Kay

She loves her tea times and punctual gatherings, brunches with her cousins and friends, and all the extravagance of simple hang outs with her people. She loves the certainty and joy it brings to such an uncertain existence. And she simply does not care if the snobbish party wives call her a rigid bitch for it. Its too damn bad all their husbands are speck of dust infront of hers.

After all it is just who she is. Growing up as a spoiled daughter in the neighbourhood of Clifton, being the apple of her family’s eyes, Ulfat was accustomed to the profligacy of it all.

So one must forgive her for the overwhelming concern that collects in her chest, when you don’t show up at Haveli that weekend, marking your weekly attendance. It’s practically a ritual, ever since you started dating Naieem. Saturdays mean a day full of shopping or relaxing, book clubs, polo or football clubs,and a family dinner. Over the last two years, as you went from the first girlfriend Naieem brought home, to the heart of family, she’d grown attached to the idea of you, in her mind so had you.

Something has surely happened if you had missed it. Something very serious.

So, she storms into her son’s room, voice low as she says, “Kya kiya hai tumne?” (What did you do?)

“Ammi!” Naieem startles. But Ulfat remains unfazed, her arms crossing over her chest.

“Why isn’t she here yet?”

He remains silent for a long moment, eyes downcast. Then he sighs, long and full of suffering. Sounds like an argument. Ulfat is unsure whether to feel bad for her poor bewitched son, or to curse him for arguing with you.

“Bas kisi cheez pe… jhagda ho gaya,” Naieem says finally. He runs a hand through his hair, eyes averting to his medical notes. (We just had a… disagreement.)

“Kis cheez pe” (A disagreement on what?)

“It’s very petty ma. I don’t know why she’s gotten into such a toss about it.”

“Now, Naieem. Have I taught you nothing?”

Ulfat loves her son very much. She would die for him, it’s common knowledge. But there are certain lines that the Baloch Haveli as a whole of all its inhabitants and those who guard it, and are associated with have learned not to cross, which is disrespecting women. Especially your partners.

Naieem sighs again, collapsing over his notes. Ulfat softens a little, gently rubbing his shoulder,

“What happened?”

“Bas wo Friday waali party mein mera thoda zyaada ho gaya shayad. I said some things. Uski galti nahi thi. Then I forgot to say ‘I love you’ before leaving her apartment.” (I think i did a little too much during the party last Friday. It wasn’t her fault.)

Ulfat barely stifles a gasp. Naieem casts her a side eye, before burying his face into the anatomy book.

“Abhi ke abhi maafi maang ke aao.” (Go apologise to her right now.”)

“Ammi par-” (But Ammi-)

“Naieem Rehman Baloch!”

“Ab kya kara isne?” (What did he do now?) Ulfat’s husband chose the exact moment to walk in to the conversation. (Shaitaan ka naam liya shaitaan haazir).

“Rehman aap chup rahein zara, bataungi baad mein.” (Rehman please shut up for a moment, I’ll spill the tea shortly.)

“Ji begum.” (Yes my lady.)

“I don’t want any of that ego, Naieem.” She says looking back at her son. Her tone rarely hardens around him. He frowns, but it falls flat immediately. Ulfat knows this must be hard on him too. For all that pride and ego he’s inherited from the Baloch blood, there’s only so long these men can stay away from their love. Only so long until Naieem’s steel and porcelain cracks too.

She sighs this time settling on the table beside him. Rehman took the bed, lazily drooping into his favourite bent banana posture.

“Verbal acknowledgement of love is extremely important Naieem.”

“I know.”

“Trust is important too.”

“I know abbu.”

“Its very obvious to anyone with two eyes and any sense… that you do love her” Rehman adds while throwing a pillow at Naieem.

“And I want my best friend back.” Ulfat adds.

Naieem finally meets his mother’s gaze. She sees the baffling combination of emotions ravaging through his head. She reaches over to smooth the hair on his forehead. He leans into the age-old comfort, nodding slowly.

“I will go talk to her”

He takes a short breathe.

“I will go talk to her right now” Naieem jumps up at his feet hurriedly grabbing his bike keys.

•┈๑⋅⋅๑┈••┈๑⋅⋅๑┈••┈๑⋅⋯⋯⋅๑┈

The last thing you expected to see when you heard your door bell ring was a very soaked Naieem Baloch.

Lyari rains were always punishing, his brunette mane dripping water all over your newly bought aesthetic doormat. Despite the very recent argument, you are terrified that your victorian child of a fiancé will catch a cold and wheeze for the next two weeks. You tug him into the warmth of your apartment.

But you are still mad at him. That means no hello and certainly no welcome kisses.

“Jaan”

You ignore him, slipping towards the depths of your house to fetch him warmer clothes. His sopping footsteps echo in the hallway behind you.

What does he think? He can show up drenched in rain like a wet kitten and just expect you to talk to him. You take your self respect very seriously. 

You don’t know why he didnt take his car. There is plenty parking space near your building. Or why he didn’t just wait till after rain. He has done so multiple times before, of course. But then again, he’s always been dramatic.

"Y/N." He catches hold of your wrist. The cold makes you shudder.

"Sunn to lo jaan" (Just listen once my love.)

You turn slowly. You're surprised he had overcome his pride at all.

"I'm sorry"

"Oh, are you?"

You gently free yourself from his grasp. He doesn't resist, running a hand through his hair. A trait you're so familiar with. He's frustrated, maybe tired. You huff, annoyed.

"I didn't think I'd have to force you to trust me."

"Its not like that, I do trust you, mera wo matlab nahi tha, I was just a bit worried, come on you know i dont act like a bitch always”

"Yeah," you scoff, "Not everytime."

"Samjho na, I was just… mad at myself after a point isiliye i left early, i did not want to sit around and say more shit to you babe," He curses, and you roll your eyes.

“You know verbal acknowledgement of love is important.” you say with a deadpan face.

"You and my mother have dangerously similar ideals." Naieem hums.

"Oh, so she put you up to this? That makes sense."

"No, wait. Please let me-"

"Get changed, Naieem. You cant fall sick before the semester starts." You all but toss the clothes at him. His kurta that you had stolen from him a few weeks ago. He catches it, tossing it to the side.

Before you can react, he grabs hold of your waist, spinning you around. You let out a small yelp, but he is already down on his knees, his wet hair pressing against your abdomen as he smothers his face on your tummy. His thumbs rub slow circles over your hips.

A shaky breath escapes his lips.

“I love you, Y/N.”

His muffled voice makes a shiver run down your spine. It’s soft and low, like the sound of rustling velvet. You love it so, so much. But you force your hands to stay stiff by your side.

“I love you every moment of the day, and I’m sorry i was such a jackass at the party. All those drinks made me loopy, I swear i trust you and I would never let you go. I love you with everything I have and I know you love me too. It is utterly my fault, and it is again my fault that it took my mother for me to realise that."

His head lifts to meet your gaze

“Do you understand?”

You think you might cry or giggle or both. Your voice trembles when you say, “Yeah. Yeah, I know,I love you too. I was not mad about the party baby i knew you were drunk, maybe next time we’ll drink as per our capacity, afterall you are not your uncle.” You added giggling

He takes your hand to press a gentle kiss to the inside of your wrist,

“All good then? I do think my mother would kill me if I let you miss another weekend with her.”

You laugh at that, finally ruffling his hair like you’ve been dying to do. He scowls, but it’s playful.

“I don’t think I could live another weekend without seeing her and the entire haveli,” You answer.

He lets out some sound of relief, and you giggle again

“Let’s go then.”

“Or maybe they could wait a little more” You add while pulling Naieem closer by his collar

He smiled then all toothy

“Yeah,maybe.”

Ulfat might just be the bestest friend you could ask for.

•┈๑⋅⋅๑┈••┈๑⋅⋅๑┈••┈๑⋅⋯⋯⋅๑┈•┈๑⋅⋅๑┈••┈๑⋅⋅๑┈•

She loves her tea times and punctual gatherings, brunches with her cousins and friends, and all the extravagance of simple hang outs with her people. She loves the certainty and joy it brings to such an uncertain existence. And she simply does not care if the snobbish party wives call her a rigid bitch for it. Its too damn bad all their husbands are speck of dust infront of hers.

After all it is just who she is. Growing up as a spoiled daughter in the neighbourhood of Clifton, being the apple of her family’s eyes, Ulfat was accustomed to the profligacy of it all.

So one must forgive her for the overwhelming concern that collects in her chest, when you don’t show up at Haveli that weekend, marking your weekly attendance. It’s practically a ritual, ever since you started dating Naieem. Saturdays mean a day full of shopping or relaxing, book clubs, polo or football clubs,and a family dinner. Over the last two years, as you went from the first girlfriend Naieem brought home, to the heart of family, she’d grown attached to the idea of you, in her mind so had you.

Something has surely happened if you had missed it. Something very serious.

So, she storms into her son’s room, voice low as she says, “Kya kiya hai tumne?” (What did you do?)

“Ammi!” Naieem startles. But Ulfat remains unfazed, her arms crossing over her chest.

“Why isn’t she here yet?”

He remains silent for a long moment, eyes downcast. Then he sighs, long and full of suffering. Sounds like an argument. Ulfat is unsure whether to feel bad for her poor bewitched son, or to curse him for arguing with you.

“Bas kisi cheez pe… jhagda ho gaya,” Naieem says finally. He runs a hand through his hair, eyes averting to his medical notes. (We just had a… disagreement.)

“Kis cheez pe” (A disagreement on what?)

“It’s very petty ma. I don’t know why she’s gotten into such a toss about it.”

“Now, Naieem. Have I taught you nothing?”

Ulfat loves her son very much. She would die for him, it’s common knowledge. But there are certain lines that the Baloch Haveli as a whole of all its inhabitants and those who guard it, and are associated with have learned not to cross, which is disrespecting women. Especially your partners.

Naieem sighs again, collapsing over his notes. Ulfat softens a little, gently rubbing his shoulder,

“What happened?”

“Bas wo Friday waali party mein mera thoda zyaada ho gaya shayad. I said some things. Uski galti nahi thi. Then I forgot to say ‘I love you’ before leaving her apartment.” (I think i did a little too much during the party last Friday. It wasn’t her fault.)

Ulfat barely stifles a gasp. Naieem casts her a side eye, before burying his face into the anatomy book.

“Abhi ke abhi maafi maang ke aao.” (Go apologise to her right now.”)

“Ammi par-” (But Ammi-)

“Naieem Rehman Baloch!”

“Ab kya kara isne?” (What did he do now?) Ulfat’s husband chose the exact moment to walk in to the conversation. (Shaitaan ka naam liya shaitaan haazir).

“Rehman aap chup rahein zara, bataungi baad mein.” (Rehman please shut up for a moment, I’ll spill the tea shortly.)

“Ji begum.” (Yes my lady.)

“I don’t want any of that ego, Naieem.” She says looking back at her son. Her tone rarely hardens around him. He frowns, but it falls flat immediately. Ulfat knows this must be hard on him too. For all that pride and ego he’s inherited from the Baloch blood, there’s only so long these men can stay away from their love. Only so long until Naieem’s steel and porcelain cracks too.

She sighs this time settling on the table beside him. Rehman took the bed, lazily drooping into his favourite bent banana posture.

“Verbal acknowledgement of love is extremely important Naieem.”

“I know.”

“Trust is important too.”

“I know abbu.”

“Its very obvious to anyone with two eyes and any sense… that you do love her” Rehman adds while throwing a pillow at Naieem.

“And I want my best friend back.” Ulfat adds.

Naieem finally meets his mother’s gaze. She sees the baffling combination of emotions ravaging through his head. She reaches over to smooth the hair on his forehead. He leans into the age-old comfort, nodding slowly.

“I will go talk to her”

He takes a short breathe.

“I will go talk to her right now” Naieem jumps up at his feet hurriedly grabbing his bike keys.

•┈๑⋅⋅๑┈••┈๑⋅⋅๑┈••┈๑⋅⋯⋯⋅๑┈

The last thing you expected to see when you heard your door bell ring was a very soaked Naieem Baloch.

Lyari rains were always punishing, his brunette mane dripping water all over your newly bought aesthetic doormat. Despite the very recent argument, you are terrified that your victorian child of a fiancé will catch a cold and wheeze for the next two weeks. You tug him into the warmth of your apartment.

But you are still mad at him. That means no hello and certainly no welcome kisses.

“Jaan”

You ignore him, slipping towards the depths of your house to fetch him warmer clothes. His sopping footsteps echo in the hallway behind you.

What does he think? He can show up drenched in rain like a wet kitten and just expect you to talk to him. You take your self respect very seriously. 

You don’t know why he didnt take his car. There is plenty parking space near your building. Or why he didn’t just wait till after rain. He has done so multiple times before, of course. But then again, he’s always been dramatic.

"Y/N." He catches hold of your wrist. The cold makes you shudder.

"Sunn to lo jaan" (Just listen once my love.)

You turn slowly. You're surprised he had overcome his pride at all.

"I'm sorry"

"Oh, are you?"

You gently free yourself from his grasp. He doesn't resist, running a hand through his hair. A trait you're so familiar with. He's frustrated, maybe tired. You huff, annoyed.

"I didn't think I'd have to force you to trust me."

"Its not like that, I do trust you, mera wo matlab nahi tha, I was just a bit worried, come on you know i dont act like a bitch always”

"Yeah," you scoff, "Not everytime."

"Samjho na, I was just… mad at myself after a point isiliye i left early, i did not want to sit around and say more shit to you babe," He curses, and you roll your eyes.

“You know verbal acknowledgement of love is important.” you say with a deadpan face.

"You and my mother have dangerously similar ideals." Naieem hums.

"Oh, so she put you up to this? That makes sense."

"No, wait. Please let me-"

"Get changed, Naieem. You cant fall sick before the semester starts." You all but toss the clothes at him. His kurta that you had stolen from him a few weeks ago. He catches it, tossing it to the side.

Before you can react, he grabs hold of your waist, spinning you around. You let out a small yelp, but he is already down on his knees, his wet hair pressing against your abdomen as he smothers his face on your tummy. His thumbs rub slow circles over your hips.

A shaky breath escapes his lips.

“I love you, Y/N.”

His muffled voice makes a shiver run down your spine. It’s soft and low, like the sound of rustling velvet. You love it so, so much. But you force your hands to stay stiff by your side.

“I love you every moment of the day, and I’m sorry i was such a jackass at the party. All those drinks made me loopy, I swear i trust you and I would never let you go. I love you with everything I have and I know you love me too. It is utterly my fault, and it is again my fault that it took my mother for me to realise that."

His head lifts to meet your gaze

“Do you understand?”

You think you might cry or giggle or both. Your voice trembles when you say, “Yeah. Yeah, I know,I love you too. I was not mad about the party baby i knew you were drunk, maybe next time we’ll drink as per our capacity, afterall you are not your uncle.” You added giggling

He takes your hand to press a gentle kiss to the inside of your wrist,

“All good then? I do think my mother would kill me if I let you miss another weekend with her.”

You laugh at that, finally ruffling his hair like you’ve been dying to do. He scowls, but it’s playful.

“I don’t think I could live another weekend without seeing her and the entire haveli,” You answer.

He lets out some sound of relief, and you giggle again

“Let’s go then.”

“Or maybe they could wait a little more” You add while pulling Naieem closer by his collar

He smiled then all toothy

“Yeah,maybe.”

Ulfat might just be the bestest friend you could ask for.

•┈๑⋅⋅๑┈••┈๑⋅⋅๑┈••┈๑⋅⋯⋯⋅๑┈•┈๑⋅⋅๑┈••┈๑⋅⋅๑┈•