Rumaan's POV

“Maan,” Hana called me in a low voice.

“Hmm?” I hummed in response.

“You’re my husband,” she said, as if reminding me, and I smiled before replying.

“And you’re my wife,” I said sincerely, from the bottom of my heart.

She immediately looked up at me, her eyes lighting up.

“So you… accept our marriage?” she asked, and I could see hope filling her eyes.

“Yes,” I said, stroking her cheek, and she smiled, kissing my chin.

“Never leave me,” she whispered, and I looked down at her.

“I won’t,” I said almost instantly and kissed her forehead. She held me tightly. Lying on my chest, I wrapped one arm around her and used the other to play with her soft hair.

I had never felt like this before—like I was feeling now. Hana and I had spent a beautiful night together. She poured all her love into me, filling my heart. I had never felt this loved. But tonight, I felt her love—and it was so good, so blissful, so right that I couldn’t even explain.

For the first time, I was nervous and afraid to touch her. She’s so delicate; I didn’t want to break her. I was about to back away, but she didn’t let me. She kept confessing her love, and I couldn’t hold back anymore. But before I claimed her, I accepted her as my wife and made up my mind that I would never leave her. The thought of divorce—gone. Because now she’s mine. And always will be.

I’m not going to change my lifestyle, nor am I ready to agree to the ruksati (official send-off) anytime soon. For that, I’ll need to control Hana. And I know she’ll do anything for me.

“Maan, I love you,” she said again, bringing a smile to my lips. For the past few hours, she kept telling me how much she loves me while kissing my face all over. And every time she did, my heart bloomed with happiness, joy, and pride.

“Hmm,” I hummed. I didn’t say anything in return because I don’t know if I love her yet, and I didn’t want to confess anything that wasn’t true.

She placed a kiss on my bare chest above my heart and looked up, cupping my face with one hand.

“You know... I truly want you to say ‘I love you too, Hana,’ but I know you don’t. Honestly, it feels good that you don’t say anything you don’t mean. I’ll always expect you to be honest with me like this.” I smiled and nodded, placing a soft kiss on her lips.

My eyes glanced at the clock—it was 5 o’clock in the morning. That meant everyone would be getting up for the fajr (morning prayer).

“Hana… I think you should go,” I said, and she clung to me tightly.

“No! I don’t want to,” she said with a pout, and I stared at her.

No! I can’t let anyone find out about this. If anyone sees us in the same room at this hour, they’ll insist on our ruksati tomorrow morning. No way!

“But you have to,” I said firmly, and I saw her eyes welling up with tears. I sighed.

“Hanu… baby, I just don’t want anyone to see us together right now. Can’t you do this for me?” I asked softly, making a puppy face.

“I’m not a baby,” she whined, a tear slipping from her eye, and I burst out laughing. In all this, she only focused on the word ‘baby.’

“Yes, you are,” I teased and sat up, taking her with me. The duvet slipped from her body, and she immediately covered herself.

“My crybaby,” I said, squeezing her cheeks.

“Maan,” she slapped my hands, and I chuckled while she hugged me again.

“Maan, I don’t want to go. I want to sleep in your arms… please,” she pleaded, then sighed in frustration and moved back.

“Hana, I’m telling you for the last time—go! Don’t make me repeat myself! Don’t you understand? If anyone sees us, it will become a big issue… and I don’t want that,” I said, my voice a little louder and harsh. She flinched and backed away, tears spilling from her eyes, tightening my heart. But I ignored it.

First, I have to control my own feelings before I can control hers.

I reminded myself and looked away.

•••••••••••••••••••••

Author's POV

Hana felt her heart clench at his words. She really wanted to spend the whole night with him, but he didn’t want that. So she moved back and looked around for something to wear. Rumaan had ripped her dress last night, and now she didn’t have anything else.

She looked back at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. She scanned the room again, and her eyes landed on Rumaan’s shirt. Slowly, holding the duvet around her tightly, she crawled off the bed.

Rumaan looked at her and saw her picking up his shirt.

“What are you doing?” he asked, getting out of bed.

“Um… you ripped my dress,” she whispered, blushing. A smile formed on his lips. She could feel his gaze, making her cheeks heat up even more.

“Can I wear this?” she asked innocently, making Rumaan’s smile widen.

“Okay,” he said, and Hana looked up at him before walking toward the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” Rumaan asked. She didn’t turn.

“Bathroom, for a shower,” she replied, and he nodded.

“Okay.”

She went inside. After showering, she wore his shirt and looked at herself, palming her flushed cheeks.

The shirt only reached her mid-thigh.

She huffed and rubbed her face.

“Uh… Maan,” she called out after debating with herself for a few minutes.

“Hmm?” he hummed from the bed, eyes closed.

“Um… can you please… give me your… any trouser?” she asked hesitantly. A chuckle escaped his lips at her cuteness.

He opened his eyes, jumped out of bed, and walked to his wardrobe. Pulling out a trouser, he headed toward the bathroom.

“Hana, take this,” he said. Hana, startled by his voice outside the door, smiled.

She had been disappointed when he didn’t reply, but now that she heard him, she felt happy. She opened the door slightly and extended her hand, but instead of handing her the trouser, he grabbed her hand and pulled her out, making her gasp.

Rumaan looked at her from head to toe and admired her beauty again.

“Maan, leave me,” she pleaded, blushing.

“You’re mine, Hana… and you don’t need to be shy in front of me...” He paused, leaned closer to her ear, and whispered, “...there’s nothing I haven’t seen yet, Hana.”

She gasped and pushed him away in embarrassment while Rumaan burst out laughing.

“You’re so dirty!” she said, looking away.

“You loved this dirty man the whole night,” he said, smirking, causing Hana’s cheeks to burn red.

“Still, am I dirty?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. She nodded shyly, not looking at him.

“Okay… then I’m not giving you this trouser,” he said and turned to leave.

“Maan, please,” she held his arm, turning him toward her.

“Am I dirty?”

“No! You’re not! You’re the most decent person I’ve ever seen!” she lied so smoothly that even Rumaan had to hold back his laughter.

“Sacchi? (Really?)” he asked, and she nodded quickly.

“Okay then, take it.” He handed her the trouser, and Hana ran into the bathroom—not before hearing his laughter.

When she came back, she gathered her clothes and put them in the laundry basket.

“I’ll take these in the morning,” she informed him while he was busy watching her.

“Hmm.” He noticed her dull expression as she turned to go.

“Maan, I don’t want to go… I want to sleep in your arms… please…” Hana’s voice echoed in his mind.

“Hana,” he called, and she stopped, turning around.

Rumaan got out of bed and stood in front of her. He held both her hands and kissed them, making a soft smile appear on her face.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t let you sleep with me, but…” He paused, then scooped her up in his arms, making Hana gasp.

“…I can take you to your bed,” he said, walking out of the room. Hana smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“You know, sometimes… you look adorable and cute,” she said, squeezing his cheeks.

“Oh please… I’m not adorable and cute. I’m hot,” he replied, and Hana giggled.

“That you are,” she said, giggling, and squeezed his cheeks again.

“Don’t do this,” he whined, pulling his face away.

“I will,” she teased, not letting go.

“Hanu!” he warned.

“Jaan-e-Hanu (Beloved of Hanu),” she giggled, squishing his cheeks, rubbing her nose with his, and kissing the tip of his nose. Rumaan smiled and shook his head.

**********

Rumaan wanted no one to know that they had spent the night together, but Allah had other plans. Because someone had witnessed that night — and that someone was Shabana.

She was walking toward the kitchen when she saw Rumaan coming out of his room, carrying Hana in his arms. Hana, wearing his clothes, confirmed everything. They were lost in each other, talking and laughing, too engrossed to notice her presence.

“Ya Allah! This is not right! They are married, but without ruksati (formal send-off to husband’s house), it’s wrong. I have to do something soon.”

She made up her mind and quietly walked away.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Rumaan stepped into Hana's room and gently laid her on her bed. He covered her with a duvet, moved a few strands of her hair from her face, and softly stroked her cheek.

“Thank you for the best gift… this is my best birthday,” he whispered, kissing her lips, and Hana smiled.

“Please sleep for a while,” he requested, and she nodded.

“Good night, jaan-e-maan (soul of my soul),” he said with a smile, and Hana giggled softly.

Kissing her forehead one last time, he walked out of her room.

“Before I sleep, I should offer my morning prayer,” she said, getting up and heading toward the washroom.

Everyone gathered at the breakfast table — except Hana and Rumaan.

“Where is Hana and Rumaan?” Ahmed asked, frowning.

“Baba, did you forget? You gave him permission to attend his birthday party last night,” Fathima reminded him, and he nodded, remembering.

“Oh, yes! But what about Hana?” he asked again.

“No idea… she must be up by now. But I haven’t seen her today,” Fathima shrugged, and Marziya got up from her chair.

“I’ll go check on her,” Marziya said with concern for her little sister.

Hana hadn’t spoken properly to her since that day. She had kept her distance, and though it hurt Marziya, she gave Hana space — this was the first time her sister had ever been angry with her. Marziya didn’t want to ruin whatever peace remained between them.

“Ruko, Marzi. (Wait, Marziya),” Shabana stopped her just as she was turning to leave.

“Kya hua, Chachi? (What happened, Aunty?)” Marziya asked, turning toward her.

“Nothing, beta (dear). It’s just that… let her sleep. She’ll come down when she wakes up,” Shabana said, breaking eye contact. Guilt weighed heavily on her because of her son. She knew Hana was innocent and naive, and that she had loved Rumaan all her life — which made it easy for him to manipulate her. It pained Shabana that this was happening under her roof, that injustice was being done to Marziya’s little sister.

Hana deserved respect and her full marital rights, but her son kept delaying the ruksati… and Shabana knew he would resist again. So this time, she decided she would make him agree.

Marziya thought about it for a few moments before silently sitting back down.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Hana’s POV

I came out of my room at 12 p.m. and felt terribly embarrassed. I had never slept this late before. I walked into the kitchen because my stomach had been growling ever since I woke up.

I saw Banu, our maid, preparing coffee.

Coffee? At this hour?

“Kiske liye ye? (For whom is this?)” I asked. She looked up at me.

“For you and Rumaan bhai,” she answered.

“But I didn’t ask for coffee.”

“But I did,” came a voice from behind me. I turned and saw Maan leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, grinning at me.

“Oh,” I murmured, quickly turning my back to him, suddenly feeling shy. Last night’s events flashed through my mind, and my cheeks burned red like beetroot.

“Banu, aap jaayein. (You may go, Banu),” Maan said, and she left as instructed.

Now, it was just the two of us. Alone.

I heard his footsteps coming closer, and my heart started racing. The next moment, his arms wrapped around my waist from behind, and he rested his chin on my shoulder.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, and I felt my face flush even more.

“Hmm,” I responded with a hum — my voice seemed stuck in my throat.

“So... jaan-e-maan is too shy to face her husband?” he whispered in my ear, nibbling on my earlobe.

“Maan… will you please stop doing this?” I pleaded. He always made me lose control of myself so easily.

“Why? Can’t control yourself, wifey?” he teased again and planted a kiss on my neck. I could feel the smug grin on his face.

“Don’t… Maan,” I whispered, biting my lip.

He turned me around and trapped me between him and the kitchen counter.

“I will,” he said, and buried his face in my neck, trailing kisses as my eyes fluttered shut.

“I told you not to come in front of me after showering,” he whispered huskily between kisses. I wrapped my arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. He bit my neck, earning a soft moan from me.

“Uh… Maan,” I moaned, and he immediately pulled back — only to crash his lips onto mine.

I kissed him back, deepening the kiss. We kissed for several minutes before finally pulling apart, foreheads resting together.

“So, husband is being romantic,” I said with a grin.

“If only a beautiful wife like you stands in front of him,” he replied, grinning and kissing the tip of my nose.

“Did you eat something?” he asked, and I shook my head.

“No! I’m hungry,” I whined, pouting. I was really, truly hungry.

“I’m hungry too,” he said, stepping closer again. I moved back, knowing exactly what he meant.

“Maan, I want food.”

“But I want you,” he replied, pouting.

I slapped his chest playfully while he chuckled.

“Okay, okay… take this,” he said, handing me a coffee mug. I gratefully took it.

“I’ll make something for you,” he offered, and I looked at him, surprised.

“And why are you doing this?” I asked curiously.

“Because…” he leaned toward my ear and whispered, “You gave me the best gift last night. So, in return, I can at least do this for you,” he said, kissing my cheek. I looked down, blushing.

“You just sit here,” he said, lifting me by the waist and placing me on the counter. Then he turned to prepare something for me.

After what felt like an hour, he finally made a sandwich and served it to me. I took a bite and moaned.

“It’s delicious, Maan,” I complimented.

“More than me?” he asked, coming closer. I placed a hand on his chest, maintaining distance.

“Maan, tell me… you know how to cook?” I asked.

“I only know how to make this sandwich. Once, I went on a picnic with my friends, and there I learned how to make it from one of them… so you’re the second person lucky enough to taste it after my friends,” he explained, and I smiled.

“Now give me one bite,” he said, and I quickly pulled back the sandwich, shaking my head.

“I made it,” he reminded me, and I smiled before replying.

“For me! So… this is mine,” I said, glaring at him playfully.

“And you’re mine,” he replied, grabbing my wrist and pulling the sandwich toward his mouth.

“Maan, don’t!” I whined, but he took a big bite. He smirked like he had won a battle, and I huffed, looking away.

“Aww, cutie pie… don’t be angry,” he squished my cheeks, laughing at my annoyed expression.

I was about to give him a piece of my mind — but we were interrupted by the sound of a throat being cleared.

Maan instantly stepped back, and I jumped off the counter. We both turned to see Mama looking at us blankly.

“Um… Mama…” Maan began, scratching the back of his neck, embarrassed — but Mama cut him off.

“Rumaan, today is your birthday party, so your Baba needs your help. Go,” she said, then turned to me.

“And Hana… Fathima, Riya, and Marziya are calling you. They brought some dresses for you — they’re waiting in Fathima’s room.”

With that, she walked out. We looked at each other.

“Did she see us?” I asked, nervous.

He sighed. “We weren’t doing anything inappropriate, so don’t worry,” Maan shrugged and glanced at my sandwich.

“Finish it — mehnat barbaad na karna meri (don’t waste my effort),” he said firmly.

“Kabhi nahi (Never),” I said determinedly, smiling and taking another bite.

He turned to walk away, and I followed him while munching… but then something hit me.

Wait.

“Wait, Maan!” I called after him, and he turned, puzzled.

“Who was the first one who tasted your handmade sandwich?” I asked, curious.

He stared at me for a moment before answering:

“Ariba,” he said… and walked out.

•••••••••