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there are fanfic writers who are: "I want to write about this prompt but other people have already done it before, unfortunately. I would have loved to write it 😢"
and then there's me who unapologetically writes about the same prompt, same trope (that has absolutely been written by other people before), same ship — in slightly different ways, at least 200 times in across 200 different fics of mine.
Ulfat’s head was resting comfortably on Rehman’s broad chest, a familiar sanctuary where the chaotic noise of the outside world always seemed to fade away. Their limbs were tangled together in a lazy, intimate embrace, a silent protest against the ticking clock. Downstairs, the muffled sounds of the boys getting ready echoed through the house, hurried footsteps and excited chatter about the event of water pipeline inauguration. It was a major event . He was already running late. Yet, he remained still, holding her just a little tighter, trapped in the gravitational pull of a morning he didn't want to leave.
"Jaan, mujhe deri ho rahi hai. Main jau?" Rehman’s voice was a low, gravelly murmur against the quiet of the room. He leaned down, pressing a tender, lingering kiss against her temple, his breath warm against her skin.
Ulfat didn’t move. Instead, she tightened her grip on his torso, burying her face deeper into his chest, inhaling the comforting, familiar scent of colonge . "Rehman," she whispered. The syllable carried the weight of an unspoken plea, heavy and fragile all at once.
"Bolo, meri jaan," he replied softly, his fingers gently tracing the curve of her shoulder, smoothing down her tangled hair.
"Aaj rehne do na... mat jao," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the distant commotion of the boys downstairs.
Rehman shifted, rolling onto his side so he could look at her properly. Ulfat finally tilted her head up, her dark eyes locking onto his. There was an unusual, heavy anxiety swirling in her gaze, a shadow that didn't belong in the serene warmth of their bedroom.
He smiled softly, though a flicker of reluctance crossed his features. "Jana to hoga na, Ulfat. Sab intezar kar rahe hain."
"Please," she whispered again. This time, her fingers clamped onto the fabric of his shirt, anchoring him to the mattress. A sudden, unexplainable dread had taken root in her chest, tightening with every passing second.
Rehman let out a soft sigh, half-amused, half-pained by how difficult she was making it for him to step out the door. He rubbed the small of her back, trying to inject a sense of casual normalcy into the air. "Aise kyun kar rahi ho? Main kaunsa kabhi vapis nahi aunga," he said casually, offering a small, reassuring smile as he began to gently disengage himself to get out of bed.
She grabbed his arm with both hands, pulling him back toward her with a strength born of pure desperation. "Aisi batein matt kiya karo!" she said, her voice cracking with raw emotion. "Meri jaan niklti hai, Rehman. Dobara kabhi aise mat kehna."
Rehman froze, he looked into her eyes and saw the genuine terror flashing within them. For a long, breathless moment, they simply stared at each other. The silence between them grew profound, heavy with things left unsaid, as if the universe itself was pausing to witness their silent exchange.
Seeing her distress, Rehman’s expression softened . He cupped her face in his large hands, his thumbs wiping away a tear she hadn't even realized had escaped. He leaned in and pressed a firm, sacred kiss right onto her forehead, holding it there for a long moment, sealing a silent vow.
When he pulled back, his eyes were fierce with reassurance. "I promise you, Ulfat. I’ll come back. Thodi der ki baat hai, inauguration khatam hote hi main seedha ghar aunga."
He gave her hand one final, reassuring squeeze before finally pulling away. He stood up, stepping out of the warm sanctuary of the bed and stepping into his uniform. Ulfat sat frozen, wrapped in the blankets, watching him move. It felt as though a strange, blurring mist was entering the room. Within moments, he had adjusted his vest, grabbed his keys, and walked out the door.
As the door clicked shut, it felt to Ulfat as if he had vanished completely from her eyesight, leaving behind an unbearable, echoing emptiness. The house downstairs suddenly fell quiet as the front door slammed, signaling the departure of Rehman and the boys.
The room felt colder now, the amber sunlight suddenly feeling bleak and distant. Ulfat pulled her knees up to her chest, staring at the empty space on the bed beside her where his warmth still lingered. The phantom sensation of his lips on her forehead felt like a fragile shield against a storm she couldn't see but could deeply feel.
Clutching his pillow tight against her chest, inhaling the last traces of his scent, she closed her eyes. The silence of the room pressed heavily against her ears, and in a voice that was nothing more than a broken breath, she whispered to the empty air:
"Aaj jaane ki zid na karo, Rehman..."
(Let me know if you want to get tagged💜 untagged 🤍)
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Ulfat’s head was resting comfortably on Rehman’s broad chest, a familiar sanctuary where the chaotic noise of the outside world always seemed to fade away. Their limbs were tangled together in a lazy, intimate embrace, a silent protest against the ticking clock. Downstairs, the muffled sounds of the boys getting ready echoed through the house, hurried footsteps and excited chatter about the event of water pipeline inauguration. It was a major event . He was already running late. Yet, he remained still, holding her just a little tighter, trapped in the gravitational pull of a morning he didn't want to leave.
"Jaan, mujhe deri ho rahi hai. Main jau?" Rehman’s voice was a low, gravelly murmur against the quiet of the room. He leaned down, pressing a tender, lingering kiss against her temple, his breath warm against her skin.
Ulfat didn’t move. Instead, she tightened her grip on his torso, burying her face deeper into his chest, inhaling the comforting, familiar scent of colonge . "Rehman," she whispered. The syllable carried the weight of an unspoken plea, heavy and fragile all at once.
"Bolo, meri jaan," he replied softly, his fingers gently tracing the curve of her shoulder, smoothing down her tangled hair.
"Aaj rehne do na... mat jao," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the distant commotion of the boys downstairs.
Rehman shifted, rolling onto his side so he could look at her properly. Ulfat finally tilted her head up, her dark eyes locking onto his. There was an unusual, heavy anxiety swirling in her gaze, a shadow that didn't belong in the serene warmth of their bedroom.
He smiled softly, though a flicker of reluctance crossed his features. "Jana to hoga na, Ulfat. Sab intezar kar rahe hain."
"Please," she whispered again. This time, her fingers clamped onto the fabric of his shirt, anchoring him to the mattress. A sudden, unexplainable dread had taken root in her chest, tightening with every passing second.
Rehman let out a soft sigh, half-amused, half-pained by how difficult she was making it for him to step out the door. He rubbed the small of her back, trying to inject a sense of casual normalcy into the air. "Aise kyun kar rahi ho? Main kaunsa kabhi vapis nahi aunga," he said casually, offering a small, reassuring smile as he began to gently disengage himself to get out of bed.
She grabbed his arm with both hands, pulling him back toward her with a strength born of pure desperation. "Aisi batein matt kiya karo!" she said, her voice cracking with raw emotion. "Meri jaan niklti hai, Rehman. Dobara kabhi aise mat kehna."
Rehman froze, he looked into her eyes and saw the genuine terror flashing within them. For a long, breathless moment, they simply stared at each other. The silence between them grew profound, heavy with things left unsaid, as if the universe itself was pausing to witness their silent exchange.
Seeing her distress, Rehman’s expression softened . He cupped her face in his large hands, his thumbs wiping away a tear she hadn't even realized had escaped. He leaned in and pressed a firm, sacred kiss right onto her forehead, holding it there for a long moment, sealing a silent vow.
When he pulled back, his eyes were fierce with reassurance. "I promise you, Ulfat. I’ll come back. Thodi der ki baat hai, inauguration khatam hote hi main seedha ghar aunga."
He gave her hand one final, reassuring squeeze before finally pulling away. He stood up, stepping out of the warm sanctuary of the bed and stepping into his uniform. Ulfat sat frozen, wrapped in the blankets, watching him move. It felt as though a strange, blurring mist was entering the room. Within moments, he had adjusted his vest, grabbed his keys, and walked out the door.
As the door clicked shut, it felt to Ulfat as if he had vanished completely from her eyesight, leaving behind an unbearable, echoing emptiness. The house downstairs suddenly fell quiet as the front door slammed, signaling the departure of Rehman and the boys.
The room felt colder now, the amber sunlight suddenly feeling bleak and distant. Ulfat pulled her knees up to her chest, staring at the empty space on the bed beside her where his warmth still lingered. The phantom sensation of his lips on her forehead felt like a fragile shield against a storm she couldn't see but could deeply feel.
Clutching his pillow tight against her chest, inhaling the last traces of his scent, she closed her eyes. The silence of the room pressed heavily against her ears, and in a voice that was nothing more than a broken breath, she whispered to the empty air:
"Aaj jaane ki zid na karo, Rehman..."
(Let me know if you want to get tagged💜 untagged 🤍)
here it is @mcdreamyshepherd as requested. tried to do as best as i can, at first i didn't include the 'saari duniya se jeet ke aya hoon' lyrics part as it is most used in many reel edits already but then i couldn't resist the temptation👉👈, i mean the lyrics r so them coded🤌. Thanks for requesting this one.🙌
Hey. So I have a question that there are lots of fics of Uzair but I cannot find any of "Danish". Can you help me out if there is some? And if not, then maybe you can write it 😝
Uh, well, I haven't come across any fic on Danny either, so I honestly don't know if there are any.
Sweetheart, I really can't write one on him. I'm not that much into Uzair either, so writing about him is already pretty rare for me and Danish toh humse bilkul hi na ho payega 🤧 I hope you don't mind.
Also, the comment box is open — if anybody know any fic on Danish, feel free to share it there!
One song that reminds you of Ulfat after Rehman's death
Okay so the song Charkha , reminds me of her. I know it's a little off topic but here's my personal interpretation of the lyrics.
Let me explain you how :
Ve mahiya tere vekhn nu chuk charkha gali de vich davan
Here, Charkha does not merely represent the spinning wheel. In Baba Bulleh Shah's poetry, it serves as a symbol of the human body. The rhythmic sound of the spinning wheel while spinning thread (katna) resembles the continuous flow of human breath. Therefore, in my interpretation, when she takes her Charkha to his grave, means bringing her own self—her body and soul , in the hope of encountering him once more, even if only for a fleeting glimpse.
Ve lokan pane main kat di , tand teri yaadan de pawan
People think that I am merely spinning the wheel, breathing as usual. What they do not realize is that with every breath I take, I remember only you.
Babul di son jee nayio lagda , Dahda saik ishq di aag da , ve mayia mera jee karda ghar chhad ke malang ho javan
Babul means father (I am taking it as the world here) . She swears by the world and confesses that she cannot live without her beloved. Life no longer feels the same in his absence, and the fire of love burning within her leaves her restless and unable to live in peace. Overwhelmed by longing, she wishes she could abandon everything that binds her and return to him once again.
Wasan nai dende , saure peke , mainu tere pen bhulkhe , hun mainu das mahiya tere bajo kidar nu javan ?
The responsibilities of life, the demands of the world, and the ties that still bind me prevent me from leaving everything behind and coming to you. I see your presence in everything around me, every sight and every thought becomes a reminder of you. Tell me, where am I supposed to go without you? How am I meant to endure this separation and learn to live with your absence?
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I’m still a beginner in animation, so these aren’t perfect, but creating them gives me so much satisfaction. I started making these exactly one month ago, on May 4.The very first animation I made was of my Rehmat ❤️
Summary: Badhai Ho AU, based on this anon I got. Naeeim is alive, Hamza isn't a spy, there's no ISI/Iqbal angle (basically everything is good and nothing hurts).
A/N: I've tried to make it funny but humour really isn't my forte, angst is, so idk if it came across. Typed on my phone so forgive any errors. Gets a bit serious briefly but otherwise happy. TW: Discussions of abortion.
Taglist: @shippingtheshippers @geometric-circle @gloomilyblazingvoyage @strawbxx-blog @sonakshiss @isthisonetaken12321 @rini4everdreaming @tanipartner @constantlytimelessparallaxe @lessbutliving @ib-gremlin @rehmanhatesdosa @niyadarealart @vakalatnelagadiye @desigurlie @meraki-ii @mischiefmanaged666 @eternityuniversemaybee @maystella @chunkychocosblog (my taglist is an absolute mess so forgive me if I forgot someone. Let me know if anyone wants to be added or removed.)
Also, they were getting old. Grey hairs and the occasional wrinkle had long since stopped being surprising. They were nearly fifty, for heaven's sake. So when her bleeding didn't come for a couple of months, she just assumed... well, forty-seven was a bit young to enter menopause, but it was hardly unheard of. It wasn't the best time- she knew this change came with mood swings and Faizal was giving his board exams next year so God help them- but it was what it was. One couldn't exactly bargain with nature.
She really should. It wasn't like it was the first time, or even the second. One would think that after having gone through this twice before she would be more than familiar with the early signs. In her defence, though, that had all been years ago. Honestly it felt like ages ago, some days. Sixteen years was quite a long time.
But then her dresses started feeling a little tight around the chest, her everyday morning tea made her stomach roll with nausea and Rehman's familiar aftershave- the same one he'd been using for over ten years- smelt like the worst thing in the world, and a small, terrifying doubt crept into her mind.
They were careful, or at least they tried to be, but she would be lying if she said this wasn't possible. They did slip up at times. After Hamza's walima, for instance... Rehman had been all over her that evening, whatever inhibitions he pretended to have in society ripped away by the alcohol. She hadn't stopped him either; he had looked entirely too delicious in that black sherwani for her to not give in. And his little dance- hair dishevelled, the pleased smile, the sparkle in his eyes as they met hers... well, she was no saint. If he wanted to worship her body, then she was only too willing to let him.
All that to say, it was quite possible that she was pregnant. Again.
Fuck.
They had no business having another child at this age. Rehman would be fifty by the time this one was born. They had a son old enough to get married and have his own family. Hell, this all probably started at the walima of a boy who was like their adopted son in the first place.
There was no use panicking, though. Not without confirmation at least. She pulled aside a servant she knew would be discreet and told her to get her a pregnancy test from the medical store. The girl's wide eyes at the order and the suppressed giggles as she handed the kit over told her exactly how the news would be received.
God, she hadn't even thought about that. How would they break the news to the others? What would their sons feel about it? She stared at the seconds ticking down on the timer as she tried to imagine how they would react. She could already hear Naeeim's dry jokes and see Uzair bumbling awkwardly as he tried to figure out what to say. Faizal would probably be the only one happy about it, relieved the attention would be off him and his grades for a while.
And outside... no. She didn't even want to think about that. She didn't care much for society's opinions, but that didn't mean she wanted to hear whispers and snickers following her either. Thankfully, the timer went off and she whispered a small prayer as she checked the result, hoping against hope that-
Rehman opened his mouth to speak, found that he did not know what words to use, and closed it again. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, as if that would help him decide what to do, or everything would suddenly be revealed to be a dream. When Ulfat had dragged him to their room after dinner because she needed to discuss something important, he would never have guessed that she wanted to talk about this. He had thought it was an excuse for pleasurable activity, only to have cold water dashed against his building hopes.
Come to think of it, that kind of behaviour was probably exactly what had led them to this.
Ulfat lost patience with his muteness. "Rehman," she hissed. "Kuchh to bolo."
Rehman tried to figure out what to say, but nothing came to mind. He finally managed to croak, "K- kaise?"
The stupidity of the question struck him the moment the word left his mouth. Unfortunately, it was too late to take it back.
"'Kaise?' Ab kaise hota hai samjhau?" Oh, she was pissed off. He should probably be careful about how he spoke.
"Nahi, mera matlab..." he smoothed a crease in his kurta to buy himself time. "Abhi?"
"Nahi, mujhe sapne me aaya ki agle mahine ye sab hoga- peekar aaye ho tum??"
"Arre mujhpe kyu gussa ho rahi ho?"
"Tumse hi to roka nahi ja raha tha uss din!"
Well, that was unfair. "Achha? Aur tum to sharmati kamsin kali hi ho na? Maine bola aur gir gayi meri baahon me?" Sarcasm was probably not the best choice when dealing with his angry (and pregnant) wife but putting out fires- both literal and metaphorical- wasn't exactly what he was known for. He usually was the cause of the fires.
Including this one.
"Ab yaha tu-tu mai-mai karna hai?"
"Tumne shuru kiya! Mai-"
The look Ulfat gave him made him shut up immediately. "Aage kya kare?" She asked.
Rehman ran a hand through his hair. He loved his children with all his heart, he truly did, and in his opinion each child they had was a blessing. But they were too old for this. He could feel himself slowing down, having to work twice as hard to keep up with the younger boys in his gang. Some of his old wounds were making themselves known again these days, a dull throb spreading through his left leg and his shoulders during rain and cold weather. Ulfat too- she no longer had the energy to stay awake late into the night the way she could when their sons were babies, and he could see her squinting to read things, even if she insisted she didn't need glasses. Could they really deal with a baby at this age? Hamza's wedding was in July... that meant this child would be born in March. He'd be a bloody senior citizen by the time the kid turned ten.
And that was if things went well. He was no doctor but he knew that pregnancies got more complicated with age. Naeeim and Faizal had been hard enough for her. And now... a sudden fear that he couldn't bear to voice gripped his heart. He didn't want this child. Not at the cost it might extract.
Twenty-five years of marriage had led to the point that they could often have entire conversations without uttering a single word. Ulfat knew what he was about to suggest from the steely look in his eyes before he had even said anything. "Nahi," she said.
"Ulfat." It felt odd. He rarely addressed her by her name, nearly always calling her jaan. "Tum jaanti ho hamari umar nahi rahi... iska school-college hone tak ham sattar ke ho jayenge. Dada banne ki umar me baap fir se..."
"Pata hai." She sounded tired. "Tumhe kya lagta hai, maine ye sab nahi socha?"
"To fir-"
"Mujhe waqt do." He could hear the reluctance in her voice loud and clear. Her fingers flexed over her stomach protectively. Heaven help him, it looked like she had become fond of the idea of the child in the brief hours between her discovery and his return home. She always did get attached rather quickly- she had practically adopted Uzair within fifteen minutes of meeting him. And he knew all too well that it only grew stronger with time.
"Jaan, hame-"
"Mujhe waqt do," she repeated firmly. "Mujhe sochna padega."
Another time, he would have relented. Now, he wasn't sure he could afford to. "Isme sochne jaisa kya hai? Ham nahi-"
"Maine kaha na abhi nahi!" She snapped at him, anger sparking in her eyes. "Tumne do minato me tay kar liya-"
"To chaar-paanch ghante baad batana chahiye tha?" Irritation prickled under his skin. "Naeeim ke waqt hi tumhe itni takleef hui thi, uske baad Faizal... aur ab teesra? Wo bhi iss umar me?"
"Kya lagta hai, mera dimaag khali hai? Mujhe yaad nahi? Lekin... lekin man nahi maan raha."
"Ab man ke hisab se nahi na hoti ye baatein..."
"Par suno to." She squeezed his hand. "Ek chhota sa bachcha, hamara bachcha. Naeeim aur Faizal ne itni khushi di hai hame, ye kyu nahi? Aur socho, ladki hui to..."
She longed for a girl, he knew. She loved their sons, but their household had always been rather overflowing with men. Uzair's marriage had brought Ayesha into their household, but the ratio was still heavily skewed in favourite of males. "Naeeim ka nikaah kara dete hain, fir uske bachchon ko sambhal lena."
She snatched her hand away. "Gadhon jaisi baatein mat karo. Bachcha hai abhi bhi wo. Aur beti aur poti me fark nahi dikhta tumhe?"
"Ek ko hame sambhalkar badha karna padta hai aur dusre ke saath sirf khelkar khush karna padta hai? Jab rone lage to uske ma-baap ke haathon me thama sakte hai saaf karne." He was not interested in dealing with diaper changes again, thank you very much. "Aur Naeeim chaubees ka hone ko aaya hai. Bachcha nahi hai wo. Uske nikaah ke liye shahbaale ka intezaam kar rahi ho kya?"
"Tumhe ye sab mazaak lag raha hai?" Well, he had clearly failed in his attempt at not angering her. "Tumhara lateefay sunane ka mood hai? Ek kaam karo, jao Uzair aur Hamza ke saath baithkar jee bharke has lo. Waise bhi tumse serious baat karna hi bekaar hai."
"Maine serious baat kahi to tum naraaz ho gayi-"
"Kyunki tumhare liye to asaan hai na?" Her eyes had a faint sheen to them that he knew meant she was trying to hold back her tears. She was usually too proud to cry in front of anyone, even him, but pregnancy hormones made her emotional. "Khatam kar do bachche ko-"
"Aise bol rahi ho jaise paida ho bhi gaya-"
"Hoga!"
"Shayad na bhi-"
"Nikal jao!" She pointed at the door. "Yaha nahi sona aaj! Jao kahi aur."
"Lekin jaan-"
"Out!" She threw his pillow at him, hands shaking with rage. Rehman caught it and stepped out before she decided to throw something less soft.
She slammed the door in his face and shut the bolt. He groaned and let his head fall against the wood with a thud. He would have to make it up to her somehow and convince her to listen to him, and he had no idea where to even begin. He heard footsteps coming up the stairs and turned to see Uzair crossing the corridor. He looked at the pillow in Rehman's hand and the shut door and grinned. "Bhabhi ne nikal diya aapko?"
"Tere se kya matlab?"
"Kya kar diya aapne unko khafa karne, bhai?" Uzair leaned against the wall next to him. "Bahar nikaal diya matlab kuchh bada hi ghapla kar diya hoga."
Rehman was seriously considering using one of his slippers to smack his cousin. (Yes, he needed them to keep his feet from getting cold on the bare floors, he was getting old, thank you very much). "Zyaada daant mat dikha saale. Tujhe kuchh kaam nahi hai?"
"Nahi, sab ho gaya." He yawned and stretched lazily. "Mai to chala sone. Apne khud ke kamre me," he added mockingly as he quickly walked away.
If Rehman didn't need this specific pillow to avoid getting a crick in his neck (and wasn't that more evidence they were getting old), he would have thrown it at Uzair. Instead he mentally made a note to assign Uzair to the docks to haul cargo tomorrow and made his way to the guest wing.
The ceiling fan whirred above as he laid on the bed and tried to sleep. Years of working long nights and trips to Balochistan had made him accustomed to sleeping alone and in unfamiliar beds, but he still disliked it. He liked his own bed, with the old mattress indented to his shape, and Ulfat close by. And today, especially, with all the thoughts and fears of this new child plaguing him, sleep proved elusive, leaving him tossing and turning for hours.
Taking care of the child would be tough, but they would have help, he rationalised. If they passed away before it grew up- unlikely, but one never knew in this profession- Uzair and Ayesha would step in. And Naeeim and Faizal would love their younger sibling with all their hearts- Naeeim was far too serious for his age anyways and Faizal was mischievous but he was a good boy. The child would never not know love. No, that was not the part he worried about now that he had time to think of it. But he remembered how tired Ulfat used to get when she was carrying their sons, the weeks of sickness, how thin she had gotten at points, and how terrifyingly pale and cold she had been when Naeeim was born and the doctor said they barely managed to stop the haemorrhaging.
He would rather slit his own throat than admit it, but he was sure he had sobbed in front of the kindly old man.
Rehman was well acquainted with calculating risks against benefits, and this one was obvious- a hypothetical child they never wanted wasn't worth risking his wife. But then... Faizal. They hadn't planned for him either. And yet Rehman couldn't bear to think of living without him. He tried to imagine some world where his younger son didn't exist, and it felt like a piece of his heart was being torn away.
He was staring at the wall and ruminating on these thoughts when he heard a creaking sound as the door opened. He felt the bed dip on the other side and Ulfat's arms encircle him. "Neend nahi aa rahi thi?" He asked as he turned.
"Nahi." She shuffled closer and made herself comfortable in his arms. He smiled and kissed her forehead. It was a little silly perhaps, especially after so many years of marriage, but he liked to hear that his wife needed him.
"To meri sazaa khatam?"
She sighed. "Mujhe itna bhi gussa nahi sona chahiye tha. Samajhdari ki hi baat keh rahe the." He knew her well enough to know that this- coming to find him and admitting that he was correct in a way- was her way of apologising. He also knew her well enough to know that there was a 'but' coming. "Lekin mujhe ye bachcha chahiye." And there it was.
"Ulfat-"
"Mujhe chahiye," she said in a tone that said her mind was made up. He could get the whole world to convince her that he was correct and she would still refuse to listen. Stubborn woman. It was a quality he had very much appreciated when she ran away from her family to marry him despite everyone saying he was no good for her, but not when it was coming to bite him back in the arse.
Rehman fell silent. No amount of arguing or begging would change her mind. She would just pull away from him and resent him for it- she hadn't set foot in her childhood home since the day she fled. She had tried once, attempting to introduce their grandson to her parents after Naeeim was born, but it had gone badly. She refused to tell him exactly what had happened, but she never talked about her family ever again. He was the one known for his temper and horrifying executions, but at least he calmed down once he was done with his revenge. His wife on the other hand, could hold on to a grudge for a long, long time. She did not forget, and she certainly did not forgive. Especially when it came to the topic of their children. If she had already decided to have this child and he kept pushing her... "Mai kal chhutti leta hoon, hum doctor ke paas jaate hain. Dekhte hain wo kya kehta hai." Maybe if the doctor insisted, he could convince her. Maybe.
He decided not to test his luck any further- this was the closest he would get to a compromise today, or he would be sleeping alone again. He reached out to loop his arm around her waist, only for her to smack his fingers away.
Ulfat gave him a long hard look, as if she knew what he was thinking and didn't approve of it. "Theek hai."
They lay next to each other in silence for a while, the rotating of the fan and the chirping of crickets the only sound in the night. "Tumhe sachmuch ye bachcha nahi chahiye?" She asked quietly. He could hear the hurt in her voice.
Rehman squeezed her hand. "Aisa nahi hai. Chahiye. Sach me. Lekin... Tumhe dhoke me daalkar nahi."
"Kuchh nahi hoga."
Rehman hummed noncommittally. "Jo bhi doctor kahenge, ham sunkar fir tay karenge theek hain?"
She considered it. "Dekhte hain."
He drew his hand back in surprise. "Jaan?"
"Haath apne paas rakho," she said. "Tumhari inhi harkaton ki wajah se ye sab shuru hua."
"Mai to bas sone hi ja raha tha!"
"Jo bhi ho. Haath dur rakhna. Aur darwaze ki kundi lagane ke baare me socha bhi to kamra chhodo, ghar ke bahar kar dungi."
"Mai neki se so raha tha," he grumbled. "Tum hi aa gayi idhar, ab keh rahi ho door jao. Raat ke baara baje ye kaisa khel hai?
"Tum door raho, bas," she ordered. "Ek to meri hamesha ki chai nahi seh pa rahi mai, uske upar ab mere saare kapde tight honge, aur pata nahi kya..."
"Tum hi to ye bachcha ke liye mere se ladh rahi thi na? Mujhe kyu suna rahi ho?"
"Kyunki maze tumne bhi liye aur bachche ko tumhara naam milega lekin takleefein sirf mujhko sehni padh rahi hain. To mai jo man me aaye bolungi aur tum sunoge, samjhe?"
"Achha theek hai, theek hai meri jaan. Jaise tum chaho." A spark of mischief entered his eyes. "Lekin ye door rehne me ab kya fayda?" He wrapped an arm around her and tugged her close. "Waise bhi jo hona tha wo ho gaya."
He leaned in for a kiss, only to be shoved away. "Kya kar rahe ho-"
He was shaking with laughter. "Ab hum kuchh kar bhi de, to ek ki jagah judwa thodi paida honge-"
"Besharam! Tumhare jitna dheeth aadmi nahi dekha zindagi me- kitna hasoge khud ke hi lateefe par?"
It was late in the evening when Uzair stumbled back home, looking dead on his feet from a long day of work. He made a beeline for where Ulfat was sitting on the couch, helping Faizal with his math lessons, and dropped down next to her. "Bhabhi," he groaned. "Samjha dijiye aapke shohar ko. Zara sa mazaak kya kar diya, ye to seedha saza dene par hi aa jaate hain. Unko pata tha aaj bada shipment aa raha hai aur mujhe samaan uthane ka kaam de diya. Meri peeth itni dard ho rahi hai-"
Hamza, who had entered behind Uzair quietly, scoffed. "Zyadatar waqt to bhai ki shikayat me hi gawa raha tha tu. Tera aadhe se zyaada hissa maine uthaya. Dramebaaz kahika."
"Chup kar saale! Das saal chhota hai, uske upar aadmi hai ya truck samajh nahi aata kabhi-kabhi, tujhe kyu takleef hogi? Thodi der ruk, fir tera bhi haal dekh lenge."
"Achha to matlab tere liye buzurgkhana dhundhne ka waqt aa chuka hai?"
Rehman and Naeeim had been discussing work just beyond the door, and entered the room upon hearing the commotion. Rehman laughed. "Buzurg? Ye pehle badha to ho jaaye! Aate hi meri shikayat karne lagta hai Ulfat ke paas- Faizal ki umar ka hai kya tu?"
Faizal looked at his father with a wounded expression. "Abbu maine kya kiya?"
Ulfat decided to stop the discussion before it could spiral further. It was truly a wonder how these men got anything done at work with how they managed to wander so far from the point while talking. "Arre lekin aisa kya kar diya jo Rehman ne tumhe itna samaan uthane ka kaam diya?"
A wicked grin spread across Uzair's face. Rehman raised a finger in warning. "Ek lafz bhi agar muh se nikala-"
"Wo mai kal raat ko apne kamre sone ja raha tha-" Uzair stood up to keep distance between himself and his approaching brother. "Aur seedhiyon se upar jau to kya dikhe, Bhai apne-"
"Saale kal to tujhse poori factory ke gusalkhane saaf karwaunga-"
"Bhabhi bachao!" Ulfat let out a yelp of surprise as Uzair jumped over the couch to hide behind her, barely his feet just barely missing her shoulder in the process.
"Abey sambhal ke!" Rehman yelled, genuine panic in his voice. "Pagal ho gaya hai kya? Kahi use lag jaati to?"
Sensing humour giving way to anger, Ulfat grabbed Rehman's hand. "Kuchh nahi hua, Rehman." Uzair knew what he was doing- he had never hurt any of them during his antics, intentionally or unintentionally. But Rehman tended to get annoyingly overprotective when she was pregnant, treating her like she was made of glass, practically hovering over her, creating a fuss if there was the smallest mishap. She had been quite ready to strangle him six months into her second one. He glared at his brother.
Uzair seemed to take the hint. "Sorry," he muttered. He was always attuned to his cousin's moods, even if he didn't understand the cause of them.
Naeeim, sharp-eyed as ever, looked between his parents consideringly. He had immediately clocked that there was something off. "Abba," he asked slowly. "Sab... theek hai na?"
Ulfat gave Rehman a look of exasperation. Look what you've done. You're scaring the children. He looked completely unapologetic. "Haan, sab theek hai beta."
Naeeim didn't buy it. "Ammi? Aapki tabeeyat achhi hai na? Kuchh-"
"Nahi, kuchh nahi-"
"To fir abbu aise kyu gussa ho gaye? Pichhli baar jab aisa kar rahe the tab aapko malaria ho gaya tha..."
"Zara thaki-si lag rahi hain aap, chahe to doctor ke paas chalte hain-" Uzair said.
We already went to the doctor today, thought Ulfat. He had been cautious, but told them the signs looked good and they could let nature take its course with the kid. He'd emphasised constantly monitoring her health considering their age, but had otherwise seen no issues. Rehman had glared at him like he was trying to set the man alight through sheer will, but Ulfat hadn't made it all these years around his gang and their family without developing a more terrifying look of her own. The poor man had been sweating bullets by the time they left.
One could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed. Ulfat could hear the clock from the next room ticking for nearly a minute straight without interruption. Nobody said a word. Uzair blinked and looked at the others, as if trying to determine he had heard correctly. "Kya?"
"Arre kaha na maine ki kuchh nahi hua hai?" Rehman said irritably. "Sirf sambhalke koodne ko kaha to kya tamasha kar rahe ho sab-" He saw the unconvinced expressions on everyone's faces. "Sach me, tumhari ammi bilkul theek hai," he said in a calmer voice. He glanced at Ulfat and shrugged. Might as well get the announcement over with, was the silent message. "Bas pet se hai."
"Behra hai kya? Pet se hai."
Naeeim opened his mouth, then reconsidered, and closed it again, before finally managing to ask, "K- kaise?"
Ulfat slapped her forehead. Good lord, it wasn't enough for the boy to look like his father, he had to act like him too. Rehman seemed to be thinking the same thing, because she saw the corner of his mouth twitch upward just for a moment. "Ab kaise matlab... jaise hota hai waise?" He looked at Ulfat. "Iski nikaah ki umar ho gayi, abhi tak kaise hota hai kisi ne bataya nahi?"
"Abbu!" Naeeim and Faizal clapped their hands over his ears in panic, giving him horrified looks.
Rehman pointed at Faizal. "Isko kisne bataya??"
Uzair suddenly let out a snort of laughter, gripping the back of the couch as his shoulders shook. "Uzair?"
"Sorry bhabhi lekin-" he wiped the tears from his eyes, unable to hold back his laughter. "-mujhe achanak samajh aaya kal raat Bhai ko kamre se dafa kyu kar diya tha."
"Bhai ko..." even Hamza let out a quiet chuckle, stifling it when Rehman turned to glare at him.
"Ye planned tha ya..." Naeeim looked at them in bewilderment. "Mera matlab, iss umar me?" Seeing the awkward looks on his parents were giving each other, he buried his face in his hands. "Mujhe koi bleach do." Uzair was still struggling to contain his humour. "Chachu, itna bhi hasne jaisa nahi hai."
"Haan, seriously to lena chahiye." Uzair patted his nephew on the shoulder. "Lekin pehli baar thodi hua hai, ye Faizal bhi to aise hi hua tha."
"Mai-" Faizal looked like he didn't know whether to be surprised or horrified.
"Faizal bhi-" Naeeim seemed to be questioning his whole life. "Matlab ye aisa ek baar already ho chuka hai? Aur fir bhi- Abba aapko zara sa bhi kaabu nahi hai khud par?"
Rehman was indignant. "Abba? Arre sab dosh mere pe kyu de rahe hain? Taali Ek haath se bajti hai? Teri ammi bhi yahi hai, use koi kuchh nahi keh raha-"
Naeeim sank to his knees. "No. Nahi. Ab bleach se kaam nahi chalega. Chachu mere liye acid dhundh lo, usme hi apna bheja pighla dunga. Nahi chahiye thi itni jaankaari."
"Yaar itni bhi nautanki mat kar." Uzair hauled the boy up. "Sach kahu to mujhe samajh nahi aa raha ki ye aur pehle kaise nahi hua. Inki sirf do auladein hain yahi hairat ki baat thi itne saalon se-"
A/N: Not my best work but I wrote half of this on a plane and I've read and reread it so many times I cannot do better. Dunno if there's going to be a part 2, so yeah this is it for now. Hope it was worth it lol.
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Rehman rested his chin on Ulfat’s head, his voice a low, soothing hum as he sang a familiar, half-forgotten tune. Ulfat leaned into him heavily, her eyes fixed on the night sky, though she wasn't really looking at the stars. She was looking at the way the moonlight caught the edge of Rehman's smile.
"They look peaceful tonight," Ulfat whispered, gesturing vaguely to the sky. "The stars."
"hmm, but they feel like distraction," Rehman murmured, his hand tracing down her arm to rest gently over the prominent swell of her stomach. "The real stars are right here. In your eyes. And this little one."
As if on cue, a slow, lazy kick ripple beneath Rehman’s palm.
Rehman gasped softly, his smile widening as he pressed his hand a little firmer. "Look at that. Even the baby agrees with his father. He’s already got his mother’s stubborn timing."
Ulfat laughed, a sound so pure it momentarily drowned out the noise of the city below. "He’s going to be just like you. Always demanding attention." She turned her face up to him, nudging his shoulder. "You know, Rehman. I’ve gotten far too used to you. If you ever decide to wander off too far, I won't survive. I'll simply forget how to breathe."
"Then it's a good thing I'm not going anywhere meri jaan " Rehman replied softly, kissing her forehead. "We have a whole lifetime to figure out. We’ll sit on this very swing when our hair is white, complaining about our knees, watching our baby bring his own children up here. The wars will end, Ulfat. But this? You and me? This is the only truth ."
The swing creaked with an agonizing, solitary rhythm, the full moon hung in the exact same spot in the sky, casting the same silver glow over the rooftop.
Ulfat sat alone, her arms wrapped around her own torso, hugging a void that time could never fill. The streets below were still loud, still dangerous, but the silence on the rooftop was deafening.
She looked up at the stars— the same stars Rehman had once dismissed as a mere distraction. He had called their love, their future, the only truth. But as the cold night wind swept across the empty seat beside her, a bitter tear slipped down her cheek.
The beautiful, fragile life they had dreamed of that night hadn't just been broken; it had been shattered into a thousand pieces, scattered by the very violence they thought they could ignore. Her husband was gone. Her boy, Naieem, who had once kicked so lazily beneath his father's hand was grown and caught in the jaws of a reality they couldn't protect him from.
Looking at the empty space beside her, Ulfat hummed the same song "Bade acche lagte hai - ye dharti , ye nadiya , ye raina, aur — "
" Aur ?"
(let me know if you want to get tagged💜/untagged🤍)
