Isha’s POV

"It's beautiful, Amma Jaan," I said, looking at the jewelry sets she was planning to give Sabiya.

"Really? Do you think she will love it?" Amma Jaan asked with an unsure look.

"Of course she will… it’s beautiful," I smiled, assuring her.

"I don’t know, beta… Nowadays girls like to choose their accessories on their own. Who knows what her taste is?" Amma Jaan still seemed uncertain. She wanted to impress her daughter-in-law on her engagement day.

"Don’t think too much, Amma Jaan. Trust me, it’s beautiful and she will love it," I reassured her with a smile.

Next week was Asam bhai’s engagement, and we were all preparing for the grand celebration. It had been two weeks since Arshad came back. He hadn’t spoken to me directly. I wasn’t expecting much, but still, I wished he would say something. He hadn’t changed—he still ignored me just as he used to. He tried to make his interactions with me as minimal as possible, and though it hurt, I kept quiet. There was no point in trying to talk to him when I knew he would never notice me… never accept me.

"Isha, look at this," Amma Jaan came back after some time holding another jewelry set in her hand. "How is this? I was thinking of giving this to Sofia for quite some time now," she said, showing me an elegant pearl necklace with jhumkas (earrings).

"Wow…" admiration spread across my face. My mouth fell slightly open and my eyes widened.

"By looking at you, I can tell Sofia will like it," Amma Jaan chuckled at my reaction. Embarrassed, I quickly closed my mouth and smiled.

"Ye bahot khubsurat hai, Amma Jaan," (It’s really beautiful, Amma Jaan) I complimented with a smile.

"It’s one of my wedding jewelry sets," she said, smiling fondly at it.

She showed me some dresses, and I helped her wrap them neatly. Amma Jaan was not only giving Sabiya gifts but also Sofia baaji. She adored her daughters-in-law deeply. I didn’t want to, but still, I felt a pang in my chest. They received love and respect for being the daughters-in-law of this house. And though I was also a daughter-in-law, fate had reduced me to nothing more than a maid here.

"Amma Jaan…" My head turned sharply toward the door, finding Arshad standing there. Our eyes met, and a lone tear escaped mine before I even realized it had filled my eyes. Looking down, I quickly wiped my cheek and resumed my work.

"Ji, betaji?" (Yes, my son?) Amma Jaan motioned him to come closer. He stood still for a few seconds before walking toward her.

"What are you doing?" Arshad asked, glancing at the mess spread across the bed.

"I was preparing gifts for my daughters-in-law," Amma Jaan exclaimed.

"Daughters-in-law?" He asked, sitting beside her on the sofa, while I stood in front of the bed continuing my work.

"Yes… for Sabiya and Sofia," she replied, grinning.

"Okay… for Sabiya I understand, but why Sofia?" He asked in confusion.

"Why means? Mai dikhana chahti hun duniya ko ke wo meri bahuein hain. Rashida Malik ki. Jo apni bahuon ko zevarat mein saja kar rakhti hai raniyou ki tarah."

(Why do you ask? I want to show the world that they are my daughters-in-law—Rashida Malik’s. The kind who adorns her daughters-in-law with jewelry like queens.) Amma Jaan exclaimed happily.

Suddenly, the jewelry box I was about to place on the side slipped from my hand. I quickly bent down to pick it up.

"Kya kar rahi ho, Isha? Sambhal ke. Dekho, kahin kuch toot to nahi gaya?"

(What are you doing, Isha? Be careful. See if anything broke.) Amma Jaan’s stern voice came, offended by my clumsiness. A sorrowful lump rose in my throat, which I quickly swallowed before answering.

"Kuch nahi toota hai." (Nothing is broken.) Siwai mere dil ke. (Except my heart.)

"Sorry, Amma Jaan. I’ll be careful," I said with a small apologetic smile. She nodded.

"Tum rehne do aur jao, dekho Kubra ko koi madad chahiye kya," (Leave it and go see if Kubra needs any help) she said in an annoyed tone. She clearly didn’t want to compromise on anything for her daughters-in-law. She wanted everything to be perfect for them. I blinked, nodded with my head still lowered, and walked out of the room.

But all the while… I felt his heated gaze on me.

********

Isha’s POV

I was preparing lunch for everyone with Kubra Bi when Sofia baaji walked into the kitchen.

"Isha, I’ve put all the new clothes in my room. Go and take out all the old clothes from my wardrobe and arrange the new ones. And don’t forget to change the bedsheet," she ordered.

"I’m almost done. I’ll do it in a few minutes," I replied. She nodded and left the kitchen.

After I finished, I went to her room and saw numerous shopping bags scattered on the bed, couches, and table. Going to the wardrobe, I began taking out her old clothes—though they looked far from old—and placed them on one side of the bed. Then I moved to the other side and picked up her brand-new dresses. I gaped at them in awe; they were elegant and expensive. Carefully, I arranged all the dresses inside the wardrobe.

When I was done, I gathered the empty bags and placed them near the door before collecting her so-called old clothes and setting them on the couch. I went to the bed and changed the bedsheet. As I was slipping on the pillow cover, my eyes caught an earring lying on the pillow. I picked it up, staring at it, as the realization hit me—I was arranging my husband’s and his first wife’s bed.

My heart ached, and my eyes burned with tears. Pressing my lips tightly, I walked toward the bedside table to place the earring there, but stopped when my gaze landed on their wedding photo. Setting the earring down, I picked up the photo frame in trembling hands. They looked perfect together. Arshad stood behind Sofia baaji, his arms wrapped around her, both smiling brightly. They looked so happy, so in love.

I smiled faintly, convincing myself that Sofia baaji was his wife—and he loved her. His happiness lay with her. I had no right to feel hurt. He had never promised me anything. Our marriage was forced. He married me only to save me. In return, he asked me to keep it hidden from the world—and I would do exactly what my husband wanted.

"Isha."

I was startled at the sound of his voice. Horrified, the frame slipped from my hands and shattered into pieces. My eyes widened, and my body trembled with panic.

"I…I…I’m sor…sorry," I stammered, looking at him as he stared at the broken frame. "It…it fell…I was…I was just looking." My face turned pale, sweat forming on my forehead. Fear gripped me—what if he thought I did it intentionally?

"It’s okay. I’ll change the frame," he said softly, making me release a shaky breath.

"I’ll clean it," I said quickly, sitting on the floor and gathering the broken pieces in a hurry.

"You leave that. Someone else will clean it," Arshad said.

"No, it’s my job," I replied without looking at him.

"It’s not your job, Isha," he said sternly. I looked up at him, meeting his intense gaze.

"It’s my—Aahh!" I cried out as a shard of glass pierced my palm, sending a sharp pain shooting through me.

"Isha!" Arshad rushed toward me, holding my arms and helping me stand. Goosebumps rose all over my body at his touch. "Look what you’ve done!" he scolded.

"It’s nothing…"

"Shut up and sit here." He made me sit on the bed and pulled out the first aid box from the bottom drawer. Taking my hand again, he began cleaning the wound. As he gently blew on it while applying ointment, my heart skipped a beat. His care stirred a new restlessness inside my already longing heart.

"I told you not to do this, and now look—you’ve cut your hand," he said in a scolding tone. A small smile touched my lips—the first genuine smile from my heart in so long.

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Author’s POV

Arshad looked up—and froze. His heart skipped a beat as he saw the most beautiful smile adorn Isha’s innocent face. He had seen her smile many times, but this was different. This smile was real, from the heart. Forcing his gaze back to her wound, he swallowed the strange emotions rising inside him.

"You should’ve listened to me when I said don’t touch the glass. Someone else would’ve done it. But in your stubbornness, you ended up hurting yourself," he said while bandaging her hand, then stood up.

But her smile faded. "Who would’ve cleaned the mess I created? No one," she said quietly, staring at her bandaged hand.

"Why not? We have many servants for cleaning the house," he said, crossing his arms.

"And I’m one of them," she muttered, getting up from the bed. As she stepped forward, he blocked her path. As always, her gaze remained lowered.

"No, you are not," he exclaimed. She only nodded, wanting to leave the room. But this time, he caught her hand and turned her toward him. Her breath hitched, and her eyes widened as she looked up, her heart pounding.

"Ye jo tum nazrein jhuka kar chupane ki koshish karti ho na? Dikhai deta hai mujhe."

(You know, I can see the things you try to hide by lowering your gaze.)

He didn’t know why, but he finally felt the need to talk to her. Amma Jaan might love her, and Asam might treat her like a little sister, but the way everyone—including his first wife—treated Isha, always giving her orders like she was a servant, he didn’t like it. He had seen her pain in silence for two weeks, absorbing everything. But enough was enough. Isha needed to know she was not a maid.

Isha lowered her gaze again, trying to hide her emotions as always.

"Jahan alfaaz ke koi maaine nahi hote, wahan haalat qubool karna hi behtar hai. Jahan shikayat kaanon mein jaaye, dil ko na choo paaye, wahan khamosh rehna hi behtar hai."

(Where words hold no meaning, it’s better to accept the situation. Where complaints only reach the ears but never touch the heart, it’s better to stay silent.)

She lifted her gaze, a lone tear escaping.

"Jahan sun ke ansuna kar diya jaaye, us dil ke tootne ki aawaaz ko dabaana hi behtar hai."

(Where even the sound of a breaking heart is heard yet ignored, it’s better to suppress that sound.)

Her words pierced through him, striking his heart with pain. She was right. Even if she told him, what could he do? Nothing. He was helpless, too afraid to tell the truth to his family.

Isha gently freed her wrist and turned to leave, but Arshad was determined to make her understand. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her waist and turned her back toward him.

Isha gasped loudly, her eyes widening. He looked deep into her eyes.

"You are right. I can’t do anything. But know one thing, Isha—you are not a maid. You and I both know the truth," he said with intensity.

Her eyes lowered, her cheeks flushing pink with an uncontrollable blush. Their closeness sent butterflies fluttering through her heart and stomach. Her breath grew uneven.

Arshad frowned, noticing her shivering eyes, her bitten lip, and her small hands fisting her kameez (shirt)—a habit he now recognized as her way of coping with nervousness or pain. He realized that just this simple closeness made her blush furiously. Strangely, her innocent reaction flattered his heart, and before he knew it, a small smile curved his lips as he truly looked at her for the first time.

"Uh…" Isha gathered courage and cleared her throat. "Jaa…jane dein mu…mujhe," (Please let go of me) she whispered.

Arshad blinked and released her.

She quickly turned to go, a smile unknowingly spreading across her face. But it vanished the moment she saw Sofia entering the room. Isha froze in her tracks.

★★★★★