His precious properties, his money, his belongings. He, Armaan Ahmed Qureshi, had happily parted with all of it just because someone had made an offer to him to build a mosque. That was all it had taken to reform this guy who had openly flouted the rules of Islam all his life. Everyone called him spoiled and selfish but in fact, he had outdone the rest of them by revealing just how much faith he was capable of putting in Allah.
She turned around and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She never thought that she would say this one day but he was too good for her. She did not deserve him. There he had been turning his life around for his marriage and his faith and here she was thinking about how she had gone down on a married man. She felt sick. If Armaan found out about what had happened with Hamza, it would hurt him so much and she had never given him a thought.
Jasmine did go to watch him play soccer. She sat in a grassy area on a slope beside the playground and focused only on Armaan, instead of the entire game. It was just a local, friendly match and she deduced that he had been a part of the team for ages because they all knew him so well. They were selling lemonade at one of the stands and she bought one and retired to her spot, seeing the curious glances people cast her way but unwilling to make conversation with anyone.
The day was hot and the sun beat down on her relentlessly. She should have had the foresight to put on a hat but her mind had been elsewhere. Another game started and she was surprised to see Hamza and his wife there. Hamza was walking onto the soccer field with some other men as the players from the previous team departed.
She was so busy staring at Hamza that she was startled when Armaan settled next to her with a bottle of water, placing his baseball cap on her head.
"Good game," he murmured, drinking the water. "Those are the other two local teams." He indicated the men now standing in the field. "It's for the oldies," he added. She gave him a sidelong glance and he shrugged. "What? It is."
"I'm happy," she announced calmly, giving him all her attention. He was sweaty and his dark hair was plastered to his forehead but he still looked endearing.
"Happy that he's old?" He took a swig of water, his gaze intent on the game.
She sighed and rolled her eyes. "I'm happy to learn what you've been up to lately."
He turned and looked at her with a serious expression in his eyes. "Wish I could say the same for you," he replied.
Jasmine stared at him uncertainly. What was he talking about?
Before she could ask, there was a loud cheer from the spectators. Their family's team had scored a goal.
"Hmm. Guess he's not that old," Armaan commented as people clapped Hamza on the back for gaining them a point.
"He's not," she replied curtly.
Armaan shook his head. "Baby, can you honestly not see that he will never make you happy or do you just not want to see?" he questioned. "I'm not saying he doesn't love you, I'm sure he does in his own twisted way. But holding on to you is a very selfish move on his part. He'll end up hurting you in the process."
"Can we not talk about him?" she said through gritted teeth.
He glanced at her curiously. "Oh, so we're slowly coming to our senses, are we?" he asked softly and she grew frustrated and stood up. Taking the cap off, she threw it at him and marched off.
He sighed as he watched her go and picked up the hat. When he turned his gaze back to the field, he caught Hamza watching them.
Armaan narrowed his eyes at his brother, not liking that he had witnessed the scene. Why couldn't the man just leave his wife alone? He could go up to him and make a few things very clear but then, Hamza would tell Jasmine and she would hate him for that. He was not sure how much more of her sour feelings he could stand.
~~~~
There was a small party at the mansion that night because both Armaan and Hamza had led their teams to victory and because Alisha had finally become confident enough to tell the family that she was going to have a baby after over two decades of being married. It was a double celebration and even though Jasmine felt a headache coming on from being exposed to the heat that day, she forced herself to engage in conversation with the other family members.
At one point in the evening, she caught Hamza watching her and tried a smile because she was happy that he was finally going to become a father. He nodded at her a little before resuming the conversation he was having with his wife and uncle.
Jasmine looked down at her feet. This went with the territory. Being ignored in public by him. Acting as if his indifference did not hurt. But it did. What had she done wrong now? Why was he behaving this way towards her? Would it kill him to return her smile even if it was done out of pity?
She felt her throat burn and turned towards the stairs blindly. She was not going to cry in front of all these people. So focused was she on blinking back her tears, she missed a step and stumbled, then hissed as a sharp pain shot through her ankle.
"Oh, damn," she muttered, sitting down hard on a stair because the pain was making her see stars.
For a fraction of a second, she looked at Hamza again, instinctively turning to
