Chapter 5_Uncontrollably Yours
Begum Shameem Malik, the wife of the late Muhammad Nawaz Malik, was an elderly woman of about eighty years. She had been the supportive pillar of her husband’s life, much like a stem supports a climbing plant.
She was the embodiment of the saying, “Behind every successful man, there is a woman.” Through the toughest times, she stood by him, and despite difficult circumstances, she raised her children to lead fulfilled lives. Even in her old age, her children deeply valued her advice.
Today, Warda sat before her, worried, sharing her concerns about her daughter-in-law, Nazli.
“Ammi Jan, what should I do? You always told me not to interfere with her, but lately she’s always at her mother’s house. She doesn’t even seem to care when Taimur and Musa leave or return home. Yes, we have servants handling everything, but we always taught that a woman should still oversee her home, even with help.” Warda leaned forward, anxious and disappointed.
“Warda, my dear,” Begum Shameem replied gently, “I’ve told you before ... don’t be too harsh with her. If you are, you may lose your son. I’ve seen with my own eyes how much Taimur loves his wife. God forbid, but he could turn against you if you force things.”
Her words came from experience. Her elder daughter-in-law had once behaved much like Nazli, and the consequences had been painful. Even now, despite her son’s insistence, she didn’t enjoy staying with them.
“But Ammi, I can’t bear to see Taimur and Musa being neglected like this,” Warda said, her voice heavy with concern.
“Don’t worry. I’ll come soon, and we’ll sort things out together,” Ammi Jan consoled her. She was currently staying at her youngest son Zawar’s house.
“Please come soon. We miss you,” Warda said, embracing her mother-in-law.
“As soon as Zawar returns from his business trip, I’ll come. I can’t leave Samina alone here. If they had children, I wouldn’t worry so much about them,” she sighed sadly, mentioning Zawar and Samina’s childless marriage.
At that moment, Samina appeared with tea and refreshments on a trolley.
“Warda, you’ve turned into a typical mother-in-law ... always complaining about Nazli,” she teased, trying to lighten the mood.
“Look at me. I’m old now ... I have the right to nag someone,” Warda replied playfully.
Begum Shameem smiled at their banter. Both women were as dear to her as daughters.
For the past two hours, Salaar had been holding a book with a beautiful cover, but he hadn’t absorbed a single word. His thoughts were far away. Suddenly, his phone lit up ... “Fahad” calling. He wasn’t in the mood, but reluctantly answered.
“Salaar, where are you? Don’t tell me you’re at home again. You’ve been outdoing Dado with this ‘stay home, stay safe’ thing. The pandemic is long over, snap out of it!” Fahad joked.
“If this isn’t important, I’m hanging up,” Salaar replied sharply.
“Wait! Jawad and I are at the entrance of Malik Villas. We're here for something serious. Let the guards know.”
“Alright,” Salaar said flatly.
Minutes later, Fahad and Jawad were in the lobby of Salaar’s private section of the house.
“Oh my God, I always knew you were rich, but this… this is another level!” Jawad exclaimed, gawking at the lavish interior and uniformed staff.
“Don’t look at me I live a normal life,” Fahad laughed. “My dad's a Colonel, but I’m not from the Malik side.”
“Wait, aren’t you two cousins?” Jawad asked.
“Yes. Our mothers are sisters, but my family is different,” Fahad explained just as Warda entered. Elegant and poised as always.
“Good afternoon, Aunty,” Fahad greeted her warmly.
“Fahad, dear!” Warda embraced him. Then, noticing Jawad, she raised an eyebrow.
“This is Jawad, Salaar’s classmate and our mutual friend,” Fahad introduced. Jawad, still mesmerized, extended his hand.
“Well, he must be special ... Salaar doesn’t make friends easily,” Warda smiled, shaking his hand. “You're always welcome at Malik Villas.”
“Mom, everything alright?” Salaar approached.
“All fine. Just wanted to invite you to dinner. Your father wants to discuss something ... don’t be late,” she said warmly and left.
“You guys need dinner invitations too?” Jawad asked, stunned.
“Actually, Salaar has his own section of the house,” Fahad explained. “Malik Villas is divided into four parts: one for Uncle and Aunty Warda, one for Dado, and two upstairs ... one for Taimur Bhai and his family, and the other where we are now.”
“If you're done touring my house,” Salaar said dryly, “can you tell me why you're here?”
“Sir Baqir wants to see you,” Jawad replied.
“Who?”
“Our sports teacher,” Fahad explained, offering a pastry.
“I’ve told you, I’m not interested in sports here.” Salaar replied while sipping his black coffee.
“At least meet him once. He's a teacher, not someone you should ignore,” Fahad insisted.
At the auditorium, sports activities buzzed all around ..
table tennis on one side, badminton on the other. A man in a faded sports kit was instructing players. That was Sir Baqir.
“Sir, this is Salaar Malik,” Jawad introduced him.
“So you’re the famous Salaar Malik,” Sir Baqir said with a brief handshake, then turned to a girl, “Zarmeena, take charge. I need to talk to him.”
Zarmeena, sitting on the stairs sorting forms, handed them to another girl, dusted off her clothes, and walked up.
“Yes, sir,” she responded. Her presence made Salaar’s heart flutter uncontrollably.
Sir Baqir led him to a cluttered room that served as his office.
“Let me be direct. Zarmeena told me you're interested in swimming. We’re adding sports this year due to government interest. She also told me about your championship record at Cambridge.”
Salaar listened silently, focused only on the words he spoke about Zarmeena. She searched his record, and a pleasant, tickling sensation stirred within him.
“We’d be honored if you joined .. and accepted the position of president of the swimming club.”
“President?”
“Yes. We have presidents for each sport ... Jawad for volleyball, Fahad for football, Javed for hockey, Zawyaar for cricket, and Zarmeena is the women’s sports head and my assistant.”
“Give me some time to think.” Salaar replied. Accepting would mean confronting his growing feelings for Zarmeena and he wasn’t ready.
“Alright, but don’t delay. We need to prepare for the Annual Sports Gala.”
As he left, his eyes lingered on Zarmeena. His decision felt obvious, but he silently vowed to fight his emotions.
Meanwhile, Zareena was burdened. Her mother-in-law’s health had been deteriorating for two months. Despite medication, her heart condition and blood pressure kept worsening. Zareena hid the severity from her children .... still healing from their father’s death.
“Zareena, my daughter, don’t worry ... I’m alright,” her mother-in-law reassured her.
“Amma, please don’t leave us. You’re our guardian. Without you, we’ll be lost” Zareena whispered, tears streaming.
The old woman gently touched her head.
“If I’m not here, God will protect you. That’s my deal with Him. Don’t worry.”
She continued, “And if a good proposal comes for Zarmeena, don’t reject it. In our society, girls must marry at the right time ... otherwise, they may live alone.” Zareena nodded, her heart aching.
Suddenly, Ahmed burst in.
“Amma, I’m starving! Give me food!”
“Go change your clothes and wash your hands first,” his grandmother scolded lovingly.
“I’m too weak, Amma,” he whined, flopping beside her.
“Will you change or should I bring a slipper?” Zareena threatened, clearly annoyed.
“Just a bite before I change?” Ahmed pleaded.
Surprisingly, Zareena agreed.
“But don’t ruin your clothes,” she added.
“Wait, what? You said yes?” Ahmed grinned. “No! I want my fighter Amma back!” He hugged her tight, seeing her sadness.
“Amma, what’s wrong? Don’t cry. I’ll burn the world before letting you suffer,” he vowed.
“Try fixing it instead of burning it,” Zareena laughed, wiping tears.
“Is today the end of the world?” Zarmeena asked as she returned, stunned by the scene. “Amma’s crying and you’re hugging her? I must be dreaming!”
She ran to join them in a group hug. Their grandmother, watching silently, smiled with a heart full of gratitude.
