He arrived at around nine-thirty, and at the sound of the doorbell, she became uncontrollably nervous. Despite herself, she was apprehensive about Salar's family's reaction. Even as neighbors, there was a lot of formality between the two families, and subsequent events had only ended that formality. She remembered a phone conversation with Sikandar Usman from several years ago, and perhaps her apprehensions stemmed from that call.

As she opened the main door, she realized that her hands were trembling. Sikandar Usman and the other two individuals greeted her warmly. The brusqueness and hostility she was searching for in their behavior were not immediately apparent. Imama's nervousness diminished somewhat. During the dinner at Furqan's house, her nervousness was reduced even further.

Anita and Tayyaba continued to chat with Noshin and her in a very friendly manner. Although Noshin and Furqan had met Salar's parents before, it was the first time Noshin had met Anita, and their conversation was primarily about their children. She listened to their discussions with a serene, quiet demeanor.

 She did not want her marriage or her self to become the topic of conversation in Furqan's house. After returning to her apartment, Sikandar and Tayyaba spoke to her in the sitting room for the first time. It was then that Imama sensed the underlying concern in their tone, which reflected their reaction to Imama's family. Her confidence disappeared once again. Although they did not openly discuss Hashim Mubeen or his family in front of Imama, they now wanted to hold the walima function in Lahore instead of Islamabad.

 She wanted to hear Salar's opinion, but he remained silent during the conversation. As the periods of silence during the discussion increased, Imama suddenly realized that she was the reason for the growing awkwardness in the conversation. The four of them were not speaking openly because of her.

"Just go to sleep, dear; you'll need to wake up for sehri. We'll sit here a little longer," Sikandar Usman had said immediately as an excuse to get her to sleep. She got up and went to her room. Falling asleep was very difficult. The concerns she had not even thought about two days ago now occupied her mind.

It was assumed that Sikandar and Usman wanted to keep their marriage secret so that his family would not find out about it. She sat on her bed for a long time, thinking about the dangers and threats they were feeling. For the first time, sitting alone there, she considered how great a risk Salar had taken by marrying her. Whoever married her would inevitably make themselves somewhat unsafe, but the situation was even worse in Salar Sikandar's case because there was a higher chance of the relationship being exposed. 

They could only do so much... She thought, "Neither I nor Salar would ever be killed." She still had blind faith that, somewhere, his family would surely show some consideration. At most, they would try to forcibly take her away and then seek a divorce from Salar and marry her off somewhere else.

Her anxiety suddenly increased. Perhaps things were not as straightforward as she had been understanding or trying to understand. It wasn't just a matter of getting married of her own will; it was a matter of changing religion. She felt a tightness in her stomach and sat back down on the bed. For the first time, marrying Salar seemed like a mistake. She found herself once again standing at the same precipice she had been avoiding for so many years.

In her dream, they were tying ropes around her wrists and dragging her. The ropes were tied so tightly that blood started to ooze from her veins, and with every jolt, she uncontrollably screamed in pain. She was being dragged through a crowd in a market like a prisoner. People on both sides were laughing loudly and shouting at her. Then, one of the men among them, who was pulling the ropes on her wrists, jerked the rope with all his strength. She fell to her knees on the rough stone path.

"Imama, Imama, it's me. Wake up, there's just a little time left before Sehri ends."

She got up in a daze and turned on the bedside table lamp. Salar was standing beside her, gently shaking her shoulder to wake her up.

"Sorry, I might have scared you," Salar apologized.

She stared at his face for a while with a vacant mind. She had become accustomed to seeing such dreams over the past years, and this sequence of dreams still hadn't stopped.

"Did you fall asleep without taking the blanket?"

As Salar poured water into a glass, as he said that. Imama glanced at the blanket lying on the bed. It was indeed still in the same place. He certainly hadn't come into the room to sleep during the night.

The room's heater was on; otherwise, she would have surely woken up due to the cold

"Come quickly, there are only ten minutes left."

He handed her the glass of water and left the room.

After washing her hands, when she came to the sitting area, he had already finished Sehri and was busy making tea. There was no one else in the lounge or kitchen. The dining table was already set with dishes for her.

"I'll make the tea." Instead of having Sehri, she started taking out mugs.

"Take your time with Sehri; the call to prayer will be announced soon. I can make tea for myself and even for you," Salar said, taking the mug from her hand and sending her back.

She pulled out a chair and sat down

"is everyone asleep?"

"Yes, they just fell asleep a little while ago. We were talking all night, and maybe you were disturbed because of our voices."

"No, I was asleep," she replied with a very subdued tone. Salar sensed that she seemed very upset.

"Did you have a particularly bad dream?"

He placed the tea mug on the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down beside her.

"Dreams... I was just startled... no... it's nothing," she said and started eating.

"What time will these people have breakfast in the morning?" she asked, changing the subject.

salar laughed involuntarily

"These people...these are your second family now... Call them Mummy Papa and Anita Anita, she was genuinely embarrassed by that remark. S

he had been using those two words for them since last night. 'they won't have breakfast. they will get up in an hour, an hour and a half. Their flight is at ten o'clock.'"

Salar, noticing her embarrassment, changed the subject.

"Why are they  leaving so early, at ten in the morning?" She was surprised

"They came just to meet you; Papa has a meeting at 2 PM today, and Anita came after leaving her children with the maid. Her youngest daughter is only six months old." He was explaining. "Instead of tea and snacks, you make it yourself. 

I'll pray now and then get ready for the office with them. I'll drop them at the airport and then head to the office." Salar picked up the empty mug of tea, stopped his yawn, and stood up. Imama looked at him with some surprise.

"Aren't you going to sleep?"

"No, I'll sleep after coming back from the office in the evening."

"You should take a day off," Imama said casually.

As Salar headed toward the sink, he turned to look at Imama and then laughed involuntarily. "Take a day off to sleep? That doesn't happen in my profession. You're suggesting it because you didn't sleep last night."

"I've worked for the U.N. without sleeping for twelve to thirteen hours straight. In extreme heat and cold, in disaster-stricken areas, and even at night, I've been talking to parents in perfect conditions. Why would I be tired?"

"The azaan was happening."

"Now please don't wash the mug, I still need to wash my dishes."

In the context you provided:

"Imama stopped her while emptying the tea mug. She was taking out

"Alright''. Wash it. Salar placed the mug in the sink with great enthusiasm and turned it over. She was standing with the lid of the trash can removed, holding the tea bag in her hand like a ghost, with a look of shock on her face. 

Salar glanced at her, then at the item in the trash can that had shocked him so much. It said 'Non-Alcoholic'. He left the kitchen, muttering under his breath.

"She felt an involuntary sense of shame. She was certain that, despite being unable to see the empty ginger beer can in the trash can from where she stood, she knew exactly what she had seen. She had read 'ginger' later and 'beer' first, and if this hadn't been Salar Sikandar's house, her mind would have initially gone towards non-alcoholic drinks. But here, her mind had involuntarily gone in another direction. 

Bending down to throw away the tea bag, she had also seen the word 'Non Alcoholic' on the can. For a while, she remained lost in her embarrassment, trying to get over it. She wondered what he might be thinking about her, and Salar was genuinely surprised. The bridge of trust they were trying to build between them was breaking from one side or the other.

He had last drunk alcohol eight years ago, but he consumed energy and non-alcoholic drinks almost every night during work. Seeing Imama shocked by the waste basket, it took him seconds to realize what in that waste basket could be shocking to her."

He was connected to the corporate sector, and at the parties he attended, there was always alcohol on the drinks table. Despite his repeated refusal of this beverage, no one had thought, even once in the past eight years, that he might be lying, because none of them knew the Salar Sikandar of nine years ago. 

However, a person who had come to his house two days ago had substantial reasons to doubt any of Salar Sikandar of nine years ago. However, a person who had come to his house two days ago had substantial reasons to doubt any of Salar's statements and actions.

All this would have been acceptable if he had not engaged in such behavior; he would have been trustworthy. Now that the past is not so clear, it will naturally take some time to establish trust in him. As he went towards the outer door, he easily took all the blame upon himself and absolved Imama of any responsibility. 'Shall I press your clothes?' he asked upon reaching the bedroom. He was taking out his clothes from the wardrobe in the dressing room."

"No, my clothes come pressed already." He smiled as he turned around, taking out a hanger.

Imama suddenly remembered her earrings.

"Have you seen my earrings anywhere? I left them in the washroom, but I couldn't find them there."

"Yes, I picked them up from there. They're on the dressing table."

Salar took a couple of steps forward, picked up the earrings, and handed them to Imama

"These are old now. Come with me today; I'll buy you new ones." He remarked as she put on the earrings

"These were given to me by my father when I got admission into medical school. They aren't old for me."

"You don't need to waste your money."

Imama didn't even bother to turn around to see his reaction. She simply opened the bedroom door and walked out. He stood there for a few seconds, feeling as though she had thrown his loving offer back in his face. At least, that's how Salar felt. 

What he didn't realize was that the offer made out of love had been turned into something that fulfilled a need. He was a man; he couldn't differentiate between need and love. She was a woman; she would rather die than confuse need with love.

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