Chapter 18
This chapter is unedited so read your won risk.
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The night sky was cloaked in darkness, dusted with stars that shimmered like scattered pearls.
Their reflection danced softly across the surface of the pool, where underwater lights cast a ghostly, luminescent glow.
The pool was softly lit from within, the water in it glowing.
A gentle, cool blue that reflected the starry night sky above.
Tiny lights embedded in the floor of the pool created a sparkling effect, almost like the water was filled with little stars. The low waves lapped against the tiled edges in a steady rhythm.
Zaviyar walked in wearing only his black swimming trunks that hung low on his abdomen and reached his knees.
He dived in without hesitation, submerging deep.
The water was a sharp contrast to the warm air.
It was cold, almost punishing but that’s exactly what he needed.
A sudden jolt that would make his muscles contract and clear out the mess going on in his head.
He sinks deeper, eyes open, watching the light fade as he drifted to the pool’s end before pushing upward and breaking the surface with a gasp.
His eyes burnt from the water and wet strands stuck to his forehead.
Air flooded his lungs as he leaned back, his chest heaving.
His heart pounded from the adrenaline, but it wasn’t the swim.
It was everything else. He began swimming lap after lap, slicing through the water with practiced strokes.
He was trying to erase her face from his thoughts. those eyes that dared to meet his without fear, the venom in her voice when she fought back. The fury within her shone bright as his.
The wind grazed his wet skin as he slowed, the cold intensifying the ache in his muscles. His upper body glistened under the dim blue light, shadows and water droplets dancing across his skin. A shiver rippled through his body, as the cold air contacted his naked upper body.
The world outside the pool was still. another soft breeze rustled through the trees, geckos chirped in rhythm and the night seemed to wrap everything in a deceptive silence. But inside him, chaos brewed. The plans he had weaved collapsinh into dust.
( Yeh louh taadh lou Safiya ke shohar ko )
After countless laps, he finally stopped. He dipped his head beneath the surface one last time before he pushed upward and emerged, his hair dripping and clinging to his forehead. He sat at the edge of the pool, elbows resting on his knees, breathing hard as he finally felt at peace.
His hands pushed back the wet strands from his face, and he exhaled slowly. His breath was laced with frustration and buried helplessness.
But he didn’t want this!
He wasn’t supposed to be with her... not like this. Not married to her...
·····
Zaviyar's POV
Every moment from earlier kept replaying in my head. The way she stood there, defiant and rebellious. Every time she rebelled. Every time she tried to outwit me. Every time she crossed the line and challenged my authority.
She was the last woman I ever wanted to be bound to.
I thought Zulekha's escapade closed the marriage chapter for good but Adnan ruined everything. I thought that the drama was over, that I could finally retreat into my space and clean up the mess at my own pace. But fate and grandfather had other plans.
And here I was... married to the girl I couldn't even bear to look at without my blood pressure spiking, bound by a contract inked in blood and tradition and kicked out of my own room by her.
I regretted allowing my mother to call them back here. I regret every moment i somehow ended up having an interaction with the girl who is now forced upon me.
Safiya... she was mine only on papers. That’s it!
I would never accept her as my wife. Not truly. Everything I said to her, everything I did. It was all calculated and deliberate. It's okay if she hates me and pushes me away. The farther she stays from me, the better.
I sighed deeply and pulled myself onto the edge of the pool.
My back rested against the cold tile of the pool and arms rested on the edge as I leaned my head back. I cracked my head before looking up at the night sky and closing my eyes to relieve myself.
That’s when I heard footsteps. I didn’t need to turn around. The reflection in the water was enough.
Mom.
Her tall silhouette stood behind me, arms folded, eyes piercing even in the dim light.
“What are you doing here, Zaviyar?” Her voice was sharp, her words firm as she glared at me through the reflection. The kind of tone that carried more disappointment than reprimand.
I stayed quiet, my eyes still closed as I tried to find my words. What could I even say? That I was running away from my own wedding night? That I couldn’t bring myself to walk back into that room and face the reality I had signed up for?
“Mom, I—” I started, only to be cut off mid-sentence.
“It’s your first night, Zaviyar. You should be in your room. With your wife... with Safiya” Her voice lowered slightly, eyes darting around as if afraid someone might overhear.
“Thank God it was me who found you,” she said, stepping closer now. “If one of the servants had seen you like this? Do you have any idea what kind of stories would spread?”
I didn’t respond, just watched at the low ripples of the water, my back still turned to her.
“Did you two fight?” she asked carefully, but I could hear the suspicion in her voice.
I let out a scoff and shook my head. “No. It’s not about Safiya. I just... needed to cool off.”
“Cool off?” she repeated. “Zulekha ran away. Suddenly I am being accused of being in a promiscuous relationship with another girl. Then out of nowhere, you married me to someone else... all in one day. How do you think I should react?”
“ So? Are you now accusing us of forcing this on you? We did what we had to to save our reputation... our name...”, mom whisper yelled, her voice defensive as she clutched her shawl closer.
I clenched my jaw. “I never said that.”
“Then why are you acting like this? Why are you lying to me. ”, My head snapped towards her at the question.
Mom exhaled sharply. “I saw you storm off, Zaviyar. From my balcony. And then I went to your room. Even though I didn’t want to. But you know what I found?”
I stayed silen but my stomach twisted. I hated it. I hated them for always claiming to think the best about me but they always ended up forcing their decisions on me.
“The door was locked from inside. Glass on the floor. Clearly something happened.”, She said with a raised brow
She moved beside me now, her expression less stern and more worried.
“It’s a blessing that I was the one who saw you,” she murmured. “If someone else had— Do you know what they’d say about her? They would start questioning your relationship... Call safiya nam— ”
“No one talks about Safiya,” I said immediately, turning to look at her for the first time.
“No one dares say a word against her. Whatever happens between us...”, i exhale a breath, “ it’s our concern. No one else’s. And I don’t need a third person dictating how our marriage should look from the outside.”
She looked at me with narrowed eyes, trying to read me. But I didn’t let her.
“She carries my name now. Safiya Shah died the moment she signed those papers. She’s Safiya Zaviyar Raza Khan... even if it’s just legal, even if it’s temporary. But my name... no one tarnishes it.”, Her eyes widened at my words.
I got out of the water and walked past her slowly, water still dripping from my clothes, but I didn't care.
“We’re married. That’s the truth. No matter how or why. But we’ll deal with it our way. Alone.”, I said wrapping a towel around my abdomen.
“ I don't want any outsider to poke their nose into mine and Safiya's life. Not even you, mom. I hope I'm clear. ”, I said sternly without meeting her eyes.
“ West wing is off limits to everyone... ”, I let out a breath before saying the next words, “ Everyone except Safiya. Even you. So don't step into it. ”
And with that, I left the poolside, the cold wind whipping against my wet skin, but it still didn’t compare to the chill rooted deep inside me, a cold that no water could fix.
It was necessary for me to show mom her boundaries. The last thing I wanted her to see was the drift between me and Safiya. Even though she was not important to me but nobody could humiliated her. Not in my presence.
This marriage was to save our reputation then that's all it will be.
A namesake marriage to show the world!
______________________________________
I jab the key into the lock with a little more force than necessary, my jaw still tight from the conversation at the poolside.
The key twists with a dry click, the sound echoing down the silent hallway.
The door creaks open, and for a second, I hesitate, my hand still on the knob, my body still, almost unwilling to face whatever storm is waiting for me behind the door.
I slowly push it open, using the door as a barrier to block whatever object might come flying at me. the hinges groaning softly in the quiet, as I slowly peek into my.... our room?
There was silence, no glass being hurled at me or screams my way. I step in, my slippers from the pool making soft prints on the polished floor, and instantly I’m blinded by the stark brightness of the room.
My brows furrow. When was the last time this room looked this bright? Years, maybe. I always kept the lights dim, a comfort I didn’t owe anyone an explanation for. But now… it looked lived in. It felt like someone had invaded my space, disrupted my peaceful life.
I was expecting her to be fast asleep on the bed, tucked away beneath the covers like some obedient new bride pretending everything was fine. But that illusion shattered the second my eyes found her and something inside me stirred in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
There she was. Curled up on the couch like a fragile thing pretending to be strong. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her knees, chin resting on the pillow propped beneath her head.
She wasn’t even trying to make herself comfortable.
She was just existing in the corner like she didn’t belong here.
Her lashes cast faint shadows over her cheeks, her brows furrowed even in sleep, as if carrying the remnants of an argument in her dreams. She was shivering just slightly from the chillness in the room.
Her dupatta was nowhere to be seen. Not that she ever wore one properly anyway.
Her face was devoid of the heavy bridal make up from earlier. Her hair loosely cascading down the armrest if the couch. Her head slightly falling of before she adjusted her head once again. That damned couch. She’ll wake up with a stiff neck and sore back.
Not like it’s my concern. All I want is for her to shut her mouth and not give me a headache.
She made her bed or rather, chose not to sleep in it.
I should feel victorious, shouldn’t I? This was exactly what I wanted.
I wanted her to maintain her boundaries and be as detached from me as she could.
I didn't want her to act like the perfect wife and start thinking we could be the perfect couple. Never!
But for some reason, the sight of her like that, twisted something in my chest. It was irritating to look at her tossing and turning to adjust on the couch.
I shook my head before I looked away. That’s when my thoughts drifted to a memory. Wajahat uncle's voice echoed in my ears from that conversation just days ago, the morning after Mayoun, when the chaos had only just begun.
Flashback....
The warm ambience of evening echoed in the living room with the clinking of cups, the rustle of plates, the occasional laugh.
Everyone had gathered casually, a rare moment of calm amidst the chaos of wedding festivities.
The aroma of freshly fried pakoras hung in the air, blending with the subtle scent of chicken soup wafting from the bowl in Safiya’s hands.
She sat quietly in the corner, legs tucked beneath her, wrapped in a soft shawl, sipping the hot soup slowly. Her face was pale, lips slightly chapped, and she looked tired.
She was sick owing to aftereffects of that haldi ceremony, followed by her own stubborn decision to shower late into the chilly night, had left her body aching and her head throbbing.
But, as always, she stayed silent, not one to complain.
Rabiya was reprimanding her while slowly massaging her head, while Khwaish checked her temperature.
That’s when Riffat’s voice rang out from across the room.
“Safiya, I’ve told Shabana to arrange new mattresses for you. These ones are better,” she said matter-of-factly, her tone gentle yet firm.
“What’s wrong with the mattresses in the guest room?”, Nauman asked placing his cup down.
Riffat turned slightly, adjusting her dupatta before replying. “She suffers from spondylosis. Hard pillows or stiff mattresses only worsen it. The guest room she’s using was last occupied by Rehmat Bhaisahab and you know how he prefers those rock-hard beds, like he has in the village. ”
Safiya looked up briefly, surprised that Riffat remembered. Her fingers tightened slightly around the bowl, but she said nothing.
A soft chuckle came from the other end of the room. “Thank you, Riffat bhabi,” Rabiya added warmly.
“Safiya really does hate sleeping on uncomfortable beds. I still remember that hotel fiasco in Mussoorie, she tossed and turned all night and made me switch rooms with her at 3 a.m.”, Wajahat said with a laugh.
There was a light round of laughter, and Safiya smiled faintly behind her cup, lowering her gaze.
The heat of the soup warmed her hands, but it was that sudden, unexpected warmth of being remembered by someone taking note of her small, quiet discomforts.
Zaviyar who was sitted quietly a little away from them, looked up once.
His eyes falling on her smiling with warmth.
People surrounding and pampering her like she was some fragile doll.
Even in a house full of people, his eyes remained on her.
Flashback ends…
Zaviyar narrowed his eyes, gaze flickering toward the couch where she lay curled up like a tightly wound ball of chaos and exhaustion. The cushion beneath her head was stiff. yet, somehow, she was asleep?
How the hell is she even managing to sleep like that?
He scoffed internally, recalling what Riffat had said in passing just a few days ago about Safiya’s back condition and her hatred for uncomfortable bedding.
He had half-listened at the time, brushing it off as yet another piece of irrelevant information. But now, with her face scrunched in visible discomfort, her posture awkward, and the room chilled to the bone. It made him feel uncertain.
Her nose was red from the cold. Her arms hugged her knees like she was bracing herself not just against the chill, but the entire day that had collapsed on her shoulders. Her bridal dress, though slightly loosened, still looked heavy, suffocating almost.
He stared for a moment longer before letting out a quiet sigh, walking toward the cupboard with long, unhurried strides. He grabbed a blanket, yanked it off the shelf, and turned back toward her with slow steps, as if approaching a sleeping lioness.
Stopping a few feet away, he unfurled the blanket and flung it over her from a safe distance, keeping at least four feet between them like it was a shield. The blanket landed half on her, the other half slipping down her legs. But even in sleep, her reflexes kicked in.
She clutched it instinctively, pulling it close to her chest like a prize, and wrapped herself in it.
Her body relaxed immediately, the tension in her forehead smoothing out, lips parting ever so slightly in relief.
He blinked at her sudden change of expressions.
That shift in her expression was so quick.
She immediately relaxed but while adjusting her one leg almost fell from the couch which made something tighten in his chest.
And just when he was about to turn away, he heard it.
A low murmur. He paused mid-step, brow raised.
She mumbled something again. This time more clearly, though her voice was thick with sleep and barely audible.
He leaned down, only slightly, careful not to wake her. His face hovered inches away, curiosity piqued.
And then…
“Begairat kahin ka... khadoos... sadu...” she grumbled under her breath, her fingers fisting the blanket as her expression twisted with irritation even in her dreams
( What a shameless jerk... Grumpy old sourpuss... Bipolar bitch. )
Zaviyar’s eyes widened, mouth slightly agape. “What—?”
Before he could process it, she added, “Aag laga dungi pure haveli mein... bhasm kar dungi uss sadu ko...”
( I'll set the entire haveli on fire... I'll burn that grump to ashes... )
His brows shot up. What the hell is she dreaming about?
He took a cautious step back, watching her nose scrunch again, her face flushed despite the cold, her hair falling in disarray across her cheeks.
“What is she even talking about?” he muttered to himself. “Who are you going to burn alive in your dreams, woman?”
And then, she said it, loud and clear.
“That snobby, bipolar, bitchy nawab...”, He felt like someone had poured boiling water into his ear. He almost went back into the washroom to do ablution. How could someone use so many profanities in one sentence.
“Excuse me?” he whispered in disbelief, face contorting.
Snobby? Bipolar? He could let those pass. But bitchy? How was she managing to hurl so many profanities in one breath while half-asleep?
“I’m not bipolar—”, he whispered sharply, leaning in just a bit as if to defend his honour even to a sleeping woman who happened to be hai wife.
But that’s when it happened.
Smack!
A hand flew out of the blanket like lightning, slapping him right across the face.
His head jerked slightly to the side from the unexpected contact. The sting came a second later.
“Chupp,” she muttered groggily, almost like it was muscle memory, before releasing a soft hum and turning her back to him, snuggling deeper into the blanket completely oblivious to what she'd just done.
Zaviyar stood there, stunned. Fury flared in his eyes as his jaw together in anger.
His Hand slowly lifts to rub the fresh sting on his cheek.
This wasn’t even 24 hours into their marriage. And she had already attacked him.
He rolled his eyes and made a silent promise to teach her a lesson for her actions. He pulled out his phone and opened his note app before typing in the number of times she had attacked him.
1. Kicked me ( almost ensuring my bloodline ended )
2. Thrown a vase at me (and damn well aimed)
3. Hurled a glass at my head (deadly accurate),
4. And now, slapped me, that too in her sleep.
One week with this woman and he’d be hospitalised. Maybe lose a limb or his dignity.
Grumbling under his breath, he turned around and walked away from her sleeping form, unbuttoning his kurta with slow, aggravated movements. He pulled the soaked white fabric over his head and tossed it on the floor, followed by his dhoti and boxers.
He changed into grey sweatpants. He tossed the towel over his shoulder on the floor and plugged in his phone to charge, fingers moving on autopilot. The room was silent now except for the faint sound of her breathing, even, calm, oblivious.
He clicked his tongue when his eyes landed on the decoration of the bed. He stepped forward before swatting away the flower petals with his hands. Then moved to clear the floral decoration on the bed. With a few pulls, the flower strings tore apart and met the same fate as the petals on the floor.
With a click of the remote, the lights dimmed to darkness.
He pulled the blanket over himself, shirtless, the cold sheets meeting his skin. But the sting on his cheek still lingered. His eyes flicked once more to the couch. To her.... His not so dear wife sleeping peacefully after several attempts to murder rhim and messing with his head.
The girl wrapped in warmth, her lips curled slightly into a smile, as if she’d won a battle even in her dreams.
His wife.
Only in name...
And yet… every damn second, his thoughts kept returning to her.
His eyes travelled to the decoration on the floor once before he closed his eyes drifting into a deep slumber.
Two strangers who are forced into a marriage which neither of them wanted. A marriage in which both of them wanted to burn each other alive.
She carries his name which he has to protect and now his too priority is to protect her from the demons around her.
But who will protect her from him, from the demons he carries within.
_______________________________________
Next morning
Safiya jolted upright at the persistent knocking on the door. Her lashes fluttered open, adjusting slowly to the morning light pouring through the small crevices of the curtain. She blinked hard, disoriented for a moment as her gaze swept across the unfamiliar room.
Then her eyes landed on the bed and the shirtless man that is lying in it.
For a second, panic bubbled in her chest, threatening to escape as a scream. But just as quickly, fragments of the previous night came crashing down on her like cold water.
Her wedding with Zaviyar, the rituals, the forced vows, their fight in the room and finally her reality as... His wife!
She was married.
To him.
"How did this bitch get inside?" she muttered in her head, scowling. Then rolled her eyes, the answer clicking into place.
Of course, he had the keys.
This was his room, after all. Her jaw clenched as she cursed him silently for barging into her life so casually, so arrogantly.
Yawning, she prepared to get up until her fingers brushed against a blanket draped over her. she frowned before flinging it away. She didn’t remember covering herself.
Wait a minute! Does she have a stalker who snuck into the room and covered her up? But then again, she had a habit of waking up at odd hours for midnight pee breaks, or sipping water from the bedside jug sometimes sleepwalking through half of it.
Then the last possibility clicked into her mind as her eyes travelled to the broad naked back on the bed, she could faintly make out his rugged muscles flexing ashe stirred a little at the knocks.
Could it be him? Did he cover her with the blanket?
No way... he would never. He already hates her. Why would he?
With a groan, she pushed the heavy bridal lehenga off her legs, which had tangled around her like a snake. Stretching her stiff limbs, she dragged herself to stand.
The cool floor beneath her feet made her flinch. As she moved toward the bathroom, she tripped slightly on something soft and cloth-like.
Glancing down, she saw a heap of clothes his kameez and dhoti carelessly flung on the floor. Gritting her teeth, she bent to pick them up but immediately recoiled with a grimace as she accidentally grabbed something black and small.
She inspected it and shrieked when she realised it was his pair of boxers.
With a disgusted yelp, she flung them away not noticing that it flew across the room and landed right on the bed.
Angry and disgusted Safiya picked up all the clothes rolling them into a ball before hurling him at him, making sure it hit him. Hard!
Zaviyar stirred from his peaceful sleep as the soft fabric landed squarely on his face. He groaned in irritation, brushing it away. But then came a sharper object, a small box or something sphere shaped perhaps, hit his shoulder.
He got up and looked at the ball of clothes thrown at him. First lay his boxers which had landed on his face and then he dismantled the ball of clothes and realised it was his kameez and dhoti, along with his towel which he had thrown on the floor.
Rubbing his eyes, he reached out blindly for his phone and squinted at the screen.
Only 8 a.m.!!!
And someone dared disturb his precious sleep?
Zaviyar, contrary to what most people assumed about his punctual and icy demeanor, was not a morning person. Not without reason, at least. He hated waking up in the morning, and would be grumpy most of the time.
Meanwhile, Safiya opened the door. And there they stood, Khwaish and Kabir with matching mischievous smiles on their faces. Their enthusiasm was too loud for the hour.
“ Here, bhabi, mom sent this for you.”, Khwaish chirped excitedly, her eyes scanning Safiya from head to toe. Safiya, still in her bridal attire, looked more like a war survivor than a glowing bride. Her face bare of makeup, hair slightly disheveled, and zero bridal charm.
“Thank you,” Safiya mumbled, reaching out for the boxes. Her eyes followed the trail of even more boxes placed just behind them.
“Woh aapko tayyar hokar niche aane ka keh rahi thi.”, Khwaish said her voice trailing as she noticed the gloom on Safiya's face even though she tried to act cheerful.
(She asked you to get ready and come downstairs.)
Safiya nodded absentmindedly, balancing the gifts. “Okay, mein aati hoon…”
(Okay, I’ll come…)
But her eyes were already scanning the room behind her, catching the sight of a broken vase lying in the corner. She sighed at the sight. She would’ve cleaned it herself, but she had no idea where the broom or dustpan was kept in this palace-sized house.
“Khwaish, jara Shabana ko bhejna yahan…”, she said.
( Khwaish, please send Shabana here…)
She looked up only when Khwaish replied a little too quickly.
“Aapi, woh yahan nahi aa sakti.”, Safiya looked up with confusion.
(Sister, she can’t come here.)
Khwaish elbowed Kabir, who was too immersed in his phone to care. Safiya narrowed her eyes, confused.
“Why? Is she not present today? Then send any other staff member,” she asked, placing the boxes on a table beside the door.
“Maene kaha tha na aapse.. West Wing bhaijaan ka hai. Aur yahan koi nahi aata. Nahi ammi, nahi abbu, nahi hum. Woh toh aapko yeh dene ke liye ammi ne mujhe bol diya, nahi toh main yahan kabhi nahi aati.”, Khwaish’s tone dropped when her eyes fell on the red marks around Safiya’s wrist and the faint smudge of dried blood on her arm.
( I told you.. the West Wing belongs to bhai. No one comes here. Not mom, not dad, not us. I only came because mom told me to give you this. Otherwise, I never come here. )
“West Wing ke staff alag hain, woh bhi bas hallway ki safai ke liye. Baaki bhai ka kamra woh khud saaf karte hain…”, Kabir added this in a bored tone, eyes still fixed on his phone. He had tagged along only because their mother insisted.
( The staff in this wing are separate, and they only clean the hallway. The rest, bhai cleans his room himself. )
“Esa kya chhupa rakha hai ki kisi ko aane bhi nahi dete?”, she mumbled under her breath, crossing her arms in frustration.
( What’s he hiding that no one is allowed to even enter here?)
“Sher ke muh mein kaun haath daalega, bhabi?”, Kabir replied dryly, making Khwaish stifle her giggles. Safiya smiled nodding in agreement.
( Who would dare put their hand inside a lion's mouth, sister-in-law?)
“Sher nahi, ghayal sher kaho... jab dekho gurrate rehte hain…”, Safiya added, her smirk curling at the corners.
( Not a lion, call him a wounded lion... always growling at everyone… )
The three of them burst into laughter. Safiya who finally felt relaxed lauged a little two much hunching over holding her stomach.
Khwaish and Kabir's laugh wavered, their faces morphing into fear when they noticed a shadow behind Safiya, towering behind her.
A deep, husky voice followed making Safiya shriek and Kabir and Khwaish saunter away from the door step.
“Do minute mein dafa nahi hue toh… sher shikaar bhi kar sakta hai.”, The deep, gravelly tone silenced them instantly.
(If you don’t leave in two minutes… the lion might start hunting too.)
From the shadows of the room, Zaviyar emerged, still shirtless. His shoulders glowing under the golden morning light pouring in from the hallway. He flexed his arms and rested them against the frame of the doors either side.
Safiya's form hid Zaviyar's chest. Khwaish and Kabir's eyes widened at Zaviyar's state. Their mind going on a different path.
Khwaish and Kabir turned ghostly white and vanished like smoke, leaving Safiya wide-eyed and alone.
“Traitors…” she whispered. But she didn’t get to brood. A warm breath ghosted against her ear, making her flinch.
Zaviyar leaned down, his lips dangerously close to her skin, eyes fixed forward as he murmured, “Talk shit about me again, and I’ll put that tongue to better use…”
Safiya froze at the words. Her body stiffened as a shiver crawled down her spine. She turned, alarmed to find him right there. He was smirking, dressed only in grey sweatpants.
She gasped, throwing her hands over her eyes.
“Chee… chee… chee… Ashleel! Behaya!”, She shouted, hopping like a scandalized teenager.
( Ugh! Disgusting! Shameless! )
“Jawan ladki ke saamne aise nahi aate! Gunah hai! Khud toh kapde pehente nahi, mujhe sikhate rehte hain… ”, Zaviyar rolled his eyes at her drama and stalked toward the wardrobe. He scoffed when he saw her still by the open door.
(You don’t show up like this in front of a young woman! It’s sinful! You don’t even wear clothes but keep preaching to me…)
“You better close that door… or I’ll throw you out myself.”, he said pointing at the door.
“Be my guest,” she said coolly.
“Because I’ll happily go and tell everyone about it. Let’s see what happens to your so-called dignity then.”, She slammed the door behind her, then crossed her arms and leaned toward him, fire in her eyes.
“From now on, learn some manners. Wear some clothes or I’ll be the one to kick your bitchy ass out.”
In a flash, he crossed the room and slammed both hands beside her face, trapping her against the door. The air thickened.
“Mera kamra hai, main jaise bhi rahoon.”, he said dangerously leaning closer to her, his hot breath fanning against her face making her wonder how hsi morning breath didn't smell like he ate a rotten mouse.
( This is my room. I’ll stay as I like.)
“ Aapne kabhi tense sikhi hain? ”, he raised his brow at her question.
“ Past tense, present tense mein difference jaante hain? Aapka kamra tha. Ab yeh mera bhi kamra hai.”, she said flicking her hair back, while trying not to look down and stare at his... Chest!
(No. Do you know the difference between past tense and present tense? It was your room. Now, it’s mine too. )
“Tumhara? Jab main tumhara nahi hoon, toh yeh kamra kaise tumhara hua?”, he asked harshly, his calloused hand slowly wrapping around her wrist.
( Yours? When I’m not yours, how is this room yours?)
“Zaviyar Raza Khan, do you really think I’m dying for you to acknowledge me as your wife?” she asked, scoffing.
“Let me remind you... I was the one who accepted you. A man discarded by his fiancée. I saved your ungrateful ass.”, she said before twisting her arm, and freeing it from his grip.
“Nobody wants you, Zaviyar. Not me, not Zulekha. So stop thinking so highly of yourself. You’re the burden here.”, she said poking his chest her index finger. Her nails leaving a mark on his chest. He flinched a little at her words.
“You were crying about it, right? That nobody asked your opinion on this marriage? Let me tell you… you are the last person anyone would choose. You were never my choice. You never will be.”, she said without blinking, her tone laced with wrath and harshness that matches his.
“You—” he seethed, jaw tightening. But his phone rang, cutting through the tension. He yanked it off the side table.
“Yes, Waqas. I need you to get that bastard for me. I’ll be there in an hour.
”, he walked up to the closet and pulled out a towel.
Safiya who caught on that he would take a bath slowly started inching toward the bathroom.
Seeing her chance, she darted for it, leaping over his foot, just as he tried to stop her.
BANG!
His face collided with the bathroom door.
“Jeet gayi! Oh balle balle! Teh shawa shawa!”, Safiya cheered from inside.
(I won! Oh yay yay! Victory dance!)
“Oye ladki! Bahar niklo! Mujhe late ho raha hai!”, Zaviyar shouted, checking the time on his phone.
( Hey girl! Come out! I’m getting late! )
“Mera waqt zaya mat karo! Sun rahi ho? Yeh mera kamra hai!”, he said banging on the door. While Safiya started undressing from the uncomfortable bridal wear. Finally relaxing her tense muscles.
( Don’t waste my time! You listening? This is my room! )
“Mujhe time lagega. Hazaar room hain west wing, upar wale neh pair diye hain na? Use karein aur kisi aur bathroom mein chale jao.”, she shouted with a smirk before turning on the shower and letting the cold water hit her body, relaxing her tense muscles.
( I’ll take my time. There are a thousand rooms, right? God has given you legs, use your legs and go to another one.)
Zaviyar banged at the door one last time before walking to his bed and opening his notes app again.
1. Kicked me ( almost ensuring my bloodline ended )
2. Thrown a vase at me (and damn well aimed)
3. Hurled a glass at my head (deadly accurate),
4. And now, slapped me, that too in her sleep.
5. I was dreaming of peace… until I got attacked by a flying ball of dirty clothes and a pair of boxers.
6. Denied me access to my own bathroom — slammed the door on my face
·····
A double update today because… I’m absolutely drained.
?? I'm sorry for not being able to complete my promise but ?? I'm just too tired!
My file got deleted - the third update one.
Like I completed writing the third chapter and left the laptop as it is.
Guess what? The next morning a could sync happened and the entire chapter got deleted from the app.
The updates together are over 12k words, so I hope that makes up for it! From now on, I’ll be alternating between single and double updates depending on how hectic my schedule gets. My course is pretty demanding, and by the end of the day, I’m just drained out.
Thank you all so much for being patient and understanding. Your support means a lot. ??
What do you think about this chapter?
What are your thoughts on the characters?
Which is your favourite part?
Please vote, comment and share your thoughts.
Check out the next chapter as well.