Back at the haveli, Shair wrote a check for five hundred rupees and sent it to the dhaba owner. He made a few phone calls, one of which was quite heated, instructed the maid to pack his bag, and rattled off a series of orders to Ditto. Cleanly shaved and showered, he drove directly to the orphanage. It was six in the morning, but the staff was accustomed to his irregular visits and let him in without question. He went straight to Asiya's room and knocked impatiently.
Asiya opened the door, a hairbrush in her hand, her hair parted in the middle and still damp. "Nawab Sahib?!" She couldn't hide her surprise, glancing nervously at the empty corridor behind him and asked, "Is everything alright?"
"It will be, now that I'm here to fulfil my promise," he said, his eyes on her long, wet hair.
"What do you mean?" she asked, waving the hairbrush, her cheeks blushing under his gaze.
"You were right, and I was wrong," he murmured, noticing the delicate blush spreading across her smooth skin.
Asiya searched his face, trying to decipher his meaning. "I don't understand, Nawab Sahib. Perhaps you should have some tea. If you go to the dining room, I'll join you in a few minutes."
"No. No time for tea or coffee…" She was so alluring, it was hard for him to think straight. "I made you a promise: if my identity became a hindrance to our union, I would give it up." He looked into her eyes and went on ardently. "I'm here to do just that. If you agree to marry me right now, I promise I'll give it all up."
Shocked, Asiya recoiled. "You can't do that, Nawab Sahib. I can't take you away from your mother. You're the only family she has…" she said frantically.
Shair leaned closer, placing a finger gently on her lips. He whispered, "Asiya, that's her choice, not mine."
She continued to shake her head, so he took her shoulders firmly in his hands. "You don't understand, do you, Asiya?" Her eyes were closed, but he continued, "You don't understand that I love you. I want to share my days and evenings with you, travel the world with you. When I'm old, I want you beside me."
Shair paused, gazing at her beautiful, vulnerable face, her eyes squeezed shut like a stubborn child's. "Please, Asiya… marry me. Please… I beg you, marry me!"
He saw her resolve crumble, her consent peeking through her hesitation like the sun breaking through a rainy winter morning—bright, clear, and shy. He hugged her tightly, a fleeting embrace of triumphant joy before the urgency of his plan pulled him forward. "Come with me." He extended his hand, and she took it.
Less than half an hour later, they drove through the gates of a large, beautiful, and brand-new mansion. Shair hummed a lively tune while Asiya stared in awe.
A tall, dark man in starched shalwar kameez emerged as soon as he heard the car pull up. He embraced Shair like a younger brother as he babbled. "You've got some explaining to do, mister!"
Shair laughed, returning the embrace. "I will, I will," he promised. "Yusuf, this is your bhabi, Asiya. Asiya, this is Yusuf, my friend for as long as I can remember." He then introduced her to an older woman who had also come out to greet them. "And this is his lovely mother, Auntie Yusra." He put an arm around Yusuf's mother, who was significantly shorter than her son but shared the same striking features.
Asiya bowed her head in greeting.
"Come, baiti, consider this Shair's second home," Yusra said, her warm, motherly smile putting Asiya at ease as she led her toward the drawing room.
On the way, they encountered two giggling girls, younger versions of Yusra.
"Salam," the taller one greeted her. "I'm Farzana, and this is my older sister, Shumaila."
Asiya managed a small, hesitant smile.
They entered the large drawing-room to find Ditto standing at attention, while a maulvi filled out some forms. Ditto nodded in response to Shair's unspoken question. Shair and Yusuf quickly reviewed the documents as Shumaila offered everyone fresh orange juice in Bohemian crystal glasses.
The nikah ceremony was a quiet, almost surreal affair. The only sound was the maulvi's murmured prayers. Asiya, her hands cold and trembling, clung to Yusra's hand as she signed the marriage contract.
"Congratulations, baita," Yusra said, adjusting Asiya's dupatta and kissing her forehead. "You're a fortunate bride. Shair is a wonderful man. May you both live happily ever after."
Asiya smiled, still finding it hard to speak.
Yusra had prepared a lavish breakfast spread: halwa puri, nihari, eggs, butter, jam, and fragrant Kashmiri tea. Excited chatter filled the breakfast table. Shair ate heartily, laughing loudly as Yusuf and his sisters teased him good-naturedly. Asiya's plate, however, remained mostly untouched.
Soon after, Shair thanked Yusuf and his mother, and the newlyweds set off for a government office. To Asiya's surprise, Ditto was already there. She blindly signed the forms Shair placed before her.
"Don't you ever read what you're signing?" Shair asked, amused.
Asiya blushed deeply. "This is the first time I've signed anything other than children's notebooks."
"Well, you should always read what you sign, even if I give it to you…" Shair said tenderly as he led her back to the car.
They embarked on what felt like an endless drive. By the time they reached Murree—a hill station some distance from Lahore—it was dark.
"It's freezing!" Asiya exclaimed, rubbing her arms as she stepped out of the car. "Where are we?"
"Oh, we're in Murree. You've never heard of it? It's beautiful; you'll love it here." Even in the darkness, his smile was sincere, his eyes seeming to see right through her. He guided her toward a covered veranda, lined with numerous doors on one side and a wooden railing overlooking what appeared to be a vast valley on the other. "My father bought this place, but he passed away before it was finished. I hope you like it, as we'll be staying here until your passport is ready." He led her toward the second door, which stood slightly ajar.
Asiya's heart skipped a beat. "My passport? Are we going to migrate?"
"No," he reassured her, taking her right hand and stroking it gently. "We're not going to migrate, my dear wife. You'll stay here, in the country you love. But," he added, a playful glint in his eyes, "may I have the pleasure of taking you on a trip you'll never forget?" He kissed her hand softly.