Chapter 7, Two stories
Zeenat was used to waking up at 4 a.m. every day at her father's house, and marriage had not changed that. The moment the clock struck four, she sat up and stretched, her body moving out of habit.
The events of the previous day played in her mind, but she refused to dwell on them.
Allah is with me as long as I rely on him, she reminded herself, just as her brother always told her.
With that thought, she reached for her prayer mat.
The quiet of the house made her miss home for a moment. Back there, she would hear the faint movements of Zayd getting ready for Fajr. But here, in Rayyan's house, everything was still.
She performed her ablution carefully, the cold water jolting her fully awake, then spread her mat and began her prayers. With her forehead pressed to the ground, she whispered her silent duas—prayers for guidance, for her new home, and for her husband.
Once done, she sat for a moment in thought before finally rising to begin her morning routine.
As she stepped out of the room, her eyes traveled over the house. It was undeniably beautiful, with elegant furniture and a sophisticated mix of colors. But something about it felt distant, as though it had been decorated without a woman's touch. Her fingers lightly trailed over the walls as she walked. Outside, she noticed an empty space in the courtyard. Her mind immediately raced with ideas. A small garden, perhaps? A seating area? She would make good use of it one day, but for now, her focus was on her morning tasks.
She moved with practiced ease, starting with the spaces she was accustomed to cleaning even back at home—the sitting area, the hallway, and the entrance. She didn't touch the other rooms, apart from her own, but she made sure the parts of the house she cleaned felt fresh.
Finally, she made her way to the kitchen.
Opening the cabinets, she took stock of what was available, debating what to cook. Just as she was reaching for a bag of rice, the kitchen door swung open, and two women in uniforms stepped inside.
One looked to be in her thirties, the other in her twenties.
"Good morning, ma'am," the older woman greeted with a polite smile.
Zeenat responded to them with a polite, "Morning," wondering who they were.
The younger girl also greeted her warmly.
"I am Salima, and she is Husaina," the older woman introduced. "We are the ones assigned to take care of the household chores inside the house."
Zeenat smiled at them, welcoming them and introducing herself in return.
She turned back to the foodstuffs, scanning the ingredients to decide what to cook, but Salima quickly stepped forward, trying to stop her.
"No, no, ma'am, you should rest. We can handle the cooking," Husaina insisted.
"And why is that?" Zeenat asked, raising an eyebrow. "I want to cook."
Salima hesitated before answering. "It's just... the bride is not expected to cook so soon."
Zeenat ignored that and instead asked, "How long have you both been working here?"
"I have been working here since few months ago, and before that, I worked at Sir Abbas's main house for almost ten years," Salima explained.
"As for me," Husaina added, "I was just employed now that you'll be joining the household."
"How many people live here?" Zeenat asked curiously.
"We are five," Salima replied, "and with you and Sir Rayyan, that makes seven."
Zeenat prepared a meal with Salima and Husaina assisting her, though it quickly became clear that she hardly needed any help. Her movements were swift and precise—years of experience had shaped her into an efficient cook.
She had grown up handling wedding feasts and large gatherings under her stepmother's watch, so this felt like nothing.
Once the dishes were arranged neatly in the dining area, they tidied up before Zeenat headed to her room.
After a refreshing bath, she dressed in a stunning red gown that complemented her complexion. Her long, silky hair, which had always been her pride, was tied elegantly, cascading over her shoulders.
With a final glance in the mirror, she took a deep breath and stepped out of her room.
Zeenat entered the dining room to find Rayyan already seated, dressed in what looked like sportswear—perhaps he had just returned from training even though she didn't know when he left. Salima and Husaina were carefully serving him.
"Good morning," she greeted him softly.
Rayyan's gaze flickered toward her but quickly shifted away, as if dismissing her presence.
Without hesitation, Zeenat stepped forward, gently taking the spoon from Husaina's hands. "I'll do it," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
As she began serving him, Rayyan's voice cut through the air.
"What do you think you're doing?"
She didn't answer, simply continuing her task with quiet determination.
He didn't press further. Instead, he picked up a piece of food with his hand and took a bite.
"Would you like some tea?" Zeenat asked.
Rayyan didn't respond, but she didn't need his response, because—she was already preparing it. Once done, she served herself a portion, taking a seat.
Then she turned to Salima and Husaina. "You both should sit and eat as well," she suggested.
Both women immediately shook their heads, declining the offer. Zeenat noticed how Rayyan's gaze darkened slightly at her words, but he said nothing.
To her surprise, he ate everything she served him—and though leaving the tea untouched.
Rayyan gaze turned to Salima. "Your food tastes better today," he remarked casually.
Salima smiled. "That's because Madam made it herself, not me," she admitted.
The moment those words left her lips, Rayyan's expression shifted. A flicker of embarrassment crossed his face as he turned to Zeenat, who sat there, silently enjoying the moment.
Without a word, he stood up abruptly.
Zeenat watched him, expecting him to head back to their room or the he slept in—but instead, he left the entire house.
She had planned to talk to him today, to at least try to bridge the distance between them. But now, it was obvious—he wasn't leaving because he had somewhere to go. He was leaving because he had unknowingly praised her.
Her chest tightened at the realization. Did he resent her so much that even acknowledging her cooking felt unbearable?
But on his way out, Rayyan gave Salima and Husaina a few instructions, his voice calm and direct. Zeenat sat frozen, the contrast stinging more than she expected.
A bitter thought crept into her mind.
So he could speak to the housemaids but not to her?
Later on, Zeenat stepped into her room, only to find Salima and Husaina silently packing away Rayyan's belongings.
Her chest tightened. So, he was really moving out.
The realization settled heavily in her heart. This was the master bedroom—their room. Yet, instead of sharing a space with her, he would rather leave.
She took a slow, steady breath, forcing down the sting of rejection. But still If that was his choice, then so be it.
Rather than dwell on it, she decided to keep herself busy. Wasting time waiting for Rayyan's acceptance was pointless.
Without a word, she stepped forward and started helping them. Salima and Husaina exchanged uncertain glances but said nothing.
By the time they finished, Zeenat dusted her hands and turned to them.
"Do you have anything else to do now?" she asked.
The two maids looked at each other before shaking their heads. After all, Zeenat had already taken care of most of the housework before they had even woken up.
When Zeenat told them what she wanted to do, both Salima and Husaina instantly disagreed.
"Ma'am," Salima spoke hesitantly, "Sir Rayyan doesn't like his things being touched or changed without his permission."
Salima had known Rayyan for a long time—long enough to understand that even his father or Anaya wouldn't dare alter his space without asking first.
Let alone Zeenat, whom everyone who attended the wedding had heard or witnessed his reluctance to marry her.
"Ma'am, it took me a long time to get this job. I don't want to be fired," Husaina added, her voice laced with worry.
Zeenat sighed, offering them a reassuring smile. "Calm down, nothing will happen. Your job is safe, I promise. Just do as I said."
Though still hesitant, they eventually gave in to her request. With countless complaints along the way, they managed to get everything done.
_____
At night at around 10pm, Rayyan drove home slowly, his grip on the steering wheel tightening with every passing thought. It was bad enough that he had to return to a house where she lived—where he had to see her face every time he walked through the door. The mere thought irritated him.
He parked the car, shutting the door with more force than necessary before making his way inside. But the moment he stepped in, he froze.
His eyes swept across the space, disbelief creeping onto his face.
"Wait… wait, what—?" he muttered under his breath, his expression darkening.
This wasn't his house. At least, not the one he left this morning. Everything was different—the arrangement, the decor, even the atmosphere.
His shock quickly turned to anger.
"Salima!" His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. "Salima!"
Within seconds, Salima and Husaina appeared, already dressed in their nightclothes, their faces laced with unease.
Rayyan turned to them, his jaw clenched. "Who did this?" His voice was dangerously low, his gaze fierce as he pointed at the changed surroundings.
Silence.
No one dared to answer.
His patience snapped. "I said, WHO DID THIS?!" His furious yell echoed through the house, making all of them to flinch.
They knew this was coming. And now, they had no idea how to save themselves.
Salima and Husaina exchanged nervous glances, their hands fidgeting as they stood before Rayyan.
Rayyan's patience was razor-thin. His jaw clenched, fists tightening at his sides. "I won't ask again. Who. Did. This?" His voice cut through the silence like a sharp blade.
Husaina swallowed hard, finally gathering the courage to speak, though her voice was barely above a whisper. "Ma'am... Zeenat did, sir."
Salima shot her a warning look, but it was too late.
Rayyan's expression darkened the moment he heard Zeenat's name. "She did what? Call her. Now." His gaze flickered around the room again, disbelief and irritation swirling in his chest.
Without another word, Salima and Husaina hurried off to Zeenat's room. Salima, still displeased that Husaina had mentioned Zeenat name so easily, muttered under her breath, but there was nothing they could do now.
Rayyan stood in the midst of his altered home, his anger rising with every passing second. The once-familiar space felt foreign. His furniture had been rearranged, the decor altered, and even the smallest details—his personal belongings—had been moved.
It no longer felt like his house.
Minutes ticked by, and when Salima and Husaina returned, they were alone.
Rayyan's eyes narrowed. "Where is she?"
The maids hesitated, shifting uncomfortably.
Finally, Husaina spoke up, her voice cautious. "She's sleeping, sir."
Rayyan's expression twisted. "She's what?" His patience snapped entirely. "Go wake her up."
Salima tugged at Husaina's sleeve, sighing in frustration, before both of them turned back to Zeenat's room.
A few more minutes passed. Then they returned, their heads bowed, avoiding Rayyan's piercing gaze.
His eyes flickered between them, his gut already knowing the answer. Without waiting for an explanation, he stormed upstairs, his anger reaching its peak.
If Zeenat thought she could just sleep through this, she was about to find out how wrong she was.
Zeenat was still sleeping when her door suddenly burst open, the loud noise jolting her awake.
Half-asleep, she groaned and sat up. "Didn't I tell you both to leave me alone? We'll talk tomorrow," she mumbled, assuming it was Salima or Husaina. With a sigh, she fell back onto the bed and pulled the blanket over herself.
But before she could settle in again, a strong hand grabbed her arm.
Startled and frightened, she gasped as she was yanked upright. Before she could process what was happening, Rayyan dragged her out of bed and pulled her straight into the living room. Only when they reached the center of the parlour did he finally let go of her.
The last traces of sleep vanished from Zeenat's eyes.
Rayyan pointed angrily at the transformed space around them. "Look at this!" he snapped. "Is this how I left my house?"
Zeenat's heart pounded at the sheer fury in his voice. She couldn't believe the way he was speaking to her—right in front of the entire household.
Salima, and Husains stood frozen in place, their gazes averted. The humiliation sank deep into Zeenat's chest. Never in her life had she felt so degraded.
"Rayyan, why are you saying this here? Please, let's go inside and talk," Zeenat pleaded, her voice laced with desperation.
She took a hesitant step forward, hoping to calm him down, but he instinctively stepped back, keeping his distance.
The humiliation burned deep, but she tried to push it aside. She had been embarrassed before, but no matter how many times it happened, she could never get used to being spoken to like this—especially in front of others.
When Rayyan refused to move, his expression cold and unyielding, Zeenat took a shaky breath and spoke again calmly.
"Rayyan, I was just trying to make the place more comfortable," she said, her voice uncertain but firm.
"Comfortable?" Rayyan let out a bitter laugh. "I already lost my comfort the moment I married you!" His voice rose, filled with resentment. "Since the day you agreed to this marriage, you've ruined my life. How much more miserable do you plan to make it now?"
His words rang through the house, so loud that Zeenat was sure even the neighbors could hear.
Salima, Husaina, sensing the brewing storm, quickly slipped out of the parlour, leaving Zeenat alone with Rayyan's fury.
"Miserable?" Zeenat repeated, stunned.
The word cut through her like a knife. She stared at Rayyan, unable to believe he would say something so cruel to her.
Her chest tightened, and before she could stop herself, she turned and ran back to her room, tears already stinging her eyes.
"Where are you going? I haven't finished talking!" Rayyan shouted after her.
But she didn't stop.
"Did you just walk away from me?!" he yelled again, his voice echoing through the house.
Zeenat didn't care. She reached her room, slammed the door shut, and locked it. Her knees gave out the moment she reached her bed, and she collapsed onto it, burying her face in the pillow as sobs wracked her body.
She is really trying to make this work.
But now… even she hated this marriage.