Asfi Zubiya |Shaadi Mubarak: The Wedding Story| Chapter 10 on Pg 12 - Page 8

Zubiya stared at the mirror with awe, she was finding it hard to meet eyes with her reflection. They were angled in such an intimate position. He stood behind her, his left arm wound around her waist, his right arm tightly clutching her hand, his face buried between the waves of her hair. She could feel the heat of his breath against the hollow of her neck. It seemed like he was standing still, unmoving. As if he was inhaling a divine scent that was feeding his soul right to its core.

Sensing his stillness for a few moments, Zubiya turned around in his arms, her movement causing him to lift his head slightly. His hands had settled at the sides of her waist now, their bodies barely inches apart. When she finally dared to look up, she was met with a smoldering pair of eyes set upon her, unblinking. Awareness spread through her body like the rapid waves of a summer sea, alerting her limbs, her conscience. As if by the mere force of nature, her hands travelled upwards, settling on his chest. The warmth of his body and the fuzzy feel of his chest hair under the thin kurta made her knees tingle with nervousness. She looked back into his eyes with equal focus.

Zubiya had imagined various instances of closeness and intimacy post their marriage. But never had she grasped the intensity she would feel in that moment. A moment where she felt her insides melting, her heart racing, her fingertips icy cold. The more she repeated it, the more she believed in it, this man had the power to do things to her which she had never considered possible.

Asfandyar bent his head towards her. His lips softly settled at the centre of her forehead. After prolonging the subtle kiss for a few moments, he sighed and stepped back.

"Zubiya, bohat late hogaya hai tum change kar lo," he told her.

A little amused by his change of mood, Zubiya smiled and nodded.

He watched her reach the wardrobe and scramble through it, looking for a change of clothes. She carefully chose a white shalwar and a pale pink kameez. Finally, she picked up a flowy white dupatta and headed towards the bathroom.

"Tum raat ko bhi dupatta pehen ke soti ho?" He asked from behind.

Her lips stretched into a smile, trying to keep a straight face at his question.

"I mean I'm just asking out of curiosity, don't get my intentions wrong," he said, his eyes sparkling.

"You said you were full of surprises, now it's my turn," she laughed. "And by the way, mujhe aap ki intentions ka bohat ache se pata hai," she added.

Just as she was about to close the bathroom door, she heard him say, "Oho, main tou itna shareef hun."

****

Asfandyar was half lying-half sitting on the couch in their room. He had already changed into his comfortable black shalwar kameez, waiting for his wife to freshen up. In spite of the fatigue that his body felt, his mind was still alert. He had experienced such a variety of emotions today, ranging from extreme happiness, contentment, gratitude to indescribable sorrow.

He wondered what was taking Zubiya so long. Taking off her makeup must have been a real task, he thought to himself. The click of the bathroom door alerted him, and he rearranged himself on the couch, slightly sitting up now.

He noticed her face was scrubbed clean of makeup, her hair combed neatly. The only adornments on her were a few red bangles that she wore, a thin gold chain around her neck and tiny gold studs in her ears. Something about her was oozing the feel of marriage and newness, he could feel it.

"I'm sorry mujhe itni dair lagi, roz roz itna makeup utarne ki aadat nahi hai na," she apologised.

"Sirf tumhare baal kholne main itna time laga tha tou I can only imagine ke makeup ke sath kia hua hoga," he shrugged.

"Aap ne change kab kia?" Zubiya asked.

"Guest room main ja ke," he answered.

"Ohh! Agar koi aap ko guest room main dekh leta tou kehta kitni zaalim biwi hai bechare ki, shaadi ki pehli raat hi room se bahar nikal dia!" She laughed.

He broke into laughter hearing her comment, "Wesay tou ghar main sab so gaye hain, lekin han, agar Gaiti Bhabi ya koi aur mujhe dekh leta tou subah tumhari achi khasi class lag jati."

Zubiya was standing near the couch, folding some clothes. Her face looked exhausted yet vibrant at the same time. Asfi extended his arm to her, asking her to come and sit with him. Pausing to think for a second, she grabbed his hand and lowered herself on to the couch.

She sat a few inches away from him, being used to let him take lead at such instances.

"Idhar aao," he whispered, pulling her closer.

She shifted towards him, holding his hands. It took her a moment to settle into his side, and once she was comfortable, she rested her head near his shoulder. They were sitting in a calm, relaxed position, heads leaning against each other, resting back on the couch. An onlooker may have believed them to be two people inexplicably familiar with each others touch. The way that Zubiya moulded herself into his arms, as if she was meant to fit into his hold.

"Neend nahi arahi aapko?" She asked him.

"Thori thori aarahi hai, lekin aise acha lag raha hai," he replied, looking down at her face.

"Aap roz kitne bajay sote hain?" She asked again.

Smiling, he answered, "Tum se pehle tou around 11 bajay tak so jata tha, except jab hospital ka koi kaam ho," he continued while his hands played with her hair, "Lekin uss ke baad se tou tumse baat karte karte at least 1 baj jate the."

She was listening to him carefully, her large eyes focused on his face. She looked like a goddess in the dim lightning of the room.

Asfi bent towards her face, not giving her any warning. Smoothly, his lips pressed against hers with swift, light pressure. One hand on her waist, the other around her neck, he deepened the kiss, stroking her mouth in slow, devilish motion. He felt her respond by bringing her hands up to his neck, her fingers sinking deep in his hair. The heat of her mouth made his insides feel molten. The tension in their bodies was fiery initially, the need, the urgency. He knew they were trailing around dangerous territory, especially because it was almost morning now. Slowly, he eased the pressure, bringing it down to easy, warm movement. The sweetness that she offered him was making his brain hazy, making it hard for him to think straight. Yet his heart seemed to swell with pride and gratitude at Zubiya's reaction. He felt glad that she was leaving her inhibitions behind and trusting him, not just mentally, but physically also.

Caressing her face each time they ran out of breath, Asfandyar finally withdrew from her mouth and placed a small kiss on her cheek. He smiled at her wholeheartedly and gazed into her eyes dreamily. He couldn't help but wonder what magic must feel like, this was his version of magic.

"I think ab humain sona chaye," he whispered.

Holding hands, Zubiya and Asfi walked towards their bed, lying down on their respective sides. Facing each other, Asfi's hand softly settled at her waist under the folds of the blanket. She clutched his hand in affirmative, trying to get used to this new feel. It may feel a little different at first, she thought to herself, but it was change that she was looking forward to, with all her heart. Each step along the way was going to be a surprise, but she had faith. It was all going to be worth it with Asfandyar by her side.

"Goodnight," she whispered to him, and waited for exhaustion to take over them in the form of sleep.

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