Stuck in a Pallu

Chapter 9: The Reconciliation with Priya

Sameera had planned it for three days.

She had overheard Aisha mention casually, while scrolling through her phone that Priya (whom aisha thought was just a brother's friend) was spotted at the Phoenix Marketcity mall over the weekend, buying art supplies. Sameera knew the place: crowded enough to disappear in, open enough that a “chance” meeting wouldn’t look staged. She waited until Rahim came home from work, then spoke softly while folding his kurta.

“Priya was at Phoenix Marketcity today,” she said. “I think… I should try talking to her. Just once. Alone.”

Rahim froze mid-unbuttoning his collar.

“No,” he said automatically. “She blocked me. She doesn’t want..”

“She might listen to me,” Sameera cut in gently. “Not as your wife. As… someone who understands. Someone who’s been in the middle of this mess.”

Rahim stared at her long, conflicted. Then he exhaled.

“Fine. But I’m coming with you. And you’re going to help.”

She didn’t argue.

The next afternoon they left.

Sameera wore the heavy black crepe burqa double opaque mesh over the eyes, floor-length, sleeves swallowing her hands. Beneath it: a simple sky-blue cotton saree with thin silver border, white lace bra and panty, petticoat tied snug, permanent gold anklets muffled under the hem. No heavy jewellery today just chain, nose pin, small diamond studs. She felt like a shadow moving through the house.

Rahim drove the bike. She sat sideways behind him, arms lightly around his waist, burqa billowing in the wind like dark wings.

Phoenix Marketcity was packed weekend families, teenagers, couples. Sameera scanned the crowd through the narrow slits of mesh, heart thudding.

There near the stationery store on the first floor.

Priya stood alone, browsing sketchbooks, hair loose, simple peach kurti and jeans, dupatta slung over one shoulder.

Sameera touched Rahim’s arm. “There.”

He nodded once tense.

Sameera walked forward alone. Rahim stayed back, half-hidden behind a pillar.

Priya looked up when Sameera stopped a few feet away.

She recognized the burqa immediately her eyes widened.

“Sameera?” she whispered.

Sameera lifted the front mesh just enough for Priya to see her face only her face.

“Please,” Sameera said quietly. “Just five minutes. Somewhere private. No one will see us together.”

Priya hesitated glanced around then nodded.

They walked to the women’s restroom on the same floor. It was empty. They locked the main door from inside.

Priya crossed her arms. “If this is about Rahim...”

“It’s about both of you,” Sameera said. “He’s broken, Priya. He cries every night. He blames himself. He still loves you. More than anything.”

Priya’s eyes filled. “I know. But I can’t… I can’t be the secret forever. . I can’t wait in shadows while he plays house with ”

“I know,” Sameera cut in gently. “I’m not asking you to wait. I’m asking for one chance. Just talk to him. Once. Properly. No pressure. If you still want to walk away after that… I’ll help you. I’ll make sure he lets you go cleanly.”

Priya stared at her long, searching.

Then she exhaled.

“Okay. But not like this. If anyone sees us together ”

She looked at Sameera’s burqa.

Then at her own kurti.

“Give me the burqa,” Priya said suddenly.

Sameera blinked.

“I’ll wear it. You wear my clothes. No one will know it’s me talking to him. And no one will recognize you.”

Sameera hesitated then nodded.

They moved quickly.

Priya slipped off her peach kurti and jeans handed them over. Sameera removed the burqa, then awkwardly the saree, blouse, petticoat. Standing in just bra and panty, she felt suddenly exposed, vulnerable. The air-conditioning hit her waxed skin; goosebumps rose on her arms and thighs.

Priya handed her the kurti. Sameera slipped it , the fabric loose and forgiving. Then the jeans snug on her hips, strange after months of sarees. She looked in the mirror: sleeveless kurti showing smooth arms, jeans hugging her legs, hair loose under the dupatta Priya draped over her head.

She felt… wrong. Naked. Too visible.

Priya took the burqa, slipped it over her head. The opaque mesh swallowed her face completely.

She looked at Sameera one last time.

“If he asks… tell him I’m scared. But tell him I still love him.”

Sameera nodded.

Priya walked out first shadow in black.

Sameera waited two minutes, then followed.

Rahim was still near the pillar.

When he saw the burqa, he stepped forward then paused.

“Priya?” he whispered.

The burqa nodded.

Rahim’s face crumpled relief, hope, fear all at once.

He reached out hesitant took the gloved hand.

They walked away together toward the quieter end of the mall.

Sameera stood alone heart pounding, arms bare, jeans tight, feeling like a stranger in her own skin.

Then she saw them.

Three boys college age near the escalator. They noticed her immediately. One elbowed the other, smirked.

“Hey, beautiful,” the tallest one called. “Shopping alone?”

Sameera froze.

They stepped closer.

“Looking good in that kurti,” another said, grinning. “Want company?”

She backed up a step heart hammering.

Then a hand closed around her wrist firm, protective.

Sajid.

He appeared from nowhere cream kurta, beard oiled, eyes blazing.

“She’s with me,” he said voice low, dangerous.

The boys faltered.

Sajid pulled her closer arm sliding around her waist, body half-shielding hers.

“Back off,” he said quietly.

They muttered something and walked away.

Sameera exhaled shaking.

Sajid didn’t let go.

He looked down at her really looked.

“You’re… not in a saree,” he said, almost smiling.

She laughed shaky. “Priya’s clothes. We switched so she could talk to Rahim without being seen.”

He noddedbthen tugged her gently toward a quieter corridor.

They walked his arm still around her waist, her hip brushing his.

They found an empty family restroom single stall. He locked the door.

Inside, he turned to her.

“You look…” He swallowed. “Different. Good different. But strange.”

She looked down at herselfbsleeveless kurti, jeans, arms bare, no pallu to hide behind.

“I feel naked,” she admitted.

He stepped closer.

“Even as Safiya you never wore anything this revealing,” he murmured, voice low, teasing.

She blushed.

He reached out slowly ran his fingers down the bare length of her arm. Goosebumps rose instantly.

“I like it,” he said. “But I also miss the saree. The way it moved with you.”

His hand slid to her underarm smooth, waxed, slightly damp from nerves. He leaned in, pressed his lips to the soft hollow of her armpit gentle, reverent then inhaled.

“You still smell like rose,” he whispered against her skin. “Even in her clothes.”

She shivered whole body responding.

He kissed the spot again slow, open-mouthed then moved to the other armpit, same slow worship. His beard brushed her skin; she felt the faint scrape, the warmth of his breath.

Her hands fisted in his kurta.

“Sajid…”

He pulled back just enough to look at her.

“I love you,” he said simply.

Then he kissed hervdeep, hungry, tongue sliding against hers.

She kissed back desperate, clinging.

When they parted, both breathing hard, he rested his forehead against hers.

“We’ll get through this,” he said. “We will.”

She nodded tears in her eyes.

They stayed like thatbbodies pressed close, hearts racing until voices sounded outside.

They straightened.

Sameera adjusted the dupatta.

Sajid opened the door.

They walked outvhand in hand for a few seconds before letting go.

Later, Rahim found her near the food court.

His face was flushedbhopeful, raw.

“She talked to me,” he said. “She… she’s willing to try again. Slowly. Secretly. But she wants time.”

Sameera smiledbsmall, genuine.

“I’m glad.”

They walked to the bike.

Rahim held her hand the whole ride home.

Back in the house, she removed the borrowed kurti and jeans in the bathroom felt the saree’s familiar weight settle over her again.

She looked at herself in the mirror back in her own skin, her own role.

But the ring on her finger Sajid’s promise ring burned quietly against her skin.

And somewhere deep inside, hope flickered brighter.

The clock kept ticking.

But now it ticked toward possibility.

Not just endurance.

And that was enough.

For today.