A U T H O R

Zeeshan, her brother, who had just returned from a work trip, stared at his house with confusion written all over his face. He was supposed to return after two more days but the call he received earlier that day had forced him to rush back.

'Come back fast, Zeeshan or..... I don't know what is gonna happen.'

That's all the person from the other side had said before the line went silent, adding much to his confusion and dreed.

But rather he was surprised after seeing the way the house was decorated. As though there was some occasion. Was he forgetting anything? He wondered.

Stepping inside further, his eyes caught the sight of one of the old acquaintances as he called out. "Evening, Uncle. Is there some festival that I am not aware about?"

The man standing across him chuckled as he stared at him in disbelief. "Tumhari behen ki shaadi hai aur tumhe hi nahi pata?"

(It's your own sister's wedding and you don't know?)

He stood there, frozen on his spot as the man's words echoed back and forth in his ears. Zahara's wedding? So that was the reason he was asked to return early?

He could barely comprehend the words thrown his way when that man patted him on the shoulder and added. "It's alright. You must have been so busy that it slipped from your mind."

Passing him a small smile as if his words did not knock the air out of Zeeshan's lungs already, the man went away while he was left there, all dumbfounded.

'Slipped from his mind?' It wasn't something that could happen when it's related to his sisters.

It all made sense to him now. His father's constantly asking him when he'd be returning. Neglecting or ignoring every time he asked him to let him have a word with Zahara.

How could he? Zeeshan was out for barely a week and he......His mind buzzed, connecting all the dots as he straightaway ran inside.

"Abba? Where are you?" He called out, his ears buzzed with the intensity of his own blood roaring through his veins as he stomped towards the direction of his father's room. He must be halfway through the corridor when he emerged while talking on his phone, blessing Zeeshan's eyes with his divine presence.

"Arre Zeeshan bete? Aap kab aaye?"

(Oh Zeeshan dear, When did you return?)

Disconnecting the call, he inquired as his lips curved up into that infamously fake smile of his that only made Zeeshan's blood boil higher.

Taking in a quiet breath, he tried to will himself to maintain he composure and asked, his voice low and gravelly to his own ears. "What is happening?"

The smile vanished from his lips like it never existed as he replied. "So you know. It's better actually. You should get ready as well."

The way his voice held no remorse made Zeeshan's heart clench and he couldn't help but raise his voice. "HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO HER? DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND THAT MAN IS TWICE HER AGE? HOW CAN YOU MARRY HER TO A MAN THAT OLDER?"

He fisted his hands, breaths growing harsher with every passing moment while his father simply looked at him with no expression on his face.

"Yeah so what's wrong in it? Weren't your mother almost fourteen years younger than me? She adjusted and was happy too, right? So would Zahara. You don't have to worry. Arham is a really good man, rich and reputable. He will keep your sister happy."

Iqbal replied in a matter of fact tone, his voice too calm and contrasting perfectly with the fury in Zeeshan's voice as he took a step further, his jaw clenched so hard that the veins throbbing in his neck were visible.

"Amma had gone through it that doesn't mean Zahara has to as well. Why are you not understanding? Money and reputation are not everything. She... Did you even ask her what she wanted? No, right?"

"Zahara is getting married and that's the truth. Sooner you accept is better." Iqbal declared prior to leaving from there while he hurled his fist at the nearest wall.

No. He couldn't let that happen. He had to do something. Running a hand through his already messed up hair, he rushed towards the direction to Zahara's room.

The sound of his footsteps echoed in the otherwise empty corridor as he called out for his sister. "Zahara? Where are you? Look your bhai is here."

He called out, standing before her room as he knocked softly twice, his heart palpitating.

Zahara, who had been sitting in her room, jolted up at the sound of his voice. Her eyes filled with fresh tears as she ran towards the door and opened it. "Bhaijaan." She whispered; her eyes instantly scrutinizing his exhausted figure as she threw herself in his embrace.

His arms itself wrapped around her slightly trembling form while he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss against the crown of her head as she sighed at the comfort only her brother could provide.

"Yeah...." He whispered lowly while she closed her eyes and buried her face deeper into his chest. Her only safe place.

After a long moment, he slowly pulled back so as to not startle her. Only then did he look at her fully.

His little sister-who used to ask him for cotton candy every single time he picked her up from school, was adorned as a bride.

Not like she used to in the childhood-covering her head with their mother's dupatta and then pretending to cry dramatically as if it's her Vidaai, making both him and their mother laugh at her antics;

'You will cry too when I'll go away with my husband' She used to say while he'd just laugh more. And here she was, all dressed like a Real Bride. His heart ached as he looked at her.

He still remembered those days vividly; they felt like it was just yesterday when he used to lift her in his arms and twirl around whenever she got A grade in her exams and came to tell him all excitedly.

Then when did she grew up so much? His heart clenched painfully as tears threatened to blur his vision. Had the situation been different, he might actually be happy. But how could he?

How could he when their own father-her own father was marrying her to the man almost twice her age just for some ages long debt?

How could he when all those jewelleries, that were supposed to adorn her and enhance her beauty, seemed to hide the tears she was too afraid let fall?

How could he when the lehenga, that was supposed to make her stand out among everyone else in the pavilion, instead made her look as though it was weighing her down with every passing moment?

How could he when she deserved to be cherished but was being sold as though she was some materialistic thing and not his own first child than little sister?

The tears fell from his eyes, had he not brushed them away quickly.

Composing himself, he slowly cupped her face which made her eyes look up at him. Wiping a lone tear that managed to escape from her eyes, he asked. "Why did you agree, Zahara? Don't you believe me when I say I won't let anything happen to you?"

His comforting voice rang in her ears but it did little to sooth the storm raging inside her. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting away as she cleared her throat slightly.

"Bhaijaan.......When did you return hm? You know I missed you." She mumbled, holding his hand with both of hers slowly, in spite of knowing that her attempt to divert the topic was futile.

A slow breath escaped his lips as his other hand came up to caress her head. "Just now." He answered, a small smile curving up on his lips as he continued. "I missed my chhoti si Zahara too."

(my little Zahara)

She scrunched up her nose at the way he called her that as she removed her hold from his hand and looked up at him.

"Hum ab chhote nahi hai! Don't call me that." She protested lightly. sulking as he just chuckled slightly and poked her nose with his index finger, making her giggle as well.

(I'm not small anymore!)

"You know Zahara? I had been working hard all these months just so that I can earn enough money to take you away from here. Why did you agree to this marriage, hm? Just come with me okay? You don't have to go with this? Are they forcing you?" He said, trying to make her understand but her smile faded slightly.

Slowly removing his hand from her head, she averted her gaze away prior to murmuring. "It....It is Abba's decision. I can't deny....." Zeeshan let out a low sigh, already knowing that she wouldn't go against their father. She never does.

Taking a step back, he glanced at her one last time as he said. "It's alright. I'll find a way myself to get you out of this mess. No way in the hell I'd let that bastard even come near you." With that he went away from there, leaving her standing there with widened eyes.

.

.

.

.

Standing across the door to Phoolbano's room, he raised his hand, hesitating for a moment before he finally knocked.

He barely managed to retract his hand before the door pulled open, revealing her. She had tears stains all over her cheeks and her dupatta draped over her head and neck tightly.

"Zeeshan..." She sighed, relief washing over her face while he took in her condition, frowning. "Are you fine? Why are you crying? Did Abba say anything?"

His hand rose instinctively, thumb wiping a fresh tear gushed down her eyes as she sniffed slightly, shaking her head.

"I......I was worried for Zahara. I.... She hadn't talked to me even once for the past three days, ever since the day her marriage was fixed. I thought...... I was so scared that your Abba will marry her off to that man."

Phoolbano explained, her words broken and eyes teary as he pressed his lips together before hugging her, whispering. "It's okay, Ammi. I...I believe you. Don't cry. I'm here and I won't let anything happen to Zahara."

She closed her eyes, gulping down her tears before pulling back to cup his cheek, looking over at him.

"Thak gaya honge na? Chalo mein khana laga doon?"

(You must be tired, hm? Come, I'll serve you food?)

Zeeshan shook his head slightly, his hand catching hers to press a soft kiss on the back of her hand before he replied.

"I don't have much time, Ammi. Thank you for....... informing me about everything. I don't know what would have happened if you didn't."

She just shook her head, her eyes softening as she whispered. "Tum dono mere bhi to bache ho na. Kaise ho jaane dete hum ye sab uske sath? Humse khafa hai wo, par rahegi humari chhoti si Zahara hi, jise humne bachpan se paala hai."

(Aren't you both my children as well? How could I let this happen to her? She's a bit mad at me but she will remain my little Zahara always, the one I'd watched grow up so strong and beautiful.)

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