The car ride to the Malik's farmhouse was spent in silence. Both of them were seated on the back seat of one of the latest models of Mercedes Benz; where Shahzeb was constantly typing some mails on his phone while Zoya was fidgeting with the hem of her drape. She was thinking about the next move of her plan to get rid of her so-called husband; the man who had never spared a second glance into her existence after she became his wife.

Zoya was, however, perturbed and scared by his unnaturally explicit actions since the past two days. She had never experienced the pleasure of him being naughty or flirty with her before. In fact, Shahzeb had never seen her as his wife, or as a girl he could ever be attracted to sexually. She was too plain and young for his liking.

She breathed out a heavy sigh of self rejection. Zoya still remembered the horrendous words which had once spilled out from Shahzeb’s sensuous mouth. Although it had been almost two years since the incident, the impact of that event was still fresh in her memory like an open wound.

He was the only man she had laid her eyes on at such a tender age when she wasn't even aware of the meaning of love. Shahzeb had been sweet and caring towards her throughout her life. He was the epitome of love for her after her baba.

Her baba was the trustworthy servant of Najafgarh Haveli; Shahzeb's and his father's loyal driver. When Zoya was a small child, 6 years old, her mother expired after a lengthy battle with tuberculosis. Till then, she had been living in her baba's ancestral home in a small town with her mother. But after her demise, Zoya had been shifted into the haveli with her baba, where they occupied a small one-bedroom servant quarter, built in the backyard of the haveli.

When Zoya shifted from her small town to Najafgarh Haveli, she was very disturbed by her mother's death. Her crying for hours, after her father left for his duty of taking baba to his political rallies and other business affairs, was still fresh in her memory. In that difficult juncture of her life, amma had never left Zoya on her own. Amma had been very caring and protective towards her throughout. But whenever she got busy with her chores, Zoya used to lock herself up in her cocoon.

At that time, Shahzeb was the one who had brought Zoya back to life by his caring attitude towards her. She again started feeling lively and wanted. Shahzeb was her friend, her companion, her big brother which she never had. He used to give her gifts on her birthdays and helped her in her studies. He was the one who took care of her smallest needs. He had given her so many lovely names; Zoya was his angel, his princess, his doll. For Shahzeb, she was the most beautiful girl on the planet.

She still remembered how easily Shahzeb carried her in his strong arms and swirled her in the rain; she giggled like a small child.

When she was in the 8th grade, Zoya got infected with typhoid fever before her final exams and her results got seriously affected. She just about passed the exams with second division marks. On that evening, when her results were declared, she was brooding alone in her small servant quarter and hadn't eaten a morsel of food since the morning. At that time, Shahzeb had just arrived from Delhi after the completion of his exams for spending his two week vacation in the haveli before leaving for the States for further studies. He had proceeded straight towards her apartment, with his hands full of gift bags. He met his baba's old driver, Zoya's father, at the foyer, from whom he learnt of her plight and immediately strove towards her room.

"Hey angel," Shahzeb’s youthful thick voice boomed in the silence of her small room. Zoya pulled her head up and glanced in the direction of the voice. Her brown beautiful eyes had turned crimson on account of crying continuously. She dumped her head back in her pillow, and started crying again. Shahzeb made his way to her bed and sat on the edge beside her.

"Hey, get up doll face," he cooed her while touching her brown silky hair lightly. After some minutes, when Zoya didn't bulge, Shahzeb pulled her upper arm and made her sit on the bed. She was still looking at her thin fingers, her shoulder slumped downwards and her hair curtaining her beautiful delicate wet face.

"Look, I have brought your favorite chocolates." He handed her a box of imported chocolates. "Not just your favorite chocolates, but, but, ... your favorite ‘Pinky and the Brain’ CDs too." Shahzeb took another plastic case and handed it to Zoya. Her dull wet eyes sparkled for a nano-second; before she blinked her damp lashes and gazed down on her fingers again.

Shahzeb took her petite hands in his firm strong ones. "You know I don't like seeing you crying, that too without any reason," he stated, while squeezing her hands in his warm grip. "It's just the 8th standard princess, and besides, you were seriously ill. I was genuinely amazed after hearing your result, you know. If it had been me in your place, I would have failed this year. You're a real champ. You made it possible when you were in your weakest state of health." He tugged the strands of silky brown locks behind her left ear. Zoya looked innocently into his eyes and asked "You are not upset with me? I didn't fail you?"

"You would never fail me Zoya. You are my princess. And I will never let anyone make you upset." And she smiled brightly. "Come, I didn't even go inside, amma will be very angry." Shahzeb stood up and pulled Zoya with him towards the main entrance of the haveli. His one arm was wrapped securely around her petite shoulders in a warm protective embrace.

The stopping of the car seized Zoya out from the precious sweet memories of her early teens. She felt wetness on her cheeks. She cast a forlorn glance at Shahzeb, who was also looking at her. There was something evaporating through his dark eyes, clouding his handsome facial features. His dark eyes were pooled with some uncertain emotions, which Zoya was unable to comprehend. Uneasiness? Concern? She was still looking at him. He cleared his throat and turned his head to the other side. "Come out, we have reached our destination." He stomped out from the car with a swift movement.

Zoya soaked the wetness of her tears into her tissues and rubbed them off. The door clicked open from her side.

"Come." Shahzeb spread out his palm in front of her. To say that Zoya was shocked by his small gestures of gentleness would be an understatement. She was actually terrified, thinking what he was up to this time.

"Are you planning to stay in the car for the whole night?" Shahzeb asked her annoyingly.

"Urmmmm," Zoya slurred. It took her just some seconds to come out from the unexpected mesmerizing spell he had created. "Definitely not, but please don't act as if you care. I am perfectly fine with your original self." She ignored his extended hand and hopped out from the car. Shahzeb clenched his jaw and fisted his hand tightly.

**********

It was almost 9 pm when they reached the Malik's farmhouse. The beautiful massive farmhouse was surrounded by lush palm trees. The enormous lawn was exquisitely decorated with bright colored silk drapes and illuminating silver and golden tiny lights. Dazzling chandeliers hung from the silk roofs of small square tents spread across the whole vast lawn.

The entrance was also decorated with shimmering lighting, colorful curtains and fresh flowers. Two traditionally dressed girls were standing on both sides of the entrance, holding copper trays filled with extra scented rose petals. Abbas Malik was also standing there with his younger brother, the father of the bride, Ehsan Malik, for welcoming their guests.

"Salaam uncle," Shahzeb was the one who greeted Abbas Malik first. Zoya also whispered the same, as she stood on his left side, a few steps behind. Abbas Malik enthusiastically replied to him and took him into a loving embrace. When they parted away, Shahzeb pulled Zoya close to him and wrapped his arm around her waist. Zoya's breath hitched in her chest and her eyes went wide on his sudden intimate act of showing off. She composed herself quickly as Abbas Malik was just standing on an arm's length. She couldn't risk tarnishing her image of being Shahzeb Khan's affectionate wife in front of the press.

Zoya felt a little bit of pressure on her bare waist and looked into Shahzeb's dark eyes. He gave her a knowing glance, before turning his attention back on the man who was standing in front of them, gawking with piercing eyes. Abbas Malik was intently observing every tiny movement of Shahzeb, as if trying to fathom the depth of his relationship with his wife.

"Ahh, Shahzeb Khan has arrived with my lovely daughter Zoya," the cheerful voice of Ehsan Malik came from the frontal. Shahzeb and Zoya both turned their heads and greeted the lively man who was standing some feet away. After embracing Shahzeb and patting on his shoulder, Ehsan Malik side hugged Zoya with fatherly warmth and kissed her forehead.

"My beautiful daughter is blooming like an orchid with each passing day," he stated fondly. Zoya smiled brightly.

"Yes uncle, there is no doubt about that." Shahzeb's complementing eyes were absorbing her alluring structure. A wave of heat rose from the nape of Zoya's neck and painted her cheeks crimson.

"Okay young man, please lead the lady inside. We will join you after sometime," Ehsan Malik resorted to Shahzeb. Meanwhile Abbas Malik was already greeting his new guest, the state Education Minister.

"Shahzeb Khan," an excited heavy voice hit Shahzeb's eardrums from behind. He turned to face the owner of the voice. There, in a crisp, white linen salwar kameez, with black waistcoat, was standing the Education Minister of the state, Manjeet Singh Kaur. He extended his right arm to shake hands with Shahzeb. "The rising star of state politics and the entrepreneur of the year," the young minister flattered Shahzeb.

Shahzeb met the man neutrally. His other arm was still holding Zoya closely to his side. "Thank you but I haven't joined politics yet Mr. Kaur, so your first assertion is pure rumor I guess," Shahzeb roughly replied to the man.

"I certainly believe Mr. Khan that your name is decided for the CM chair for representing the party in the next assembly elections. So I think we will be meeting often in the upcoming gatherings," Manjeet continued the conversation in an over-friendly manner. All the while, his filthy eyes were shamelessly scrutinizing Zoya. She was feeling uncomfortable, and her gaze was fixed on the carpeted ground beneath her feet.

Shahzeb pulled her more into him. Zoya placed her right hand over the lapels of his suit jacket, casting a look into his determined eyes. Shahzeb also looked back and squeezed her waist reassuringly. She suddenly felt safer than before.

"The party is organizing an official dinner in honor of Mr. Sardar Alam Khan's successful reign as party president for the past 20 years. I would be grateful if you come along with you wif..."

"Excuse me, Mr. Kaur, but this occasion is a kind of family affair for me. And I don't like mixing business with personals. I will definitely discuss the whole event with you some other time, either at my office or yours," Shahzeb interrupted the man in the middle of his banter, his jaw clenched and forehead creased with fine lines. Zoya could feel the raging pulse on the side of his thick neck.

"Urmmm, I think we should step inside Shahzeb. Sam must be waiting for me," Zoya exhorted.

"Yes Manjeet, son, come along with me. I want you to meet some important members of the party, who have been doing some pretty impressive work in their areas." Abbas Malik was also witnessing the tension in the air, so he took the man with him inside the farmhouse.

**********

A decorated square tent with plush silk and velvet couches along with rolled pillows and cushions was set in the middle of the lawn, occupied by the bride and groom who were busy chatting with each other. A shy smile was playing on Samira Malik's red tinted lips and her face was radiating in the thousand tiny lights on the rooftop of the illuminated tent.

As soon as Samira Malik came into her view, Zoya almost ran towards her friend, leaving Shahzeb behind with Ehsan Malik who was smiling lovingly at her excitement. Shahzeb was also stunned by his wife's childishness. He knew that Samira was her only best friend and they were more like sisters. But from the past two years Zoya had become really reserved; and had seldom found the time to catch-up with Samira.

"Ohh my God Zoi," Samira chirped as she looked up at her best friend. Zoya just laughed and took her into a tight hug.

"Congratulations." Zoya kissed her cheek adoringly and parted from her friend to congratulate her husband. She greeted and wished the groom. All the while, Shahzeb just stood behind his wife, patiently waiting for his turn to greet the just wedded couple.

"Congratulations to both of you, wish you a happy married life," Shahzeb greeted the couple and gave them a beautiful bouquet of red and white roses which Nasir (Shahzeb's driver) had handed to him just a moment ago. The couple thanked him with gratitude.

"You are late Zoi; I was waiting for you for like hours. I had even asked dad about your arrival," the bride complained about her friend's delayed entry. Zoya smiled warmly. "I don't have any excuse for my laziness," she replied mockingly.

"And Zoi, it is my marriage. So I should have been the one who is looking the best amongst everyone tonight. You don't need to win the beauty parade every time, at least not tonight," Samira Malik said in a fake exasperated tone, earning a soft laugh from Zoya. Her cheeks slightly colored at her friend's foolishness. Shahzeb's heated, fervent eyes were gazing at Zoya’s intoxicated beauty. He had to concede himself that his wife was really an uncut diamond, whom he could have polished to perfection with his immersion and devotion.

"Hello handsome." A sultry, soft voice erupted into their surroundings, making them turn towards its owner.

There she was, in the farthest corner of the small decorated tent, coming towards them. Her steps were small and sensuous, like a tigress walking to her prey. She was attired in a grey heavily embroidered designer lehenga with a full sleeves blouse, which fitted her bosom like a second skin, ending just above her rib cage. The plunging neckline of the scandalous fabric left little to the imagination. The dress, which must surely have cost a fortune, was adorned by none other than Suhana Malik, the only heiress of current chief minister of the State, Abbas Malik. She walked passed Zoya, as if she didn't exist, and wrapped her arms around Shahzeb's neck. Her bold act totally caught him by surprise and took him off his guard.

"Woah." Shahzeb regained his composure and slowly unwrapped her arms, making her stand some inches away. Zoya was staring at them in utter astonishment. Her eyes resembled the deep, dark valley of sorrow. One of her palms still clutched the jewelry-adorned hand of the bride. Samira placed her other hand on their adjoined hands, squeezing lightly as if assuring Zoya that she was with her. Zoya looked at her and sighed.

"Pardon me miss, but I didn't recognize you," Shahzeb asked dryly.

Zoya narrowed her eyes in confusion, whereas an abrupt provoking laugh escaped from Samira Malik's mouth. She immediately covered her mouth with her palm. Even the groom was also trying to hide his smile.

Suhana Malik's face was colored a burning red from humiliation and fury. She glared at her cousin bride with ferocity. Samira made herself busy with Zoya, like she hadn't heard anything. Suhana masked her anger with a deliberate laugh, and looked back at Shahzeb, who was still trying to figure out the situation.

"Well, I like your humor Shahzeb, but I know you can never forget your best friend, Sohni." She emphasized the word 'Sohni'. It took Shahzeb just a minute to comprehend the situation. In his entire life, he had known just one Sohni, from his junior college. And that Sohni was the 'one' whom his father now wanted to marry him with. Yes, Suhana Malik. But he actually hadn't recognized her as Suhana had been a skinny and boyish-type bodied girl in the college. This Suhana Malik was definitely the polished version of her. Shahzeb’s eyes amusingly looked at her.

"Oh my God, Sohni! Is this really you?" He laughed at his own amusement.

"Well I am your Sohni Mr. Khan." Clinging to his right shoulder, Suhana put her maximum weight on him. Zoya was speechless in this whole charade of long lost friends.

"Ohh Shahzeb, I was so excited to meet you again after all these years. I even told dad that you must come to the function, or else I would also walk out," she laughed. "At that time, Sardar uncle was also present, and he promised me that you will be present at the wedding." Suhana was increasing his knowledge proudly. "And I know you were also very impatient to meet me. Uncle told me that you have been asking about my return from London," she said blatantly. Shahzeb chuckled at another piece of information.

"Well, Miss Malik, that's news to me," Shahzeb blurted out mockingly, attaining a playful punch on his shoulder from the busty beauty.

"You evil man, I know you were anxious to see me again. Don't try to act over-smart." Suhana couldn't allow Shahzeb to humiliate herself, so she just continued the show of knowingness in front of them all.

"By the way Shahzeb, do you remember the 'fatso' of our class, Farhad? He is also attending the wedding, and was asking about you. Come, we will catch up with some of our old friends." Suhana wound her arm around Shahzeb’s and pulled him away from the people who were silently listening to her nonsense supremacy. Shahzeb turned his head and looked behind, but before he could form any words of disagreement, Zoya turned and started chatting with Samira, faking her carelessness.

When Zoya was assured of his absence from the scenario, she breathed out a heavy sigh of emptiness.

"Zoi, what was that? Why didn't you stop Shahzeb, or go with him?" Samira asked her furiously. Zoya didn't reply to her friend. She just kept looking at the henna decorated beautiful hands of the bride. "Zoi, I am asking you something, answer me. Why are you acting as if you don't care?" Zoya looked up at Samira and then at the groom. She immediately fixed her gaze on the bride's hands again.

"Ahem," the groom cleared his throat, trying to gain their attention. "Sam, I have to attend to some friends. I hope you wouldn't mind if it takes some time?" he asked his beautiful bride tenderly. Samira knew that her bridegroom was making an excuse just to provide the two friends some space. Samira smiled at her husband's understanding gesture. He went off in the direction of the dance floor, where people were enjoying their drinks and dancing with their partners to a soft melody.

Zoya was gazing at her husband, who was busy chatting with Suhana Malik and his other friends.

"Zoi, you should have stood up for yourself. Shahzeb bhai doesn't know Sohni, she is such a witch," Samira scolded her naive friend. But Zoya was still looking at them.

"I am helpless Sam. Don't you see how she suits him," she told Samira in a pained voice. "Look at me; I am just a plain simple girl. I don't possess a big name like Suhana Malik. I don't possess an attitude like her. I don't even possess a body like her Sam. I am just too plain to be the wife of Shahzeb Khan. No wonder he doesn't notice my existence in his high-end life as his wife." Zoya’s voice broke down at the end.

"What? Plain? You? Have you gone nuts Zoi?" Samira was shocked to hear her friend's absurd assumptions about herself. Zoya surely wasn't plain; she had the figure which girls could die for. She stood 5' 7" tall, with beautifully slim, yet womanly, curvaceous body. She surely wasn't heavy or busty, but she was innocently beautiful.

"Yes, I am plain. Even my handsome husband has told me so once." Zoya laughed humorlessly, as if making fun of her own self.

"Ahhh Zoi, I must say that your husband is an idiot then. He will regret his words, I am telling you." Samira's voice got a notch louder and she seemed oblivious of her bridal state.

"Shhh, you are the bride, just act like one," Zoya interrupted her immediately. A guest had come up to wish Samira, a Punjabi aunty-type lady, who congratulated her while taking in Zoya's beautiful appearance fondly and left.

"And for your husband's kind information, Suhana's figure is fake," she again told Zoi in a bored tone.

"What? What do you mean by fake? Did she go for a surgery?" Zoya asked her confusedly.

"I don't know, okay. May be when she was in London. But believe me Zoi; Suhana used to stuff her chest with those D-size padded push-up bras. I have seen her buying that stuff myself. And I can bet she is still wearing one at this moment," Samira blurted in a huffed voice. The disclosure earned a fit of laughter from Zoya. Samira joined her friend, and they started laughing together. Their laughter died when they saw the groom approaching towards them. Zoya excused herself to get a drink as her throat was feeling dry from the excessive amount of laughter.

As soon as she reached the drinks bar, at the far corner, she took a glass of orange juice from the top of the counter. She was about to turn back when a heavy deep voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Zoya Khan, the lady of the evening, is serving herself. Well, that's a shame. Please let me do the honors mam."

It was the voice of none other than 'Manjeet Singh Kaur'.

**********