Story of a girl – “I Married a Stranger..”
I was on the bed, feeling terrified. I opened my diary and wrote, ‘I married a stranger’ and quickly hid it under the bed. My whole body was shaking.
“What do I do?” I questioned myself.
“Do I act like a virgin?”
“But what if he finds out? Do I tell him to wait for it for a few days? But what if it makes him angry?”
The front door opened and my heart jumped in my neck.
I was breathing heavily. The sound of his footsteps gave me goosebumps. I looked down and pretended to be calm.
I saw him stopping at the door though I wasn’t looking at him.
“Ghauri”, he said with ever-so-calm voice. I dared not to look at him.
“Ghauri, I am going to sleep in another room”, he said.
‘If your husband doesn’t want to sleep with you, you have failed as a wife’, echoed my mother’s voice in my head. But I didn’t lookup. I stayed quiet.
“Don’t you want to ask me why?”, he said, with little humour in his voice, clearly trying to cheer me up. I looked at him for just a few seconds and looked down again.
“You are my wife”, he said and paused, and then he continued, “not a prostitute.”
I really didn’t know what he meant as my mind wasn’t working well. ‘When you don’t know what to say to your husband, keep your mouth shut’ that’s what my father used to tell me.
I obeyed him as usual.
“If we sleep together when we really don’t know each other, isn’t that being a prostitute?
We will sleep together someday when both of us wants it, and that day, I’d be making love to my wife. I definitely won’t be having sex with a stranger.”
He turned off the light and just a few seconds later, put it on and said funnily, “I am not a secret gay by the way. I promise you that.”
Despite how scared I was, I giggled. He smiled, turned off the light and went to another room. I was still giggling and confused.
As I slept on the bed without removing my make-up or anything, tears rolled down from the corner of my eyes.
People say it amazes them when we shed tears while we are happy. They say it didn’t make sense, but to me, it made more sense.
We felt something so strong that a part of us couldn’t stay inside us, that’s what I thought anyway.
To me, shedding tears while being happy meant more.
I woke up and made myself ready to make breakfast. I went to the kitchen but he was there, cooking.
I don’t know how horrified I looked because it made him really scared. He quickly ran to me and said, “Ghauri, are you fine?” and his voice was filled with worries.
“Why are you cooking?” I said with a low voice.
He seemed lost. And finally, he realized what I meant. “Ghauri, look at me.
I like cooking, okay? You can cook when you like and so will I.”
“Ghauri”, his voice was authoritative this time, “you are not my slave. You are my wife!”