Loving Junaid

                         Loving Junaid was so much easier when he was sleeping, thought Afsheen. He was, so much more understanding then. It had been sixteen months since her happiest day. She could remember it like it was a day before. Aalyah was not due yet. She was as impatient as her father though, so it was not long before that Afsheen found herself in the hospital with a frantic father and a brawling baby.

                         Afsheen was amazed at how her tiny her daughter’s fingers and toes were; she liked how she nuzzled to her breast while being fed. How could something this little possibly bring someone this much comfort? She wondered. The wondering and the feeding happened in concurrence. To Afsheen, Aalyah was a distraction, a rather adorable one at that, the baby kept her mind away from pressing problems. “Pressing problems” was tall man with grey eyes and long fingers that enjoyed playing with whatever it came across. If only Afsheen had made sure never to find herself in them.

                         She met him two years ago; sixteen at the time. She would take the longer route home hoping to bump into him. It is exceedingly difficult to ignore a man you desire to have babies with. Loving Azzam seemed like something of a wrongdoing, yet still there she was vying for his attention. Hoping to please him, she began learning how to cook. Three months of sleepless nights, pining glances had been rewarded when Azzam looked at her and raised an eyebrow. Afsheen felt something behind her chest stop moving. Almost immediately clandestine meetings were held; their conversations mainly consisted of Afsheen staring at his feet and Azzam playing with her hair. Although engaged at the time Junaid remained unacquainted with his fiancés arrangements, which explained the perpetual smirk on his face. Pity Junaid was a good man, those like him seldom realise what the pots cooking until their in them sautéing away.

                           The two were married off soon after Afsheen turned eighteen. Junaid attested to be a loving husband. He still addressed her as “aap”, still gave in to her whims, and still kissed her brow before they made love. There were instances when his wife’s infidelity peeked from beneath the covers, like when Junaid noticed his daughter’s eyes were so much like Azzam’s. Junaid’s love was not only blind but insisted others saw what he did.                  

                           Although having played the role rather credibly, Azzam’s mind deemed Junaid the “other man”. The covetous rage that should have been growing in Junaid’s chest was swelling in Azzams instead. Fathering Aalyah was merely a way of punishing Junaid.

                           Of late Afsheen had been avoiding Azaam he was now asking for more than her conscience was willing to overlook. Junaid on the other hand was growing rather sore, Aalyah was starting to resemble Azzam a little more each day. He was slowly catching on. It bought about a change in his behaviour he no more cared if she if she had a bad day, he no more made promises to her saying he would always be there, if anything he seemed to be getting difficult, hostility had found its way into their relationship, he barely spoke he had slowly begun to see his wife for what she really was. Something was amiss.

                            “Just a few drops” said Azzam pressing a bottle to her palm “it will be painless.” “We can be together then” he lied. She held the bottle promising nothing.

                             Junaid returned from work late that evening, habit led his fingers around the glass of milk. He drained it instantly. Before he knew it his head hit the bed, narrowly missing the pillow.

                             Afsheen returned a tiny bottle to its drawer and watched Junaid. Loving Junaid was so much easier when he was sleeping thought Afsheen.