In about half an hour, I said, "Okay Sohel, I had a wonderful time. I guess I should head back now. Thank you so much for inviting me."
"You're welcome, Samir," he replied with a level of formality in his voice.
"I would like to thank Bhabhi. Could you please call her?"
"No, I think she must be busy with some housework," he replied.
"Okay, please thank her from my side," I said, and left.
All the way back, my thoughts were clouded with worry for Zainab. I had never seen Sohel behave like that before. If I hadn't been there, I was certain he would have hit her. I couldn't help but wonder--if this is how he acted in my presence, how did he treat her when no one was around?
That evening, I received a text from Zainab, "Thank you."
"If he ever hurts you again, tell me," I replied.
Then she texted me something that hit me hard, "Samir, please don't misunderstand me, but I have to ask you this. I have no choice. Could you please not message or call me in future? Sohel checks my phone regularly. He's suspicious for no reason."
I stared at the screen in disbelief, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, not knowing what to say.
After a long pause, I finally typed: "Okay. Please take care of yourself. Please tell me anything you need, any help of any sort," I replied after some time.
"Thank you," she replied.
I put down the phone with a heavy heart. It wasn't just the sadness of her cutting off contact--it was the worry gnawing at me. Things between her and Sohel were clearly not good. He was clearly abusing her, physically as well as mentally. And she was enduring it alone, quietly.
And the worst part was... I couldn't do anything.
***
A few months had passed since Zainab's last message. I had tried to push her from my thoughts, telling myself it was for the best--that maybe she was better off without any outside complications.
But not a single day went by without me wondering if she was okay.
A few months later, on a Friday afternoon, I was in the middle of an important meeting when my phone lighted up in silent mode. It was Zainab. I let it ring, thinking I'd call her back later--but then it rang again. And again.
Three missed calls in a row.
It had to be urgent.
I excused myself from the meeting and called her back.
"Hi Zainab, is everything okay?"
"Samir... I'm sorry to disturb you after all this time. I know I asked you not to contact me... but I really need your help. I didn't know who else to call," she said, sounding desperate.
"What happened?"
"I can tell you when we meet,"
"Alright. I'll meet you in front of Food Bazaar at 5 o'clock."
"Again, I'm sorry for troubling you. But I didn't know what to do."
"Zainab, don't say that. I told you--you can call me anytime, for anything. No apologies."
***
At five, I drove up to the Food Bazaar departmental store.
There she was, standing under a tree in a sky blue salwar kameez with a white dupatta draped gracefully over her shoulders. Her wavy brown hair tumbled down freely, catching the golden hue of the evening sun. She looked absolutely breathtaking--more like a vision than someone going through the turmoil I knew she was in.
I pulled up beside her, and leaned over to open the passenger door.
"Wow, you look... absolutely stunning," I said as she slid in.
"Thank you," she said with a faint smile, fastening her seat belt.
"I'm sorry," she whispered after some time. "I know I shouldn't have messaged you... but I didn't know what else to do."
"Don't," I said gently. "You did exactly what you should have. You messaged me."
We drove in silence for a few minutes, letting the traffic noise fill the space between us. I didn't want to rush her.
"So... what's going on?" I finally asked, keeping my voice soft.
She hesitated, staring ahead. "Samir, please... whatever I tell you, please don't tell anyone."
"Of course," I said. "You know you can trust me."
"Can I?" she asked, turning to look at me, eyes searching mine.
I met her gaze. "Have I ever done anything to break your trust?"
"I'm just asking because Sohel is your best friend," she replied.
"Well, after that day, I'm not so sure anymore," I replied.
She exhaled, as if she'd been holding her breath for days. "Sohel is planning to get married again."
"Wait, what? What do you mean?" I asked, shocked.
"He told me last week."
"Such a bastard. How can he do that?" I asked, then stopped myself. "Sorry for my language."
"He can, so he's doing it," she added with a tired, bitter smile.
I stared at the road ahead, jaw clenched, trying to steady the anger rising in my chest. "And what reason did he give?"
"He doesn't need to give any reason," she replied flatly.
I didn't know what to say. Here he was married to this goddess, and still he wanted someone else?
"He says I've not been able to give him a baby," she said, after a long silence.
I looked over at her. "And how do you know it's not him?"
She said nothing.
"If his new wife has a child... do you know what that will mean for me?" she asked, her voice cracking.
I didn't know, and I didn't want to hazard a guess.
"I'll become a maid in my own home. She'll be the queen and I'll be her servant. He already treats me like I don't matter. Afterwards...I cannot even imagine," Her voice broke as tears spilled down her cheeks.
It shattered me to see her like that--vulnerable, helpless. I wanted nothing more than to wrap her in my arms and take all the pain away. But I stopped myself.
"So what are you going to do now?" I asked softly.
"I don't know. I really don't know," she replied with a sigh, leaning back in the seat, staring up at the ceiling of the car and wiping her tears with a handkerchief.
Seeing her in tears, I so wanted hold her close and comfort her. But I held back--it didn't feel right. Doing so now would be taking advantage of her in her time of vulnerability, and I couldn't do that.
"Let's go bowling," I said, trying to lighten the mood.
"Now?" she looked at me, surprised.
"Yes. We'll have fun--just like old times. I'm sure it'll help you feel a little better."
"I don't want to feel better," she murmured. "I just want this to end."
"I understand," I said gently. "But sometimes, the answers come when your mind is calm. Let's just take a break. You might see things more clearly afterward."
She looked out the window for a moment, then sighed. "I doubt it'll help... but okay. If you want to."
We returned to the same games arena we used to visit before. And slowly--almost reluctantly at first--Zainab began to let go. Her smile returned, her laughter found its way back, and the weight on her shoulders seemed to lift.
At one point, after throwing a gutter ball, she let out a sigh in frustration, pulled off the dupatta draped across her torso, and tossed it onto a chair.
It was the first time I'd seen her without it.
And for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
She had a stunning figure, graceful yet alluring--perfect curves, with beautifully shaped breasts that drew the eye effortlessly, making my heart skip a beat. Hers was the kind of beauty that never sought attention, yet commanded it effortlessly.
I must've been staring longer than I realized, because when she looked my way, she caught my gaze--and smiled quietly to herself, as if she knew exactly what I was thinking.
We were having so much fun that time passed quickly. When I checked, I was shocked to see it was seven o'clock already!
"Oh God, you must get back. Sohel will be home soon," I said to her.
She looked at me calmly. "Sohel's gone to Lucknow for a few days. I think...for the same reason I told you."
"Oh, I see," I replied.
She gave a faint, bitter smile. "Besides, even if he finds out, what difference will it make? What will he do...hit me? That's what he's been doing anyway. He's a namard. Hitting his wife is all he's good for."
I stared back at her, lost for words. There was so much pain behind her words. I felt sad for her and her situation. I wanted to help her, to protect her, but how?
We had also finished our time slot at the bowling alley, so I suggested to her, "How about that restaurant we went to earlier?"
"Just what I was also thinking," she replied in agreement.
"Okay," I said and we headed towards the car park.
Again, we were quite early in the evening at the restaurant and it was not too crowded. We had our pick of tables and chose one tucked away in a corner, partly hidden by a pillar, offering us a bit of privacy.
After we'd settled in and our drinks and snacks had arrived, I raised my glass and said, "Cheers. I'm sure Sohel will come to his senses and things will work out for the best."
"I thought you had me best interests at heart, Samir. Why do you want to send me back to Sohel?" she replied.
I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could say a word, she lifted her glass with a smile. "I'm not going back to him. Cheers!" she said, clinking her glass against mine.
I watched as she took a long sip, her eyes steady on mine. I raised my own glass and followed suit, but my mind was already racing.
How had things gotten to this point? What had really happened behind closed doors to bring her here--to this moment, this decision?
I needed to know the whole story.
After we were a few sips down, I asked her, "Why didn't you take up a job?"
"Sohel didn't want me to work."
I didn't reply, letting her continue.
"Before marriage, he told me he had no problem with my working. I even continued my job until we moved to Bangalore."
"So he changed after you moved to Bangalore? What was the reason?"
"A couple of months afterwards, his cousin visited us. Everything changed after that. He started poisoning Sohel's mind with all kinds of nonsense."
"His cousin? Which one?" I asked. I'd met a few of Sohel's cousins earlier and wondered who she was talking about.
"Yes. His name is Armaan."
"I think I've met him. The thin guy with glasses, right?"
"You know him?"
"I don't know him as such, but I have met him a couple of times. Long ago during college. He was quite a chilled out guy. Used to be fun to be with, used to pull a lot of practical jokes."
"Well, he's nothing like that now. He's got a big beard, kurta-pajama-topi and very orthodox."
"Oh."
"After Sohel started spending time with him, his whole outlook changed. His attitude towards me also changed. He started speaking very rudely and insultingly, even started getting physical."
I nodded my head. I'd seen a bit of that the other day when I'd gone to their house for lunch.
"After some time, he even started insisting that I wear a burqa, which I never used to earlier. He became very insecure about letting me talk to other men."
"Initially after we moved to the new place, things were quite okay. I asked him again if I could take up a job, and he had agreed," she continued.
"Okay..." I said.
"But then that damn cousin of his landed up in Bangalore for a few weeks to give lectures in some madrasa. They used to spend a lot of time discussing, and he brainwashed him completely. He even took him to that madrasa. Now, he's gone completely crazy."
She took a sip from her glass, contemplating whether to go on or not. I didn't press her.
"I had even got a job offer. Unfortunately, it coincided with when Armaan was here and had started brainwashing Sohel. When I told Sohel about it, he lost his cool and forbade me from taking it up. We got into a huge argument over it. He said it was not allowed for women to work and that was it. Nothing I said would change his mind."
"And he made you leave the offer," I completed for her.
"Yes. When I kept insisting that I wanted to take up the job, he slapped me and threatened to give me talaq on the spot if I continued on that path."
"Oh my God. Just what did Armaan tell him that changed him like this?" I exclaimed, shocked.
"I don't know. He's member of some preaching group and he brainwashes Sohel's mind regularly."
Looking at her, I got lost in thought if there was any way to resolve this matter amicable. After all, Sohel was my closest buddy. I wondered if there was any way to "unbrainwash" him.
"What are you thinking now? Why are you quiet suddenly?
"I'm wondering if there's any way to get Sohel back to normal."
"What on earth is wrong with you? I've already told you twice...I'm not going back to him," she burst out angrily.
"Don't get angry. I'm just trying to help...to save your marriage, Zainab. Besides, Sohel is my closest friend from college. I feel I have to at least try and bring him back," I replied.
"Best friend from college. That's exactly what I was afraid of," she said with an exasperated sigh.
"The Sohel who was your friend in college is gone. The Sohel I married is gone. And he's not coming back," she continued after a while, her voice low but intense.
I remained silent, unsure of what to say.
"What proof do you need? Should I show you the bruises he's left on me?" she said, her voice trembling with anger as she started undoing the buttons of her kameez to reveal a blue mark on her shoulder.
"Hey, hey, stop. You don't have to show me anything. I'm sorry, I understand now. I won't mention it again," I replied quickly, taking her hand in mine.
"My God, what has he done to you?" I whispered, holding her hand gently.
"It's okay," she murmured softly, her voice breaking slightly.
So now that it was final she wasn't going back, we had to find solutions for her future.
"You could go back to your parents in Lucknow," I offered, though even as I said it, I knew how hollow it sounded.
"And they'll just send me right back. Women don't get choices in our society--we're just told to bear it all, quietly," she replied.
I didn't know what else to suggest to her.
"So, what's your plan now?"
"I have no idea. But one thing I know...I'm not going back to him."
"I think you used to work in HR before, right?" I asked, nodding at her statement.
"Yes," she replied. "Why?"
"My company has an opening for an HR position. I could forward your resume."
"You would do that?" She exclaimed, excitement returning to her voice.
"Yes, of course." I replied.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she cried happily and grabbed my hand and kissed it.
I was taken aback by her sudden display of emotion, and smiled, my heart skipping a beat.
I found myself staring at her hand, gently clasping mine, the silence between us filled with unspoken emotions.
After a while, I spoke softly, "Zainab, please don't take this the wrong way. I know you don't have a place to stay right now... You're welcome to stay at my place for as long as you need. You can have the other room all to yourself."
"Thank you, Samir," she replied, her voice trembling slightly, her eyes glistening with tears as they held mine. "You're a good man."
We remained like that for a while, her hand in mine, eyes still glistening--no words passed between us, the quiet conveying all the words that neither of us needed to say.
After some time, I released her hand and took a sip of my drink. She too sat back, clearing her throat and sipped her own drink.
We changed the topic.
Now that we both understood she wasn't going back, and she'd accepted my offer, she was more relaxed--like a heavy weight had finally lifted from her shoulders. Her smiles returned, brighter and warmer; she joked, laughed, and spoke with an ease that made me feel a lot better.
The dance floor had come alive by then, nearly packed, the energy building with every beat.
"I want to dance," Zainab said, her eyes lighting up as she watched the crowd.
"I'm not much of a dancer," I admitted sheepishly.
"Don't worry, I'll teach you," she laughed.
I quickly paid the bill and let Zainab pull me onto the dance floor.
She immediately fell into rhythm, gracefully swaying to the music.
I tried my best to follow along, feeling slightly self-conscious, but the way she looked at me--her eyes sparkling, warm and encouraging--soon made me forget my awkwardness.
There were some fast numbers playing, and Zainab was enjoying herself. She was an excellent dancer, and I wondered where she learnt to dance so well.
I tried to match her moves, but with my two left feet, it was a struggle to keep up.
Soon, the dance floor filled up, and people kept bumping into each other. Wanting to protect Zainab from any unwelcome contact--whether accidental or intentional--I took her hand and guided her to a quieter, less crowded corner, shaded in comforting darkness.
Almost as soon as we settled there, the music shifted to a slow, romantic melody and the lights dimmed further.
Zainab stepped in closer, her hands slipping around my neck. I could feel her breasts pressing lightly against my chest, and I instinctively moved back a little, keeping my hands respectfully at my sides.
Noticing my hesitation, she leaned forward, her breath warm against my ear, and whispered gently, "C'mon, Samir. Don't be shy. Hold me."
I kept trying to keep a safe distance from her, when she said sharply in my ear, "Don't be such a frikkin pussy, Samir. Hold me and dance properly."
I opened my eyes wide in surprise and smiled, surprised to hear such unexpected language from her.
"There's a lot you're yet to find out about me," she murmured softly, holding my gaze with a gentle, inviting smile.
My heartbeat quickened as her fingertips lightly traced circles at the nape of my neck, sending pleasant shivers down my spine. Her eyes--deep, soft, and shining with emotion--never left mine, as if reading every secret thought crossing my mind.
Slowly, I tightened my arms around her waist, gently pulling her closer. She sighed softly, leaning her head against my shoulder, her breath warm against my skin.
The feel of her delicate frame pressed close to mine filled me with a deep longing I'd never felt before.
Zainab leaned in closer, and practically moulded herself to me.
Her warmth, the press of her curves against me, and the intoxicating mix of her perfume and womanly scent too much for me, my breathing deepened, and my cock hardened and strained against my trousers for release, pressing against her lower belly.
We were dancing so close, that there was no way she couldn't have noticed.
And notice she did, because slowly, her hands moved down from my shoulders to my waist, pulling me closer to her.
"Mmm, that's better," she whispered.
In response, my hands moved up--one wrapping around her back and the other resting on her shoulder, gently cradling the back of her head.
After some time, I felt Zainab raise herself up, using my shoulders for support, so that my cock was nestled between her legs, pushing against her mound.
Slowly, she started grinding herself against me, rubbing herself, up and down.
Then at one point, when I felt my cock was perfectly nestled between her labia, I held her by both her hips and pulled her hard to me.
"Samir," she moaned, biting her lower lip as my cock found the spot it wanted to be, but was frustratingly prevented from entering her because of our clothing and the crowd surrounding us.
When her eyes met mine again, I immediately recognised that look. An unfiltered, unadulterated look of lust and desire.
I hesitated briefly, words hovering unspoken, before whispering gently, "I want to be alone with you."
She licked her lips slightly and nodded.
I took her hand, and led her off the dance floor, through the crowd towards the exit.
Her fingers tightened around mine as we stepped out into the cool night air, the sounds and lights of the club fading behind us.
We walked silently towards the car, the anticipation building with every step. When we reached the car, I opened the passenger door for her, our eyes briefly meeting again. The unspoken desires between us felt palpable, charged with an electricity that made my heart race.