Author’s POV

Isha was getting ready, smiling like a child who just got her favorite candy. She did a little makeup, including baby pink lipstick, which made her look even cuter. Placing her dupatta on her head, she examined herself in the mirror. After making sure everything was perfect, she walked out of the room.

She saw Arshad standing outside her room, waiting. He looked up and his breath hitched. She was breathtaking. Although she wore the same dress from the engagement party, today her smile and the shine in her face made her look enchanting.

He extended his hand toward her. Isha placed hers shyly, trying to avoid eye contact as she saw him staring at her intensely. He held her hand firmly, and together they stepped out of the house.

In the car, Isha nervously looked around. Arshad noticed and gently squeezed her hand to comfort her. She glanced at him, and he gave a soft smile, which she returned.

After a fifteen-minute drive, they arrived at the restaurant. Arshad got out first and opened the door for her, taking her hand as they walked inside. Isha clutched his arm nervously, and he placed his hand over hers, squeezing it reassuringly.

The manager approached.

“Mr. and Mrs. Arshad Malik?” Arshad said confidently. Isha felt butterflies in her stomach at hearing him call her his Mrs. Even though the reservation had originally been for Sofia, she couldn’t help feeling special that she was here with him. The manager led them to their table.

As a gentleman, Arshad pulled out her chair. Isha smiled shyly and sat.

“Toh, what do you like to eat?” Arshad asked after she was seated. Isha pouted, looking around unsurely. She had never been to a place like this and didn’t know what to order.

“Isha, tell me anything you want to eat,” he prompted softly.

“Uh… ice cream,” she said hesitantly, unsure of his reaction. She loved ice cream but rarely got the chance to eat it at his house. Arshad chuckled.

“We’ll have ice cream, but first we need something for dinner. What do you want?” he asked with a smile.

“Gol gappe,” she said, her face lighting up.

“Okay, you like gol gappe?” he asked, amused.

“Pata nahi. Maine kabhi nahi khaye. I had only heard about golgappa being the best chaat. I’ve seen people crowd around street stalls, but never dared to go alone,” she said innocently but with a hint of sadness.

Arshad felt guilty that he couldn’t give her the simple joys most girls her age enjoyed. He held her hand.

“We’ll eat gol gappe from a street stall tomorrow. For now, I’ll order for us. If you want anything else, tell me,” he said. He understood she didn’t know how to act or behave at such an event, and he felt his heart melt at her innocence.

They ordered and waited. Arshad asked her about university, and Isha began feeling comfortable with him. She confessed her struggles with math, but Alhamdulillah, she managed.

“Don’t worry. Next time, tell me if you don’t understand anything. I’ll help you. I was the best in mathematics,” he said proudly.

“Okay, I’ll ask if I…” she stopped suddenly, looking down.

“What happened, Isha?” he asked.

“Aap… um… aap to chale jayenge na kuch dino baad… Asam bhai ki shadi ke baad (You’ll leave after Asam brother’s marriage, right?),” she said sadly, looking up. Arshad had no answer; it was true he would leave in a month or so.

Their food arrived, and Arshad encouraged her to enjoy it.

After dinner, ice cream was served. Just then, an announcement called for couples to participate in a paper dance competition. Isha stared curiously at the couples walking hand-in-hand to the floor. Arshad noticed her excitement.

“Chale? (Shall we?)” he asked. She looked at him, disappointed.

“Okay…” she said softly.

He smiled and extended his hand. She placed hers in his.

“Kaha jaare hai aap? Entrance waha hai (Where are you going? The entrance is there),” she said, confused as he led her toward the dance floor.

“We’re taking part in this dance,” he announced. Her eyes widened.

“Nahi… no, please. Please mat karein. Mujhe nahi aata dance… (Don’t. I don’t know how to dance),” she pleaded.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let you embarrass yourself,” he assured her.

The music began. He held her hand, placing it on his shoulder while wrapping his other arm around her waist. Isha’s heart raced from his touch and their proximity. Arshad’s gaze made her face crimson.

He began swinging with her in his arms.

Maine chhani ishq ki gali, Bas teri ahatein mili.

Maine chaha chahuna tujhe, Par meri ek na chali

Ishq me nigahon ko, milti hai baarishein.

Phir bhi kyu kar raha, Dil teri khuwahishe

Dil meri na sune, Dil ki mai na sunu.

Dil meri na some, Dil ka mai kya karun?

(The song played, their bodies swaying close. Isha felt herself melt under his gaze.)

The song volume decreased; they had to fold a paper and stand closer. Their bodies brushed, and Isha lifted her face slowly, feeling his intense gaze. Arshad brushed loose hair from her face, revealing her shy eyes. She placed her hand on his chest.

Laya kaha mujhko, ye moh tera

Raatein na ab meri, na mera sawera.

(Where did this love of yours bring me?

Neither nights are mine, not mornings.)

He cupped her face, caressing her cheek.

Jaan lega meri ye ishq mera

Ishq me nigahon ko, milti hai baarishein

Phir bhi kyu kar raha, Dil teri khuwahishe

Isha leaned into his touch, her heart racing.

Dil meri na sune, Dil ki mai na sunu.

Dil meri na some, Dil ka mai kya karun? ×2

(My heart will take my life.

Eyes get satisfaction in love.

Why is this heart still yearning for you?)

The song volume decreased again, and they had to stand on his feet. Hearts raced, breaths mingled. Arshad moved closer to her neck, inhaling her fragrance. Isha’s eyes closed at the sensation.

Dil to hai dil ka kya, gustak hai yeh.

Darta nahi pagal. Bebaak hai yeh.

Hai raqeeb khud ka hi, ittefaq hai yeh.

Ishq me nigahon ko, milti hai baarishein

Phir bhi kyu kar raha, Dil teri khuwahishe

Dil meri na sune, Dil ki mai na sunu.

Dil meri na some, Dil ka mai kya karun? ×2

(This heart is impudent, fearless. A coincidence of its own.

Eyes get satisfaction in love.

Why is this heart still yearning for you?)

When Isha felt overwhelmed, she stepped away, exiting the competition.

Arshad glanced around, breaking his daze, and held her hand as they left the restaurant.

“Sorry, please naraz na hoye (Don’t get angry),” Isha pleaded, thinking he was upset.

He opened the car door for her. She sat inside, and he started the engine. Silence filled the car, making her anxious. Tears welled up. She lowered her head, not wanting to see his mood.

The car stopped. She quickly got out, heading to her room to cry into her pillow over his behavior.

“Isha,” he called, holding her hand as she moved. Inside the house, he came in front of her and pulled her into his arms suddenly.

“Shhh… I’m sorry for my rude behavior. Something was troubling me,” he murmured, inhaling her scent.

He couldn’t resist her. Tonight, seeing her dance as his wife stirred desires he struggled to contain. Her innocence, shyness, and hidden love made her irresistible. She was his secret wife, too young and too innocent, yet he wanted her to be happy in whatever way he could give.

He pulled back, kissing her head softly. “This was one of the best nights,” he whispered. Isha blushed, holding him gently. Arshad took a small step back to calm himself.

Isha released his hand. “Good night,” she said softly. He watched her go, a smile tugging at his lips as she walked toward her room, heart full.

********

Arshad tossed and turned in his bed, but sleep eluded him. Thoughts of Isha made him restless. If Sofia were here, the guilt might have kept his mind occupied enough to let him sleep. He could hold Sofia in his arms and find comfort. But she wasn’t here. He was alone. And being alone at night brought his deepest desires and fears to the surface. The desire to have Isha in his arms and the fear of betraying Sofia both grew stronger with every passing moment.

A sudden, sinful thought jolted him upright.

Sofia is not here. She won’t know if I sleep with Isha.

His heart raced, and he nearly ran toward Isha’s room—but guilt immediately stopped him. He couldn’t believe he was even thinking of going to another woman’s room at this hour.

That “another woman” is your other wife, his subconscious whispered.

Arshad froze, gathering courage. She was his wife, after all, and that thought gave him strength. He approached her door, which was locked for the first time, and knocked softly, tapping his foot impatiently, his desire growing with every second.

Isha opened the door slightly. His desire spiked further—her head covered with her dupatta, even in the middle of the night. She must think someone could hear them at this hour.

“Aap? (You?)” she asked, confused.

“Neend nahi aari (I can’t sleep),” he muttered, pausing, waiting for her to invite him inside. She hesitated, and he asked gently, “Ander aajao? (Can I come in?)”

Isha bit her lips nervously, but who was she to deny her husband? She opened the door wider, giving him space to step in. She remained standing, staring at the floor, clearly nervous that he was in her room at this hour.

Arshad’s gaze lingered on her, and when he was sure she had frozen in place, he closed and locked the door behind him, before grabbing her hand.

“Aap kya kar rahe hai? (What are you doing?)” Isha asked in an almost whispered voice as he sat beside her on the bed.

“Neend nahi aari thi (I couldn’t sleep),” he replied, unsure how to explain the rest.

“Par aap yaha kyun… (But what are you doing here…?)”

“Kyun… nahi aa sakta? Galat hai mera tumhare paas aana? (Why can’t I come? Is it wrong for me to come to you?)” he asked intensely, staring into her eyes. Isha lowered her head as warmth crept across her cheeks.

“Aisa nahi hai (It’s not like that),” she mumbled softly.

“Toh, no more questions,” he said, smiling at her.

To be continued…

★★★★