Sadkey Tumhare. (For Your Sake)

twenty two

❤️

Aaina.

We always ask ourself about our life, our priorities. What truly matters to us? What is holding us back? Is it love? Is it care? Is it hate? Is it fear? What is it that's stopping us from breaking down the barriers, from running towards the sunset, from taking over.

One, who figures out what truly matters, is the one who wins. But was I winning? No.

What mattered to me the most? My heart only had one answer.

Zaydaan.

He mattered.

God, he mattered so much. Everything he did affected me. Three nights, he hadn't slept in the same bed with me for three nights now and it was eating me from inside.

I couldn't even sleep right. Just because of him not being there by my side.

So he mattered.

And what else? My education. That mattered to me. But I felt like I was doing so bad in my academic life, I didn't feel as bright and as creative.

And what mattered?

My family mattered.

Abbu mattered. Ammi mattered. Saira and my brother mattered.

My father had hurt me to the core and I still loved him, respected him the same.

Ahad mattered, his friendship mattered to me.

But this new position, of being the first lady. It didn't feel so important to me. It felt almost fake, like I was a trophy wife.

I liked the attention and yet hated it.

Wearing another shalwar kameez that had been replaced by my other clothes in my wardrobe, I walked down the stairs, eyes focusing on the house workers who were cleaning and at the same time, rushing to switch the television on.

I entered the living room, looking at one of the senior employees of the Prime Minister House.

"Good Morning. What's all the commotion about?" I questioned, sitting on the sofa myself and looking at her.

"Good Morning, madam. The Prime Minister is making his first address."

She informed me. Madam. I hated it. I had told them so many times to call me Aaina, even Aaina baji if they didn't want to take my name but they would always deny it.

Zaydaan hadn't addressed the nation yet, not even after taking the oath. People were shocked but I knew he wanted to make it perfect and perfection took time.

"Okay, that's the only way I get to see him anyway." I murmured, my voice barely audible.

I missed him.

"Would you like some tea?"

"That would be lovely, thank you."

One of the girls working in the hall left to fetch me tea while the others continued their work.

"Where's mama?" I questioned next.

"She left early in the morning."

I wanted to groan at that. I had actually thought this through. I could convince her to go with me on my first official visit to an orphanage. But mama knew my lack of confidence, and maybe she had left so I wouldn't force her to come with me.

"Okay."

I leaned against the sofa, unmuting as I saw the official government animation being run on the Pakistan television network.

And then, he was there.

In a white shalwar kameez and a black waist coat, his hair styled back and his face covered with the right amount of beard, Zaydaan looked every bit of an authoritative leader that he was.

He started to speak and for some reason, I felt my heart beat fast.

"Assalam alaikum. First of all, I want to thank all my workers who started with me in this movement, all the people who have supported me, who have fought by my side, who have supported the party with all that they had."

"A week ago, I took oath as the Prime Minister. I know you all wondered why I hadn't addressed the nation yet, it is because I wanted to give my people a good news first."

"I'll tell that to you all in a while, but first I want to talk to my nation about the challenges that we are facing as a country today."

I was still listening to him speak but got distracted as Ahad arrived in the hall, a bag in his hand and a frown on his face.

He had been working pretty hard lately. I didn't expect him to even be home.

"You're home?" I enquired, almost happy that there was atleast someone familiar here right now.

"I am actually just about to leave, what's up with you though? Looking good." He said in a rush.

I cracked a smile.

"Oh, nothing. Just tea and TV."

"You do realise that you have to go to mama's orphanage, today?"

Did he not realise that I was dressed for it?

"Yes. That's why I'm dressed, right? I also know that they made me an i********: account without my permission."

I told him.

Yes, they had done that. Taking inspiration from Queen Rania, first lady of Jordan, Raima had talked to the advisory Council and made me a social media account on twitter and i********:.

It is a good image builder. She had assured me.

"Did they? I'm gonna follow you." He took out his phone, eyes tired but playful as he looked at me.

"First lady, Islamic Republic of Pakistan. Striving for a better country, with love and peace. Humanity comes first."

He laughed and even I laughed along, Ahad had this contagious laughter that could make anyone's day.

"That's the fakest bio I have ever read." He stated, following me nonetheless.

I didn't even know the password of that account yet.

"So what's gonna happen at the orphanage?" I asked him next, eyes glancing at the television screen where Zaydaan was gesturing towards something with his hands and then at Ahad.

"Where's Raima?" He enquired.

"Not here, yet."

"She'll guide you when she comes. Take care."

Okay. Mr Railway Minister didn't have the time to gossip or chat with me anymore. Got it.

I truly wanted him to do the best job. He deserved to be noticed for being a hardworking, caring individual. Not just a playboy.

"All the best."

I yelled as he almost ran towards the exit. Turning my attention back on the television, I unmuted yet again.

My husband was talking with such passion, that all my attention was on that television screen.

The hot tea placed by my side, slowly getting cold.

"The Prophet said that he would punish even his daughter, if she broke the law. Hazrat Ali lost a case to a Jewish citizen, in the Court. This shows that all are equal in the eyes of law and minorities have equal rights."

"I want to state that we have this habit of asking foreign countries for loans, wish any qualms. Our leaders ask for money from one or the other, IMF - No country can prosper in this way."

"I know people critisize me for coming into power because of my father's position. But I promise you that I will prove my worth as the Prime Minister."

I smiled looking at him, so confident, so calm, so passionate. I was the complete opposite.

"Now, about the good news. I am announcing accountability across all platforms. I don't care who the person is, he will be held accountable for corruption. government will not back down from holding the corrupt leaders accountable."

Holding the corrupt people accountable truly was a great decision. They were taking away the money that didn't belong to them. But doing so, would mean holding alot of people of his own circle accountable. Wouldn't it?

"We will not compromise over corruption. The future of the country will be at stake if those involved in corruption are not jailed. NAB has been investigating some of the richest people in the country, some of our major political leaders too. They're all involved in corruption and NAB is holding them accountable."

"Officers from NAB will be arresting all those who are accused and their cases will be sent to the courts. Their names have been added to the ECL. They can't run, they can't hide."

I raised my eyes at his firm decision, there was this look in his eyes that told me he was serious about this.

"I'll be addressing the nation again this week and I will discuss things in detail. Thank you. Allah hafiz."

The television screen switched back to two anchors and I looked at Raima who had just arrived. She was paying the same amount of attention to Zaydaan's speech.

But she looked at him because he was the Prime Minister and his decisions mattered. I was looking at him because he was my husband and I liked to admire him.

"This is great, Raima. No? I mean it's pretty nice that he's doing this."

"It is." She agreed, switching the volume up once again.

"Prime Minister Ziagil has announced accountability across board. In his latest address to the nation, he announced that those involved in corruption must be held accountable."

The anchor person announced, talking to the panel that was sitting opposite her.

"While several names on the list put under ECL are shocking, the most shocking one is the name of his own father in law."

"Yes, that's correct. Prime Minister Zaydaan Ziagil's father in law is also in the list, which means NAB is coming for him."

For a minute, I didn't understand what was actually being said.

Did it mean, my father? My own father? Okay, no.

That can't happen.

What the actual f**k?

Had Zaydaan approved this? Had he really been okay with my father going to jail?

I hated what abbu had used me for, but I loved him anyway. He was my father. Did Zaydaan not think what effect it would have on me?

What if he didn't know?

He's the Prime Minister, Aaina. Ofcourse, he knows.

"I don't know if it's a decision he took to prove things or?" The anchor person questioned, and I heard her more attentively.

"He said he won't spare anyone. In his words,"for better Pakistan, I'll be making tough decisions,"

"But his wife's father? That's shocking."

Shocking? It was traumatising.

I couldn't let my father go to jail. I couldn't let him get defamed like this. It wasn't right. No.

"Aaina, you okay?" Raima whispered from beside me, I shrugged standing up, almost trembling.

"Oh my god. Oh my god. Okay, what do I do?" I said, feeling overwhelmed in a horrible way.

"What?"

"He put my dad's name under the list. My dad can't go to jail."

Why was I even talking about this with Raima? She couldn't help me.

"Aaina, I'm sure he knows what he's doing." She tried to justify, I picked up my phone, taking it out from my bag.

I wanted to call Zaydaan but somehow my fingers dialled my mother's phone number.

She picked it up instantly.

"Hello? Ammi? Where's abbu?"

"He's in his office, did you hear the news?" She questioned, her voice so distant and angry.

"I did."

"Did you know?" She asked next.

As if Zaydaan ever consulted about his decisions with me.

"No, I didn't. I don't know why Zaydaan would do this."

"Your father is very angry, Aaina. This is too much." She told me.

Ofcourse, he was angry.

"It's not my fault, but I'll call Zaydaan and talk to him." I tried to console her but I heard her hiss on the other end.

"Stop lying. I know you hate your father for marrying you off but allowing your husband to do this? It's pathetic."

"Ammi, I had no clue. Okay? I swear it." I tried.

"I don't believe you. You're so in love with him that you don't care about your own father."

Yes, I loved my husband but I wasn't blind to everything that he did. I had my own opinion too. I did, right?

And I cared about my father. I had to talk to Zaydaan.

"But ammi-" She interrupted me again, this time talking with me in a tone that almost sounded scary.

"If your father goes to jail, Aaina. You're not welcome in my house. Infact, Saira won't meet you either."

I could handle not meeting her, I couldn't handle not meeting Saira.

"You can't do that!" I exclaimed.

You can't marry me off to a stranger, then yell at me for loving him. You can't hate me for something I never did and you can't stop me from meeting the one person who I could count on from that family.

"I can. And I am going to." She promised, cutting the call.

For a minute, I closed my eyes.

Tears were a sign of weakness. My husband had told me, but how could I not cry at such a horrible thing?

---

I knew he was going to be home. I knew it because Sami bhai had been standing outside even when he didn't need to. Since he had been assigned to me now, he could have easily waited in his room, I was inside the house, protected.

But he stood outside the house, as if he was waiting.

So I knew Zaydaan was going to be home.

And I needed to talk to him.

Finally, after waiting for another half an hour, Zaydaan finally entered the living room.

I stood up, not even saying my salam.

"Zaydaan! What in God's name are you doing?!" I almost yelled at him, too done with my mother's anger.

How could she tell me that I couldn't come home? How could she?

My husband looked at me like I had lost my mind.

"Watch your tone." He warned, face stoic as he walked forward and sat right in front of the television.

He took in a deep breath. Looking up at me as he exhaled.

"What is it?" He asked.

"My father. You want my father in jail."

Not even a single facial muscle moved as he leaned back, relaxed.

"So?"

"But he helped you." I argued.

"And?"

"And you shouldn't do this. He's my dad. How can you do this Zaydaan?"

It felt like I was talking to the Zaydaan I had talked to on our very first meeting. The cold, calculated, smug man that I knew he wasn't.

I gulped.

"He's your dad. But he's also a corrupt man. So I don't care."

I walked forward and sat by his side.

"Zaydaan, please. Okay? You can't do this. You don't understand, ammi says she won't let me even enter the house if something happened and-"

He put a hand on my thigh.

"Aaina. Stop talking."

It seemed like an order.

"I don't understand why you're doing this. He helped you!" This time, my voice was much louder.

I didn't mean to sound so loud but I couldn't help myself. Zaydaan stood up, a cruel smirk on his face.

"Helped me? My darling wife, he gave our party the money, gave you to us and then snitched on us, gave our private information to the Chaudhry's and promised their son that he will marry your sixteen year old sister to his thirty nine year old son."

I gasped.

No. It couldn't be.

Abbu would never do something like that. Saira was too young, it wasn't right.

But why would Zaydaan lie? He wouldn't.

"Not only that, but he also tried to get our senior members to leave the party. He's getting what he deserves."

Maybe he is. But he's still a parent. My parent. I can't let you put him through something like this. 

"He's my father." I whispered, a tear leaking out of my eye.

"And I'm your husband." He reminded.

I held his arm, making myself lean closer to him.

"Zaydaan, please. Aap esa nahi karo, please."

I pleaded, Zaydaan moved back with force.

"Aaina, mere liye chai banwa do aur drama band karo."

He said instead. I didn't move, infact I stared at him.

What happened to him? Why was he acting so different?

"You know what? I'll have tea in my office."

He looked so done with me. So tired of me. But I hadn't done anything. I had been trying to be as supportive and as dutiful as any other wife.

I stopped him, holding his hand as he was about to walk away.

"Aap teen din baad ghar aye ho, Zaydaan. Abhi mat jao."

Tears of frustration came out once again. How could I stop this? When he was acting in this way? How could I save my father when he, himself was responsible for all of this.

He had never tried to save me from anything, he had been so rude to me, so uncaring, as if I was a burden. And yet, here I was, trying to save him when he actually had the audacity to try and marry off my sixteen year old sister.

But jail? Even the thought made me cry.

"Tum rona band karo aur Mera decision accept karo. You don't have a choice."

He commanded. I didn't wipe them away.

"Even if he betrayed you, I care about him, he's my father. And you told me that you cared about me, so please, Zaydaan. Don't do this."

I tried to convince him, he shook his head.

"I'll stop giving a f**k about you if you start this s**t with me, Aaina."

He stared at me, enraged.

"Why are you behaving this way?" I questioned out of the blue. He frowned.

"What way?"

"Like you don't care." I mumbled, continuing. "You've been so distant in the past week, I don't understand it."

He sighed, placing a finger on my cheek and dragging it up and down softly.

"What kind of marriage was ours, Aaina?" He questioned.

"Arranged." I replied. He shook his head.

"No. Tell me." He asked again.

"Political." I said this time.

I was confused. Why was he talking like this?

"Exactly. And what purpose was it to serve me?"

"To be the Prime Minister." I answered.

He smirked in triumph.

"Good. And I am one now. What use do I have of you now?"

I trembled all of a sudden.

He's just angry, Aaina. He's angry and he's trying to hurt you because of it. He's just angry.

"Zaydaan." I whispered.

For a minute, he simply stared at my face, at my smudged mascara, my trembling lips and my hopeful eyes.

His hand reached for my waist, as he held me in a tight grip, almost in a painful grip. I dared to look at him, and looked away the moment I saw the cruel look in his eyes.

"My dear wife, I'll still f**k you, I'll still sleep by you. But if you think that there is going to be anything more, just because I showed a little care, you're wrong."

I tried to get out of his grip, his harsh words making me sob out loud.

What was he trying to say? What was he even talking about? Why was he being this way?

"I don't understand. Stop it."

"You're just saying that to stop me from bugging you. I won't, okay? Now can we please go back to how we were?"

I managed to ramble out whatever I could, desperate for comfort.

"You really don't understand, do you?"

He enquired.

"Sir, Croatian president is on the phone." His chief of staff suddenly entered the room, without even knocking as he looked at his Prime Minister in a hurry.

I looked away, ashamed.

Here I was, eyes filled with tears, face smudged, heart feeling like it might break into a thousand pieces and he had caught me.

Zaydaan, he didn't even look bothered. Infact, he nodded at the man, told him that he was coming.

I couldn't let him walk away though.

"Zaydaan, wait! You can't go. You have to just, okay? You can't do this."

It looked like he wanted to smack me away, his patience level was nearly at it's end.

"Tell me you're-"

He finally cupped my face in his hands, making me stare in his eyes as he spoke.

"I loved Minal and I was forced to marry you. I told you I wasn't capable of love because I gave all my love to her."

It hurt.

God damn, it hurt.

It hurt hearing it.

It hurt absorbing whatever he had told me.

It hurt, thinking that she was right. She loved him and he loved her.

He loved her.

I closed my eyes, and opened them again to stop the pain.

Do you see the pain in my eyes right now? Do you see what you're doing to me? Is that the reason why you are looking away? Why you can't look me in the eye right now?

"I'll never love you, I can pretend to care about you but it will be fake. And I'm tired of it."

Then, he let go.

Leaving me in that living room all alone. And that's what my reality truly was.

I was all alone.

First lady of Pakistan, talked about by millions and yet, all alone. And unloved.