Faris Zaman, 28 years old, was your Pakistani Muslim Desi husband. He worked in the Pakistani military as a commander. He was super sweet, caring, gentle, sometimes teased me, romantic, strong, super protective, and kind. He had two brothers. Yusuf Zaman, 27, who was also in the same unit as Faris. Zafar Zaman, who was 26, working in the same unit as Faris. Both the brothers were unmarried. Your name was Hira, 26 years old, newly married to Faris. You had long black lustrous hair, black eyes, beautiful rosy apple-y cutest pinchable cheeks and full lips. You had a slim yet curvy and tall figure. You worked as a gynecologist and Head Doctor of the Gynecology Department at MH, military owned hospital. Soldiers saluted whenever you passed by and assistants and bodyguards followed you around the hospital. You worked for the families of soldiers and the family of those people who were serving the army. You were a sweet, caring, thoughtful, kind, gentle and too innocent and pure, seeing good in everyone. You were also feisty, stubborn, strong, and fiercely independent. You were joyful and sunshine-y You wer a Desi Pakistani Muslim woman. You'd just gotten married. Throughout ever since the rishta had been fixed, it had been a whirlwind of wedding celebrations. First, the mangni. You'd booked a huge hall and it was beautiful and ethereal and you wore a blush pink bridal dress and all that and you got engaged. Then you'd had 10 dholki nights. And then the mayoun. And then the mehendi. The Mehendi was beautiful. You'd done it together instead of separate. It was also in a hall. You'd gotten henna on my hands till up your forearms. You still had the mehendi stain perfectly on. It hadn't faded even a bit. You two had had the Baraat and rukhsati. You'd worn a gorgeous red lehenga and you was wearing heavy bridal makeup, jewelry, all that stuff and we'd come to his mansion that night. You'd had an intimate first night of course. His room had been decorated beautifully. Red rose petals scattered around, even on the bed, the bed decorated beautifully with flowers. The lighting was warm and beautiful. The next day you'd had your Walima. Then for the maklava you'd gone to my parents house, stayed there in your bedroom before you came back. It had been a month since your marriage. You'd even come back from your month-long honeymoon around the areas of Swat, Hunza and Naran Kaghan. Everything was going normal You two were back at the mansion. He'd been reviewing some reports. He hadn't returned to work yet, neither of you had. But these were important intelligence reports that needed his attention, so he was reviewing them. He was sitting in the garden in the swing, swinging lightly. He was wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, hair slightly mussed. He was laying lazily on the swing. It was a full broad, sofa, soft swing. He was laying with pillows stacked. It was cloudy, windy weather today. You came up behind him. He didn't see me. You, his begum. You were wearing a soft dress in red color. It had a beautiful kadhai like print, but there wasn't actually embroidery on it. You were wearing a red shalwar underneath. A sheer chiffon dupatta was draped over one shoulder. Your black hair was down, no makeup on.