Chapter 42: Chapter 42

The man guided her through the dark corridors of the mansion. It was night and the hallways of the posh and gigantic mansion were darker than the night itself. It felt as if she had been walking since ages. Last time, she had came to this house, she didn't get a chance to explore it. This was an area which she was first time visiting and she was sure similar to this wing of the mansion, there must be many other wings.

Her eyes couldn't analyse anything as it was dark. The source of light was the light of moon which entered through the large glass walls. She was just able to see a few painting every now and then on the wall.

Rather, she wanted to focus more on her surroundings and ignore the pounding of her heart in her ears. She was not able to understand the reason for which he called her at this moment of night.

Fear and being afraid. These two were entirely different emotions. The prior was an instinct and the latter was a feeling. And in that moment, she felt, she had developed both an instinct and a feeling whenever there was a mention of Shehryaar.

And the cherry on top was her mind that was clueless of the reason he called her for.

Reaching at his doorstep, the door was knocked. The permission was received and the path was made for her. The door opened and she walked inside. The room which was darker than the corridor itself.  She gasped when the door was closed and she was left alone with a deranged man.

Realizing her presence in the room, he got up from his sitting position, sauntered towards the window and tucked away the curtains so the bright moonlight could lit the room. That was when she was able to make out his dark room. But more than that, her eyes already laid on his dark silhouette that stood near the window. He stood parallel to the window so only half of his face could be seen and half was darkened by shadow. In his hand, she saw a bottle.

A green bottle.

And it wasn't difficult for her to presume what was the liquid inside it. The forbidden liquid. He took the last gulp of it before placing the bottle at a nearby table.

"Sheharzaad," he finally acknowledged.

She wanted to stop the tremors rising in her body.

He looked disheveled.  Unpredictable.

She couldn't make out what was going in his mind. And never did Sheharzad ever encountered with this shade of him.

"Are you wearing your ring?" He asked and to her it seemed as if a voice in a darkness asked the question from her.

Her first instinct was to move her right hand up and then a breath of relief parted her lips upon seeing the ring lying there. Though, while coming here she had checked it numerous times on her way.

"Yes," she managed to respond, unaware how to react in such a situation.

"Come closer and sit," She figured out he was pointing towards the sofa so she began to take soft steps towards the sofa and sat on it while he dragged a chair and settled it so he could sit just across her. Just like a nail would be hit by a hammer, her chest was being incessantly hit by the intense pounding of her heart. She wanted to run for the mountains. She wanted to be anywhere but near him especially so when he was a drunk, deranged man.

Her breath hitched in her throat.

Blood.

His shirt.

It had blotches of blood.

And she was sharp enough to gauge out that it wasn't his blood. Her hands slightly fisted her shirt.

She witnessed his eyes getting half closed as with those hooded grey eyes that sparkled like diamonds in the moonlight, he stared at her.

"You look beautiful, Sheharzaad," he uttered and a smile played on his lips.

He seemed to have lost his senses as the alcohol was taking control over his mind. Though, his speech didn't drawl too much.

"Why did you call me?" Her voice was lowered to a whisper as if the atmosphere, the surrounding demanded to low down her voice and her tongue felt too heavy, her throat too dry to fully speak.

"I can call you whenever you want," Even his voice was a whisper too as he stared at her.

"Kitni pyaari hou na tum," he suddenly held her cheeks, digging his fingers, and brought her face closer to him, "Bohot pyaari,"

(Aren't you so pretty? So pretty are you)

"Dil chahta hai tumhai dekhta rahu. Ghanto tak. Jab tak yeh dil na bhar jaye. Dekhta rahu," his voice trailed at the end, his eyes soft, voice a murmur, "laikin bohot nafrat karany ka dil karta. Itni nafrat k yeh khandar," he tapped at the left of his chest where his heart was beating, "kabhi dubara abaad na ho skay. Hamesha nafrat karta rahu," Then suddenly his eyes became steely from softer and he abruptly left her face, an expression of disdain and contempt came across his face, "Dhoka deti hain yeh nazrain,"

(My heart wants to stare at you. For hours. To its fill. But my mind says to hate you. Hate you so much that this shattered area would never be put back into pieces. I want to hate you. So much)

(These eyes betray)

He brought his chair closer to her. His eyes landing on her dainty hands that were tightly clutching her shirt.

"Dar lag rha hai?" He asked, tilting his head and then moved his eyes from her hands to her face. She could see alcohol taking a complete toll over him.

(Are you scared?)

She shook her head unable to decipher him yet at the same time tried to scoot back from him subtly.

"Nhi?" He shook his head and she whimpered. A tear escaping from her eye when she ended up nodding her head.

"Mje janay dou. Please. Meinay apnay ghar jana hai," She told, trying to breathe with lips parted open. His presence was suffocating her. He looked terrifying to her.

(Let me go. Please. I want to go home)

"Tumhara ghar yahi hai," He scoffed and pin-pointed his words by looking around the room, "This room. That bed. That closet," he held her face again and turned it towards the bed and then at the closet, "that's all yours. Got me?" He looked at him and she nodded, implicating she understood him. She wanted this ordeal to be over before she would end up getting badly hurt.

(This is your home)

"Good," he smiled and released her face and shifted his attention towards her again, "Haath pakarnay ki ijazat hai?" He asked as he remember the condition she had placed infront him.

(Am I allowed to hold your hands?)

And then he addressed the confusion in her eyes, "Aap nay hi tw bola tha nikkah tak chuna nhi. Ajeeb baat hai nashay mei dhut mei hunh aur baatain apko yaad nhi," He drawled and laughed.

(Didn't you ask me not to touch you until our marriage. Wow, I'm drunk here but you're forgetting things)

"Pakar lunh haath?" He suddenly stopped laughing and asked her seriously. She forwarded both her hands towards him, nodding.

"Nhi aik hi chaiye. Chalo dono pakar leta hunh," He said to himself and then kept on staring at her hands before holding them.

(No. I just want to take one of your hands. Rather, I would hold both)

"Your hands are so beautiful, Sheharzaad," He was mesmerized, his eyes shining with admiration "So beautiful," He began to caress them with his thumb and then again a steely expression masked over his face and he abruptly pushed them away as if they scalded him.

She was so shook to react. Dumb-founded, she stared at him with eyes wide open.

What was he doing?

Taking a soft breath, his arms were on either side of her thighs as he leaned closer.

"Shehryaar," Her voice wavered as he kept on inching closer.

"You wanted me to love you, right?" He asked, their faces inches apart.

Tongue-tied she was just able to give a nod. A knot formed in her throat streching her throat. Her body began to shiver as she knew something sinister came up in his mind.

"Then, love me first, Zaad. A dutiful wife should love her husband, right?"

She could only nod.

"Good," he smiled, "then express your love for me, Sheharzaad,"

She just blinked her eyes. Moments passed, their breaths mingles, eyes kept on staring, no words were exchanged.

"Come on," he whispered and she shook her head, denying to submit to his demand when he growled.

"I don't... I don't love you!" She cried out, crawling back from him.

Her heart was close to having a tachycardia. She had never encountered him in such a state.

"Wrong answer, zaad," he tsked and before she knew, her neck was in his grasp and she was struggling for breath.

Seconds passed. Minutes passed. Her struggles died down but he didn't leave her throat.

The first thing she noticed when she had sat on this sofa was the pillow lying on the bed as the moonlight directly fell on it. It was covered with a silk black pillow case. She loved the case and had made a self-note to buy one for herself too. But now she could see the pillow drifting away from her. The bed moving far. The room enlarging. The moonlight sprawling infront her eyes and she was just able to see white.

Her mind not registering him. His words. His eyes.

To her, the air had turned solid and the chunks were too big to pass through her nostrills. Then she opened her lips but the big air chunks were also not entering her mouth. Just when the moonlight could completely take over her was only when the constriction against her throat was loosened and she gasped. Followed by wild coughing.

The air was crushed now and it was able to pass through her nose but she struggled taking it inside her body as her lungs burnt, her throat hurt.

She was busy coping with her heightened state of breathlessness when her chin was grasped and her head was pulled back towards him. Tears had made her cheeks wet.

"Won't you love me, zaad?" He asked, indifferent to her disheveled state.

"I-I will," Her lips shivered.

"Then show," he demanded.

"How?"

"That's your job," his angry red eyes stared at him as her eyes moved down to his white shirt that had blood spots on it. His jaw clenched as his hold on her chin tightened.

"Show me your love, zaad," He suddenly deadpanned. Becoming impassive and expressionless.

"Suna nhi tumnay kia?!" He snarled making her jump as she nodded her head.

(Didn't you hear me?!)

Slowly, her shivering hands moved and she placed her fingers on his face that were shaking. Tears after tears spilled from her eyes.

"Mind you, zaad. I should be assured," He warned and she nodded. Her chin wobbled as slowly her lips descended towards him as she kissed near his lips. His eyes closed on its on upon the contact. She was about to remove her lips and he uttered, "kiss me, again,"

Once again, she brought life to her shaky lips and connected them at the same place. Slowly, she moved her lips to his and brushed hers with his. His hands moved and rested against her slender waist as he began to stroke her gently there.

Brushing her cracky lips against his, she placed a kiss on his lips when her tear fell on his lips and he rubbed his tongue over it.

He felt his chest constricting. He wanted more. More and more of her. He didn't want her to stop.

Her soft lips then connected with his cheeks as she closed her eyes.

Her lips shivered.

She kissed both his cheeks and the tip of his nose when she opened his eyes.

He was already staring at her.

Her heart skipped a beat and then she moved her lips and placed them against his for a brief moment, giving him a soft chaste kiss.

"I-I l-love you," she whispered, "Shehryaar,"

A tear falling through her left eye as she sniffed before pulling her head slightly away from him so she could directly stare at him.

He was still inscrutable. Blank. Empty. Void.

She could just hope she passed through the test he put her in.

"Keep these words just for me. Just for me," He muttered as now his voice went soft.

Only if they knew

"O-okay,"

"Dare to utter these words to someone else, zaad then see what I would do to you,"

She hiccupped, "I won't," she tried to assure him.

"You know I don't bluff. I will cut these pretty little lips first," his thumb moving over her lips, "and then," suddenly, he caught her tongue between his thumb and finger pulling it out making her cry aloud, "I will cut this and that's not where I will stop. That's where I will began," He left her tongue and she quickly nodded while hiccupping. He let her cry for a few moments when he held her face and cleared her tears.

"Acha ab rou mat," From his earlier dreaded threatening voice, it now turned into a soft murmur.

(Now don't cry)

He kissed her tears before cleaning her wet face with his knuckles and then rose from his chair just to sit next to her. He held her face close to his chest, his warmth surrounding her. "Don't cry. I won't hurt you," he caressed her hair, "Shhh," he murmured when he felt her body hiccupping, "Shhhh little lady. Shhh," he kept on caressing her hair until her tears died down and she was calm enough

"Jaanti hou kiu bulaya?" He asked, and pulled away from her. She sniffled and shook her head in negative.

(Do you know why I called you?)

He laid down on the sofa, placing his head in her lap. "Massage my head," he commanded and placed her hand in his locks

"I want to sleep peacefully," he whispered, closing his eyes, "and you give me peace, Sheharzaad," He uttered and as he told, she rubbed down the pad of her fingers in between his silky locks and didn't even realize when he slept. While, she recalled his words and tried to put two and two together.

Why would he want to hate her?