Chapter 24
This chapter is not edited so read at your own risk
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Happy reading ??
Also, I've decided to make the chapters longer from now on ??????
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Author's POV
“ You are their daughter. But never forget… you are my wife first. And I don’t let anything out of my sight. Safiya Zaviyar Raza Khan… ”, Safiya looked at Zaviyar with a frown, shaking her head in dismay at his arrogant words. Before she could retort, Kabir’s complaint broke through the silence.
“ Kheer is already finished. I wanted to have more… ” Kabir whined, his lips turned down in a pout.
“ Kabir, you already had two bowls and Zaviyar didn’t even try kheer till now. ” Riffat tried to reason but Kabir’s sulk only deepened.
That’s when an idea struck Safiya. She abruptly got up, smoothing her dupatta with an innocent smile.
“ Don’t worry Tayi Ammi, there’s a lot of kheer left. I’ll go get it. ”, With a smile she bee-lined for the kitchen.
Inside the kitchen, Safiya’s eyes glimmered mischievously as she opened the fridge.
The sight of the large bowl of kheer made her smirk.
She carefully filled two bowls— one for Kabir, one for Zaviyar.
But on Zaviyar’s share, she sprinkled the fine powder of white chilli seeds she had ground into fine powder earlier.
With a sly grin, she stirred it lightly and placed both bowls neatly on a tray.
‘Bada aya—you are my wife first… ab dekhte hain, kaisa lagta hai tumhe. Kya kha tha... Dard mubaraq right. Well, same to you dear husband. ’
( Acting so mighty— you are my wife first… let’s see how you like this. What did he say... All you will gain is pain in this marriage... Well, same to you dear husband.... )
She walked out gracefully, tray balanced in her hands. As expected, Kabir was the first to snatch his bowl with a wide grin.
“ Yay, kheer! ”, she smiled at him before placing the other bowl in front of Zaviyar with a scowl making sure he noticed how much she hated serving him. She couldn't risk giving him a smirk and making him skeptical about her actions.
Safiya set the other in front of Zaviyar, her heart beating faster in anticipation. She watched closely as he picked up the spoon, dipped it into the creamy dessert, and brought it to his lips.
One bite. Two bites. Three.
Her eyes widened in surprise. There was no cough, no flinch, not even the faintest sign of discomfort. Instead, Zaviyar continued eating, completely unfazed, his expression maddeningly calm.
Safiya’s lips parted slightly in disbelief. She had imagined him choking, reaching for water, maybe glaring at her in front of everyone. But Zaviyar Raza Khan… her dear husband was simply enjoying his kheer.
When he finally placed the spoon down, his gaze flickered to her. Slowly, that faint, knowing smirk tugged at his lips.
“ Tumhari kheer… achchi bani hai. ” he drawled casually, loud enough for her ears only, “ Lekin Safiya… mujhe kuch bhi digest karna aata hai. Tumhari chaalein bhi. ”
(“m Your kheer… is good. But Safiya… I know how to digest anything. Even your tricks. )
His words weren’t filthy but the cocky arrogance in his tone hit her harder than she expected. That smug confidence, the way he made it sound like she could never outsmart him, left her clenching her fists under the table.
Zaviyar leaned back in his chair, calm and composed, as though nothing had happened. Kabir happily scraped his bowl clean, Riffat chatted idly but Safiya… she sat stiff, seething inside, realizing she had once again underestimated the man she had married.
But that's when epiphany hit her. She was yet again behaving like a typical wife from a serial. But she could only blame her mother for watching those serials in the evening infront of her.
She sat on the chair with a huff but her eyes followed him as he dug into his pockets. That's when he pulled out a velvet box and pushed it toward her making her cross her brows at the gesture.
“ Why don't you open it, aapi—”, Khwaish started but was cut off by Zaviyar's low yet sharp voice. “ Aapi, nhi bhabi hain tumhari...”, and that's when the table went silent and everyone looked at Zaviyar like he had grown two heads.
“ Huh? ”, khwaish asked abruptly, blinking at him in confusion. “ She is your bhabi now, khwaish. ”, Zaviyar said firmly, his voice barely a whisper.
“ bhabi, open the box already. I really wanna see what bhai has gifted you... ”, Safiya nods before opening the velvet box on to be surprised at the jewellery that resided inside the box.
“ thank you... ”, she muttered without even trying it on. The people in the family gleamed and teased her, appreciating their bond but only Safiya understood the meaning behind that gift. It was yet another reminder that she was now, his wife.
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The round dining table just outside the kitchen glowed under the yellow light, filled with the rich aroma of spices, freshly baked naan, and steaming bowls of curries.
Laughter and chatter floated in the air as the staff gathered around, appreciating Safiya’s very first meal for the family.
Her hands still smelled faintly of masalas as she stood at the corner of the table, watching each plate being filled.
“Do you all like it??”, Safiya’s voice was soft but carried a note of nervous anticipation. Her heart thudded faster than she wanted to admit.
“Yes, Safiya aapi. This is so tasty. ”, One of the household helpers replied immediately with folded hands, their smile warm and reassuring.
“Aap touh bohot hee swadisht khaana pakati hain. Nihari touh sabse jyada kya kehte hain angrezi mein woh... ”, Shabana tapped her finger on her temple trying to remember the word, “ haa... tasty hui hain.”, A loud laugh followed, the words laced with both sincerity and rustic charm.
(You cook really delicious food. The nihari especially…
what do they say in English… it was very tasty.)
“ Bibi-ji, this chicken 65 is also very tasty. I've never had anything like this before.”, one of the aged cooks in the house said with a look of astonishment.
Safiya couldn’t help but smile faintly, lowering her eyes as if to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks.
“Chalo meri classes ka kuch touh fayda hua.”, She teased lightly, trying to mask her shyness under a veil of humor. The others chuckled, easing the tension around the table.
(Well, looks like my cooking classes finally paid off.)
“Chhoti begum, aap neh touh khana khaya hee nhi. Pehle baheer sabko khilaya aur fir hame khila rahi hain.”, one of the elder women looked at her with a kind smile.
(Young mistress, you haven’t eaten at all. First you served everyone outside, and now you’re serving us too.)
The words struck something deep in her chest. Safiya froze for a moment. Her eyes shifted away, lingering on the flickering flame of a candle.
“No, I’m not hungry. And I don’t eat such oily food..”, Her reply was gentle, almost detached but inside her thoughts ran heavier than her words. It’s not the oil, rather the weight of everything around her. These walls, these expectations, this constant need to prove that she belongs.
Eating feels like indulgence when you’re fighting to breathe in a house that still doesn’t feel like yours.
Before getting married to him, she was a guest and she started enjoying the stay here. But now when she's a member of this family, even though temporarily and is constantly circled by her own people. She can't help but feel lonely and as though she is imposing.
She forced a smile, placing the ladle down before anyone could question her further. Around her, the conversation resumed with ease but Safiya’s silence lingered, a quiet echo in the midst of clinking plates and warm laughter.
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The haveli was unusually quiet at this hour. Shadows stretched long across the marble floors and only the faint hum of the kitchen remained. Safiya had retired to her bed chambers after the staff convinced her that they would do the remaining of the chores.
Zaviyar walked in from his evening stroll and was on his way to his room, his mind still circling the matters of the day.
Not to mention how he ran to his office from the back door to drink cold water.
His tongue burned with the intensity of the spice.
He could feel his eyes watering, and his whole face had turned red.
He had to cool off in his office before returning to his room.
As he was walking by the kitchen, soft voices drifted into the corridor. He paused near the kitchen archway, hidden by the dim light when he heard the familiar name.
“Chhoti begum neh itna kuch banaya lekin ek niwala nhi khaya.”
(The young mistress cooked so much, but she didn’t take even a single bite.)
Zaviyar frowned, his steps halting. ‘She cooked all that and didn't eat?’, he felt something weird in the pit of his stomach, a guy wrenching feeling.
Pity or perhaps sympathy. He tried to shake away his thoughts.
He tried to remember how she had tricked him into eating spice but he couldn't shake away the resonating voice in his head. ... Was it guilt?
“Unhone bohot din baad khana banaya tha na isliye shayad thora kam bana diya tha. Mene baad mein dekha touh saare bartan khali the.”, one of the maids said, her voice laced with concern.
(She cooked after such a long time, that’s why maybe she made a little less. Later when I checked, all the pots were empty.)
“Touh woh khud khaati hume khilane ki kya zarurat thi.”, one of the young maids voiced out.
(Then why didn’t she eat herself? What was the need to only feed us?)
“Wohi touh tum nhi samjhi, Safiya bibi ka dil bohot saaf hain. Unke liye sab barabar hain. Woh logo ko paiso ya rutbe se nhi toul ti, balkay unki seerat se toul ti hain. Humne hee unhe shuru se mufat aur belagam socha. Woh thori alag hain lekin dil ki saaf hain.”, Zaviyar’s jaw locked, his throat dry.
(That’s what you don’t understand — Safiya maam has a pure heart.
For her, everyone is equal. She doesn’t measure people by wealth or status, she measures them by their character.
We were the ones who judged her from the beginning, thinking she was arrogant and reckless.
She may be different, but she is pure-hearted.)
Zaviyar fisted his hands, various thoughts spiralling in his head as he brushed a hand through his strands.
“Lekin fir bhi mujhe bura lag rha hain. Aur pta nhi kyu woh udaas thi khaane ke baad.”, Shabana holding the mop, and twirling slowly in circles.
(Still, I felt bad. And I don’t know why she looked so sad after dinner.)
“Haan Wajahat sahab aur Rabia bibi vapis sheher jaa rahe hain na isliye.”, Mansi added.
(Yes, because Mr. Wajahat and Mrs. Rabia are going back to the city.)
“Lekin mujhe lagta hain ki woh dukhi thi kyuki Nawab sahab neh unki tareef nhi ki.”, Rida said loudly, making all the others nodded their heads in agreement.
(But I think she was sad because Nawab sahab didn’t praise her.)
Those words struck like a dagger.
‘ She would never seek my validation. But why would she not even eat, is it really because of her parents leaving early or is it something i did.’, Zaviyar almost punched the wall in frustration.
He was having second thoughts. The walls he tried so hard to build around himself breaking piece by piece, becoming debris and turning into dust while he stood there with guilt bearing down on his shoulders.
“Woh kabhi kisi ki tareef karte hain.”, mansi said with a scoff.
(Does he ever praise anyone?)
“Mene dekha hain unka rawaiya bohot hee sakt hain Safiya bibi ke saath.”, Shabana said placing her hands on her hips while she stopped her feet in frustration.
(I’ve noticed his behavior is very harsh towards Safiya maam.)
“Haan. Aur shayad iss baat ka ehsaas Safiya bibi ko bhi hain ki woh unki pasand nhi hain.” , Zaviyar’s chest twisted.
(Yes. And maybe Safiya mmam herself knows that she is not his choice.)
“Aaj kal Safiya bibi pehli jesi lagti bhi nhi hain. Woh hasteen hain lekin unke aakhon mein woh chamak nhi hain.”, rida said with a pitiful tone, her voice low.
(Nowadays Safiya bibi doesn’t even seem the same. She smiles, but the sparkle in her eyes is gone.)
“Safiya bibi sabko bachate bachate khud ko nuksaan pohcha rhi hain.”, one of the male staff said, walking into kitchen after clearing out the trash.
(Safiya maam is hurting herself while protecting everyone else.)
“Nawab sahab ke liye Safiya bibi behtareen humsafar sabeet hui hain lekin kya Nawab sahab Safiya bibi ke liye ek achche shohar hain?”, The question rang in Zaviyar’s ears like thunder. His breath hitched.
(Safiya bibi has proven to be the best life partner for Nawab sahab, but has Nawab sahab been a good husband to her?)
‘ I’ve been everything but a good husband. I gave her my name but not my heart. My protection but not my kindness. I gave her walls, not warmth. And still… still she stands by me. But I never asked her to do so. She's here for her and her father's selfish needs. Why should I care about her? ’
His eyes darkened in fury, his inner demons screaming at him to cut her off before she betrays him as well. But his mind could only travel back to what his family said about her.
...Flashback...
The memory surfaced unbidden. It was in the morning, when he was at the patio waiting for Waqas to arrive with the files, his siblings sitting just near around. Khwaish had been narrating the scene to Kabir with bright eyes.
“ One of Safiya aapi's friend... The one who wore the grey lehenga... ”, Khwiash said excitedly only for Kabir to hit her lightly on her head and say, “Mujhe woh sab yaad nhi, seedhe mudde peh aa- ”
Khwaish rubbed her head but continued her dramatic story-telling, “ so that girl who wore grey lehenga said that bhai is not Safiya aapi's ideal life partner and do you know what she replied? She said — i won't hear a word against my family or my husband. ”
Kabir nodded before Khwiash added, “ Yes, and not only that but she also said that bhai might not be her ideal type but he is her choice. ”
“And bhai, after that the faces of her friends were worth seeing. Safiya aapi defended us and silenced them all.”, Khwiash said with a grin.
Zaviyar though pretending to be invested in the newspaper he was reading, leaned in when he heard their gossip. And that's when he remembered that he had only witnessed Safiya listening to Sajal and her friends' badmouthing him and his family.
He had left to attend to some important politicians and MLA's before Safiya even got a word out of her system and he aumatically assumed that she took thought the same about them as her friends. He could only close his eyes in guilt.
Fuck, he had behaved not only harshly to her but also disrespected her when she didn't deserve even an ounce of it.
Back then, Zaviyar had only grunted, pretending it didn’t matter. But now, the flashback pierced him.
‘She defended us… even when she had no reason to. She protected our honor while I questioned hers. She gave me loyalty when I gave her doubt. And I… I shouted at her for something as petty as that.’
...Flashback ends...
The loud, authoritative voice in the kitchen stirred him back.
“Yeh sab kya baatein kar rahe ho tumlog... Woh bhi Nawab sahab ke liye. Bhul gaye ki unka rutva kya hai? Kisine sun liya na seedhe Azamgarh ke bahar phikwa diye jaogi. Kaam mein lago apne apne.”, the eldest woman, who managed all the chores around the house said before walking out of the kitchen through the backside door.
(What nonsense are you all talking… and that too about Nawab sahab. Did you forget his status? If someone hears you, you’ll be thrown out of Azamgarh directly. Get back to your work.)
“wherr are you taking this?”, mansi asked seeing Shabana take a burnol out of the fridge.
“Safiya bibi ko dene. Unka haath jal gaya tha na.”, she said making mansi nod.
(To give Safiya bibi. Her hand got burned, didn’t it?)
“Isaliye woh apna daya haath istemaal nhi kar rahi thi.”, rida said as epiphany hit her, making Zaviyar's eyes widen as well. Then he remembered how she was using her left hand to serve everyone.
(That’s why she wasn’t using her right hand.)
“Haan woh touh mujhe dikh gaya. Nhi touh woh yeh bhi nhi batati. Woh nhi chahti ki koi bhi yeh samjhe ki unhe kuch kaam nhi aata.”
(Yes, I noticed that. Otherwise she wouldn’t even have told us. She doesn’t want anyone to think she is incapable of work.)
Zaviyar finally stepped out of the shadows. His face was calm, but his storming eyes betrayed him. The staff stood alert, shocked and somewhat surprised at the unexpected and rare appearance.
“Do you need something, Nawab sahab?”, Shabana asked lowering her head, nervous at his intimidating stare.
“Hmm. Give me that ointment.”, he said pointing at the tube in Shabana's hand.
“...Is there any food left?”, he asked after a long pause and Shabana immediately nodded
“ Yes, some fruits and kheer. ”, He turned away quickly, his throat tightening.
“Bring it to my room.”, he said without sparing her another glance and walked out of the kitchen.
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Safiya hissed softly as the sting from the burnt patch on her hand grew unbearable. The skin was raw, irritated and red. Tears brimmed in her eyes but she quickly wiped them away, unwilling to let weakness show, not even to herself.
She had treated it immediately and wrapped a gauze over it. But the pain was worsening for some reason.
The door creaked open. Her heart skipped. She didn’t have to look up to know who it was. She immediately sat down on the couch, and wiped any remnants of tears left on her cheeks and started scrolling her phone.
“Put it on the table..”, His voice was clipped, rehearsed, as though she had been preparing herself to keep her distance. She didn't look up, not wanting to even face him now.
Her quota of arguing with him was somehow over. But then came his voice, deeper and softer than usual.
“Safiya, khana kha lou.”, She stiffened, her fingers curling around her phone more tightly. She looked up only to see a tray infront of her and mansi leaving the room. She finally looked at Zaviyar when mansi left the room and closed the door behind her.
(Safiya, eat something.)
“Me… mene khana kha liya.”, Her voice trembled despite her best effort, betraying the tears she had tried to hide.
(I… I already ate.)
That's when she noticed his gaze on her bandaged hand. Oh! So he somehow got to know about her injury and was here with food so that he can pay the favor of eating food cooked by her.
‘He's probably doing all this so that he doesn't owe me any favor. ’, she rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her phone.
‘Why does he have to see me like this? Why now, when I’m trying so hard to hold myself together? I don’t want his pity. I don’t want him to think I’m weak. Haven’t I already suffered enough under his coldness?’
Without another word, she slipped out of her slippers and laid down on the couch and turned away from his view. She wasn't interested in another fight. Oh, how she wished she could get another room and sleep peacefully and maybe on the bed...
He could sense it all— the shakiness, the weight behind her denial. His jaw tightened as he strode forward in long steps, grasping her arm gently but firmly, forcing her to turn and face him.
Safiya gasped when his hand wrapped around her arm and she immediately jerked it away.
“R-rouh rhi ho.”, he asked scratching his nape, unsure of how to handle this situation.
(Y-you’re crying.)
“Huh?” Her hands immediately flew to her face, checking for tears but found none. She forced a weak laugh, trying to maintain her composure..
“Nhi touh.”
(No, I’m not.)
He didn’t argue. Instead, he picked up the ointment from the tray.
“Yeh laga louh, aaraam milega.”, he said forwarding the tube making her raise her brow at him. So he was pretending to care now? She thought with a mocking chuckle.
(Put this on, it’ll ease the pain.)
“Agar cooking karni aati nhi touh kya zarurat thi?”, But instead of the softness in his chest, his pride slipped into his words.
Safiya scoffed away when Zaviyar sat on the couch beside her. She stared at him like he had grown two horns.
(If you don’t know how to cook, then what was the need to do it?)
His gasp betrayed him the moment he saw her hands clearly.
“What is all this…”,
The sight shook him. one large patch of burnt skin, tiny cuts lining her fingers and her fingertips raw and red from the sting of chilies.
How much pain has she been enduring in silence? And still, she smiled and served everyone, pretending everything was fine. Is she really greedy and selfish like her father or is she a pawn in his game? Or is she trying to manipulate him into thinking that she's innovent.
His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a painful hiss, it was Safiya who had accidentally hit her hand on the armrest of the sofa while trying to move away from him.
“Ek baar cooking ki hain tumne usme yeh haalat hogyi hain. Aati nhi hain touh karne ki kya zarurat thi? ”, his hand shot out gently holding onto her wrist to steady her.
(You cooked once, and this is the state you ended up in. If you don't know how to cook, then what was the need to do it .)
“Galti se lag gayi, jaan bujhkar nhi lagayi mene.”, Her lips trembled, eyes flashing with suppressed frustration. She was now frustrated at herself for acting like a pitiful wife. She hated being vulnerable. It felt like she was throwing her self respect away by letting him tend to her wounds.
(It happened by mistake, I didn’t do it on purpose.)
“Kal chachu aur Chachi vapis jaa rahe hain. Mein hairan hu tumne unse rukne ke liye bhi nhi kaha? Ese touh itni mohabbat hain tumhe apne parents se.”, His next words came out sharper than intended.
She always wondered why he hated her father so much but got to know a few days ago that it was all due to his grandfather's teachings.
(Tomorrow uncle and aunt are leaving. I’m surprised you didn’t ask them to stay. Looks like you love your parents a lot.)
Apparently Mansoor Khan was a strict disciplinarian and hated anyone who betrayed family. He was the one who brought up Zaviyar and that's why his personality was intimidating like his grandfather. But according to Safiya, it was just an excuse for the men in the family to exert their dominance.
But her concern wasn't Zaviyar or the laid back mindset he had. Right now all she wanted to do was pack her bags and leave for Almora with her parents. While coming to Azamgarh she never imagined that she would have to stay here forever. Not to mention that it sucked.
“Mujhe esa lag raha hain jese mein firse 18 ki ho gyi hu aur mama, baba mujhe firse hostel mein chhor rahe hain.”, Her lips parted and the truth slipped out like a wounded whisper. And for the first time, he saw her tough front break as a tear slid down her cheek.
(It feels like I’ve turned 18 again, and mama and baba are leaving me at the hostel again.)
“Yeh tumhara bhi ghar hain.”, His heart lurched at her words and he spoke without thinking. He took a step closer, completely forgetting his oath to maintain his distance from her.
(This is your home too.)
“Correction- Hostel. Tayi ammi, taya jaan, Ishu, Kabir. sab mere batchmates hain. Lekin koi bhi room khali nhi hone ki vajah se mujhe warden ke saath rehna par rha hain.”, Her laugh was bitter, sharp, cutting through the room.
(Correction- Hostel. Aunt, uncle, Ishu, Kabir. they’re all my batchmates. But since no room is empty, I have to live with the warden.)
“Mein warden hu?”, he asked surprised at her ability to still crack jokes and retort with sarcasm.
(I’m the warden?)
“Aur kya? Pura din chik chik rehte hain.”, She gave a weak smirk but inside her chest was an ache she couldn’t describe.
(What else? You nag all day.)
“ Whatever. Eat this and sleep. And yes, apply this on your wounds.” His tone was clipped, dismissive almost, as if every syllable was a burden. He placed the steaming bowl on the table and turned away, convincing himself that walking out was the best way to keep his control intact.
But her voice faint, yet defiant pulled him back.
“Koi zarurat nahin hai…” she whispered, staring at the raw bandages wrapped around her hand. The sting of the burn throbbed but the sting of swallowing her pride hurt far worse. ‘Dard sehna mujhe manzoor hai, lekin apni izzat girani nahi.’
(I can bear the pain, but I will not let my pride fall.)
“Zakhm dene vale haath, marham dete hue achche nahi lagte.” Her voice wavered between weariness and contempt. With a sigh, she turned away, curling into the sofa as though shielding herself from him— from his touch, his words, his very presence.
His brows knitted, confusion flaring into irritation. “What?” His voice lashed out harsher than he intended, almost a roar. Why does she always twist the knife deeper? Why can’t she just… stop?
Her head snapped up, eyes glassy but blazing. “I said I DON’T NEED YOUR PITY.”
The words tore from her, breaking something inside both of them. And before he could react, her hand flicked against his, the bowl tipping, scalding kheer spilling over his bare foot.
He hissed, biting down a groan as the heat seared into his skin. Bending down, he tried to wipe the mess, the pain stabbing sharp, but even sharper was the humiliation. The fact that she’d rather burn him than accept him.
“You were the one who said it… Stay away from me. Don’t expect anything from this marriage. And that’s exactly what I’ve done— stayed away from you, your whims, your mood swings.” Her voice was dripping with scorn now, no hesitation, no mercy.
“You’re a fucking psychopath, Zaviyar… one moment you spit venom and the next moment you show me sympathy. Do you even know what you want?”
Her laugh was hollow, a cruel echo bouncing off the walls. She rose from the sofa, spine straight, chin tilted in mockery. Inside though, her heart hammered. He doesn’t deserve to see me break. He doesn’t deserve to see that even his cruelty still cuts me deeper than anything else ever could.
“What I wanted, Zaviyar, was a marriage without an overbearing manchild. What I got was a monster wrapped in pride.” Her voice trembled at marriage, but she pressed on.
“You call yourself a man of principle but all you’ve done since the first day is humiliate me, mentally abuse me, reminded me how I’m supposed to be a property which you own, body and soul. You’re nothing but an abusive coward.”
For a moment, something flickered in his eyes.
Flashes... nights when he wished to kill himself, shatter the same home he lived in, nights when he wished to run away, the way her eyes used to look at him through the crack of the door before tears filled them.
He swallowed hard. No. Don’t think of that.
Don’t let her see you bleed. You can’t… not in front of her.
His fists curled behind his back, nails digging into his palms. His jaw clenched so tight it ached. “And what about you? Tumne bhi kuch kam nahin kiya…”, His voice was steady, but he couldn’t hide the tremor in his hands. God, why can’t I stop shaking? Why does she do this to me?
(You weren’t innocent either…)
Her stare cut through him like glass.
“My actions were only a reaction to what you began. I don’t start fights, Zaviyar... but I don’t hesitate to end them.” Her tone turned deadly quiet.
“Today it was chili I slipped into your food… tomorrow, maybe it will be poison. Do you understand?”, his eyes narrowed down at her before took a few steps closer but this time instead of backing away she faced him, with her eyes burning with the same hatred as his.
He stepped forward, each pace deliberate, his presence suffocating. Inside though, the words stung.
“You deserve every ounce of this pain, Safiya,” he growled, low, venomous. “And I swear, I’ll make sure you carry this hatred in your veins until your last breath.”
Her lips twisted into a bitter smile, sharp enough to wound. “And I’ll make sure you choke on your own cruelty long before that. Fuck you, Zaviyar.”
The ointment in her hand felt heavy, not just medicine but a symbol of everything between them. She shoved it hard against his chest, her words slicing cold as steel.
“Yeh lo apna bekaar ointment. Aur dil pe bhi laga lo—kyunki jo jal rahi hoon main, uski buu ab tumhe bhi aayegi.” (Here, take your useless ointment. Apply it to your heart too—because the fire that’s burning me will soon consume you as well.)
For a moment, silence fell. Just ragged breathing, eyes locked in a battle neither of them would win.
Inside, she whispered to herself, I hate you, but i dont know if I will be able to endure this hatred.
And inside him, a truth he’d never admit echoed like a curse. Safiya, I’d rather burn in your fire than live in your absence. The moment you accepted this marriage... accepted me. You tied our fates together by a knot.
And without a word he walked out of the room once again leaving her to succumb to her thoughts.
Two weeks of this marriage and they were almost at the verge of killing each other.
Safiya without wasting any time cleaned up the mess.
And then changed into a night dress before going back to sleep with the comforter.
He could sulk all he wanted because she was dead tired after working in the kitchen all day and she would probably keep away from it for at least a year. She had deadlines approaching and very little time unlike him.
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Next morning
Safiya tightly hugged her father, her eyes burning yet refusing to let the tears fall. She buried her face in his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent that always gave her comfort. She knew that after today, she'll never find this peace again…
“Papa, if there’s ever any problem in business, just call me. I’ll handle everything.”, Wajahats hands trembled slightly as he cupped her head, pressing a kiss on her forehead. His eyes glistened, but his voice was steady.
“Beta, main jaanta hoon tum hamesha sambhal logi… lekin aaj ke baad, tumhara pehla farz pehle apne zaviyar ke liye hoga.” (My child, I know you’ll always handle everything… but from today, your first duty will be towards your in-laws.)
‘Yeah, duty… only duty. That's what I am to Zaviyar as well, dad. ’, she thought and held onto Wajahat a little longer, fearing separation from him.
She turned to her mother, clinging to her dupatta like she had when she was little.
“Mama, please send my files through Navid. And… take care of yourself.”, Her mother’s tears finally spilled as she caressed her daughter’s cheeks.
“Tumhe hum dono se zyada khud ka khayal rakhna hoga. Aur hamesha yaad rakhna, hum yahin hain.” (You’ll have to take care of yourself more than us now. And always remember, we’re right here.)
Safiya’s lips quivered, whispering, “I’ll miss you both.”, she said with a soft whisper.
The Khan family stood behind her, letting her have her moment with her parents. They knew how heartbreaking it was for her. Even though they promised to move to Azamgarh. However, leaving everything abruptly wasn't so easy.
Her father placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, while her mother spoke.
“Tumhe aur Zaviyar ko jaldi hi aana hoga khane par… samjhi?” (You and Zaviyar must come for dinner soon… understood?)
The mention of Zaviyar made her glance sideways. He stood a little away, arms crossed, jaw tight, his expression unreadable. She looked down only to notice him tapping his foot against the white pavement.
‘He can’t even be patient for this moment? I already feel like a burden to him…’, she turned away from him.
Safiya’s brows knitted together when her father’s warm, trembling hand suddenly clasped hers. His grip was firm, as if anchoring her one last time before letting her go. She blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill.
But then, to her surprise, Wajahat’s other hand reached behind her, closing around Zaviyar’s palm.
The sudden contact made Zaviyar stiffen, confusion flickered across his face, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if questioning the gesture.
He felt his skin burn with the mere touch, while he seethed within.
Yet, out of respect or perhaps out of obligation, he didn’t pull back, he simply allowed his hand to be guided forward, though every line of his posture screamed reluctance.
Wajahat’s fingers pressed both their hands together, his daughter’s delicate right hand resting uncertainly on Zaviyar’s firm, rough and callous one. It was a symbolic gesture, heavy and unspoken, a father’s way of entrusting the most precious piece of his soul to another man.
Safiya’s chest rose and fell unevenly, her breath catching in her throat.
She dared to glance up at Zaviyar. Their eyes met, hers shimmering with vulnerability and silent plea while his guarded, unreadable and carrying only a flicker of discomfort.
It was a fleeting connection, a clash of two worlds forced into one touch, before both of them instinctively looked away.
Wajahat lingered for a moment, his hands still enclosing theirs, almost as if he could fuse them together with the weight of his love and his command. His voice broke the silence, low and edged with unshed emotion.
“Zaviyar… main jaanta hoon ke tumne hamesha apni zimmedariyan nibhaayi hain. Lekin meri beti tumhari bas ek zimmedari nahi hai… woh tumhari humsafar hai. Haan, thodi alag hai, thodi ziddi bhi… lekin iss duniya mein mujhe meri beti se zyada azeez koi nahi hai.”, Wajahat said, his words were heavy with emotion while Rabiya tried to hold back her sobs.
(Zaviyar, I know you’ve always fulfilled your responsibilities. But my daughter is not just another responsibility… she is your life partner. Yes, she’s a little different, a little stubborn… but in this world, nothing is dearer to me than my daughter.)
His voice turned firm, carrying both love and warning.
“Isse tum dhamki samjho ya warning… lekin meri beti ki aakhon mein aansu nahi aane chahiye.”, he said sternly making Zaviyar nod, while his eyes flickered with silent fury.
(Take this as a threat or a warning… but there must never be tears in my daughter’s eyes.)
“Meri beti ab tumhare saath hai… is haath ko kabhi chhodna mat.” (My daughter is with you now…
never let go of this hand.)
Safiya’s throat tightened, her heart aching at the finality in his words.
’Chhodna? Baba… yeh haath toh pehle hi uske liye bojh ban gaya hai… ’, she almost let out a mocking laugh
(Never let go? Papa… this hand already feels like a burden to him…)
Zaviyar, still holding her hand, shifted uncomfortably, his jaw taut, as if the simple contact burned him. He did not tighten his grip, nor did he loosen it. His silence itself became the cruel answer.
Wajahat gave Safiya’s hand one last squeeze before slowly stepping back, his eyes lingering on her face with unspoken blessings and heavy reluctance.
And in that fragile space between her father’s release and Zaviyar’s restraint, Safiya felt herself torn between the warmth of the people who she called home and the cold, uncertain shadow of the man she was bound to.
But her breath hitched when she felt his fingers slip into her hand, his grip tight and engulfing her hand completely. Zaviyar finally stepped forward, tone clipped, calm yet edged with irritation.
“Aap fikr na karein. Woh ab meri biwi hai.” (Don’t worry. She’s my wife now.)
Her father pulled her into one last embrace, his hand lingering on her head as if shielding her from an unseen storm. Her mother whispered brokenly, “May God always keep you two happy…”
“Goodbye.”, she whispered.
As the doors of the cars closed, Safiya felt a part of her soul shut away forever.
And at her side, Zaviyar walked like a stone wall present, yet impossibly distant.
She watched as the cars exited. Even though there were no tears in her eyes, yet she withstand the guy wrenching throb in her heart or the piercing feeling in her throat again.
She didn’t even realise when her trembling fingers had begun to cling to Zaviyar’s grip, drawing strength from the very hand that had unwillingly taken hers. But the moment he let go, the fragile thread of strength snapped. Her knees felt weak, the ground beneath her suddenly unsteady.
Her eyes darted to him instinctively, searching for something. Maybe acknowledgment, reassurance, perhaps even disdain but all she found was his broad back as he turned and strode into the mansion. No pause. No word. No invitation.
Everyone else followed his lead, walking past her without a glance as though she were nothing more than a shadow lingering on the doorstep. Not once did anyone turn to say, “Aao Safiya, yeh tumhara ghar hai.” (Come, Safiya, this is your home.)
In that crushing silence, reality struck her.
She was not a bride welcomed into her new home, maybe she saw but not so important like she was to her parents.
She was a stranger abandoned at its gates.
A stranger forced to live in a house that didn’t feel like hers, with a man whose presence she didn’t know how to endure without wanting to slit his throat.
Her chest constricted, the weight of isolation pressing down mercilessly.
“Bhabi…”
The soft call shattered her walls. She felt two gentle weights settle on her shoulders. Turning, she found Kabir and Khwaish standing behind her, their innocent arms stretched wide, eyes brimming with affection.
That single word, that single gesture, broke her. Her composure crumbled and before she could stop herself, she lunged into their embrace, burying her face against them as sobs racked her body.
At least here, in this cold mansion, there were two souls who cared enough to make her feel human. Two arms that welcomed her when the rest of the world had turned its back.
Unknown to her, another pair of eyes followed her every tremor, every sob that shook her fragile frame.
Zaviyar stood in the shadows of the grand hall, his gaze fixed on her as if her pain had clawed its way under his skin.
His arms, traitorous and restless, ached with the impulse to reach out, to steady her shaking shoulders, to cradle her face, to silence her tears.
But the weight of his pride, the chains of his resentment, held him back. His hands curled into fists at his sides, his jaw locked, as he forced himself to remain still. And so he only watched... silent, immovable as the woman who now bore his name broke down in someone else’s arms.
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Total words : 7112
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