. They're demanding a huge sum to satiate their hunger for power," her mother narrated the cruel event with distaste, her words poisonous.

Zoya stared infuriated. "Why does the company want to trouble us so much? It shouldn't affect them that one member left," Zoya yelped completely dumbfounded at the entire situation.

Zoya's father was now the one to speak. "Yes, that would be true but in my case, things are a little different. The manager favoured me over many employees and put his trust in me with heavy information. When I decided to leave, he made it seem like I was insulting him by disrespecting his orders. He promised to make me pay for it," her father simply stared at the blank wall.

He continued, "I don't want to prove my innocence because there's no point. He's powerful and can easily create any pieces of evidence against me. I just need to find ways to pay for breaching the contract and it's damages."

She felt her eyes fall heavy as she absorbed her father's words. Why was everything always falling apart? She couldn't help wonder. Her father hadn't ever hurt anyone, so why were things never working out?

"Zaib is here," the voice of Bilal interrupted and he wore a sad smile on his face, looking at his sister as if he had heard the matters they were discussing.

Bilal then smiled a genuine smile. "Don't you worry little sister, I'm working hard. I'll be able to pay half the amount by the end of this month," he assured her. Her parents nodded before walking out to the living room where Zaib stood tall, his eyes radiating the charm only he had.

Zoya's chest, a pool of distress calmed as she surveyed his handsome smile. He spared her a warm look but quickly diverted all his attention to her parents, greeting them with respect.

To her, he seemed like the first drop of rain on a scorching day.

The dinner went smoothly, her husband was immersed in chatting with Bilal and her father while she quietly mulled over the previous words exchanged between her and her family. She silently pushed the bean around on the plate with her fork, dazed.

"Why aren't you eating properly?" Zaib's voice ran through her ears pulling her out of the miserable whirlwind of her thoughts. The tense nerves eased and she smiled at him unbiasedly.

"Diet," she teased with playfulness in her tone.

Zaib narrowed his gaze, eyeing her with a soft yet devious smile on his mouth. "Diet? I was thinking you grew a little chubby. How'd you read my mind?" His tone and eyes were flooded with mirth as he teased her. She bitterly glared at him.

"I'm joking. Don't you dare diet," his gentle voice made her feel like her hardships had morphed into nothingness, like a sandcastle collapsing against the shore when faced with powerful waves of the ocean. There was not a speck of trouble in her heart when he looked at her like she were the only woman on this earth. Every doubt dissolved when she gazed upon such an incredible man who loved her with his whole heart, his whole soul.

Zoya suddenly held onto his hand, from under the dining table which sat on his lap. He had just bit into a piece of meat when the sudden touch of hers made him halt chewing, his entire brain malfunctioning. Heck, he even stopped breathing and choked on the piece of meat in his mouth. Giggles lurched up her throat as she eyed him with a smirk resting on her lips.

"Zaib here's some water," her father passed the glass of water as everyone stared at him, concerned.

Zaib chugged the glass of cold water and finally inhaled some air. His face was beat red, as he coughed to gloss over the embarrassment. Zoya bit her lip, trying her hardest to control herself.

Zaib restored his inner coolness, slowly looked over his shoulder at his hysterical wife and arched a predatory smile which usually meant he was going to make her pay for it.

Dang, it!

:)(:)(:)(:)(:

Upstairs, there were three rooms in total. The master bedroom was originally her parents' room with a connected washroom. Even though her parents planned on letting the newly-wed couple use their room, Zaib completely rejected their kind advances as he clarified he would stay wherever Zoya used to sleep before their marriage.

The other two rooms were parallel to one another with Bilal's on the left side of the hall, and hers on the right. Both their rooms were specifically built for just a single person, thus they were... cosy. Okay, to put it simply, the rooms were small and cramped.

Zoya's single bed, empty bookshelf and the working table took up every inch of the space, barely leaving room for another person to coexist. Zaib surveyed the room where she spent her teenage years obsessing over Disney TV shows, reading the Harry Potter book series, studying for SATs, and then her adulthood, stressing over university exams, upgrading her fashion and soon, wondering about her fiancés feelings, squealing over his text messages and falling deeply in love with him.

As she felt his gaze studying the room silently, she tensed up uncomfortably. She looked at him, meeting his gaze with an apologetic smile. "If you don't want to stay, it's fine," her whisper was barely audible but the quietness of the room made every word resound clearly.

His gaze rushed to meet hers. His forehead and eyebrows knitted up, his gaze questioning. "You don't want me here?" You could hear the dismay as he dispiritedly looked her way.

"Of course, I want you here with me!" She was quick to clarify. She then reluctantly met his eyes again, frowning. "This room is really small compared to ours. I don't want you uncomfort—" her words were cut short as he interrupted her with a soft kiss.

When he pulled away, his smile was alluringly bright. "This was your home which makes it mine too. Plus, the smaller the room, the better." She studied her husband who winked and idly chuckled as he entered her room. Zoya also followed suit, sitting on the bed bashfully.

She feared someone in the hallway saw their unspeakable deeds. She realized that he had already gotten his sweet revenge and glared.

Zaib, who was immersed in surveying her room, held up the picture frame situated on the corner of her desk. In the photo, a tiny Zoya is sitting on her little tricycle, her hair reaching her shoulders and bangs covering up her forehead. Her cheeks are puffy red and her eyes are dazzlingly warm under the sunlight.

"I wish we met as kids. I'd have fallen for your adorable smile right then Zoya," he affably chuckled and then looked back to see Zoya flustered, redness filling up her cheeks just like in the picture he was holding.

Zoya broke into a bashful smile and then stood up, grabbing the album of the past from her drawer. She placed it on the desk before him. He excitedly sat on the chair, pulling her into his lap as he rushed to open the album, anticipating more pictures of his cute wife.

Zoya relaxed in his embrace and gasped as the first picture which showed up was of her standing array, mouth loaded with chocolate, dripping down her chin and her pink dress. Zaib threw his head back laughing as he turned the page over.

"This is me in a baby pool crying as Bilal is trying to teach me how to swim but he was such a horrible teacher, I almost drowned thrice."

"This is on my first day of school and I'm crying because Bilal keeps pulling at my pigtail."

"This is when I won first prize in an art competition by drawing Hello Kitty..."

"This is when I found mama's make up drawer and the rest is history..." Zaib laughed, little Zoya's entire face was smeared with bold red lipstick and black eyeliner.

They spent the next hour looking through the album while Zoya explained the backstory behind every picture and Zaib could only shake his head at the silly duo, Bilal and Zoya, experimenting different things every other day. Soon, midnight fell over. They had changed into their PJs after which Zoya threw herself on the bed.

She rubbed her watery eyes, yawning and then looked back at him. "How are we supposed to sleep?" She inquired.

Softly, he smiled. "Remember what I said?"

"What?" She narrowed her eyes.

"The smaller the room, the better." As soon as the words left his mouth, he threw himself on the bed, next to her and wrapped Zoya close to him so they both could lay down properly.

Despite not having room for even a slight inch of movement, the two shared one of the best sleeps with the melody of their hearts beating against each other and warmth surrounding them not leaving a speck of discomfort.

💖