ASYA SS: Arranged Kum, Love Marriage Zyada (UPDATED Pg. 32) April 9 - Page 5

Posted: 10 years ago
hey..😊
I become a fan of your writing..👏👏
I love the way Asad and Zoya relationship progressing..
 
Thank you for update...😃😃😃
 
Posted: 10 years ago
please next time put the date also when you update.. with pg no.
I don't want to late next time..😕
Posted: 10 years ago

Ms. Farooqui and Mr. Khan

That night they slept somewhat peacefully. Each planned and plotted for tomorrow before falling into a hopeful slumber. But their plans were to be interrupted by another master planner. At breakfast, Dilshad informed them that they were to have company for a few days.

Asad's face fell.

Company meant having to be nice and social and sit together and entertain guests. That meant lesser alone time with his bride. And he would be joining work soon so that meant hardly any time with her. He kicked himself for being so stick-in-the-mud about the honeymoon. And, it would be embarrassing to plan one now. Damned fool! Serves you right.

Zoya too repressed a pang of woe. How would she put her mess-up-Mr.-Khan's-neat-little-world into action if they were to be surrounded by guests? She'd have to play the dutiful bahu now instead of a clumsy charmer. Yesterday's accidental half-embrace had fueled her dreams of engineering trips and falls to end up in his arms.

She sighed.

Oh well. May be tricking your bashful husband into love was not manzur to Allah miyan. Given Mr. Khan's reticence, she may as well settle for at least two years of him calling her Ms. Farooqui. Just her luck to fall for a man who was as formal with his wife as he would be with his secretary.

"Kaun aa raha hai, Ammi?" Asad asked trying his best to mask his disappointment. Dilshad grinned, already catching his fake interest. I gave you a chance to do it your way, now we'll do it my way, she smiled to herself. She had to. If she left it to her son, she'd probably die grandchildless.

"Mehnaz and family. Nice no? She's your favorite cousin after all. It's too bad they missed the wedding, but she just got back from her in-laws in Dubai," she explained for Zoya's benefit.

Zoya felt a pinch, or was it a punch of jealousy. Jahanpanah had favorite female cousins? Was she the only woman he kept at a formal and judgmental distance? Was it because he still thought of her as the disruptive tehzeeb-less pardesi outsider? Her eyes pricked. She was sure that this Mehnaz would be beautiful and elegant and extremely proper. Even her name sounded beautiful. She must look like phuphi and be just as graceful. And every minute he would compare his plain Jane, disorderly and messy wife to his cousin, and find her lacking. Zoya saw all her naive and immature plans splinter at her feet. She felt gauche and graceless in her well-worn jeans and shirt.

Dilshad felt guilty looking at Zoya's expressions change from tentative happiness to that of full-blown despair. She had hoped that Zoya would love the company since Najma was away for some days with relatives visiting Ajmer Sharif. She had hoped to see the old Zoya, excited about meeting new people, planning sightseeing trips and fun food adventures. Seeing her retreat into her shell made her question her own plan. Had it been a terrible idea after all?

"Zoya, you will love Mehnaz. She is so much like you. She loves talking, street food, watching films. I'm sure you'll get along instantly." She rushed to reassure her shell-shocked daughter-in-law.

Asad brooded and Zoya shriveled inside herself.

Dilshad's heart sank. Ya Allah! Please let my instincts be right.

Crossing her fingers under the table, she soldiered on. "Zoya beta, I'm sorry, but I will need your room. Because their son is so young I want to put them in a downstairs room. Can you empty your closet and prepare the room for them?"

Asad's head shot up to look at his mother gratefully. Some of his pall lifted. May be this would lead to one good thing. His wife would be less of a temporary roommate now.

"Umm ... Ms. Farooqui," He missed his mom rolling her eyes, and her silent "Allah!"

"I can help you move your stuff to my ... er ... our room ..."

Good boy, Dilshad rejoiced. Baby steps. One thing at a time, she consoled herself.

"Yeh theek rahega," pushed Dilshad. "They'll be here in a few hours, so you should start right after breakfast."

Zoya looked at her husband under her nearly-wet lashes. He looked happy enough at meeting his cousin. Her gut plummeted to her toes, already dusty from the ashes of her dreams to make him fall in mess with her.


 
He followed her nervously into her room and Zoya was mortified at the disorder.

"Umm ... Mr. Khan, let me pack my things first then you can help me carry the bags to your room. You don't have to be here." Please, please stay. No, I'm so messy, please go. You'll hate me.

Asad felt punched in the stomach. She still thought of it as his room? He almost left. But then he squared his shoulders. His chest puffed and chin lifted.

"No," he said firmly and a bit too loudly. She looked up in alarm and he hedged, "umm, Ammi is in the kitchen, and I told her that I would help. I promise I won't get in the way."

He sat at the edge of the bed.

"Do you want me put some old songs on?" He asked hopefully. That had connected them the last time. May it would work again.

She beamed at him, thrilled that he wanted to be here.

"Yes, that would be great!" she said cheerily, the gloom evaporating. This time she chose a medley from her playlist.

"Aapko gaane acchhe lagte hain, Mr. Khan?" she asked as she packed the bag with her clothes. What a dumb question she mentally facepalmed. Who doesn't? But then again, this was Mr. Khan.

"I like old songs too like you. Rafi, Talat Mahmood, Asha, Lata. But I also like Sonu Nigam and Rahat Fateh Ali Khan," he answered, engrossed in his work.

He had brought an empty bag of his own to pack her knickknacks around the room and came armed with a wet washcloth to wipe them down before packing them carefully in the bag. Her heart melted. This man was going to make her a soggy, weepy mess, if he didn't stop being such a sweetheart.

"I love Sonu Nigam and Rahat Fateh Ali Khan too!" she squealed in delight. "And how ironic," she continued. "I have songs by these two in this medley. But I haven't heard any Talat Mehboob."

"Talat Mahmood," he corrected. "All old songs. May I?" he took her iPad when she nodded yes and searched for one of his favorite Talat songs: Jalte Hain Jis Ke Liye.

And as the song started, he realized how appropriate it was. This song had suddenly transformed into the ideal gift to her, perfectly weaving in his declaration of love.

"Dil main rakh lena isse haathon se ye, chhutey na kahin,
Geet nazuk hai mera sheeshe se bhi, tootey na kahin."

Zoya's eyes met his and she looked away hastily, her pulse hammering. Mr. Khan, please tell me that this means what I hope it means. Her hands tightened painfully over the iPad.

"It's beautiful," she murmured dreamily as the song ended. Even if he meant it only as a friendly neutral gesture, she would still cherish this song. She saved and added it to her playlist. "I'm going to look for more Talat Mahboob songs to add to my playlist. Thank you sharing this with me."

"Mahmood," he corrected her again as she knew he would; she repressed a giggle.  His eyes would get serious and thoughtful each time he corrected her. Mr. Akdu Ahmed Khan. All hers. Her smile dipped, but the song gave her an ounce of courage.

"Mr. Khan?" she asked softly, looking away and pretending to pack her bag.

"Hmm?"

"Can you not call me Ms. Farooqui any more?"

Her hands stilled waiting to hear what he would say. She looked up at him. He had frozen too.

"Umm ... voh ... actually ... I'm sorry, it's just habit, I guess," he said sheepishly.

His heart sang. In his mind he already called her Zoya. But he had  felt shy about suddenly calling her by her first name, when all these months he had used her last name to distance himself from her and dam his growing attraction to her.

"What would you like me to call you?" he asked.

She looked up in surprise.

"I mean," he reddened, realizing how dumb it sounded, "would you like me to call you Mrs. Khan or ... Zoya?"

The way he said her name, shyly and in such a breathy whisper, made her go soft and gooey inside.

"Zoya," she whispered too, desperately hopeful and pathetically upbeat.

"OK," he said after a brief silence. Thank you Allah Miyan! She rejoiced.

Bags packed, she helped him clean up the room to make it presentable for the guests. Together they changed the sheets and replaced fresh towels. He gave the room a final onceover and noticed that Zoya had placed a small vase of fresh flowers from the garden. It made him smile. The flowers reminded him of the vase of roses in their room, which she had lovingly arranged when they returned last night. While he took her bags to their room, she gathered the bedclothes and towels for the laundry.

Dilshad beamed as the door closed behind them. Mission accomplished. She was finally all moved into his room.


 
"...ah ... um ... Zoya?" Her eyes softened when she heard her name on his lips. He cleared his throat.

"Yes, Mr. Khan." She said happily, as she arranged her clothes in one of the drawers he had emptied for her.

"Can't you call me by my name too?" She had her back to him and hugged her clothes to her chest.

When she turned to look at him he looked so vulnerable. No Mr. Khan, you'll always be Mr. Khan to me. Or at least until you kiss me.

Her lashes fluttered over her heated cheeks. "Umm ... I may need some getting used to it ... Asad."

He took a step forward ready to crush her in his arms.

"But is it OK if I call you Mr. Khan in front of everyone else?"

I don't care what you call me in front of others as long as I can hear you say my name when we are by ourselves. Say my name again.

"Say my name again," he didn't realize he's said it aloud. He blushed, and so did she.

"... Asad."

Once more, please. His eyes darkened.

"Allah miyan, what's wrong with you Mr. Khan!" He couldn't decide whether he was happy that she was back to her old self, or completely crushed that she had gone back to calling him Mr. Khan.

"Where are all your shirts? There were so many yesterday."

"I don't need so many. Some of the older ones I'm going to give away. Now you can hang up some of your clothes in this space."

"What? Did you do this just to make room for my clothes?" He ducked his head, embarrassed. "That's so sweet of you."

"But they were such nice shirts," she continued. "Can I see them? Can I keep a couple?"

"Why? I'll buy you new shirts."

No! I want your shirt. "Umm, no, I like the feel of old soft shirts. I could wear them for sleeping."

He nearly passed out with the jolt of current that ran through his body. Sleeping in his shirt? Taut with yearning, he imagined her in his shirt. Just his shirt and nothing else. Her slipping into his shirt after they had--"

Zoya!

He clenched his fists and turned abruptly; she panicked. Had she offended him? She nearly reached out to touch his shoulder. 

He bent to open the bottom-most drawer. "They are here, you can choose whichever one you want. But you can choose any from the ones hanging up there too."

She bent and rifled through the shirts, messing up their folds and creases. He wanted to kiss her fingers and then turn her palms up and kiss them too.

She pulled out a snowy white shirt. "This is perfect," she announced. "But Mr. Khan ... um ... Asad ... it's in such good condition. Why would you give it away?"

"I was saving them for my wife," he blurted, surprised at his own audacity. Her shocked eyes clashed and entangled with his.

"Your wife is a lucky woman," she parried valiantly, and he blushed with pleasure.

"Really?" he asked, bolder now, and taking a hopeful step forward. "I thought she would find me boring and not want to be with someone so serious and Akdu."

"What nonsense! She must be really stupid if she thinks that."
"No, you have no right to call my wife that. She's one of the smartest women I know."

Zoya gasped with delight and would have jumped in his arms.
"Oh really?" she demanded playfully, "I'll call her stupid if I want to."

"No! you--"

There was a knock on the door and Ayaan bounded in. Dilshad called out to them from the kitchen. "Beta, they'll be here in half an hour. And Ayaan's here too."

 
Edited by dixeij - 10 years ago
Posted: 10 years ago
Omg omg omg I am absolutely in LOVE with your story! I love love LOVE the Asad and Zoya in your tale <3 They both are such sweethearts and hopefully their insecurities about expressing their love for ach other go away slowly. Dilshad is such a sweet, clever mum/mother-in-law too! 😆

You're a wonderful writer! And I like that you update so frequently! :) 
Posted: 10 years ago
wow that was an awesome update ! i really liked it ! 
loved how Dilshad is making plans to bring these two together 😆😆

"Umm ... Ms. Farooqui," He missed his mom rolling her eyes, and her silent "Allah!"

"I can help you move your stuff to my ... er ... our room ..."

well done Asad !! i'm proud of you !!! " our room "

Good boy, Dilshad rejoiced. Baby steps. One thing at a time, she consoled herself.

rofl !!! reading this i just couldn't stop laughing !!!! 😆😆😆
Dilshad consoling herself , poor her ! all the things she 's doing for them !!!


"Mr. Khan?" she asked softly, looking away and pretending to pack her bag.

"Hmm?"

"Can you not call me Ms. Farooqui any more?"

that's our brave Zoya ! saying something directly and not going through differents ways

 "would you like me to call you Mrs. Khan or ... Zoya?" 

I just love this part !!! 



"I was saving them for my wife," he blurted, surprised at his own audacity. Her shocked eyes clashed and entangled with his.

Flirting Mr Khan ???😳😳

The end was just amazing ! i like how both of them are making effort to make it work ! 
they are so cute !!!! 
i hope that whoever is coming , doesn't come between them !

There was a knock on the door and Ayaan bounded in. Dilshad called out to them from the kitchen. "Beta, they'll be here in half an hour. And Ayaan's here too."

Uuuhhh ! like always !! 
disturbance everywhere 😆😆

 just love your ss !! 
do continue soon !!! 
😉😛😃
Posted: 10 years ago
   I am a silent reader of your FF.
I really love your way of writing. I also read your Prem kahani hai mushkil story..
Just wanna say you are an amazing writer...👏
Posted: 10 years ago
Originally posted by swapno


   I am a silent reader of your FF.
I really love your way of writing. I also read your Prem kahani hai mushkil story..
Just wanna say you are an amazing writer...👏


Thank you, thank you, thank you! Am loving writing about these 2. Can't get enough!

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