The Contract (5 page)

intimate details with others but apparently they did. It was another thing to be competitive about. How

many times? Whose husband was the most insatiable; apparently that woman was the luckiest. She

shuddered.

Trying to put on a flirtatious tone, she said, “Well, it was…amazing. Absolutely earth-shattering.”

She’d read that somewhere.

Nudrat sounded skeptical. “Give me details,” she said.

“Er…I have to go now, Aunty’s calling me. Talk to you later, okay? Bye.”

She disconnected the phone.

Nudrat sat in her bedroom, the phone still in her hand. With a smirk, she said to no one in

particular, “He didn’t touch you, did he? The little brown sparrow from nowhere.”

She laughed in delight at her surmise.

Nasir, her husband, had been married to someone else when she’d met him. It hadn’t taken Nudrat

long to get rid of the wife and move into his house and his life. And it hadn’t taken him long to find a

new mistress. Only Nudrat wasn’t going anywhere. Nasir’s money was the only attraction, and all the

security, she had ever needed. She’d done what she had to, to get it.

She and Rutaba had been like two peas in a pod. Hussain was a traditionalist, raised with those

ancient ideas of morality that revolved around women not doing what men did. Why should a wife be

faithful if her husband wasn’t? But in Rutaba’s case, her husband
had
been faithful while Rutaba had

been a greedy, spoilt little rich girl, wanting everything that didn’t belong to her.

So while she was sleeping with everyone else’s husbands, Nudrat had been there for Hussain. At

first, she hadn’t told him about Rutaba’s infidelities; she’d made sure he trusted her first, spinning

made-up stories of Nasir abusing her. Like all good men, Hussain was a sucker for a woman in

distress.

Then, like a good friend, she’d told him about Rutaba, crying for him while doing so. He’d been

devastated. After the horrible accident that killed Rutaba, who else could he turn to in his pain but

her? She had given him all the comfort he needed.

She smiled as she remembered those few months after that when Hussain hadn’t known what to do,

or what had struck his perfect life and driven it straight into chaos. To her shock and anger, he’d

extricated himself out of their affair too soon, and made his business his entire life.

Nudrat was determined to get him back and the little sparrow would be old news soon enough.

* * *

Hussain was not at all happy.

He did not want to attend weddings and be a part of a life he had left far behind. He’d created a

comfortable set-up that worked for him and his family, but his mother was determined to play fairy

godmother to Shahira’s Cinderella. Only, his mother hadn’t got the memo about Shahira actually being

the wicked witch.

Almost at once, he admitted to himself that he was being unfair to her. She was extremely good to

both the people he’d hired her to take care of. She just rubbed
him
the wrong way.

Deciding that he wasn’t going to stay out of his own house just because of an employee, he elected

to come home for the blasted wedding his mother was insisting he attend. And
she
was nothing more

than that. An employee, whom he could and would ignore, no matter how attractive or intriguing she

may be.

Impulsively, he flew back without informing them, thinking to surprise Natasha. As he got closer to

his home, he saw it was lit with fairy lights with a marquee set up on the lawn. What was going on?

He could hear loud music, laughter, children—he hadn’t seen this kind of family gathering in ages.

He entered the marquee from the back, trying not to create the commotion he knew his arrival was

sure to cause. A group of girls and boys were dancing and he smiled. Some things never changed.

Nostalgically, he recalled his own flirtations with girls he’d danced with in his youth.

He caught a glimpse of Natasha amongst the dancers. She looked thrilled. He laughed to himself,

seeing the open pleasure on her face. He caught a glimpse of the slim girl she was dancing with and

realized it was none other than his dear judgmental wife, or employee, if one wanted to be technical.

She was light on her feet, a natural, moving effortlessly. A smile played on her lips and…had her

hair been this long? His eyes roved over her body. He didn’t remember her looking this delectable.

People started to notice him, and stopped him to greet him. He chatted with easy familiarity to people

he hadn’t seen in ages. It seemed that the years vanished as they talked, bridging time. This was

family, and he realized with a pang that he’d missed out on a lot with his self-imposed exile.

All the while, he was moving forward, his eyes kept homing in on Shahira. He still couldn’t

believe it was her. There she was, laughing, holding hands with a young man who was grinning from

ear to ear and couldn’t take his eyes off her. He understood then why he hadn’t recognized her at first.

It was because she was happy and relaxed and flirting. All he’d seen of her was her stiff upper lip,

self-righteous mode.

He stopped to talk again with another relative, firmly averting his gaze from the dance floor.

“Hussain!” he heard his mother exclaim excitedly as she spotted him.

He ambled over to her and hugged her. It just so happened that she was right in front of the dance

floor, probably so that she could watch her beloved Shahira dance. His mother’s yell had been loud

and now he was standing right in front of the dance floor. But did that stop Shahira from spinning

around? Not at all. The schoolteacher paid absolutely no attention to him and was busy keeping in

step with…was that Ali Shahid’s son? How time flies, he thought bemused. Ali had been extremely

good-looking and so was his son. The grinning idiot was probably flirting with Shahira to his heart’s

content. For some strange reason, he felt irritated.

Salma had been observing her son long before she’d called out to him. Noting with delight that his

gaze returned repeatedly to Shahira. He was definitely interested she could tell, but being a man, he

was also upset that instead of pining away for him she was actually having a good time. And now he

was staring at the poor girl like a stern father.

She diverted his attention. “Hussain, what a surprise! Why didn’t you tell us? So happy you could

make it.”

The evening passed quickly—too quickly for Hussain. He hardly got time to meet everyone

properly and Amidst all the food and chatter, he forgot how tired he was and just enjoyed himself.

The last guest finally departed at three in the morning. His mother and the kids had gone to bed much

earlier. Only Shahira, playing the gracious hostess, smiling, still tempting, was there with him.

As the last car drove away, he turned to her and said lightly, “You’re more popular with my family

than I am.”

She laughed. It was a pretty sound, soft and light. He smiled.

“You seem to have taken on much more than you’d bargained for,” he said quietly, referring to their

arrangement. Like a flower closing its petals, all the softness and light-heartedness vanished,

replaced by the mask he’d seen on his last visit.

She replied coolly, “I hope you don’t mind. I wasn’t trying to make inroads into your family or

anything. It’s just that Aunty can’t arrange these things.”

He held up his hand, “I didn’t mean anything of the sort. I was paying you a compliment. Or at least

that was the intention.”

Why was she so prickly?

She looked surprised, then suspicious.

“Oh.” With that profound observation, she quickened her pace and walked away from him as fast

as she could.

Well, one thing was for sure, he thought wryly, his wife of convenience couldn’t get away from him

fast enough. Her aversion was reserved only for him apparently. She’d been friendly enough with

other men of all ages and doubtful hygiene.

Hussain decided that this time he would stay home for as long as he wanted it
was
his house after

all, and she was his employee.

≈

SIX

Shahira’s pleasure in her beautiful clothes and the wedding revelry was much diminished because of

Hussain’s presence. She had to be careful to behave like an employee around him and not appear to

be having too much fun. She’d learned that lesson from Usman, who’d disliked her smiling too much,

or wearing nice clothes, even if he hadn’t paid for them.

She recalled his long lectures on how she wasted money. Once she’d made the mistake of saying

that her parents had paid for the clothes. For three days, Usman, his mother and his entire family had

berated her, saying her parents couldn’t afford anything and if they could why was she a burden on

them? Why couldn’t she bring some of that money her parents seem to have so much of to support her

husband and his family? Then had come the other permanent taunt—she was ungrateful; they fed her

and clothed her, even though Usman had never once bought anything for her, and yet she couldn’t be a

good wife and daughter-in-law. That incident had taught her never to explain or complain. She would

always be wrong. She’d never be good enough. Period.

“Hi.”

Nudrat did a quick once-over and her eyes flickered uncertainly. If Shahira or any of their other

friends looked exceptionally good, this strange expression flickered across Nudrat’s face and Shahira

recognized it.

“Hi, Nudrat. I’m so glad you could come,” she said smiling. It must be such a burden being in

competition with other women all the time. She didn’t understand it at all.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Nudrat said, sounding sincere. “So, what’s the occasion?”

“Aunty’s cousin’s daughter is getting married and she wanted to have another
dholak
for her. You

missed the first one, remember?”

Nudrat smiled and nodded, “I heard your husband’s back? But he wasn’t downstairs when I

looked.”

Shahira was putting on a
tika;
Aunty Salma had insisted on buying her huge pieces of jewelry

when she’d married, and she wouldn’t be dissuaded. Shahira had never once worn them or

considered them her property but she had to wear them for the wedding, Aunty Salma was insistent.

She would return them to the locker after the ceremonies. She hadn’t earned them. She didn’t want to

accept anything that she hadn’t worked for.

Eyeing her jewelry, Nudrat said, “That looks expensive.”

She sounded disapproving. Shahira laughed. “I think it costs almost as much as your Prada bag.”

“
Touché
.”

Shahira looked at herself critically. She’d grown her hair long, and it fell in waves almost to her

waist now, layered so that some curled around her face, giving structure to the cut. The shirt, slim

fitting and straight, was a beautiful nude-gold, complimenting her
navratan
jewelry.

In keeping with the latest fashion, she hadn’t bothered with a
dupatta
although every time she left

the house without one, Aunty Salma displayed her silent disapproval. Shahira would playfully

reassure her that she wasn’t as well-endowed as most, so she could pull it off. That always made

Aunty Salma laugh and talk about ‘girls these days’. It was a favorite topic with her since it showed

off her generation in a better light, or so Shahira let her believe.

Again, she found Nudrat’s gaze on her through the mirror but Nudrat didn’t see her and Shahira felt

unease at something in Nudrat’s expression.

“Let’s go downstairs, people might have started arriving.”

As she descended the staircase she could see quite a few people had come already. Thankfully

she’d given instructions to the help to serve drinks and appetizers so everyone was comfortable.

She looked for Natasha. She’d insisted that all their clothes be coordinated. For that evening,

Shahira had done hers in a brighter gold, with lots of colored embellishments. She had bought a small

tika
for her as well and colorful bangles. She looked very pretty now that she’d lost so much weight.

Shahira spotted her with Shahaan, who was dressed, to his utter disgust, in an
achkan
. He glanced

at her, gave her an angry look, and marched off. She was not very popular today with her son on

account of the
achkan
.

Her eyes followed him and she was perturbed to see that he went straight to Hussain, who’d been

monitoring her descent, apparently. In that brief moment when their eyes met, Hussain’s were full of

appreciation.

That just got her back up even more. She had no intentions of letting him come anywhere near her

or her son. The man didn’t even have time for his own child, what was he doing playing with her

son’s affections? She bristled, imagining the havoc he could play with Shahaan’s emotions. As for the

other thing, they had a contract and he was going to honor it.

Resolutely she walked towards them, a polite smile fixed on her face.

“
Assalam aleikum
, Javed Uncle,” she said in a sunny voice, while putting her hands on Shahaan’s