Chapter 22
This chapter is unedited so please read at your own risk.
Please vote, share and comment
Happy reading ?
_______________________________________
Author's POV
Safiya took a deep breath, her hand hovering uncertainly near the polished wooden door. For a long moment, she simply stood there, frozen in hesitation. The thought of knocking sent a ripple of unease through her chest.
She had no desire to face Zaviyar right now.
Not tonight and especially not when her own emotions were so tangled, each one pulling her in a different direction.
Her chest rose and fell with the weight of memories from earlier in the day that still clung stubbornly to her like shadows.
And then, unbidden, the awkward flashes of their first night together surfaced, crashing down on her like a merciless tide.
And if that wasn't enough, there was the ordeal with Sajal and her friends.
A humiliation wrapped in sweet smiles and poisoned words.
Safiya had never been ashamed of her marriage.
Not once. She wasn't embarrassed that she had tied her fate with Zaviyar, nor did she regret being in Azamgarh, far away from the city and her old life.
Yet Sajal's words had pierced through her defenses with precision, forcing her to confront the very truths she had been desperately avoiding since the very first day of their marriage.
Even though it was the young, naive Safiya who had told them about her dream wedding and prince charming, somewhere she felt a weird unsettling feeling in her heart.
To the world outside, it looked like she and Zaviyar shared a bond that was blooming, compatibility soaring high.
But only she knew the reality behind the carefully drawn curtain.
Behind the staged affection, there were cracks so deep, they threatened to swallow them whole.
Zaviyar's moments of gentleness, his show of affection, his calculated gestures.
They were nothing more than a facade. A mask carefully worn to maintain appearances, to keep people from questioning. None of it was real.
But for how long could they continue pretending to have a perfect marriage? For how long before the world noticed what she already knew, that they weren't compatible, not even close.
She thought back to those early days after their wedding.
After their first night, Zaviyar had done everything in his power to avoid her.
His absence was so deliberate that it stung.
And though he had managed to stay away for a while, eventually, the inevitable truth always circled back.
He had to return to his room. To his bed. ... to her.
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she sighed at the thought.
Why was she even worried? It wasn't as though she had to stay here forever.
This wasn't a life sentence. If she wished and if she truly wanted then she could walk away in a year.
She had the choice. That freedom alone gave her a strange, bitter comfort.
With a quiet resolve, she pushed the door open, slipping inside. The room was dimly lit, the soft golden glow of the bedside lamp spreading shadows across the walls. Her footsteps were cautious as though she were trespassing in a place she didn't fully belong to.
Moving straight to the dresser, she began tugging at the heavy folds of her lehenga, desperate to be rid of the weight that clung to her body like chains.
Her mind, caught up in its own storm, barely registered her surroundings.
She didn't notice the faint sound of movement behind her, the slight creak of the bathroom door opening.
It happened suddenly. They collided.
The ornate fabric of her lehenga tangled around her ankles, making it impossible to balance.
Safiya's heart leapt to her throat, her eyes squeezing shut as she braced for the painful impact of the floor.
But instead of cold marble, she felt warm, steady arms wrapping around her.
Strong, muscular arms wrapped firmly around her waist, halting her fall with practiced ease.
Her breath caught as the world steadied itself around her.
She dared to open her eyes, only to find herself staring into an abyss of dark, familiar eyes.
Zaviyar's gaze was intense, so piercing it felt like it could strip her bare, unravel her to her very soul.
For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke. It was as if their souls were caught in a silent conversation, a language beyond words.
Her hands, instinctively searching for stability, found their place with one pressed against the solid curve of his biceps, the other over his chest.
Even through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, the taut lines of his body were unmistakable.
She felt the controlled strength coiled beneath his skin, the subtle flex of muscles honed to perfection as he held her steady.
Her gaze, traitorous, lifted upward. The breath hitched in her throat at what she saw.
" You fall too much. " Zaviyar's voice was low, edged with disapproval, his brows drawn in a faint frown.
Safiya only nodded mutely, her lips parting to whisper a small, shaky "thanks."
And yet, even as his tone carried a reprimand, his touch was anything but harsh. His calloused hands rested softly against her bare back. The contrast sent an unexpected shiver racing down her spine.
She could feel the warmth of his skin seeping through her like fire beneath ice. The tiny hairs at the nape of her neck stood on end as shallow breaths escaped her lips, each one betraying her struggle to remain calm.
Up close, he was devastating. Too perfect, almost cruelly so.
His face was carved with precision. The ruthless sharpness of his jawline, the tight line of his lips.
And his eyes... those dark, storm-laden eyes that seemed alive, burning with something she couldn't name.
From this intimate distance, she could see everything.
The faint flecks of gold that sparked within the depths of his orbs, the way his lashes fell like shadows against his skin.
The rest of the world blurred, dissolving into nothingness. All that remained was him, painfully, dangerously close. The scent of him wrapped around her like an invisible snare which is sharp, masculine, tinged with spice that clung to her senses until she felt trapped within it.
'She's beautiful.' The thought came unbidden to Zaviyar, a whisper clawing at the back of his mind. He clenched his jaw, trying to shake it away.
But then came another, harsher voice inside him. 'She might be beautiful but she is cunning. She's not innocent like she portrays.'
He repeated it like a mantra, determined to burn away the truth that threatened to weaken him. The truth that his wife, standing before him in gold and shimmer, looked like salvation dressed as sin.
Her fingers lingered against his chest, unwilling or unable to move. Beneath her palm, his heartbeat was steady, commanding as though it belonged to a man who ruled over everything he touched. He was too powerful, too handsome, too dangerously close.
'Itne handsome hain, lekin zaban itni kadwi. Ek no. ka khadoos aur sadu shohar mila hain mujhe'
Safiya's internal voice tried to drown out the spiraling sensations within her. She shook her head ever so slightly as though to clear her thoughts. But when his hand shifted, pressing more firmly against her back, another shiver betrayed her body.
Gently, without a word, he steadied her and set her upright.
She exhaled shakily, gathering what little composure she could, and pressed a hand against his chest to create distance.
Her lehenga rustled softly as she stepped back, clutching the heavy fabric in her fists as though it were a shield.
She turned, ready to walk past him, determined to escape this dangerous proximity.
The silence of the room was heavy, oppressive, thick enough to smother. Safiya had barely taken two steps when his voice cut through the air like a blade.
"Khush lag rahi ho bohot..", His words weren't loud but sharp enough to make her pause. She froze mid-step, her body rigid, her pulse leaping in her throat. Slowly, she turned her head back toward him.
(You look very happy..)
He was standing there, his tall frame a shadow in the dim light, his eyes fixed on her with something unreadable flickering in their depths. His bitterness and pain disguised as scorn painted his face.
Safiya blinked, lips parting as if to respond but no sound came out. Her voice betrayed her, her throat tightening with a knot she couldn't untangle.
"Huh..." she managed, her confusion evident, her tone carrying both disbelief and hesitation.
His jaw ticked, muscles tightening as though he were restraining something dark that clawed at him from the inside. A storm gathered in his eyes and when he spoke again, his words dripped venom, each syllable deliberate, meant to wound.
"Of course you are happy, you wanted to humiliate me in front of all your friends, right? And you succeeded too, congratulations."
His voice carried a mocking edge but beneath it, there was something raw... something that made her brows knit together in confusion and hurt. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, though she forced them back, blinking rapidly.
But Zaviyar wasn't done. His words struck again, harsher, colder, slicing through her composure.
"Mil gaya sukoon? Mein jaanta hu tum humein gawar aur jaahil samajhti ho lekin iss baat ko har baar jatana zaroori hain.", Her chest rose and fell unevenly, her breaths shallow and shaky. L
(Satisfied now? I know you think of me as an uncultured and illiterate man, but do you really need to remind me of it every single time?)
The accusation burned more than the words themselves. She had never said that. And yet, the conviction in his tone made it seem as if her silence alone had condemned her.
Safiya hated the sharpness in his voice, the way it made the walls close in on her. All her life she had only known love and warmth. Praise and affection had been her shield, her comfort.
But everyone since she came here all she had to witness was hatred.
She hated it when anyone raised their voice at her, as it made her bitter memories surface.
And yet here she was, standing before a man whose every word clawed at her defenses.
She wanted to be brave. She wanted to glare, to stand tall, to show him that his anger meant nothing.
But deep inside, a small, trembling part of her recoiled at the harshness, the sheer cruelty in his tone.
Still, she lifted her chin, defiance flickering in her eyes. She would never let him see her break.
"Ya fir tumhe sharam aarhi thi ki pta nhi kese gawar ladke ke saath shaadi hogyi?" His words dropped lower, colder, as he leaned down to meet her gaze head-on, his face emotionless, merciless.
(Or were you ashamed that you somehow got married to a so-called illiterate guy?)
"Lekin mene esa sab kab kha..." Her whisper was a fractured thing, disbelief coating every word. She shook her head slowly, denying it, clinging to whatever dignity she had left.
(But when did I ever say such things...)
But Zaviyar's sharp, unyielding gaze pierced through her. His towering presence loomed closer, his voice soft but filled with poison.
"Tum kab kuch kehti ho Safiya, tumhe kuch kehni ki zaroorat hee nhi padti. Because your actions speak louder than your words."
(You never actually say anything Safiya, you don't need to. Because your actions speak louder than your words.)
Her fists clenched tight at her sides, nails digging into her palms as if the pain would anchor her, keep her from shattering under the weight of his accusation.
"Dekho faltu mein dimag kharab mat karo... Mene esa kuch nhi kiya hain.." Her voice rose a notch, firming with anger. She swatted his hand away as if erasing his words, her body turning as she tried to walk past him.
(Look, don't create drama unnecessarily... I didn't do any of that..)
But Zaviyar's grip was swift, his hand closing around her arm like iron.
In one movement, he yanked her back, her body colliding with the stiff wall.
The thud reverberated through her bones, a startled yelp escaping her lips.
The concrete pressed cold against her back, sharp against her skin as he towered over her with anger radiating from every inch of him.
His chest rose and fell with fury, his voice spilling out like wildfire, untamed and scorching.
"Band karo yeh nautanki... Aur kitna neeche gir sakti ho tum? Tum aur tumhare baba dono ek hee hain, baap ne humara khandaan ka naam kharab kiya aur ab apni beti ko bhi-"
(Stop this act... How much lower can you fall? You and your father are the same, your father ruined our family's name and now his daughter too-)
SLAPPPPPP!!!
The crack echoed like thunder in the room, startling them both.
Safiya didn't even realize when her hand had risen, when the fire in her veins had burst free.
Her palm stung with the force of it, the shock of what she had done sinking in only after his head tilted to the side, eyes wide in disbelief.
For a second, silence reigned. The sound of their ragged breaths filled the room, heavy, uneven. Her chest heaved but her voice though trembling with rage remained steady, laced with fire.
"Bas bohot hogya... sun rahi hu iska matlab yeh nhi ki tum meri bezzati karte rahoge..", Her voice cracked at the end but she remained stoic.
(That's enough... Just because I was listening doesn't mean you will keep insulting me..)
"Mere baba aur mere character ke khilaf aur ek lafz kha na toh tumhara muh noch lungi.
." She clicked her fingers sharply in front of his face, her hand shaking, before shoving him away with all the force her body could muster.Her face was flushed red, partly from the screaming, partly from the boiling fury inside her.
Her chest rose and fell violently, but her eyes never left his.
(If you dare utter even one more word against my father or my character, I will tear your face apart..)
" How dare you- ", Zaviyar's face darkened, the veins at his temple ticking as his jaw locked. His towering frame leaned forward, shoulders taut, ready to unleash his wrath, but before he could retort, her voice cracked, cutting through the silence of the room.
":Haan, nhi ho tum meri pasand!! Nafrat karti hoon mein tumse Zaviyar Khan.. aur yeh bhi jaanti hu ki mein tumhari pasand nhi hu lekin jab apne khuda ke saamne iss rishte ko qubool kiya hain touh nibhao na.", she screamed a little at the end, the sheer desperation quite evident in her voice.
(Yes, you are not my choice!! I hate you, Zaviyar Khan.. and I also know that I am not your choice either. But since we accepted this marriage in front of God, then at least honor it.)
For a long moment, silence settled between them, broken only by the uneven rise and fall of their ragged breathing. The air grew heavy with unspoken fury and suppressed anguish.
Zaviyar's voice finally came low, cold, and merciless like a dagger pressed against bare skin. Yet his stance wavered ever so slightly when his eyes caught the redness swelling in hers. Even though she stood with a steel-like resolve, the sheen of tears threatening to spill betrayed her.
" Yeh nikah ek samjhota hain... humne yeh rishta qubool nhi kiya balki haalat ke saath samjhota kiya hain.
", he said sternly, his gaze piercing her like a hawk circling its prey.
His words dripped venom, his voice deliberately dark as he tried to intimidate her.
Her chest heaved as she stared at him defiantly.
The strain in her neck from craning upward to meet his gaze burned, but she refused to bow her head before him.
(This marriage is nothing but a compromise... we didn't truly accept this relationship, we only compromised with the circumstances.)
" What do you mean samjhota? Mein paagal hoon jouh yaha khari hoon?
At least mein try kar rahi hoon to adjust to whatever bullshit is going on in here.
. ", Her voice rose, biting and unapologetic.
He let out a dry, mocking laugh. It was so hollow that it echoed across the walls making her look up at him with undisguised scorn.
His long fingers, slow and deliberate, reached for the edge of her dupatta, his touch almost taunting as his hand twined around the fabric like a predator playing with its prey.
(What do you mean compromise? Do you think I'm crazy for standing here? At least I am trying to adjust to whatever nonsense is happening in this house..)
" Angrezi mat jhaado mujhe bhi aati hain.
. aur kisne kha hain tumhe adjust karne keliye.
Jesa rehna hain wese raho, wese bhi kisiko farak nhi parta tumhare hone yaa naa hone se.
. ", Her throat tightened with rage, her breath coming out harsh and uneven.
With a sharp tug, she snatched the dupatta away from his hold and clutched it protectively against her chest, as though shielding herself from his very existence.
(Don't throw English at me, I know it too.. and who even asked you to adjust? Live however you want, anyway nobody cares whether you exist or not..)
"You know what Zaviyar? Bhaad mein gaye tum aur bhaad mein gaya tumhara khandaan...", her words were laced with venom but his lips only curled into a cruel, humorless smile, one that stung more than his words ever could.
(You know what Zaviyar? To hell with you and to hell with your family...)
" Tum kuch aur din yaha rahi touh, wohi jaana parega."
(If you stay here a few more days, then that's where we will all have to go to.)
Her chest caved inward as she lifted her gaze to the ceiling, her voice breaking into a whisper that carried the weight of despair. " Yah Allah yeh kesi aziyat mein daal diya hain aapne mujhe..."
(Oh Allah, what kind of torment have You put me into...)
Without another word, she turned, dragging her away from him as though each step pulled her deeper into quicksand. She wanted to put an end to this storm before her composure shattered completely.
" DO NOT TURN YOUR BACK ON ME when I'M TALKING.", His commanding tone snapped through the silence, the authority in his voice cold enough to freeze her mid-step. She flinched almost imperceptibly, a tremor that would go unnoticed but Zaviyar's gaze caught it.
" You already turned your back on this marriage... on me. But you can't handle it when I do the same.",
Her bitter laugh echoed through the room, hollow and sharp like glass breaking on a marble floor. Her lips trembled but she forced her words out without faltering.
" Shut up... JUST SHUT UP-", His eyes blazed red with fury, blood rushing hotly under his skin.
He slammed both his palms against the wall with a thunderous crack, caging her between his arms, his shadow swallowing her fragile frame.
His voice thundered like a storm tearing through the night, but her reply struck sharper, deadlier, unyielding.
"I'm telling you for the last time... I don't think of you as my wife Safiya Zaviyar Khan.
You are just a bloody burden I must endure.
We will be a good couple in front of the world, but inside this room.
.. You don't matter to me.", Her lips curved into a mirthless smile, her voice trembling but steady as she threw his words back at him, her strength forged in the fire of his cruelty.
" And this is the last time I'm telling you this Zaviyar.
.. My feelings are mutual. I'm not happy in this marriage or with you but you don't see me manhandling you and reminding you everyday that I hate you right?
You know why? Because you don't even exist in my eyes.
", Her eyes gleamed with raw defiance as she spoke, her tone heavy with scorn.
The hatred swirling between them seemed alive, a fire sparking in their veins, seeping into their nerves until it consumed every inch of their beings.
He stared at her as though the ground had slipped beneath him, her words slicing deeper than any blade.
"But you try to remind me every single moment that you hate me.
.. Are you telling this to me or yourself, huh?
", Her shove was hard, meant to shake him off but he didn't budge, not even an inch.
His tall frame loomed over her, immovable like a mountain refusing to bow to the storm.
Instead his head lowered slightly, his burning eyes narrowing as if her words struck something buried deep within.
" You tell me to stay away from you and I do that perfectly. But then it's you who comes to me to remind me that marriage doesn't matter to you? Believe me Zaviyar, you might be jobless but I'm not. ",
Her voice rose sharply, frustration dripping from every syllable.
She jabbed her finger against his chest with such force that her hand shook, her fury blazing like wildfire.
In her mind, she wished it was not her finger but a knife, one she could plunge deep into his heart, twist until his arrogance bled out, if only that would stop him from acting as though he mattered in her life.
" Mujhe sattar kaam hoteh hain din mein, faltu nhi bethi rehti mein pura din yeh ghatiya baat sunne me liye aur tumhari badsurat shakal dekhne ke liye.
", Her tone cut colder now, each word a blade dipped in venom, dripping sarcasm.
Her chin tilted upward, her eyes narrowing with disdain as though looking at him was beneath her dignity.
(I have seventy tasks to do in a day, I don't sit around uselessly just to hear this rubbish or to look at your ugly face all day.)
" We are not in some serial okay? Grow up.
Jio aur jeene douh? Ever heard of that? You can go around doing whatever you like but yes, don't you dare fucking cheat on me.
", His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.
Each word came out controlled, forced through gritted teeth as though he was struggling to hold back the chaos inside him.
The urge to punch the wall or worse... to pull the trigger of the gun and shoot her right between her eyes.
(We are not in some serial okay? Grow up. Live and let live, ever heard of that? You can go around doing whatever you like but yes, don't you dare cheat on me.)
" Baaki tumhari monotonous boring life tumhe mubarak ho. ", She pressed her palms together mockingly, her lips curled in a bitter smirk as if she were blessing him with the life he so proudly guarded.
(The rest of your monotonous boring life-keep it to yourself.)
" And yes I suggest pura din mere peeche ghumne se achcha hain get a job and earn some money.
Future ka socho and I suggest thore paise insurance mein lagao and FD bhi banao.
Wese tumhari job hain kya... Don't tell me you roam around the village the whole day and call that a job.
", Her smirk widened, cruel and poisonous, her words flung at him like arrows coated in venom.
Each sentence was designed to belittle, to strike at his pride, to pull apart his dignity thread by thread.
(And yes, I suggest instead of following me around all day, get a job and earn some money. Think about your future, and maybe invest some in insurance and make a fixed deposit too. But what is your job? Don't tell me you roam around the village the whole day and call that a job? )
For the first time that night, Zaviyar's expression faltered.
His forehead creased, eyes narrowing in disbelief as though she had turned into someone else entirely.
This girl, this infuriating, sharp-tongued woman who happened to be his wife had slapped him minutes ago, almost broken down in tears the next and now stood before him with the arrogance of someone who enjoyed toying with fire, smirking at him like she had won
'Aur yeh mujhe bipolar bitch bulati hain... Bipolar chudail kahi ki....', Zaviyar rolled his eyes, though the muscle twitching in his jaw betrayed his struggle to keep calm.
" What the hell are you even saying? ", He barked, his patience snapping.
His hands shot out, gripping her shoulders in a sudden, bruising hold that made her gasp out a startled squeak.
He gave her a good shake, his eyes scanning her face with suspicion as though searching for signs of possession because only a spirit could explain her unpredictable madness.
Before she could spit out another insult, he cut her off, his tone low and dangerous, " Dotn you dare say another word or I'll throw you out of this room."
But she only rolled her eyes at his threats, crossing her arms with practiced ease, her chin tilted upward in arrogant defiance.
" Yeah, then throw me out? ", Her smirk deepened, taunting him, daring him to follow through.
" Tumhari izzat ka tamasha banakar janazah na nikal diya na touh mera naam badal dena Zaviyar Raza Khan... Urf Sadiyal Khan... ", With a flash of defiance, she crouched low beneath his caging arms and slipped out from under him, her swift escape leaving him momentarily stunned.
( By making a mockery of your honor, if I don't take out your funeral, then change my name Zaviyar Raza Khan... a.k.a. Grumpy Khan... )
" Stop where you are... I hate it when people turn their backs on me. ", His voice boomed, reverberating off the walls, demanding obedience. She paused, turning slowly with a bored, almost lazy expression.
" Yahi.. yahi touh nhi pasand mujhe. Stop acting like a sadu, will you?", She rolled her eyes, dismissing his fury as if it were nothing but the tantrum of a sulking child.
(This... this is exactly what I don't like. Stop acting like a grumpy old man, will you?)
" Everything is NOT A BLOODY JOKE. I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT SINS I HAVE COMMITTED TO END UP WITH YOU.
", His voice cracked under the weight of his rage.
His fists trembled, his eyes glistened with a fury that bordered on despair.
The words he hurled were not just anger but hey carried the exhaustion of a man questioning his very fate.
Her heart jolted at the venom of his confession. She gripped her dupatta tightly, the fabric clenched in her fist to keep the sob clawing up her throat from breaking free.
' Calm down, Safiya... calm down Safiya...'
Her mind spiraled, the echo of his words merging with the old, ugly memories she had buried deep.
Her teacher's scolding, her senior's shouting, the taunts that had cut into her worth.
She could take the harshness but questioning her very existence?
That was where she drew the line. Her lips quivered, yet her chin remained lifted in stubborn pride.
" My life was way better before you came into it. Just go away. ", his words rolled off in whispers.
Her lips trembled a little. Behind them, memories of Adeel's threats and venomous voicemails surged back, each reminder a wound that never healed. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, but she refused to let him see her break.
" Rukne ka man mera bhi nhi hain... C-chinta mat karo, chali jaungi mein. ", Her whisper floated in the heavy silence like a fragile dandelion seed drifting on an unforgiving wind.
(I don't wish to stay either... Don't worry, I will leave.)
The air shifted at her words, sharp and final, slicing through the tension like the edge of a blade.
"Hamesha ke liye...."
(Forever....)
With that, she retreated into the bathroom, her figure swallowed by the closing door.
That night, neither found rest. Safiya curled up on the couch, her slender body twisting in discomfort, not just from the stiff cushions digging into her but from the unrest clawing inside her chest. Her mind spun relentlessly, her body trembling with an ache she could neither name nor escape.
On the other side of the room, Zaviyar slumped into the recliner, his broad shoulders stiff against the narrow frame, his neck aching with every shift. His eyes remained open long after he closed them, replaying her words, her defiance, her scorn.
The bed laid wide, soft, and inviting and yet remained untouched, empty and cold. A cruel reminder of the distance stretching between them. Neither dared to claim it, for neither was ready to yield, to surrender or to share.
And so, beneath the same roof, only a few feet apart, their hearts remained restless, burning with hurt, pride and the unbearable weight of a marriage that had turned into a battlefield.
_______________________________________
The next morning Safiya woke up early being restless. The couch wasn't much of a comfortable substitute for the bed and along with that she couldn't convince herself to sleep for some reason.
She got up abruptly and checked the time only to notice it was 6 am. She quickly got out of bed thinking of doing something else instead of sleep.
That was when her eyes fell on the floor.
Zaviyar's black t-shirt and a damp towel lay carelessly tossed aside, crumpled into a heap as though they didn't matter.
She sighed heavily, rolling her eyes at his perpetual untidiness.
Why was he always like this? For all his so-called regal pride and the way he held his chin high in arrogance, his habits were far from royalty.
'Ameer baap ki so called bigri hui aulaad'
With a small huff of irritation, she nudged the clothes with her foot and kicked them under the bed, out of sight, out of mind. "Messy brute," she muttered under her breath before disappearing into the washroom.
A long, refreshing shower later, she emerged, the steam following her like a delicate veil. The morning light from the tall windows cast a glow on her damp skin, catching on the droplets still clinging to her neck and jaw.
She looked effortlessly radiant, her beige cotton salwar set adorned with delicate floral motifs clinging lightly to her frame.
The outfit was simple yet elegant, soft enough for comfort but graceful enough to add a hint of charm.
For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to enjoy the small joy of dressing up.
But her brief moment of peace shattered the second she stepped out.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed Zaviyar stepping out of the walk-in closet.
Unlike her soft cotton attire, he was a striking contrast. He was draped in a perfectly tailored black suit, the sharp lines of the fabric hugging his broad shoulders and tall frame with practiced elegance.
His hair was slicked back neatly, his sharp jawline highlighted by the morning light, his every feature rough yet majestic, like a king ready to claim his throne.
He adjusted his cufflinks with calm precision but then his movements faltered when his eyes, dark and stormy fell on her.
For a second, his gaze travelled slowly over her, taking in the beige and cream tones of her dress, the way it softened her aura, making her appear calm, graceful, untouchably elegant.
Something unreadable flickered in his expression before his gaze hardened once again, masking it.
Safiya's heart skipped but she turned away swiftly, unwilling to let his stare linger on her. She walked toward the dressing table, intent on ignoring him. Coincidentally, he stepped forward at the exact same time, their paths colliding.
She startled at the sudden impact, her body jolting as she stumbled. Instinctively, her hand reached out and caught his arm, the solid muscle beneath his sleeve steadying her. A sharp breath escaped her lips as she steadied herself.
Her eyes, wide and reluctant, lifted and met his. Those black, stormy eyes, always unreadable were fixed on her with an intensity that made her pulse falter. He looked at her as though she had intruded into his space, into his breath, into the walls he guarded so tightly.
" Aas paas dekhke chala karo.", His voice was low but firm, his eyes still locked on hers as though trying to read beyond her silence. Safiya only shrugged dismissively and withdrew her hand, brushing past him to reach the mirror.
She stood before the wide mirror, towel in hand, gently drying her damp hair.
The morning light played tricks on her reflection, making her look both soft and fragile yet quietly defiant.
Zaviyar, without a word, came to stand behind her.
Their reflections merged on the glass, her small frame in beige, his tall frame in black- an unlikely pair bound by fate.
He lifted his hands to fix his hair, his tall figure looming over hers, dominating the shared reflection.
For a moment, her lips twitched. She almost giggled when she noticed him struggling with one rebellious strand of hair that refused to stay in place.
His brows furrowed, his lips pursed slightly and before he realized it, a faint pout had formed.
It was a sight she hadn't expected from him.
The mighty, arrogant Zaviyar Khan looking almost..
. cute. She quickly looked away before her amusement betrayed her.
At last, after a final swipe of his hand, he managed to tame the stubborn strand.
He leaned closer to the mirror, bending just slightly to check his reflection with meticulous care.
That small shift was enough for their faces to align in the mirror, side by side, close enough to feel like a reflection of something neither wanted to admit.
Their eyes lifted at the same time. Dark orbs collided with soft brown ones and the air grew heavy in the small space between them.
For a heartbeat, neither moved nor spoke.
Both of them felt their breaths falter, the tension pulsing like an invisible thread.
And then, almost in unison they looked away, nervous as though the glass itself had betrayed something neither was ready to face.
Being enemies and married was not just difficult but also suffocating. A constant battle between pride and vulnerability, between hate and the dangerous pull of something unnamed.
_______________________________________
The elders sat together in the warm, lively living room, the faint aroma of incense mingling with the sweetness of milk boiling in the kitchen.
All eyes turned toward Safiya when she arrived looking beautiful in her attire.
Behind her Zaviyar appeared walking down slowly while engaged on a phone call.
Safiya who was adjusting her dupatta nervously yet holding her composure with a faint smile greeted everyone.
She was heading to the seat beside Zaviyar when something flashed beside her. Before she could take a hold of the chair a pair of hands had pulled the chair. When she looked up she realised it was Zaviyar, holding the chair for her as he gestured for her to sit with a tilt of his head.
Safiya complied only for her ears to turn red in embarrassment when she found everyone even the staff staring at them with shock which got converted to faint smiles. However, Kabir and Khwaish were smiling a little too much which only irritated her. God knows what those monkeys were thinking.
After they were done with the breakfast Riffat turned to Safiya with a warm smile as she said, " Beta woh tumhara haath dalwana tha kheer mein.. "
(Child, we wanted you to dip your hand into the kheer..)
" Isn't that unhygienic? ", Safiya's brows lifted slightly, taken aback at the unusual request.Riffat and Rabiya chuckled softly, shaking their head with affection and awe.
" yeh ek rasam hain jaha ghar ki nayi bahu khana banati hain... ", Rabiya said turning to Riffat who nodded.
(This is a ritual where the new bride prepares food for the family...)
" Tum bana touh logi na? ", Riffat leaned forward, smiling warmly.
(You'll be able cook it, won't you?)
" Haan... No problem. ", Safiya straightened up and nodded without hesitation. She was a decent cook after all. Not the best but she could manage. Spending years in the hostel she had mastered the art of cooking everything in the water kettle. From instant noodles to chicken curry.
" Beta tumhe jyada mehnat karne ki koyi jarurat nhi hain bas kheer bna Lena.. ", The motherly voice softened, filled with concern.
(My dear, you don't need to work too hard, just make kheer.)
"Areh kyu? Mujhe aati hai cooking. Rasam karne hain touh achche se karungi..", Safiya's lips curved into a small smile, her tone calm yet determined.
(Oh, why? I know how to cook. If I'm doing the ritual, I'll do it properly..)
" shabaash... ", The women exchanged proud smiles, one of them nodding approvingly.
" touh kya kya banau? ", Safiya leaned slightly forward, her eyes thoughtful as if planning. She looked around at the table, everyone silent as they muttered 'anything' in chorus.
(Then what all should I make?)
" Tumhari jouh marzi ho bana louh. ", Riffat waved her hand gently, granting her freedom.
(Whatever you wish, you may cook.)
" Or you could just make what your husband likes. But I'm sure he would like everything you make. ", Riffat teased making Safiya's head snap at Zaviyar who made an expression like he was disgusted after hearing the cringiest shit ever.
" Zeher na khila de yeh mujhe... ", he muttered under her breath but Safiya heard it and looked at him with a dangerous, evil smirk.
( she will end up feeding me poison... )
Her next words made Zaviyar only gulp internally as he tried to maintain a neutral face.
" Shauk Se... "
(With pleasure )
_______________________________________
Safiya rose slowly, her anklets chiming softly against the marble floor as she made her way toward the kitchen. The air inside was warm, filled with the faint sweetness of cardamom and milk already simmering in a pot.
From the doorway, a pair of eyes followed her. Zaviyar leaned against the wooden frame, arms crossed, his tall frame casting a shadow across the tiled floor. He made sure to hide himself properly, so that he wasn't visible to her and also made sure that no one was around.
He said nothing but his gaze lingered on her every movement how carefully she inspected the kitchen, how her bangles clinked as she opened jars and lids, how a little strand of hair slipped across her cheek.
For a fleeting moment, a small smile threatened to tug at his lips.
Safiya, unaware of his watchful eyes, whispered under her breath as though promising herself...
" Rasam hai touh sabse achchi karni hai... ", Her voice was soft, but it carried the weight of quiet pride. And Zaviyar, though silent, couldn't help but admire the fire in her. Without sparing her another glance he turned around and left.
(If it's a ritual, then I'll do it in the best way...)
______________________________________
If you've got any queries, feel free to DM me on Instagram at @arnoirverse
After a long wait... they're finally married.
I'm so excited to share this chapter with you!
Let me know what you think.
What do you like in this chapter ?
Don't forget to vote, share, and comment.
Your support means everything!
Check out the next chapter as well ????