Yes, I had. And I knew I would again. But I didn't know what to say --so I bent down and pressed a kiss to her head.
"You can stay if you want," she whispered.
"We've both had too much to drink, Zainab. You need to rest," I replied softly.
"Good night," I added, my fingers brushing through her hair one last time.
"Good night," she echoed faintly, as I pulled the door shut behind me.
I went down to the car to retrieve her handbag, which had been left behind.
When I returned to her room to drop it off, she was still in the same position and fast asleep.
Returning to my room, I changed into a pair of boxers and got into bed. Lying there for a long time, my mind wouldn't settle. I wanted her so badly in that moment, but I also knew I'd done the right thing. Crossing that line would leave a guilt I couldn't live with... especially when I had to face Sohel.
I don't remember when I finally drifted off, but around 2 a.m., the sharp sound of the doorbell woke me.
It was Sohel, back from work.
"Wow, your new company's really squeezing every drop out of you," I said as I opened the door.
"Tell me about it," he grumbled.
Without any further conversation, we said our goodnights. As he passed by me toward the guest bedroom, I noticed he staggered slightly--and the distinct smell of alcohol lingered in the air behind him.
"So he's been drinking as well. Good, at least he won't be able to smell the alcohol on Zainab," I thought to myself.
***
The next day when I came into the kitchen, Zainab was already there, in a hijab. She was preparing khagina which she made exceptionally well.
"Good morning, Bhabhi. The eggs smell delicious," I said.
"Thank you, bhaijan. I'll serve you if you're ready for breakfast,," she replied.
"Sure, please give me fifteen minutes."
Then she quickly looked in the direction of the guest bedroom and seeing the door was closed, whispered, "I've got such a terrible headache! I'm also so hungry."
"Don't worry. Have a heavy breakfast and drink lots of water, and you'll be fine," I whispered back.
"I've already drunk two glasses of water."
"Why don't you eat?"
"No. I have to serve Sohel first, otherwise, he gets very angry."
"Don't worry. Have it quickly and keep the empty plate at my place on the dining table. So Sohel will think it's my plate. I'll serve myself again later. I'm not so hungry as you are."
Her eyes met mine, filled with hesitation.
"Hurry up," I whispered, gesturing towards the bowl.
"Thank you," she whispered, as she served herself in a plate and attacked the khagina hungrily.
I smiled, watching her hungrily devour the food.
About halfway through her meal, Zainab had just bitten into a morsel of chapati and khagina, when there was the sound of Sohail unlatching the bedroom door.
She froze instantly, her hand pausing midair before she placed the half-eaten morsel back on the plate.
Luckily, Sohail did not come out immediately.
I caught the fearful look in her eyes and quickly took the plate from her hands. There was a bit of the gravy still on her lower lip which Sohail would surely have noticed and without thinking, I wiped it off with a quick swipe of my finger.
"Oh, thank you," whispered Zainab.
I gestured for her to quickly wash her hands, and returned to my usual seat at the table.
Just as I sat down, the door opened and Sohail came out and said, "Good morning, bhai."
"Good morning Sohail. I've started breakfast. After all the house hunting yesterday, I was feeling terrible hungry and bhabhi's khagina was smelling too good. I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all. Why would I mind?"
"Zainab, get me my breakfast," Sohail called out, his tone more like a command than a request, as he settled into the chair across from me.
The way he had called out to her made me look towards the kitchen, and I saw Zainab staring at me, with her finger on her lip, the spot where I'd wiped off the gravy.
I picked up her half eaten morsel and put it in my mouth. As I chewed, I caught a fleeting smile on her lips before she turned away to serve Sohail's his breakfast.
Sohail seemed to completely ignore her, and chatted with me as he ate.
After finishing my breakfast, I excused myself and went back to my room to get ready for office.
I closed my bedroom door, but their voices carried through, the tension unmistakable.
"Why didn't you change before sleeping last night?" Sohail's voice was sharp, almost accusatory.
"No, I didn't," Zainab replied meekly.
"I could see that. I'm asking, why?" he snapped.
"Sorry, I was too tired after going to all those places yesterday. By the way, did you like what I made?" she asked, trying to change the subject.
"It's your responsibility to make sure your cooking is good, not mine to keep giving you feedback," he retorted coldly.
I couldn't help but feel uneasy. This version of Sohail--two years into marriage--was not the friend I had known. I didn't like the way he spoke to Zainab.
By the time I stepped out after my bath, Sohail was also ready to leave for work. As usual, I told him to take the car.
We left together, and he dropped me off at my office before heading to his own.
At about eleven o'clock, I got a call from Zainab, "I want to apologise to you, Samir"
"For what?" I asked, surprised.
"For making such a mess yesterday. I know I ruined your day."
"No, you didn't ruin anything. Why are you even thinking that?"
"I know I did, Samir. I drank too much and made a mess. And you had to help me clean up."
"Happens to everyone. It's perfectly normal, so don't worry about it. And please do not apologise for anything."
"But I still feel so bad," she murmured.
I didn't reply.
"And then those two guys. What if they had hurt you?"
"Well, whatever would have happened, would have happened. But I couldn't have let them hurt you."
A brief silence followed before she softly said, "Thank you for keeping me safe, Samir."
"You're welcome. And please don't feel bad about anything. I just loved spending time with you and hope we can spend more time together."
"Yes, I hope so."
"Also thank you for taking the trouble of driving me around town and showing me the apartments, and for showing me how much fun bowling can be, and for taking me to my first pub."
"I'm glad you enjoyed it."
"And also for carrying me up," she added.
"Oh, I thought you were asleep."
"Was I heavy? I know I have put on weight lately," she teased.
"Not at all. You're actually quite a lightweight," I replied.
"Oh, you mean compared to all the other girls you've carried?"
"Actually, I've never carried any other girl," I said, laughing.
"Good. My cousin will be relieved to hear that," she teased.
"Oh yes, your cousin," I smiled.
"Okay, if I wasn't too heavy, you can carry me again. It'll save me the trouble of walking," she said with a laugh.
"Of course, whenever you want. It's my pleasure."
"By the ways, did you like my earrings?" she asked with a playful giggle.
"Yes, they're very nice. Intricate design," I played along.
"And the buttons of my kameez. Did you like them as well?"
"Yes, very nice as well," I replied, slightly embarrassed.
I realised that just her playful voice was making me aroused. Luckily, I was sitting at my desk and no one could see.
"Ohhh, are you feeling shy? You don't have to be shy with me, Samir."
"I know, Zainab. I'll try to remember that."
"Bye, Samir," she sang playfully.
"Bye, Zainab," I replied, smiling.
I turned off the mobile and leaned back in my chair with a smile on my face and one thought in my mind, "God, why is this woman married to that jerk Sohel? He doesn't even respect her."
****
After that day, Zainab began subtly flirting with me, sometimes even when Sohel was around. He rarely paid her any attention, so it went unnoticed by him.
At first, it was just playful little gestures--her gorgeous eyes locking onto mine, a subtle smile, making adorable faces at me, and occasionally sticking her tongue out teasingly while Sohel and I would be talking.
One evening, Sohel and I were lounging in the living room, half-focused on the cricket match playing on TV, when my phone rang from the bedroom. I got up to answer it, and as I spoke, my eyes drifted toward the open door of Zainab's room.
She was standing in front of the mirror, completely absorbed, examining a selection of earrings laid out across the dressing table. Her head tilted slightly as she held each one up to her ear, trying to decide. There was something quietly captivating about the scene--simple, unguarded, and effortlessly graceful.
Suddenly, she caught me watching her. Instead of looking away, she lifted two pairs of earrings and raised her eyebrows slightly, gesturing with her eyes in a silent question--Which one?
I squinted, trying to make out the details, but it was too far to see clearly. I gestured to let her know, and without missing a beat, she picked up her phone and sent me a photo of both pairs of earrings displayed in her elegantly curved hand.
I texted back, "The one on the left."
A moment later, her reply popped up: "Thank you," with a heart.
That little heart at the end lingered in my mind longer than I expected.
Another morning, as we were leaving for work, she stood by the door, holding it open for us.
Sohel stepped out first, and she handed him his tiffin with a quiet nod. He didn't even glance at her.
When it was my turn, she passed mine to me--but for a brief moment, our fingers lingered, entwined in a silent pause before letting go. As our hands touched, her eyes met mine--soft, searching.
I was falling hopelessly in love with her, and no matter how much I tried to rationalise or resist it, there was no stopping it. She had taken over my thoughts--morning, night, and even in my dreams.
***
The following weekend, with still no progress on finalising an apartment, Sohel and Zainab went house-hunting again. Much to my disappointment, they finally settled on a place close to Sohel's office and decided to move out three days later.
Over the past few weeks, I hadn't just grown fond of Zainab's company--I had fallen hopelessly in love with her. And I was fairly certain the feeling was mutual.
Though my heart sank at the thought of her leaving, I knew deep down that it was for the best. Had she stayed any longer, it would have only been a matter of time before something irreversible happened between us. Something that should not happen.
That day was difficult for both of us. Zainab seemed on the verge of tears, her expression distant and withdrawn. And every time our eyes met, it felt like a knife slowly twisting in my chest.
***
After they moved out, I threw myself into work, trying to distract myself from the hollow silence she'd left behind. I missed our evening conversations--the gentle teasing, her light-hearted flirting, the warmth in her voice. Mostly, I missed her presence.
They kept in touch, though separately. Zainab and I would speak on the phone every few days. Our conversations still carried that familiar spark--playful, affectionate, caring. She'd check on me like she always did, asking if I was eating well, sleeping enough... small things, but they meant the world. She'd send me jokes, random forwards, even the occasional meme.
Sohel would reach out once in a while--maybe a quick message or a short call once a month. But even those faded eventually, and I wasn't surprised when they stopped altogether.
After waiting a few days, I called her. She didn't take the call.
I called again the next day. And the day after that.
Each time, it rang out. No reply. No call back. No message.
Just... silence.
It wasn't like her.
She always replied. Always. Even if it was hours later.
And with every passing day, a quiet dread began to grow in my chest.
Was she okay?
Was Sohel behind this sudden silence?
Or... had she chosen to cut me off completely?
When I didn't hear from them for a long time...some five or six months, I messaged him, "All well? You guys have just disappeared."
He called back in the evening.
"Hey Samir, sorry for not being in touch, but things seem to have gone crazy lately. Both at home and work."
"Yes, I can understand."
"It's Zainab. I don't know what's the matter with her. She's very distracted all the time and talks back in an irritating voice every time I say anything to her. She wasn't like this earlier, but ever since we moved to Bangalore, she's suddenly become very rebellious."
"Rebellious? What the hell did he mean by rebellious?" I thought to myself.
Anyway, my heart jumped on hearing this. Could her change in behaviour towards Sohel be because she was missing me? I had noticed how sad she'd looked on the day they moved out of my place.
But then logic took over, and I reasoned that if I was indeed the cause for it, she would surely have communicated in the last three months. All kinds of thoughts started going around in my head.
"Hello, are you there?" he asked, when I got lost in my thoughts.
"Yes, yes. I'm here. Maybe she's missing her family in Lucknow," I said.
"Yeah. Could be. Anyways, why don't you come home for lunch this Sunday? I will tell your Bhabhi to cook your favourite nihari."
"Yeah, man. I would love that." I was thrilled I would get to see Zainab again.
On Sunday, I reached their place around noon. It was the first time I was seeing Sohel and Zainab since they'd moved out, and I was taken aback when he opened the door.
He now sported a full beard that reached down to his neck, but had no moustache. There was also a distinct, darkened mark on his forehead--something I hadn't noticed before. I'd not seen this version of him earlier and couldn't help but wonder what had brought about such a change.
"So, what's with the new look, Sohel?"
"Well, long story. I've joined this Madrasa close by, that needed a mathematics teacher. I wanted to do something to give back to our community, so I volunteered to teach there thrice a week, after office."
"That's nice."
"So, they told me that the cleanshaven look does not go well with the students, and asked me to grow a beard."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes. By the way, I have also started attending Quran classes. I think you should also start."
I just nodded silently, remembering what Zainab had told me earlier.
Just then, Zainab came in from the kitchen, "Hello bhaijaan, how are you?" she smiled warmly.
"Hello bhabhi. I'm well. How about you? You look radiant as always," I said.
Zainab, blushed and said, "Thank you, bhaijaan. You are always so kind."
I thought I saw a look on Sohel's face--like he wasn't too thrilled about me complimenting her on her looks.
"Come, lets sit on the balcony and chat. Its nice and breezy there," said Sohel.
I hoped Zainab would join us, but she returned to the kitchen. A few minutes later, she came out with two glasses of Rooh Afza on a tray. She handed them to us with a smile and quietly slipped back into the kitchen without joining the conversation.
After about half an hour, she announced that lunch was ready. We washed our hands and made our way to the dining table.
"Bhabhi, aren't you going to give us the pleasure of your company?" I asked, noticing only two plates set.
"No, I'll eat later. You two enjoy," she said, glancing at Sohel nervously.
While she served us, I noticed she was wearing more makeup than usual, her face almost appearing painted, in stark contrast to the Zainab I had known when they'd stayed at my home--naturally radiant with zero makeup. Today, it felt like she was hiding behind a mask, and it troubled me.
After serving, she retreated to the kitchen, returning periodically to refill our plates whenever she saw them getting empty.
The nihari was delicious--fragrant, and rich, that could only come from a traditional home, far surpassing any restaurant version.
Just as she was serving us, it began to rain. The veranda had a plastic awning, and when the raindrops fell on it, it created a hell of a racket, even though it was not raining very heavily.
When I finished, I excused myself and headed toward the common bathroom to wash my hands.
"Not that one, Samir," Sohel stopped me. "There's some plumbing problem there."
He turned to Zainab and said, "Show him the one inside."
His tone was rude, almost a command.
Zainab led me down a corridor with two bedrooms at the end, one on either side. She went into the one on the left, and showed me the door to the bathroom.
She stood outside with a hand towel while I washed my hands.
"How are you, Zainab?" I asked, keeping my voice low so Sohel wouldn't hear us.
"I'm fine," she murmured, but her eyes betrayed her. The sparkle I'd grown fond of was missing.
"Really?" I asked, looking into her eyes.
She hesitated for a moment, then softly placed her right hand on my left cheek, taking a deep breath as if trying to gather courage.
I brought my hand over hers, and kissed her palm softly.
I felt she wanted to tell me something--but just then, the harsh scraping sound of a chair being moved made her quickly pull her hand away.
I quickly kissed her on the forehead and headed back for the dining room, my mind clouded with concern.
"Amazing meal. Thanks for inviting me, buddy," I said, forcing a smile.
"I'm glad you liked it. Zainab will now serve us phirni."
Zainab soon came back with two bowls and a larger serving dish of phirni. As she served me, a little phirni spilled off the spoon onto the table.
"Zainab, what are you doing? Can't you even serve properly?" Sohel snapped sharply, his voice rising in anger.
I was taken aback by his reaction to such a small thing, and even more by the frightened look on Zainab's face.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, almost inaudibly.
"What sorry? You've embarrassed me in front of my friend," Sohel fumed.
"It's okay, Sohel. Seriously--relax. It's not a big deal," I said quickly, hoping to diffuse the moment.
But he wasn't done. "At least apologise properly!" he barked, his hand lifting as if to strike her.
Instinctively, my hand shot out and grabbed his wrist firmly, stopping him mid-motion.
Both Sohel and Zainab looked at me, stunned.
"Sohel," I said calmly but firmly, "you need to calm down."
"I'm sorry, bhaijaan," Zainab whispered softly, tears brimming in her eyes as she hurried back into the kitchen.
"We need to talk, Sohel," I said, releasing his wrist after she'd left.
"Let's talk on the balcony," I added, knowing the rain hitting the awning would mask our conversation from Zainab's ears.
"You were going to hit her? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"She keeps doing stupid things. Sometimes I think she does it purposely to make me look bad."
"Don't be stupid. It was a genuine mistake. You know it. How can you hit her?"
"Why can't I? She's my wife," he said.
"So?"
"This is my personal matter. I can do whatever I want with her. You should know that. Actually, I'm not surprised you don't know. That's what happens when you become too modern. You don't know anything about your own culture."
"Fuck you, Sohel. I don't give a damn about any culture. You will not hit her."
"Don't tell me what I can and cannot do with my own wife," he said, glaring at me.
"I've known you for over ten years, and I think I have the right to put some sense into you when you need it," I said.
"Oh, come on. Don't make a big issue of a small thing," he said, shaking his head with an annoyed look.
"Its not a small thing," I told him.
He didn't reply, fuming silently.
"Promise me," I added when he didn't reply.
"Okay," he said, grudgingly.
I sighed in relief and changed the topic. I tried to lighten the mood, but something had clearly changed between us.