Vows Of Vengeance

Chapter 35

This chapter is unedited so read at your own risk.

Happy reading ???

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( In the room )

Author's POV

Safiya sat on the edge of the bed, her posture rigid yet collected, watching Zaviyar pace from one corner of the room to the other like a storm trapped within four walls.

His jaw was clenched so tightly that a vein throbbed at his temple, his strides were sharp and restless.

Safiya parted her lips to speak but before a word could escape, he released a long, frustrated sigh and dropped down beside her with a heavy thud, flinging his shawl aside as though even its weight was too much for him to bear in that moment.

With a raised eyebrow and a soft exhale, Safiya bent down to unstrap her heels, letting them fall onto the carpet with a muted thump.

She slipped out of her coat next, placing it carefully on the bed.

A cool rush of air brushed against her skin through the fabric of the shirt, making her shiver for a moment before her gaze fell upon the shawl Zaviyar had angrily tossed aside.

Something tugged inside her, something she didn’t want to name yet and she reached out, hesitating for a heartbeat, before pulling the shawl closer to her lap.

“ Kya hogaya ab, muh kyu saraya hua hain. ”, she asked, glancing at him from the corner of her eyes with a teasing lilt, though her curiosity was genuine.

( What happened now, why is your face sulking?)

“ Kisne kiya tha woh message, aur kyu? ”, Zaviyar asked immediately, his voice tight. “ Aur tum khana theek se khaya karo. Din par din weak hoti jaa rahi ho... ”

(Who sent that message, and why?)

(And eat properly. You’re getting weaker day by day...)

His sudden shift, this concern that slipped out so naturally made her pause. She turned fully toward him, studying the man who had once been all sharp edges and hostility.

“ Ek baat samajh mein nhi aayi, tumhare dil mein mere liye kabse itni tension hone lagi. ”, she asked softly, half-confused and half-lost in the unfamiliar warmth of his behaviour. This wasn’t the Zaviyar she had learned to guard herself against.

(One thing I don’t understand, since when have you started having so much concern for me?)

“ Esa kuch nhi hain— ”, he attempted, but she cut him off with a raised hand.

( There's nothing of that sor—)

“ Shaadi ke kuch din tak touh mere khoon ke pyaase the, kabhi mujhe accept nhi karna chahte the. Aaj kisine ek wrong message kya dediya tum bhaage chale aaye, kahi aapko humse ishq touh nhi hogaya hain Zaviyar Khan? ”, Her voice was playful, teasing, but underneath that mischief lay a trembling thread of truth, a question she was scared to confront, even within herself.

(Until a few days after our marriage you were thirsty for my blood, you never wanted to accept me. And today just because someone sent one wrong message you came running here. Have you by any chance fallen in love with me, Zaviyar Khan?)

His concern, his agitation, the way he had rushed to her. All of it made her insides twist with an emotion she wasn’t prepared for. She didn’t want hope, she didn’t want to give this relationship a heart if his side was hollow.

“ Ishq nhi hain, lekin tum meri biwi ho. Aur meri har cheez ka mein khayal rakhta hu. Wajahat chachu ke baad tum meri zimmedari ho aur tumhara khayal rakhna ka vaada kiya hain mene— ”,The moment the word "zimmedari" (responsibility) landed, Safiya’s spine stiffened.

(It’s not love, but you are my wife. And I take care of everything that’s mine. After Wajahat chachu, you are my responsibility and I made a promise to take care of you—)

“ Zimmedari my foot… You know what Zaviyar? Every time I think that you are turning into a decent man, you say shit that ruins my mood. Why do I always have to be your bloody responsibility? ”, Her voice cracked with anger as she stood abruptly from the bed.

The air around her vibrated with the intensity of her emotions.

“ We went through this thing in Bhanur as well. I don't want to be reminded every time of how I am a burden you must ensure okay. ”, Her eyes shimmered, not with tears but with the harsh sting of being misunderstood again and again.

She didn’t know what she wanted to hear from him perhaps something gentle, something that told her she wasn’t just an obligation. But the word responsibility felt like a slap every time he used it.

“ Mat karo na yar, na karo khayal. Mar nhi rahi hu mein yaha tumhari attention ke liye. Shuru se meri ehmiyat tumhari nazro mein bas itni see rahi hain … ”, She pinched a tiny gap between her fingers.

(Don’t do it then, don’t care. I’m not dying here for your attention. Since the beginning this has been my worth in your eyes…)

“ Pehle din se yahi chal raha hain— pehle bojh, samjhota, zimmedari... Mein hee gadhi hu jouh samajhti hu ki humare beech sab kuch normal hogaya hain. ”, Zaviyar groaned, rubbing his forehead as if the pressure inside was becoming unbearable.

(From the first day it’s been the same—first burden, then compromise, then responsibility… I’m the idiot who thinks things have become normal between us.)

“ Chilla kyu rahi ho tum, kabhi kabhi chillane se achcha hain dusro ki baatein bhi sun liya karo. Mera sar wese hee fata jaa rha hain upar se tumhari kawwe jesi awaaz… ”,

(Why are you shouting? Sometimes it’s better to listen instead of yelling. My head is already bursting, and on top of that your crow-like voice...)

Safiya’s nostrils flared.

“ Kya kha? Ab meri awaaz se bhi takleef hone lagi. Oh wait, taqleef touh mein hu— ”

(What did you say? Now even my voice bothers you? Oh wait, I’m the problem—)

“ Mene esa nhi kha, mein bas yeh bol raha hu ki thora shaant ho jao aur meri baat suno… ”

(I didn’t say that, I’m just saying calm down a little and listen to me…)

“ Kyu sunu? Mein tumhare liye jab maine hee nhi rakhti hu touh kyu sunu tumhari baat, huh? ”

(Why should I listen? If I don’t matter to you then why should I listen to anything you say?)

Zaviyar almost felt like someone had thrown a hammer at him, his headache growing piercingly painful.

Before she could move away again, Zaviyar grabbed her wrist with a firm, immediate pull.

She stumbled onto the mattress beside him, her breath catching in her throat.

His palm clasped gently yet decisively over her mouth, and his other hand slid behind her nape, pulling her closer.

Her eyes widened at the sudden proximity, at the warmth of his breath brushing her lips.

“ Hmphhj… ” she protested, trying to push him back, but his grip only steadied her.

“ Zimmedari ka matlab yeh nahi ki mein tumhe bojh keh raha hu, mene apne khuda ke saamne tumhe apnaya hain. Tum meri kamzori ban chuki ho Safiya, aur shayad mujhe tumhari aadat par chuki hain. ”, His voice softened to a tone he rarely used. His features softening as he stared into her brown orbs.

(Responsibility doesn’t mean I’m calling you a burden. I accepted you before my God. You’ve become my weakness, Safiya and maybe I’ve gotten used to you.)

But her eyes still held fire.When he finally removed his hand, she snapped at him in fury.

“ Mujhe koi shokh nhi hain tumpe bojh banne ka, so no.

you don't need to take my responsibility or take care of me.

Mein khud ka khayal khud rakh lungi. Aur tum mujhe pehle hee bol chuke ho, to not expect anything from this marriage so I don't want to be disappointed if you suddenly decide one day that I'm no longer your wife or responsibility then you can leave without any hesitation.. ”, Her voice trembled with bitterness, a kind that came only from being hurt repeatedly.

( I have no interest in becoming a burden to you, so no you don't need to take my responsibility or take care of me. )

Zaviyar didn’t argue. Instead, he quietly picked up the shawl she had earlier picked for him and gently draped it over her shoulders. The gesture, small yet intimate, made her lips twitch with disbelief.

“ Wow ab meri baaton ko ignore bhi karne lageh… mujhe pta hee tha ki tumhe split personality disorder hain. Kabhi tum achche hoteh ho aur kabhi sadu nawab ban jaate ho, aur pta nhi kyu sab mujhe begum bulane lageh hain, like excuse me— ”, She stopped abruptly when she found herself being wrapped—no, rolled—tightly like a burrito in his shawl.

(Oh wow, now you’ve started ignoring what I’m saying too… I knew you had split personality disorder. Sometimes you’re nice and sometimes you turn into this grumpy Nawab. And I don’t even know why everyone has started calling me Begum like excuse me—)

Zaviyar pulled the fabric around her snugly, binding her arms to her sides with infuriating precision.

“ Wait—what are you—” she started, but he shut her up with a gentle press of his index finger on her lips.

“ Shhh… ”, He leaned closer, his tone dipping into something almost tender.

“ Kya baat hain? Kyu gussa hain aap, madam jii? ”

(What is it? Why are you angry, madam?)

He spoke with softness, his tone patient which cracked through her blinded rage. Her jaw clenched as her emotions of anger, confusion, longingfinally surged to the surface.

Safiya shifted slightly under the cocoon of the shawl as her mind wandered back to something that had been itching at the edges of her thoughts. Without looking at him, she asked quietly, almost too casually,

“ Tum kisi Shafaq ko jaante ho? ”

(Do you know someone named Shafaq?)

Zaviyar, who had been watching her with a soft amusement moments ago, paused. His brows drew together as he pondered, then he answered slowly,

“ Haan… ” (Yes…)

The simplicity of his response made her head snap toward him, eyes narrowing in suspicion, a frown pulling at her lips.

“ Par yaha uska zikr kha se aaya? ”, he asked, genuinely confused. But Safiya wasn’t done, not when a new wave of curiosity, irritation and an emotion she refused to name stirred inside her.

(But where did her name come from suddenly?)

“ Agar mujhse pehle usse mileh hoteh touh usse shaadi karte tum? ”

(If you had met her before me, would you have married her?)

Her question hung in the air like a challenge, like a sharp edge hidden beneath a soft tone. Zaviyar took a breath, rubbed his forehead, then said with a weary sigh, “ Safiya mein tumse pehle Zulekha se shaadi karne vaala tha. ”, her frown deepened instantly.

(Safiya, before you, I was supposed to marry Zulekha.)

“ Wahi touh. Mein touh lottery mein mil gayi tumhe. Pehle Zulekha, fir Shafaq, aur ab mein. Mard jaat bewafa hee hoti hain, unki mohabbat ka koi bharosa nhi hota. ”, She crossed her arms, chin tilted up stubbornly, but under her sarcasm lay a flicker of insecurity. One she would never admit aloud.

(Exactly. I’m the lottery prize, right? First Zulekha, then Shafaq, and now me. Men are unfaithful; their love can never be trusted.)

Zaviyar’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk.

“ Kyu tum jealous ho rahi ho? ”, Safiya scoffed, rolling her eyes dramatically.

(Why, are you getting jealous?)

“ Din mein sapne na dekha karo, tumhare liye jealous hogi meri jutti. Shaqal dekhi hain ainee mein. ”, She shrugged, then stood up, unwrapping the shawl he had rolled her into.

(Don’t daydream during the day, my slipper will get jealous for you. Have you even seen your face in the mirror?)

The shawl fell away from her like a barrier dissolving, revealing a woman irritated, flustered and just slightly... very slightly. Affected?

Zaviyar reached out, placing his hands on her shoulders firmly yet gently.

“ Safiya, I never had feelings for anyone okay. Tum meri zindagi mein pehli ladki ho jiske mein itna kareeb aaya hu. ”

(Safiya, I never had feelings for anyone, okay? You are the first girl in my life I’ve come this close to.)

The sincerity in his tone hit her like a warm, unexpected gust of wind. Her heart stuttered. The way he looked at her intensely, like she was the only one in the room made her pulse race faster.

“ Haan, haan theek hain. ”, She waved him off quickly, stepping away from him because if he stood any closer, she would forget how to breathe as his intensity wrapped around her like an invisible heat.

(Yes, yes, okay.)

“ Mein nahane jaa rahi hu. ”, She turned toward the bathroom, but suddenly stopped, baffled, as she noticed him unbuttoning his kurta and casually walking behind her.

(I’m going to take a shower.)

“ Tum kha chale aarahe ho? ”

(Where do you think you’re going?)

“ Tumhe company dene aaraha hu saath. ”, he said with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

(I’m coming to give you company.)

“ Cheee, tharki nawab. ”, Her eyes widened in horror.

(Ew, pervert Nawab.)

She squeaked and rushed inside the bathroom, slamming the door shut before he could say another word.

“ You do know that I have the key to every door in this mansion, don't you? ”, he asked mischievously, making sure his words reached her.

Meanwhile, Safiya's eyes widened in horror, as she contemplated whether to confront him or not.

Zaviyar, was about to turn around just then he heard the click of the door. He watched amused as Safiya's head popped out from behind the door.

“ Mein tumhara nudes leak kardungi, so don't you dare come inside. ”, she threatened.

“ Aap apna hee nuksaan karengi. ”, he said with a smile.

“ Bhaad mein jao, tharkulle kahike. ”, she went back in, closing the door behind with a bang. A deep, warm, unexpectedly soft laugh escaped him as he watched the door rattle from her urgency.

( Go to hell, you bloody pervert )

‘Tharkulla? How does her little head end up registering so many weird words?’, he thought with amusement.

Despite her constant accusations of him being bipolar, Zaviyar knew very well that she was no less.

Her mood swings, her fiery temper, her adorable indignation.

.. they were all becoming increasingly intoxicating.

He had never known his home to feel alive but with her around, even the silence felt full.

Life was no longer a series of rigid routines or cold responsibilities.

Life for him now, in some way or the other filled with Safiya’s dramatics. Her bickeringa and fiery replies. Her ridiculous metaphors and name calling. Her cute attempts at being angry.

With each passing day every argument, every tease, every tiny step closer, he found himself craving her presence more. Slowly, quietly, inevitably so.

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( A few days later )

Safiya's Pov

“ I can't believe that 21st century mein bhi log yeh sab maante hain. ”, Safiya huffed, irritation lacing every word as she adjusted the jhumka's dangling from her ears.

(I can't believe that even in the 21st century people still believe in all this)

Shabana, Mansi and Rida hovered behind her, passing pins and accessories with trained efficiency.

Safiya stared at her reflection. She looked dull and annoyed, and indeed she was fed up with the ceremonial circus she had willingly stepped into for reasons only she understood.

For a brief moment, she wondered if the purpose she had agreed for was even worth this suffocation.

“ Sahabzade ke achche hain, bas ek pant aur kameez pehni aur nikal gaye. ”, she muttered with a frustrated exhale, only for her mascara tube to slip from her fingers and roll away like it was mocking her.

(Sir just wore a pant and shirt and walked out like it's nothing)

She clicked her tongue, bent down, and searched for it with growing annoyance.

“ Kya musibat hain... ”, she grumbled under her breath as she stretched her arm further beneath the dresser.

(What a nuisance...)

“ Mene socha tha twinning karenge, lekin uss sadu ko woh bhi nhi karna. Pura din bas muh fulaye hue, gende ki tarha naak se dhua niklata rehta hain. Aadmi dekha nhi ki seeng maarna shuru. ”, she continued complaining, unaware of the tall, silent figure who had just stepped into the room.

(I thought we would twin, but that grump didn’t even want that. He sulks all day like smoke’s coming out of his nose. The moment he sees anyone, he starts butting like a bull)

Zaviyar motioned the staff to leave with the barest tilt of his head, his eyes already fixed on the woman folded over the dresser.

With his arms crossed over his chest and his posture relaxed against the door frame, Zaviyar let his gaze trace her.

His gaze ran over her slow, spellbound, and entirely unhurried as he took in her appearance.

Her loose hair fell forward, forming a soft veil around her face.

The slight shift of her saree as she bent exposed the sliver of her waist. Delicate and untouched by the cold tension between them.

He drank in the sight quietly, his expression unreadable yet undeniably drawn.

Safiya finally stood up, mascara tube in hand, only to flinch with a startled gasp when her eyes lifted to the mirror, finding her husband towering behind her, watching her through the reflection with unsettling intensity.

She stiffened, immediately tearing her gaze away and pretending to be engrossed in her makeup as if ignoring him could somehow erase the awareness spreading through her like wildfire.

His mere presence pricked every nerve, worsening the knots already tightening inside her since last night’s revelation.

Once the mascara was done, she busied herself with the bangles, rummaging through gold and silver sets. Her cream outfit, heavy with embroidery somehow looked incomplete, hollow, until she chose the right set. Her fingers hovered indecisively, her eyes flickering back to Zaviyar despite herself.

He hadn’t blinked. His gaze was carved into her reflection.

The moment she turned fully toward him, he straightened from the door and began walking toward her with slow, deliberate steps that echoed louder in her chest than on the floor.

Safiya forced her eyes back to the bangles but her traitorous gaze kept slipping toward his advancing reflection, her breath tightening with every step he closed.

He stopped just behind her, close enough for his warmth to brush her skin but far enough to remind her that emotional distance still stretched wide. Still, she felt him. Every inch of him. And she hated it.

His eyes travelled to the loose strands of her blouse, while she stood facing the mirror unaware and so he reached out, holding the loose dori making her shriek at first, only for her to squint her eyes into slits.

“ M...mein karlungi ”, she stuttered trying to avoid him only for him to nod, and tighten the dori, making her flinch.

Even though his fingers were only holding the ends of the dori, and didn't even touch her back, she couldn't help but feel like they were in a comprising position.

Her cheeks, heated up at her imagination even though nothing about it was even romantic.

Before she knew it, zViyar had fastened her blouse.

Zaviyar reached out brushing back a stray strand of hair that had fallen over her back.

His fingers lingered a fraction longer than necessary.

His gaze dipped to the shell of her ear where a deep red blush was blooming, then trailed down to the lone mole resting on her collarbone.

The sight stirred something primal in him, making him flex his hands at his sides as though resisting the urge to ravish the beauty in front of him.

He closed his eyes briefly, inhaling her sweet scent which is maddeningly familiar.

For a fleeting second, he wished he could return to that night at the inn, where she had slept in his arms and he had allowed himself to forget the storm brewing between them.

The saree she wore today made her look nothing less than a femme fatale.

Safiya bit her lip, her palms damp against the bangles she held.

Through the mirror, she watched him watching her.

Even with inches between them, she felt his touch ghosting over her skin, imagined the heat of his hands on her waist, the brush of his breath on her neck.

It made her want to recoil, not from disgust but from the confusion clawing at her, from the memory of the words she overheard last night that sliced her trust clean.

Her breath stuttered when Zaviyar leaned down, his face stopping mere inches from the curve where her neck met her shoulder. His warm breath fanned over her bare skin, making goosebumps rise instantly along her arms.

“ Aaj koi kamre se bahar nhi jayega... Nahi aap aur nahi mein. ”, And just like that, the air around them thickened.

(Today no one will leave this room… not you, and not me.)

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Safiya's pov

Zaviyar’s hot breath brushed against the shell of my ear, slow and deliberate, like he knew exactly what it did to my pulse.

My eyes widened as I stared at our reflection in the mirror.

He towered behind me like a shadow I couldn’t escape as I tried not to visibly crumble under the intensity he radiated without even laying a finger.

His hands were still tucked neatly behind his back, yet it felt as though invisible versions of them were charting every nerve of my body.

And those damn butterflies in my stomach, fluttering and, betraying me at the worst possible moment.

I hated every inch of the feeling, every feeling of the ache he dragged out of me without trying.

I snapped my head toward him only to shriek softly because our lips were now barely inches apart, the distance so thin it felt like even my breath could close it.

His eyes trailed down to my lips for a brief second, just a single flicker, a stolen glance before returning to mine.

That one look alone sent heat up my neck, infuriating me more than it should have.

“ Kya? ”, I whispered, my voice embarrassingly shaky as I turned around to face him. I sucked in a sharp breath when he stepped forward, his presence swallowing the space between us like he owned it, owned me.

(What?)

I stumbled back, my hip bumping against the vanity counter, grounding me only for him to lean in and cage me between his arms. His hands planted themselves on either side of me on the vanity, trapping me with him and the mirror, my own reflection bearing witness to my rising panic and something else I refused to acknowledge.

He leaned closer, a slow, mocking smirk curling at his lips as if he enjoyed watching my composure unravel thread by thread.

“ Zaviyar...”, I breathed, and though he didn’t answer, I saw from the corner of my eye the way his throat bobbed when his gaze dipped to the curve of my exposed shoulder blade. Something flickered in his expression hunger and hesitation, tangled and dangerous.

Before I could process it, his leg slid between mine, not touching, just there... His face hovered close enough for the warmth of him to seep into my skin. His eyes stayed locked on me, dark and unwavering, staring like he was trying to read every emotion I was desperately trying to hide.

“ You look beautiful. ” he murmured, the simple praise dripping with sincerity that I did not want from him.

“ Make up kiya hain na isliye, abhi muh dhoungi touh 1920 ki bhoot jesi dikhungi. ”, I muttered, leaning back against the mirror, my fingers toying with my ring, the very ring I fantasized about flinging at his annoyingly perfect jawline. I would. Later. In front of a crowd. Dramatically.

(It’s because I did makeup. If I wash my face, I’ll look like a ghost from 1920.)

For now, I settled for glaring.

“ Tum kabhi chup hoti ho?” he asked, raising a brow like he already knew the answer.

(Do you ever shut up?)

“ Kabhi nhi. ” (Never.) I grinned shamelessly. “ aur koi chup kara bhi nhi sakta. ”

(And no one can make me quiet.)

His expression deadpanned instantly, shoulders dropping, eyes dulling, the pure look of ‘I give up’written all over him. He moved away as if physically exhausted by my existence. But I wasn’t done. Oh, not even close.

“ Zaviyar, sunoh ” (Zaviyar, listen.) I called sweetly, coating my tone with fake honey as I smiled at him like the world’s most suspicious angel. He turned, confused by my sudden shift.

“ Yaad rakha karo, that I take this marriage only as a contract too, okay? Just like you do. Itna close aane ki koshish mat kiya karo tum. Rahi baat iss ritual ki touh woh mein baba ke kehne par kar rahi hu. ”,

(Remember that I also take this marriage as just a contract, okay? Just like you. Don’t try to come this close. As for this ritual, I’m only doing it because my father asked.)

He didn’t move, didn’t turn fully. He just stood there with his back stiff, his shoulders tense, absorbing every word like each one dug into him.

“ aur haa kya keh rahe the tum? Iss kamre se koi bahar nhi jayega? Kya matlab hain tumhara? Mein kyu nhi jaungi? Mujhe jaha jaane ka man karega mein waha jaungi. Aur tum na jyada free hone ki koshish mat karo mere saath. Ek touh tum tharki hawasi lagte ho. Mujhe ese ladke bilkul pasand nhi. First they will give a cold shoulder and then try to seduce the heroine. ”, He turned slightly then, giving me the most offended, disgusted expression I’d ever seen on a human face.

(And what were you saying? No one will leave the room? What do you mean by that? Why won’t I go? I’ll go wherever I want. And don’t try to act too familiar with me. You come across as a sleazy creep. I don’t like such men. First they act cold and then try to seduce the heroine.)

“ You think you are the heroine? Subah sapne dekhne ki aadat hain tumhe? ”, he asked with a raised brow.

(You think you’re the heroine? Do you dream nonsense every morning?)

“ Yeh sab na kiya karo, bohot chhapri lagte ho, okay. Pit jaoge mere haatho. Wese bhi tumse kya umeed rakhna, romance ka R bhi nhi aata tumhe. Then again, tumhari galti nhi, tum thehre 300 BCE ke nawab. ”,

(Don’t do all this, you look like a total roadside guy, okay. I’ll beat you up. And anyway, what can I expect? You don’t know the R of romance. Then again, not your fault, you’re a Nawab from 300 BCE.)

I lifted the edge of my saree and started to walk past him, only for him to grip my arm and yank me back with unexpected resolve.

“ You said you wanted to give this marriage a chance. ” he said, his fingers firm around my arm, his voice carrying more weight than I was ready for.

“ Woh mene battis hazaar saal pehle kha tha, ab mera mood badal gaya. Mazah nhi aaraha you know. Hamari vibe bhi match nhi hoti. ”

(I said that thirty-two thousand years ago. My mood has changed. Not fun anymore, you know. Our vibe doesn’t match.)

His face shifted... rage tightening his jaw, hurt flickering so briefly I almost doubted I saw it. But I didn’t care. Not now, not when mine had been dismissed for so long.

“ You're lying. I can see it in your eyes, Safiya. Tell me what's wrong. ” he whispered, searching my gaze like he was peeling back layers I never gave him permission to touch.

“ Nothing is wrong. I just want to make your life hell too Zaviyar, just like you did with mine. You wanted to ruin me so badly, but guess what it's me who will do it. ”, I spat the words, watching him watch me calm, too calm like he understood the storm inside me better than I did. Like he could read my anger, my fear, the cracks behind my defiance, the places where last night’s memories still stung. It made my stomach twist.

“ And will you be happy seeing me burn in the flames of your hatred Safiya? ” he asked, his voice so soft it carved through the tension. The tip of his fingers grazed my hand lightly, a mere brush, but goosebumps erupted instantly at the familiar, unwelcome touch.

“ Oh I will enjoy watching you fall apart while I sit with a man I love, one who loves me with his heart unlike yo— ”

I didn’t even finish.

His hand clamped over my mouth, silencing me mid-sentence as he shoved me back hard onto the vanity table.

My back hit the mirror, my breath hitching but his other hand cupped the back of my head instantly, protecting it from the impact in a gesture so jarringly gentle compared to the roughness of everything else.

I hated how his expression of concern twisted something warm inside me, i hated every bit of it.

His grip was protective yet punishing, his stance dominant yet controlled. My head tilted toward him as he leaned in, dangerously close, his breath hot against my cheek.

“ Don't speak of another man in front of me.... ” he whispered, his eyes locked onto mine with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down my spine. His thumb stroked my jaw slowly while his other hand remained firmly over my mouth, trapping my words, my breath, my rebellion beneath his palm.

And all at once, my mind dragged me back to last night, to that moment everything inside me collapsed, when the ground beneath my feet felt like it had been ripped away. When everything I believed steadied me... suddenly didn’t!

Flashback....

I walked in after a long, exhausting day, the kind that made my shoulders ache and my brain feel like cow dung.

Still, the moment I stepped into the haveli, a small flicker of excitement lit up inside me.

I headed straight toward my room, while mentally noting that I had to immediately mail some important documents to the district magistrate but that wasn’t the real reason I was smiling today.

I looked down at the packet in my hand, fingers brushing over the delicate wrapping as my smile widened unconsciously.

Nestled inside was a shahtoosh shawl. It was soft, beautiful and nearly impossible to procure.

I had fought tooth and nail to get it and the thought of gifting it to him, of seeing his reaction, made something ridiculous flutter inside my chest. I tried to ignore it.

My footsteps slowed as I walked into the hallway of his office. The closer I got, the louder my heart pounded, thudding so hard against my ribcage that it almost hurt. I hated how he had this effect on me. I hated how nervous the idea of giving him a gift made me feel.

I reached his office door, ready to knock but found it slightly ajar.

I pushed it open gently, only to stop short.

The room was empty, silent, untouched. He must be in the study.

Taking a breath, I turned toward the open balcony that connected to the smaller staircase leading to the study.

My steps were slow, hesitant, excitement and nervousness battling inside me.Just as I reached the entryway, someone nearly collided with me.

“ Aap kisiko dhundh rahi hain, bibi-ji? ”, Mansi asked, steadying herself.

(Are you looking for someone, ma’am?)

“ Haan wo— ”, I began, only for tayi ammi’s voice to echo through the hall and cut me off.

(Yes, I—)

“ Apne shohar ko dhund rahi hogi nai? Woh tumahre taya abbu ke study mein hain. ”,

She smiled warmly, unaware of the sudden whirlpool that formed in my stomach.

(You must be looking for your husband, right? He’s in your taya-abbu’s study.)

I could just give it to him afterwards but then again I had to talk about some factory matters with taya abbu as well. I nodded quickly at them and climbed the stairs, adjusting the packet in my hand. I raised my knuckles to knock but paused mid-air when I heard my name from inside.

“ Safiya ko yeh sab jaane ki koi zarurat nhi hain. ”, the sudden mention of my name made me freeze.

(Safiya doesn’t need to know any of this.)

It was Zaviyar. His voice was low, and cold, he sounded furious. It wasn’t like him to speak this way to his elders. Hearing that tone shook something inside me. I could hear Taya abbu sigh.

“ Aaj nhi touh kal usse yeh sach jaan na hee hain. ”, taya abbu said.

(If not today, then tomorrow. She will get to know the truth.)

“ Aur yeh tum dono ki hakikat hain, tum dono ke rishte ki neeb hain. ”, My breath hitched, the world suddenly felt too small for me to breathe in.

(And this is the reality, the foundation of your relationship.)

“ Beete hue kal ko yaad karne ka koi matlab nhi banta, Safiya ka inn sab se koi rishta nhi hain aur naahi kabhi hoga. Mein nhi chahta ki uska saya bhi insab chhezo par pareh. ”, His voice was gruff, yet he sounded stressed but also like he was hiding something.

(There is no point in revisiting the past. Safiya has nothing to do with any of this and never will. I don’t want even her shadow to fall on these matters.)

“ Tum jouh bhi kaho Zaviyar, woh tumhari mang thi. Khud tumhare dada-jaan neh tum dono ki mangni karwayi thi, aur yeh baat tumhe Safiya ko batani hogi. ”, Taya abbu spoke again, gentler this time.

(Say whatever you want, Zaviyar, but she was your mang. Your grandfather himself arranged the engagement between you two—you need to tell her this.)

Mang? My pulse stumbled.

“ Aur usse batane se kya badal jayega? ” , Zaviyar snapped at him.

(And what will change by telling her?)

“ Ek baar bas Safiya ko sach bta douh, fir tum uss rishte ko qabool kar paoge aur woh bhi shaan ke saath.. ”, My fingers trembled slightly. My heartbeat roared in my ears.

(Just tell her the truth once—then you will be able to accept this relationship with dignity… and so will she.)

Taya abbu’s next words gutted me. It felt like the ground beneath me was turning into quicksand, engulfing me within its suffacting clutch.

“ Zaviyar woh ladki tunhari mang thi. Hamare yaha mang hee humsafar banta hain. Aur yeh gaddi jiske liye tumne naajane kitna kuch qurban kiya hain, woh sab tumahre haath se chali jayegi. Mein jaanta hu Safiya ab tumhari biwi ban chuki hain, lekin yeh baat haqeeqat hain. ”

(That girl was your ‘mang’. In our tradition, a mang becomes your life partner. And the throne you sacrificed so much for—you will lose it. I know Safiya is your wife now, but this truth remains.)

“ Mein samajhta hu.... ”, The room blurred before my eyes. The shawl nearly slipped from my hand. I saw him getting up and quickly turned around and rushed out from there, while feeling my head spinning. I almost rounded the corner when I suddenly bumped into someone, and steadied myself.

(I understand…)

“ Bibi ji kya hua, aap mili sahab se?”, I blinked and forced a smile seeing that I was almost near the kitchen and everyone was looking at me with a puzzled expression.

(Ma’am, did you meet sahib?)

“ Hu-huh... Haan... Haan mili na. ”, i nodded absent-mindedly, everything felt distant, muffled, like I was underwater.

(Y-yes… yes I met him.)

Mansi bowed and retired back to go behind, the counter, while I followed pouring myself a glass of water.

“ You know aaj mene kuch ajeeb se suna. ”, i started leaning against the counter. Rida turned, brows furrowed.

( Today I heard something strange.)

“ Kya suna aapne, aapi? ”, mansi asked. I turned around opened the pantry, before fetching out a box of pringles which I had hidden from Zaviyar and Kabir the other day.

Zaviyar, though claiming that he hated the “kachra(garbage)” we eat, is infact quite addicted to pringles. So much so that he ate all the boxes which I hid in my closet as night snacks. ‘Bhukkad kahi ka, mere saare chips khaa gaya. Kabhi mujhe bhi khaa jayega woh daanav.’

( What a glutton! He ate all my chips. One day that monster will probably eat me too. )

“ aaj mein market mein ruki thi to buy some stuff but waha mene dekha ki, some women were talking about mang? Woh hota kya hain? ”, I popped one chip into my mouth, pretending to be relaxed. But inside, my organs were twisting.

(Today I stopped by the market and heard some women talking about mang. What is that?)

That’s when Meenu amma, the oldest and most experienced among the staff, turned toward us.

Perfect! She was exactly who I needed. She for sure would know all about this, considering she spent her whole life here and does know the old customs.

“ Aap touh jaanti hongi, meenu amma? ”, My voice was calm but my nails were digging into my palm.

(You must know, right Meenu amma?)

Meenu amma nodded slowly, looking hesitant.

“ Jee, woh. Jab kisi ladki ka rishta kisi ladke ke saath teh kardiya jaata hain tab woh ladki uss ladke ki mang ban jati hain. Azamgarh mein yeh riwayat hain, ki agar koi ladki kisi ki mang banjati hain, touh woh rishta qabar tak nhi tootta. Kabhi bhi nhi... ”, A chill crawled down my spine at her words.

(Yes… when a girl’s match is fixed with a boy, she becomes his mang. In Azamgarh, the tradition is that once a girl becomes someone’s mang, that relationship lasts until the grave. It never breaks.)

“ Tum keh sakti ho ki yeh ek tarah ki, zabaani taur par kiya gaya waada hain jouh yaha patthar ki lakeer hain. ”, she said with a swift turn.

( You can say that this is a kind of verbal promise that’s as unbreakable as something carved in stone. )

“ Aur agar uss ladke ya ladki ki shaadi kisi aur ladki se hojaye touh? ”, i asked popping another piece into my mouth, passing the box towards mansi who gladly took one and then gave one to Rida.

(And what if the boy marries someone else?)

“ Aaj tak esa kabhi nhi hua. ”, She said with a proud huff, like it was the most natural thing.

(It has never happened till today.)

I nodded, excused myself and walked out before the suffocation swallowed me whole.

Inside my room, I went straight to the wash basin and splashed my face with cold water until my skin stung.

My blazer slipped off, followed by my shirt, leaving me standing there in just my inner and trousers, staring at my trembling reflection.

I had been played again, used and fucking lied to. Again!

Every promise I had made to myself, to never let anyone manipulate me again broke like glass under a hammer.

I stormed into the closet, yanked my suitcase out and began throwing my clothes inside with frantic, angry movements.

I didn’t need clarification nor did I need closure.

He had a fiancée. A woman tied to him long before me!

I know this might seem like a small thing, but I had the right to know.

To know that he had a woman he was engaged to in the past. And worst of all?

He didn’t think I deserved to know. All these promises of finally working this marriage out yet he is still the same, the same cold, block of ice not ready to melt. Fuck him!

I had barely shoved my shirts in when a knock echoed. I opened the door, only to see tayi ammi.

Her smile faltered instantly, her face turning red as she saw me half-dressed only in my tank top and trousers, my cleavage probably showing a little. Embarrassed, I stepped aside, gesturing her in, but she held my hand gently.

“ Safiya woh kal mein soch rahi thi itwar hain. Tumhara aur Zaviyar ka gaon walo ke saath achche se milna abhi tak nhi hua hain. Agar tumhe aitraaz na ho, touh the hum kal karle. ”, I opened my mouth to refusebut then a perfect idea slid into place, more like struck my head like a hammer on a nail.

(Safiya, I was thinking—tomorrow is Sunday. You and Zaviyar still haven’t properly met the villagers. If you don’t mind, shall we do it tomorrow?)

What better way to end this marriage than in front of everyone?

Not only would i destroy his ego, his previous image as the nawab in front of the entire village but also his reputation—his most prized possession.

“ Aap jesa chahe tayi ammi. ”, I smiled sweetly. She placed a loving hand on my head before walking away.

(As you wish, tayi ammi.)

And as soon as she left, the smile fell from my face like a mask ripped off.

Tomorrow…

Tomorrow would be the day I burned everything to the ground.

Flashback ends.

“ Kyu? ” (Why?) I asked, my voice sharp as I pushed him back with a force even I didn’t know I possessed. His eyes widened, not in anger but in stunned disbelief. Like he couldn’t wrap his head around how quickly the ground had shifted beneath him.

“ Kyu na karu? Huh? Bolo? ”, His brows furrowed, confusion flickering in his eyes as if he was suddenly dealing with a version of me he had never expected to meet... ever again.

(Why shouldn’t I? Huh? Say it?)

“ If you can speak of another woman? Then why can't I speak of another man? ” I shot back harshly, taking a few steps away from him.

My feet carried me to the balcony almost on instinct, needing the cold bite of air to steady the heat boiling inside me.

He followed immediately, of course he did like a shadow refusing to let go.

“ What do you mean? ” he asked, his tone edged with a tension he barely managed to keep controlled.

“ Don't try to act like you don't know anything. Do you think I don't know how you are engaged to some other woman? You bloody cheater? ”, I said with a dry, hollow laugh, positioning myself at a distance where even his breath couldn’t touch me.

He stared at me with a stiffened, frozen expression like my words had hit something deep.

He let out a long, exhausted sigh, dragging a hand over his face as though the weight of everything had finally begun crushing him.

Good, I thought darkly. He deserved far more than exhaustion.

I glanced over the balcony, spotting that the car i had asked the driver to place by the back door, was in place. Once I am done with this, I'm leaving like i never came.

“ Safiya— ” he began but I cut him off instantly. There was no chance in hell I was giving him room to wiggle out this time.

“ Kya Safiya? Huh? Kya Safiya? ”, I snapped, my voice trembling with a hint of rage and betrayal.

(What Safiya? Huh? What?)

“ Do you think I'm stupid. I heard you talking to taya-abbu about that girl who you are engaged to and that nobody should know about it especially me. And how you should have married her from the very start. You don't even care about whatever is going on between us. ”

He tried stepping closer, tentative, slow, as if approaching a feral animal ready to pounce on him, but I lifted my hand sharply, making him halt. My voice came out colder than I had expected.

“ Dur raho mujhse. Mujhe tumse ghin aarahi hain. ”

(Stay away from me. You disgust me.)

For a second, just a second, I saw him falter, his hand dragging through his hair in frustration, eyes shutting briefly as if reining in the storm building behind them.

“ Safiya, trust me it's not something pleasant to listen to. You don't want to dig up the past. ” he said, his voice tight, his patience clearly fraying at the edges. But he should’ve known that testing my patience was the only way to get the truth out of him and I had no intention of leaving without it.

Whatever, be the so called past, i wanted to know every bit of it.

“ Actually, I want to. I want to know about everything that concerns you. Because everything related to you is related to me. ” I said, holding his gaze even as he stepped forward with a determination that sent a flicker of warning down my spine.

“ There are some things that are better not mentioned or talked about and if I am hiding something from you then there are reasons for me to do so. ”, he said calmly, infuriatingly calm and for a split second I genuinely wanted to punch his stupidly perfect face, just to crack that composure he always hid behind.

“ You're right. You have reasons to hide things from me.

Like how you cheated on me, right? You fucking two faced snake.

I don't even know what the hell am I even doing here? I should just leave and maybe then I could find some peace. You have ruined my fucking life from the day I met you. ”, My voice cracked around the edges, my hands trembling with a mix of anger and something more dangerous fear, maybe, or the crushing suffocation in my throat that only worsened with every second.

“ If you already know all this then why did you agree for the ritual?

You were planning something weren't you? ”, he asked, the realization dawning slowly on him.

It almost made me laugh. It didn't take him long to figure it out.

It hurt more because it made me realise that our emotional bonding was indeed quite good, that he is now able to read me.

But guess what? I know nothing about him except the small bouts of emotions he rarely evinces.

“ At least, you know me this much. ”, i said with a hint of amusement..

“ Mene socha tha tumhe tumhare pyaare se gaon ke saamne hee divorce dungi lekin mein nhi chahti ki mere baba aur unki tarbiyat par ungli uthe.

So, it's better to get over with it rather than stretching this matter right? ”, His head snapped toward me so sharply it was almost alarming as I brushed past him, walking back inside the room. But he caught up in seconds.

(I thought I would divorce you in front of your precious village but I don’t want fingers pointed at my father or his upbringing. So it’s better to just get it over with instead of stretching this matter, right?)

His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist, pulling me around with a suddenness that made me stumble and crash against him, chest to chest, my breath colliding with his as I let out a gasp of surprise.

“ Chhoro mujhe. ”, I shrieked, twisting away, but his fingers only clamped tighter around my wrists.

(Leave me.)

I struggled violently, shaking my hands but he trapped them effortlessly, twisting them behind my back, locking them there, forcing me impossibly close. His proximity felt like a cage closing around me, like a a trap playing with my head.

“ Kya kha tumne? ”, he asked, his voice low and hoarse, his eyes burning into mine with an intensity that sent a cold shiver crawling down my spine. But I was not the one to back down.

(What did you say?)

“ Mein tumhe divorce dedungi.”, I spat, our noses inches apart, both of us glaring like enemies at war.

(I will divorce you.)

“ Nhi milega. ”, he said instantly, not even a pause, not a breath of hesitation just absolute, immovable finality.

(You won’t get it.)

“ mein maang nhi rahi, bta Rahi hu gawar aadmi. ”, i said pushing against him.

(I’m not asking you, I’m telling you, you- uncivilized man.)

“ Chhoro mujhe. Nhi rehna mujhe yaha, nahi mein iss nikah ko maanti hu nahi tumhe mera shohar. Chhoro mujhe. ”, I thrashed against him, landing blows on his chest with my bound wrists, but he didn’t move an inch.

And in that moment, I felt weak. In fact, I felt trapped, like the walls were caving in.

( Let me go. I don’t want to stay here, I don’t accept this marriage, I don’t accept you as my husband. Let me go.)

“ Kabhi nhi Safiya. ”, he whispered, his voice dipping into something dark and cold that curled around my spine like smoke. The aura around him shifted. It was suffocating but surrender was the last thing I would ever do.

(Never, Safiya.)

With one final burst of strength, I shoved him away and rushed to the closet. He followed close behind but I ignored him, yanking open my half-packed suitcase, shoving clothes inside with shaking hands.

“ Safiya, meri baat touh suno. ”, he said, but I was long past listening. His presence behind me only fueled my rage.

(Safiya, at least listen to me.)

I kept pulling out the clothes and set aside yesterday, dumping all of them inside the suitcase. This is the last one, i had already sent all the others to the car early morning.

Zaviyar followed me with a furious, expression trying to get a hold of me only to fail miserably.

“ Ek baar sunto louh... Saf–”, he tried to reach out once again only for me to dodge him once again.

( Listen to me atleast once... Saf–)

“ Apni manhus shakal leke dafa hojao yaha se. ” he caught my and his grip tightened around my wrist again, annoyance flaring in his eyes.

(Take your cursed face and get lost from here.)

“ Listen to me, just this once. ”, he said turning me to face him, but i looked away.

Not because I was afraid of him, rather i felt like someone was hammering a nail into my neck, like I was being constantly punched in my gut.

I hated this feeling. I hated him so much.

.. I hate this feeling of betrayal that too from a person i was never supposed to expect anything from.

“ Why should I? You had enough time to tell me about all this?

Do you even realise how fucking stupid I'm feeling? I actually thought we were getting closer. Fuck this marriage and fuck you Zaviyar. ” I snapped, each word slicing through the space between us.

Unaware, that my nails, dug deep into his skin, maybe not enough to draw blood but sure enough to leave painfulz piercing marks.

Then, fueled by a wave of pure hurt, I pulled off the ring he had gifted me, our stupid symbol of something he had already trampled and threw it across the closet.

It hit the mirror with a sharp metallic clatter, the sound echoing louder than it should’ve, like something breaking that could never be fixed again.

He looked furious to say the least, his face turned red yet he only let out a ragged sigh.

“ Safiya, mein akhri baar keh raha hu tamasha mat banao, meri baat suno. Tum galat—”, His voice came out tight with frustration, but the rest of his sentence died abruptly the moment my palm cracked across his cheek.

(Safiya, I’m saying this for the last time, don’t create a scene, listen to me. You’re wrong—)

The sharp sound bounced off the walls, and his head snapped to the side with a force that made my own breath hitch. For a second, time froze. He clicked his tongue, slow and controlled, before turning back toward me.

His eyes were bloodshot, so red they almost looked feral.

And for the first time in a long time, a terrifying thought crossed my mind; he looked like someone who could empty an entire gun into my skull without blinking.

But where were we in a relationship if he couldn't control his anger even a bit, where i couldn't even express my feelings without him getting angry.

‘but you abused him first ’, I could hear in my head. But he deserved it!

“ Sach? Sach jaanna hain tumhe. ”

(Truth? You want to know the truth.)

The way his tone switched from dangerously soft to rough and hoarse, sent a shiver down my spine. This was the voice he spoke with when anger had been brewing inside him for too long. His grip around my wrist loosened, almost absently, as if he no longer needed to restrain me.

Then, without another glance in my direction, he strode toward one of the old wooden almirahs. I stood frozen, watching the broad lines of his shoulders tense and shift as he rummaged through something inside, the sounds of metal and paper faintly echoing.

When he finally turned, he held a thick, old album in his hand. Not new, not modern something aged, heavy with dust and memories. He walked toward me with those slow, deliberate steps of his and dropped the album into my arms with a weight that felt heavier than simple paper.

“ Janna chahti thi na tum? Who am I engaged to? Then take a look at this Safiya, tab shayad tum hakikat se wakif ho jao. Meri bhi aur... Apni Bhi... ”, I didn’t want to.

God knows, I really didn’t want to. But curiosity, poisonous and persistent pried my fingers open and made me flip through the yellowed pages.

(You wanted to know, right? Who I’m engaged to? Then take a look at this, Safiya. Maybe then you’ll understand the truth. Mine and probably... your own.)

There were pictures, smiling young couples, a middle-aged pair who looked respectable and weary and scattered images of families dressed in clothes from another time.

My breath hitched when I reached the middle pages.

Two children stared back at me, a little girl and a small boy sitting close, her tiny hand wrapped protectively around his arm as both grinned toothily at the camera. Their innocence felt so heart warming.

Near the end, the photographs grew more structured.

A middle-aged man sat beside a woman, likely his wife.

On one side sat the same young girl, on the other sat the boy, slightly older but still familiar.

Behind them stood other pairs of elders, probably people from their families.

A lineage frozen in glossy images. On looking carefully she realised they were none other than his parents and her parents, but who were the other couple. ... probably his aunt.

And then came the last picture. A worn, carefully preserved photograph tucked separately as if it meant more than all the others. The edges were frayed; the surface slightly cracked. I lifted it gingerly and stared, my stomach flipping violently.

“ That's her, my fiance. ”, His voice was too calm. Too steady.

(That’s her, my fiancée.)

“ And now my wife. ”, My head jerked up at him so fast it hurt.

(And now my wife.)

“ Wife who is threatening to divorce me. ”, he added.

(A wife who is threatening to divorce me.)

The heaviness of the room pressed down on me. My fingers trembled.

“ This is not possible,” I whispered, my voice almost hollow. My eyes dropped back to the picture— Me? A much younger me, sitting beside a boy I didn’t even remember. His small hand was clutching mine, and I… God, I was looking at him with mischief, while he gazed at me like I was his whole world.

“ How? This—” I stuttered, words jamming in my throat. “ Don’t tell me that….”

“ Apna muh band karlo Safi, nhi toub makkhi ghus jayegi. ”, I visibly cringed. Safi. The nickname felt like someone scraping a fork on a steel plate. I pinched myself, hard, trying to make sense of this absurd, twisted revelation. Because what the hell was happening?

(Close your mouth, Safi, or a fly will get in.)

“ Cheee, mujhe kabhi aur safi bulaya touh tumahre khaane mein namak ki jagah chuhe maarne vaala powder daal dungi. ”, i snapped at him in anger, making him nod frantically..

( Ew. Call me Safi again and I swear I’ll replace the salt in your food with rat poison. )

“ I don’t understand… ” I muttered weakly, stumbling back a step as I felt the world around me spinning.

But he moved with surprising speed, catching hold of me before I could fall.

His arms came around me, firmly grasping me and then in one swift motion, he picked me up.

I gasped as he carried me across the room like I weighed nothing and gently placed me on the edge of the bed.

He knelt in front of me, his palms enveloping my hands like he was afraid I’d slip away.

“ Mein nhi chahta tha ki tumhe woh sab pta chale. ”, The sincerity in his eyes was unsettling.

(I never wanted you to find out all of this.)

“ Lekin yeh sab? Kese? Dada jaan neh touh bas hamari shaadi ka zikr kiya tha, woh unki ichcha thi.

Mein touh kabhi yaha aayi bhi nhi, I didn't even know you all. Touh fir yeh sab kese? ”, My words tumbled out in panic, breathless and rushed.

My mind felt like it was turning inside out.

To someone else, this might sound like some harmless childhood promise of alliance but to me, it felt like betrayal.

Like I had been manipulated into a cycle.

Like I had been nothing more than a pawn in a game I never agreed to play.

(But all this? How? Dada jaan only spoke about our marriage—it was his wish. I never even came here; I didn’t know any of you. Then how is all of this possible?)

“ Calm down. I'll tell you. ”, He squeezed my hands gently, grounding me but I pulled away and hugged myself tightly, my body instinctively curling inward. The uneasiness sitting in my chest only grew heavier.

The sudden action made him frown, his hands recoilong back, as a flash of something foreign flashed through his orbs... Fear? Regret? Helplessness perhaps...

“ Dada sahab ki baat hamare liye hamesha patthar ki lakeer thi. Unke aur hamare purkho ki banayi hui har riwayat hamare liye jeene ka zariya. Tum kabhi Dada sahab se mili hee nhi ki tum unko jaan sako. ”, As he spoke, his demeanor shifted.

The arrogance softened into something else.

.. reverence mixed with an unspoken fear.

It wasn’t just respect; it was the weight of legacy pressing down on him.

(Dada sahab’s word was always final for us. Every tradition laid down by him and our ancestors was our way of living. You never met Dada sahab, so you never got to know him.)

“ Woh chahte the ki tumhare baba iss ghar se jud jaaye, touh unhone hamari maangni ki baat ki thi… woh chahte the ki hamara nikah hojaye par—”, I shot up straight, exasperation flooding me.

(He wanted your father to be connected to this family, so he brought up the idea of our engagement… he wanted us to get married but—)

“ That is freaking child marriage. What the fuck? Woh buddha kya sathiya gaya tha? ” I snapped.

( That is freaking child marriage. What the fuck? Had that old man lost his mind? )

“ Safiya, tameez se bola karo. Mein unki bohot izzat karta hu. ”, His voice turned soft but it was a warning, and I felt it.

“ Izzat my foot, you and your family are mentally sick or what. Why would they even do that? Woh tumhare dada-vaada honge, mere woh kuch nhi lagte. And especially after what he has done. Not a chance. Why do you all justify all this nonsense? ”, I groaned, pressing a hand over my face as bile rose in my throat.

I was literally a three-year-old chuhiya (mouse) when they decided my fate like I was some collectible item.

“ Safiya, he is our elder. We have to—”

“ Zaviyar, he was just born three or four decades earlier that doesn't make him correct or justify his wrongs. I don't judge my attitude towards someone by their age. ”, he sighed before nodding.

“ Agge sunna hain? ”, He looked exhausted, brows drawn, and I nodded silently.

(Do you want to hear the rest?)

“ Fir hamari mangni hui. It was more of a verbal thing nothing that involved us. Hamare yaha agar koi kisika mang ban jata hain, touh woh rishta aakhri saas tak nibhata hain. ”

(So our engagement happened. It was more verbal, nothing involving us. Here, once someone’s engagement is fixed, the relationship is honored till the last breath.)

“ Okay, and what was the marriage you were having with Zulekha? ” I asked, my curiosity slicing through my shock.

“ It was because I didn't want to marry you.

And ammi and baba knew that you wouldn't agree to this ever. ”, he said with a sort of shrug like he was stating a fact too bitter to sugar-coat.

His tone was casual but I could see the stiffness in his shoulders like even admitting this cost him something.

“ Now I feel like I've been played with.

Like I'm going along with a thing I was supposed to be against. ”, I muttered, my voice dropping as my nails dug crescents into my palms. There was a tightness in my chest, the kind that made breathing feel like a chore.

It felt like everything I believed in...

my morals, my education, my sense of right was slipping between my fingers because of the way I was bending in this relationship.

“ I don't think so. ” Zaviyar said as he got up and sat on the bed beside me, his weight making the mattress dip slightly.

“ We never truly went along with it. I didn't want you coming here and was against this marriage not because I knew about engagement but because I hate your father.

You didn't want this marriage from the very start. We both tried to understand each other and ended up together because it was meant to be this way. ” His voice softened, the kind of softness he rarely allowed anyone to hear.

It brushed against my fears like a warm breeze calming a storm.

And for the first time since yesterday, a strange, fragile peace fluttered inside me.

“ But this is wrong. ” I couldn’t help blurting out. The words tasted heavy. Accepting him, felt like I was accepting the inhumane decision forced on us without consent as if loving him meant betraying the girl I had been.

“ It would have been if we married with the purpose of fulfilling dada sahab's wish. ” he said calmly and I found myself nodding. My eyes flickered to where his warm hand rested on top of mine, grounding me as if reminding me that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t as twisted as it felt.

“ Is that why you all hate my dad? Because he went against the family's words and left with me and mom? ”, I managed to ask, though a knot formed in my throat.

“ Your father didn't leave because of that.

There were reasons which I deem not worthy of mention.

Your father was not unhappy with the alliance, he was rather happy.

But chachi didn't want it, so she threatened to leave with you. At the end, your father left with you both. ” he said evenly but his eyes wavered for a fraction of a second.

I knew there was more, something tightly sealed behind his guarded expression.

“ I can't believe we have been engaged since childhood. ” I groaned, burying my face in my palms before collapsing back on the soft mattress. My hair scattered around me messily, but I didn’t care.

The ceiling felt like it was spinning above me.

Why did drama orbit my existence like a loyal satellite?

Ya Allah, aapne kis aziyat mein daal diya hain mujhe. (Oh Allah, what torment have You thrown me into.)

When I opened my eyes, I froze. My husband was leaning over me, one arm propped beside my head while the other gently cupped my cheek. His closeness stole the breath from my lungs. His palm was rough but warm and his dark eyes devoured mine like they were trying to read everything I’d ever felt.

“ Zaviyar, what are you doing? ” I whispered, my voice betraying a tremor. He looked straight at me, like he had all the time in the world to watch me unravel beneath him.

“ Wahi jouh bohot pehle karna tha. ”, he said, a mischievous glint lighting up his eyes. A blush crept up my cheeks before I could stop it.

(What I should have done a long time ago.)

“ May I kiss you Safiya? ” he asked, his voice gentle, almost reverent. My breath hitched. I didn’t even know what possessed me when I closed my eyes, whether I was expecting a soft peck or a breathless, desperate French kiss.

He leaned in, inch by inch, his musky scent curling around me like smoke.

His breath fanned over my lips, making them tingle with anticipation.

The world shrank to the span of inches between us.

My heart thrummed painfully fast as his lips hovered just above mine so close I could feel the heat radiating off them.

And then—

“ Bhabiii.... AHHHHHHH. ” (Sister-in-law… AHHHHHHH.)

The scream tore through the air like a gunshot.

I shrieked and slapped Zaviyar across the face purely out of shock. This time on the other cheek. He recoiled, blinking rapidly, while Kabir stood in the doorway, flapping around like a fish tossed onto dry land.

“ Meri virgin eyes. Meri innocence ko mitti meh mila diya. Ya allah, ab mujhse koun shaadi karega, koun mujhe apni beti dega. ”,

he wailed dramatically, hands thrown up in the air.

(My virgin eyes. My innocence has been buried in dust. Oh Allah, now who will marry me, who will give me their daughter?)

Zaviyar grabbed his watch and pretended to check the time, as if that would erase the fact that he had been caught mid-romance.

“ Yarr aap dono apna romance apne room mein kiya karein. ”, Kabir shrieked.

(Bro, do your romance in your own room.)

“ Yeh hamara hee kamda hain Kabir, tumhe knock karke aana chahiye. ”, Zaviyar snapped, his temper sparking.

(This IS our room, Kabir. You should knock.)

Kabir scoffed, “ Haan touh subah subah yeh sab koun karta hain. ”

(Yeah, but who does this early in the morning?)

“ Meri biwi ke saath mein apne kamde mein jouh bhi karu woh kisi aur ka masla nhi hain. ”, Zaviyar’s jaw clenched.

(Whatever I do with my wife in my own room is not anyone else's business.)

His voice dripped with anger as he got up, rolling his sleeves like a man ready to commit murder.

‘Yeh pagal ghayal sher ke dukhti nas par hamesha pair rakhne kyu aajata hain.’

(Why does this mad boy always step on the wounded lion’s sore nerve?)

I hurried after him, knowing Kabir’s life expectancy had dropped to minutes. Before Zaviyar could lunge, I slid in front of him, pressing a hand to his chest.

“ Uhm... Jaane douh. Woh bichara chhota hain. Aur humeh tayyar bhi hona hain na. ”, I said, trying my best innocent expression.

(Uhm… let him go. He’s just a kid. And we have to get ready too.)

His eyes softened, just a little and he nodded. Kabir was about to flee, but then he turned dramatically and hugged me from behind.

“ Aapne bacha liya bhabi. ”, he sighed in relief. I patted his head, only to see Zaviyar’s expression darken instantly as he pulled us apart.

(You saved me, sister-in-law.)

“ Thora dur se. ”, he scolded, like Kabir had committed a crime by breathing the same air as me.

( From a little distance.)

Kabir stared at him like Zaviyar had grown horns. I leaned to Kabir and whisper-yelled, “ Nikal isse pehle ki gabbar tujhe sui par chadha deh. ”

(Leave before this Gabbar gets you hanged)

Kabir gulped and spun around to leave. Only to be stopped by Zaviyar’s sharp voice once more.

“ Aur ainda se jab ek miyan biwi ko saath mein dekho, touh kabab mein haddi mat banna. Chup chap ulte pair pana raasta naapna. ”,

(And from now on, whenever you see a husband and wife together, don’t become the bone in their kebab.Quietly put your shoes on backwards and get going.)

With that, Zaviyar shut the door on Kabir’s face so abruptly that the frame rattled. I stared at the closed door with wide, stunned eyes, still processing what had just happened. My heartbeat was only beginning to calm down until I felt a sudden weight against my back.

I gasped, breath catching in my throat.

“ Let's start from where we stopped shall we? ”, His voice was a low murmur, his lips dangerously close to my ear. His warm breath brushed against the shell of my ear, sending a sharp shiver down my spine. I didn’t dare turn around.

I knew I resembled a ripe tomato by now, my cheeks burning with a heat even embarrassment couldn’t fully explain.

“ H-hum late ho ja-jayenge. ”, i managed to speak, his stubble caressing the dip of my neck.

“ You are stuttering now, yet you mentioned a divorce without even thinking once. Ab aapko uski kya punishment di jaaye? ”, he rasped into my ear making my eyes widen.

( Now what punishment should be given to you for this, hmm? )

Safiya gasped, and shrieked out her thoughts, “ P..punishment? Woh adult vali?”

(P..punishment? The adult type? )

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Honestly, I love writing there nok-jhok more than romance ?? it's so cute.

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