THE DIFFERENT SHADES OF WHITE (BOOK 1)

Chapter 3-A Disappointing Welcome

I was going to New York City today. My visa was approved much earlier than I had expected and now, after a month had passed since the Nikah ceremony, I was on my way to be rejoined with my Husband. And thus, my days as Khadija Quraish ended and now my days as Khadija Atish will begin. How easily was everything belonging to me bargained for?

For that matter, in order to be recognized as the wife of a famous and successful industrialist, I was going to USA on the Atish enterprises' private plane. This was going to be my first time to travel alone.

'They could have booked a normal first class seat in PIA for me.' I thought as I got seated in the second row chair. This was the first time I saw the interior of a private jet. It was American alright, the flight crew was American and the air hostesses were dressed in uniforms that revealed their bare legs. Just looking at such a thing in reality was embarrassing enough. It different on TV but looking at such women up close is just straight nasty. I wonder how will bear such scenes when I see such shameless women in New York City. It's not like I have never been abroad before, I have lived in Paris for two years and I even visited Europe many times with my family, but I never saw such women there.

'Oh well, I'll just have to deal with it. It's not my problem anyway.' I thought sarcastically. I relaxed into my chair. It was quiet comfortable. An air hostess came to serve me some juice.

"The Chairman specifically instructed us that we show you our most utmost qualitative service, so I hope that you will enjoy your flight, Miss." She said in a very gentle and welcoming voice and beamed at me.

The Chairman—so she's referring to Shehzad's Grandfather, since his father and my father in law was dead . I nodded and gave her a small smile. I could see that the juice was from a Pakistani local product, so it was safe to drink it. I'll have to be very careful once I'm in America. No doubt that the Atish family are Muslims, but even Muslims get corrupted when they live in the west, and that family has been living there for so long, maybe, they became pseudo Muslims or something.

I guess I'll find out soon enough. I began to look out of my window. It was a rainy day in Lahore. I was leaving through Allama Iqbal international airport. Zainab Baji was the only person who came to see me off. I miss Pakistan already. I miss the heat, the rains, the air, everything.

The captain announced that the time for departure had come, so fastened my seat belts. My heart was pounding and my throat and chest tightened. Tears overflowed my eyes.

"Good bye, my home....." I breathed, trying to control my tears.

**********

I arrived at John F. Kennedy international Airport, New York City, after a thirty two hour flight, although, the plane had to stop in Dubai on the way. I was dead tired by that time, although I got plenty of rest in the VIP lounge in Dubai. It was twilight when I reached New York. It was little chilly once I stepped outside the airplane. The captain personally escorted me to a lounge.

"The Chairman will be here in a few moments so please wait here." He courteously exclaimed and left. I was alone the big lounge. Everything looked so simple yet sophisticated. I hope that my new life here will be easy.

This the first time that I'm coming to USA; Abu wanted to bring us here during this year's summer vacations. He had everything ready and in about two months, we would have been here, but as tourists. Right now, my stay is only temporary, on an immigrants visa. Not until my citizenship is confirmed, I can go back to Pakistan whenever I want.

No one had bothered to call in order to check on me. Shumaila and Hina had called before my departure. If Ami and Abu were still alive; they would have called on and on to check up on me. Even Zainab Baji didn't bother to call. I guess that to my relatives, I was already a sold article out of an auction.

Feeling annoyed, I threw my cell phone in my hand bag—since no one was going to call me—although I had international network access—curtsy of my father-in-law.

I began to stare at the ceiling. I wish I had my violin with me right now, but unfortunately, it's still packed in my luggage. Drowsiness was sweeping through my mind. I just wanted to sleep right now. I glanced at the wall clock, since I wasn't wearing my wrist watch—it was 8: 17 p.m. since it was summer time here so the days should be long.

I was yawning, and my body was completely relaxed when the sharp sound of a clap ringed through my ears and sent my heart a shock. And a chill down my spine.

"Ah—finally." Someone said and entered the room. It was the same man that I saw on the TV screen during the Nikah ceremony—the man who looked like Steve jobs. So this was father-in-law. But when he came close, he was actually very different—very Asian. He was dressed in a suit.

He had a huge grin on his face and he approached me in a very gentlemanly fashion. I quickly jumped to my feet and quickly covered my head with my dupatta.

"I'm so glad that you arrived safely. I hope you had a pleasant journey, my dear." He spoke very politely, in English. He seemed very refined.

Right—since I'm also a member of his family, so I also have to act like a refined, first class lady.

"Yes, it was very pleasant. Thank you for asking." I replied in English. Though, I get the feeling that he is testing me. "My, what a fabulous accent! I never realized that the people in my country had become accustomed to speaking in English. Though at my time, it was still a secondary language. Oh well—it has been such a long time since then." He chuckled in Urdu.

So he was testing weather I was truly a daughter of a known prestigious family or not. But I wasn't surprised by his remark. Anyone who would hear my accent for the first time would say the same thing.

"Thank you," I said that to be polite, though I don't like people to mock me. He smiled in return.

"I'm so sorry for the late introductions. I am Fayaz Atish, the chairman of Atish enterprises, but now I am your father-in-law—Shehzad's grandfather, but I would love it if you called me Dada Jaan. All my grandchildren call me Chairman, but I want you to feel free and call me Dada jaan." He expressed nonchalantly. So he wasn't my direct father-in-law. Then what about Shehzad's father? This was all so confusing.

The Chairman seemed like such a carefree person. If he is like this than I'm pretty sure, that Shehzad must also be like this.

That gave me a little reassurance. But I noticed that he came alone. He noticed too.

"Oh I'm so sorry that I could not bring Shehzad with me. He was busy today so I decided to personally come and pick you up myself."

"No it's alright. I appreciate it, Dada Jaan." I replied with a smile. This man was putting me in high spirits, though it was sort of weird to call him that.

"May Allah bless you, baita." He breathed and passed his hand on my head, giving me his blessings. His eyes began to inspect me from head to toe. "Ma'shaa Allah, Ma'shaa Allah." He exclaimed delightfully.

"How old are you, my dear?" he asked thoughtfully, his face turned serious. That was out of the blue.

"Oh, um, seventeen, but I will be eighteen in two months." I posed. His expression turned serious all of a sudden.

"My, what a young bride? I do hope that this marriage was not imposed on you?" he inquired meditatively.

That surprised me. At one time he was being so friendly and welcoming and at the next, he suddenly turned so solemn.

"N-not all." I lied.

I had to keep my dignity and that of my family. If I told him that I was threatened into this marriage, then it would not only soil my image, but the image of Pakistan as well. I have to keep up with this act, not for their sake, but for my sake and the sake of my country.

I have to uphold that honor.

I gazed at me for a while and then suddenly his cell phone began to ring. He went outside to answer it. Was my appearance really that surprising?

Sure, I wasn't that mature looking, but at least I wasn't baby faced or anything of the sort that would give my age away. I was like any typical Pakistani girl—with brown hair and brown eyes, with the exception of my unconditional fair skin due to my Pashtun heritage. Even in Pakistan, sometimes people would mistake me for a European foreigner because of my facial features which resembled western feminine features. Therefore, I could be termed as a cute and pretty girl but I wasn't that young looking. Or was I?

I saw a mirror nearby and looked at my worn out face. I needed to cheer up otherwise I would blow up my cover of innocence. I pinched my cheeks to color them up and applied a little lip gloss.

After a while, Dada Jaan came back. "I have to leave. I'm so sorry my dear. But don't worry, I have called for Shehzad. He will be here soon to take you to your new home." He informed, I a rather joyful way. That statement caused my blood to be drained from my face. I didn't want to see him so early. I wasn't ready yet. Actually, I was really glad that the Chairman had come to escort me. I don't have the confidence to face him.

"I do hope that you will forgive my imprudence." Dada jaan enquired in English. Whatever the case was, I have to feign innocence.

"Not at all, I understand." I responded in a rather weak voice. My body felt limp.

"Then I shall see you tomorrow night. You shall be officially introduced as the wife of Shehzad at your Walima party." He notified me gleefully.

"What? Walima?" I was astounded.

"Certainly, A Walima is not only a Pakistani tradition, but also a Sunnat. It must be done." He said, putting force into his words. That's good. He's not a pseudo Muslim like I had thought. I'm so happy to know that. Then maybe everything will turn out alright.

The Chairman left the lounge and went to attend his call. He is such a nice person. Maybe ALLAH has entrusted me to good people. It wasn't going to be a challenge for me after all. I was worrying over nothing.

I sat on the couch and relaxed a bit. I was so tired. I just wanted to sleep.

**********

Half an hour had passed and nobody had arrived. I was very tired and I just wanted to doze off but if fell asleep, then that would give a bad impression. I wasn't hungry at all because they kept on feeding me different things on the plane. I was cautious about the food but they assured me that everything was prepared according to my liking. I was taken aback. How would the Chairman have known about my likes? But I guess that as a fellow believer himself, he knew what a Muslim approves of.

I yawned. The silence in the room was stimulating my drowsiness even further. Just as I decided to sleep for a bit, I heard some people talk outside near the door.

I jumped to my feet and adjusted the dupatta properly on my head. My heart began to race and blood filled my cheeks. The awaited meeting had finally arrived. I was feeling a bit embarrassed. But now I was actually fond of meeting my soul mate for the first time.

'What will I talk to him about? How should I introduce myself? This is all so awkward.' I thought in a panic—biting my nails in nervousness.

The door opened. My heart jumped to my throat. I gulped.

An African American man entered. I was taken aback. This wasn't Shehzad.

He grinned, his brown eyes welcoming.

"Mrs. Atish?" He came near me and bowed a little in front of me. I frowned. Being called missus by a stranger was weird.

"I'm terribly sorry for the wait. I am Lawrence Spalding. I am the Vice president at the company that Shehzad is the president of and I'm also his good friend. He couldn't make it so he asked me to escort you instead. I hope that there will be no problem." He said apologetically. He looked like a very gentle person. He was very handsome too and bald and somewhat sexy looking, especially his voice. He seemed to be around twenty or something.

"Shall we?" He gestured toward the exit. He was keeping some distance from me, so I guess that it was alright to go with him. He smiled very warmly at me. I sighed, picked me parka and my coat and followed him outside. It was completely dark now and it was a little chilly.

"Um—Mr. Spalding...," I called. He was heading towards the wrong way. "Oh please call me Larry. Don't worry, you can trust me and the car is parked this way. Please let me take your bag, Mrs. Atish." He insisted and took my parka. I deliberated a bit—my mother's gold jewelry was in it.

He said that I could trust him. That would be difficult.

Trust—I can't trust anyone except for myself. I had trusted my family yet they left me all alone. I had trusted my relatives but they betrayed me. That's when I decided that I will only trust and rely upon myself. I don't know if I will even be able to trust myself to Shehzad. I'm still insecure in that regard.

Larry led me to a black Mercedes. The chauffer ran to us and took my parka and opened the trunk and placed it in. Larry opened the back door for me. "What about the rest of my luggage?" I asked before getting in.

"It was sent to your new home an hour ago by the Chairman. So don't worry about it." Larry commented casually. I smiled. I really was being hysterical over nothing. It's evident enough that I'm in good hands now. I got in. This Mercedes was very different from Abu's Mercedes. Maybe this must be a new model. Larry also sat behind with me. This was odd. Why was a Na-Mehram man with me? I was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

We left the airport and got on the main road. I had officially entered New York City—the big Apple.

"Welcome to the big Apple, Mrs. Atish." Larry said in an embracing way. I gazed outside. I could see the statue of Liberty, all alight. The buildings of Manhattan were ahead. This is so different from the movies.

"Shehzad lives in an apartment in a condo that is south of Manhattan, very close to central park. He moved there when he was promoted to president from the post of director." He explained with a solemn tone. I tilted my head a little. "Where was he living previously?" I asked.

"At the main Family Villa."

"Why did he move out of there?" I asked another question. I was beginning to feel rather fond about getting to know my husband.

Larry looked at me. "Due to some family issues but mostly because the Chairman demanded him to move out. You see, out of all his grandchildren, Shehzad is the most dear to him." He stated. He was talking so passionately, as if talking about a brother rather than a friend.

"Are you very close to Shehzad." I queried. This was the first time I said my husband's name out loud. My back turned cold.

"Yes! We are childhood friends. We attended the same elementary school, junior high and high school. We are like brothers." He stipulated with a smile. I can understand that type of friendship. I'm blessed with the same bond with my friends.

"You look very young to be married. You must be in high school, right?" Larry mused. I blushed. I don't know how many times I'll be asked this question.

I sighed. "No—I graduated about a month ago." I muttered. But since he had asked such an informal question, then I had one for him too.

"And you look awfully young to be a vice president of a company?" I mentioned, trying hard not to be rude. He smiled.

"Ha-ha......well that is true. But Shehzad forced this post on me although I'm still in university." He alleged, covering his mouth to hide his smirk. "He thinks that I'm the only one who can support him through his work. This is all very new to him too. He had to take his father's post in a whim" he asserted. "Although he didn't wanted to.....," He murmured.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh I'm sorry. That was completely unnecessary. I didn't mean anything by that." He said, acting contrite. I let it slide. I don't want to think about unnecessary things.

"He must really trust you?" I uttered, bring the conversation back on track. He beamed. "Yes he does." He replied. But that smile vanished and I saw a somewhat sad face for a fraction of a second.

"Is he still studying or has he graduated?" I asked. "Yes he is also studying in Columbia University as a private candidate due to his presidency but just so that he can extend his qualifications as a capable leader, he works very hard." He declared respectfully.

"If you are like a brother to him—than tell me, was he also willing towards this marriage?" I inquired out of shear curiosity. He was clearly taken aback that I was asking such questions. He scratched his head and seemed to be struggling about the way he should answer.

"Um—I think that is a question that you should Shehzad that question." He chuckled.

I sighed. I had enough share of questions for one night. "By the way Mrs. Atish, your accent is so natural. Have you ever been in the US before." He asked the usual question.

I grimaced. "No, this is my first time." I clarified. "I see." He mused. I remained quiet. I guess that the conversation was over. I relaxed in my seat and began to think things through.

From the information that I have acquired about Shehzad so far, it has given me a good impression about him. I gazed outside. We were surrounded by the tall buildings of Manhattan. We had entered Midtown Manhattan now. I didn't notice in which direction we were heading. Maybe it was south, as par Larry.

My tiredness was surfacing again. The previous conversation had kept my mind active but this undulating silence was causing me to grow sleepier. I yawned.

After a few moments, the car stopped in front of a building. As anticipated, it was slim and tall. I got out and Larry held my luggage for me.

"So this is my new home?" I murmured to myself. Larry led the way. "This condominium is owned by Atish Enterprises. Most of the higher officials of the company reside here. I'm at the third floor. Your apartment is on the fifty first floor." Larry informed as we got on the elevator. "Central park is just two blocks down, you can go there anytime you like." He notified enthusiastically. I focused my attention on the key board. There were fifty eight digits—equivalent to fifty eight floors.

Judging from all of this, I inferred that the Chairman and his family were not only industrialists, but they were capitalists. I would love to ask him how he managed to become so successful in a foreign land such as this.

"Central office is located in the west of wall street." Larry explained the address to me, but at the moment, I couldn't pay much attention. My head was throbbing with pain—especially with the ascending height. I sighed.

"Mrs. Atish, are you alright. You must be very tired." Larry spoke with a lot of concern when he noticed my trembling legs. "We are here." He declared.

"And the fun part is that the elevator on this floor is completely private. You have the whole floor to yourself." Larry chuckled. I tried to smile but I could no longer ignore my headache.

"Shehzad told me to give you these," Larry claimed, taking a key out of his pocket. "But I'm sure that Charlotte must be working overtime tonight, so I'm sure that you won't be needing these." He professed. I frowned.

"Charlotte?"

"She's the maid." He clarified. For a split second, my imagination ran wild and thought about something perverted. 'I really need to lie down.' I thought, consoling myself.

"Well I shall take my leave now, Mrs. Atish. It was a pleasure meeting you. I shall see you tomorrow at the party." He asserted.

"Ah—thank you so much. I'm sorry if I caused you any inconvenience." I said with a smile. He was really a nice person. I have always respected the black community of America, but now a new impact was implemented on me.

"Not at all—later than." He handed me my luggage and left. I sighed and staggered towards the door. It was a big black door, made of chestnut. I'm sure that this must be a luxury apartment.

I rang the door bell. After a few poignant seconds, a middle aged woman opened the door. Her facial expressions showed that she was bewildered to see me.

"Mrs. Atish?" she queried in amazement. I nodded. "Yes." I responded. She quickly stepped aside and motioned for me to come in.

I hesitated. For a new bride to enter her new home—at the Rukhsati time, she her mother at one side, holding her bridal gown so that she could easily step inside the threshold and on the other side, her father holds the Qur'an above her head so that God may bless the new life that will befall the bride in her new life.

But I was a different type of bride. My Rukhsati was on board a plane and I was going to step inside the threshold without my parents at my side.

All this depressing thinking was worsening my headache. I stepped inside.

"Please let me take your things. You should relax now, young mistress." Charlotte exclaimed in a nervous voice and took my luggage.

Young mistress—that's a little hard to swallow. I was so used to servants calling me Baji or bibi. But being called young mistress had a new air to it. It sounded like my worth had increased.

I walked out of the main corridor and stepped inside a vast living room. It was very comfortable inside. My head was about to explode with my veins throbbing so much. "Urgh," I groaned, wobbling on my feet. My migraine had intensified.

"Young mistress!" Charlotte came near me, her voice sounded alarmed. "Please bring me a glass of water." I asked, holding my head.

I collapsed on a nearby leather couch. I rummaged through my hand bag and brought out a pain killer pill. Charlotte came running to me with a glass of water in hand. I quickly took the pill and collapsed.

My eyes were focused on a grandfather clock that was straight ahead of me. It was 9:25 p.m. I hadn't said my Isha prayers yet. But I was so tired.

My migraine was slowly subsiding but so was my consciousness. My eye lids were so heavy. Energy was depleting from my body. My body went limp.

**********

My eyes flew open all of a sudden. My migraine was gone but by head felt heavy. I realized that I had fallen asleep on the sofa. I saw the grandfather clock. It was 1:00 a.m. or p.m. I couldn't tell. I glanced at the uncovered glass door. It was dark outside. So it was 1:00 a.m. in the morning.

The room was alight with three side lamps. So it was semi dark in here.

My ears detected some noise in the direction of the corridor."Thanks for your hard work today. You can leave now." Said a male husky voice in English.

"It was no problem at all Young Master. Your new bride is quiet a beauty. She was tired so as soon as she came, she took a pill and dozed off on the couch." I heard Charlotte's voice.

She said young Master—was she referring to the Master of the house? That means it was Shehzad. He was home.

My heart began to race. I felt my stomach churn with nervousness.

"I see. I'll see you tomorrow. Take care." Shehzad muttered. I tried to get up but my back was stiff. He was coming home so late. But the way he was talking with Charlotte, it gave me the impression that he was also a nice and kind person.

I got on my feet and tried to clear my misty eyes. I was feeling flushed. I heard the door close.

I was so nervous that my chest tightened and my legs began to shake. I'm scared but now I have to face the man who is my husband. I gulped. I quickly licked my dried lips and pulled open my hair and properly adjusted the dupatta on my head. I relaxed my face and my body. "Everything was going to be alright.' I thought, calming myself. I fixed my sight on the corridor entrance.

'Was this going to be it? Is tonight going to be my first night?' I thought, my mind was falling into frenzy. And my heartbeat accelerated.

Although Charlotte was gone and the door was closed—but Shehzad wasn't coming here. Was he nervous too?

A few seconds later, I heard the sound of mild footsteps approaching the room from the corridor. My nerves were being stretched from uneasiness.

All of a sudden, the living room became bright and blinded me. All the lights were turned on. When I removed my hands from my eyes, I saw that Shehzad was standing right in front of me. He was nothing like I had expected. He was incredibly handsome, with straight almond brown hair, which was long down to the nape of his neck and he had turquoise colored eyes. His skin was fair—albino fair. He didn't look like twenty at all. He looked more mature—especially his eyes.

He was wearing a white shirt and grey pants and coat. His body was well built with broad features. The shirt's first three buttons were left open, which revealed a thick gold chain around his neck.

I was stunned. He surpassed my expectations. He approached me with a drink in his hand. I noticed two metal bands around two of his fingers and thumb. His eyes were also examining me from top to bottom. He was tall—about a foot taller than me. That was expected. Asian people are usually short, especially Pakistani women.

I couldn't read the expression on his face. He was just staring at me, but when our eyes met, I quickly looked away.

"Ha—so this is my wife, huh." He said in English—it sounded very rude. Before I could say anything, his big hand had cupped my chin. He turned my face to the sides. "Hmm....." he mused. He was examining me like I was some sort of article or an object.

Before I could speak, he let go of me and sat in a nearby arm chair. He had a proud air to him. He crossed his legs and began to examine me again. But this time, his eyes were giving me the feeling as if I was an unwelcomed sight.

"So you are my so-called-wife." He uttered haughtily in English—his voice sharp and resonant. My eyes widened in shock. He was treating me like some sort of criminal.

"I bet you can't even understand what I'm saying, right? I never expected an illiterate village woman for a bride. The only good thing about you so far is that you aren't Asian looking." He remarked.

I was further taken aback—all my expectations about him and my image of his shattered. He was worse than I thought. Why was he behaving like this? Is this his usual self? Is he prejudiced against me?

"Tsk......that old geezer! What was he thinking?" he sighed under his breath to himself. Was he referring to the Chairman?

But I couldn't stay quiet and remain dumbfounded. I have to counteract his insults. "Excuse me.....how can you insult me like that?" I exclaimed in English—I was getting breathless with rage.

"Oh—so you can understand me. I'm glad you're not a dolt or stupid." He chuckled. That hit the spot. I finally snapped.

"Hey—you don't know me so don't be rude or say stuff that is mean." I retorted in a loud, high pitched voice. He was so mean.

He's a sadist. And a chauvinistic bigotry.

I flushed with anger. All my nervousness disappeared.

He got up from the chair. His face and eyes suddenly became very serious and I could actually see sparks fly out of his eyes.

"I will say whatever I want to say whether you like it or not." His hissed through clenched teeth. My counter attack had clearly pissed him off. But I was even more upset. I might be the only bride in the whole world who got to hear such insults—and from her husband no less and on our first meeting and on our first night together.

'Argh.......just thinking about it is making my migraine resurface.' I thought dolefully.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but I don't get bullied so easily." I rebuked in a strong and willful voice. "Don't you have anything else to say to me?"

"All I can say to you is that I'm disappointed." He retorted, his eyes sharply focused on me. He was clearly in a bad mood.

But before I could anticipate his next move, he grabbed my arm and pulled me closer to him. I got locked into his embrace. When I glanced at his face, he had turned into a somewhat sinister character. I tried to struggle out of it hold, but he only snickered.

"That's too bad. I like my women whom I can easily monopolize. But you're a sharp tongued woman, aren't you?" He whispered in my ear in a flawless Urdu dialect that left me confounded.

And before I could decipher the meaning of his words, he pulled open my mouth and suddenly, his mouth was on mine. He pulled my mouth into a tight kiss and applied more pressure.

'No way. No way. This cannot be happening. This can't be my first kiss?' I thought frantically. My heart was pounding against my chest. And it even skipped a beat when he inserted his tongue in my mouth. His warm breath was intoxicated with a strange smell. It must be the drink that he was having.

I was getting out of breath. He wouldn't let me escape. He pulled my head and forced another round on me. I couldn't stop him. My hands were hammering on his chest to struggle out of his hold but he didn't even flinch.

My whole body began to shake. He finally let me go when I was completely unable to breath.

I collapsed.

My feet wouldn't carry me. I tried to steady the beating of my heart. But I was breathing heavily to fill air into my empty lungs.

'Is a first kiss suppose to be so forceful and breathtaking?' I thought to myself, wallowing in self pity. I wanted to cry. But I know now that, that since this man likes to control people, then I must not show any of my weaknesses.

Shehzad dropped on his toes and grabbed my chin. He must have noticed the moisture at the corner of my eyes—that caused him to snicker.

"So you're a beginner at this kind of stuff but I guess that kiss seals the deal." He commented in English. He was clearly enjoying playing with me.

"Why are you being so mean to your new bride?" I demanded ruefully—my voice a little hoarse. He smirked in a menacing and ominous way. His grip on my jaw tightened.

"I don't acknowledge you as my wife. You're just a burden that I have taken in." he claimed bluntly, in a baleful tone of voice.

"What?" I murmured. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. He was indirectly calling me—an orphan—that I was a huge burden to him and he is unwillfull to take care of that burden. He was making me realize my insignificant worth. This proves that he is against this marriage.

His expression turned sardonic. "I didn't agree to this. I just married you due to some circumstances. But I don't want to get myself involved with you. So stay out of my way." He warned in a very precise tone that sent Goosebumps down my arm. He was a very scary looking person when he was serious. The aura around him was gloomy and threatening.

He stood up straight, tower me and walked towards a door. Only his back was facing me. I tried to climb on my feet.

"Remember this. I am not bound to anything, least of all you. But since you have been bound to me and given my name, then it can't be helped." He spoke and then pulled something out of his coat pocket and placed it on a nearby lamp table.

"What do you mean by that?" I managed to ask. He glared at me. "You're so damn slow," he commented in English. "What I mean is that even I have some things that are important to me, which I can't let go of." He specified, his arms folded across his chest. . "I'm a money man and my work is my life. So don't expect anything from Me." he declared haughtily.

"My secretary will be here tomorrow. She will explain everything to you including my daily schedule. As for this house, you can go anywhere you like, except for my private room. You are not allowed their under any circumstances." He pronounced in a very strict voice, as if he was hissing each word at me. He was scaring me for no reason what so ever. A cold chill ran down my spine.

I was beginning to feel as if I was having a bad dream and when I wake up, I'll know who the real Shehzad is.

"That is the master bed room," he pointed towards a door to my left."I can sleep there or in my study or in my own room. But tonight, I sleep alone. You can relax too." He alleged and took his coat off.

I was heading straight toward another door that was adjacent to the corridor but he turned around and faced me. "Oh and for the record, at the Walima party tonight, try to play along." He said with a smirk and vanished behind the door.

What the hell is that suppose to mean? My head was beginning to spin. This was all so confusing and crazy.

I fell on the couch and tried to understand all that had happened in the past few moments.

That settles it. All my basic fears about that man had come true.

Oh my God—he's a horrible person. First, he comes and acts all high and mighty, and then he stole my first kiss and then he tells me that unwelcomed and not needed—referring me to some bothersome luggage.

'What am I going to do now? All I can do now is despair. Abu—what should I do now? I thought that he being a pseudo Muslim will be bad enough, but he doesn't even approve of this marriage.' I could feel moisture in the palms of my hands.

"Abu—why didn't you take me with you? You should have taken me with you." I whispered to myself—wishing so much that I had died along side my family about a month ago. I have no one whom I can ask for help.

That person seems insufferable. I was being so enthusiastic about this whole marriage farce, but he doesn't acknowledge me. I don't know if I'll ever be able to survive with him. He doesn't even know me yet he hates me already. He said that he doesn't acknowledge me as his wife, then that means that he doesn't see me as a woman. So I can assume that I'm safe for now.

But still, if that man is my life partner, then changing his life is my responsibility. I have to act in order to save his soul. If I stay silent and be a target to his harassment, then I'll be equally to be blamed. This is a challenge that I must accept.

"Oh ALLAH—please help me in my quest." I made a quiet prayer in my mind and heart. A person can always change and I'm sure if I work hard than I can change that arrogant man.

I have to be positive and not worry over useless things. This self confidence is my only weapon to overcome these drastic odds. I know now that in order to make him acknowledge me, not only as a wife but also as a woman, I will have to suffer and sacrifice. I know this much now—like everyone else—he thinks that I'm a helpless orphan and I'm dependant on others. But I'll prove him wrong.

'I will make that person know me better, I will make him want me and love me and I will make him look at me from a different perspective.' I decided with full determination and innovation. But in order to do that—I will have to be completely selfless and disregard my own feeling. It will cause me to suffer greatly.

I jumped to my feet and headed towards the master bedroom. I was feeling a bit better from my previous nap but I was still exhausted. soon as I entered, I saw a colossal bed and without thinking, I just ran and fell on it. I lied horizontally without a pillow. It was so comfortable that it didn't take me long to resume my broken slumber.

Tonight—I discovered a different shade of white—one that gives a person further reason to live—the shade of willpower.

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