Chapter 98: Chapter 98

His tongue was too heavy to utter anything. He was still in shock, a state of disbelief had still encompassed him. His grey eyes kept on looking and tracing the cracks on the hardened mud of the grave.

Dilemma was hitting him, clutching him in its painful paws and tightening its grip on his heart with every second.

To say the least, he was baffled.

Grave.

It was a grave.

Grave of his mother.

Mother.

Who had died decades ago.

But still that day was freshened in his mind like yesterday.

Every intricate and minor detail was in the back of hiss head.

Often those details took shape of a nightmare in his dreams.

The soulless and dead eyes of the lady who hung with the ceiling.

Utter helplessness on her face.

He thought as much that suicide was her last resort. That was why he considered her weak. Considered womankind weak.

Considered womankind manipulative, cunning, untrustworthy.

But here he sat, near the one,  who was the reason those feelings were born within him but this time he came with truth. This time, he knew, she was innocent. She was victim. She was raped. She was murdered. She was depressed. But above all, she still was a fighter.

He tried to locate the stigma he felt in his heart towards her kind. He tried to surface up the hate within his heart just to know that did he still hate her? Did he still hate the womankind with the same intensity as he used to?

And he was surprised.

The curse 'was' lifted.

There was nothing.

No hard feelings.

No negativity towards her kind.

His heart felt empty. But it wasn't empty. It was beating hard. Fast

He wanted to know why was his beating organ was beating so hard. As again he went into the depths of the ocean of his emotions. he dived in and in. Down and down. To reach the root. To locate the depth.

To understand himself.

To know his feelings.

And suddenly, in that myriads of thoughts, he found one line cursorily running through his mind,

'women are delicate flowers. Treat them with love. Respect them,'

The last words of his mothers on that letter.

And his heart clutched. Skipping a beat.

Darkness coming across his eyes.

And in that darkness, he saw a scene rising from the middle of that darkness.

He saw Sheharzaad's eyes. Crying and begging him.

And his ears heard her screams. Her voice crying and begging him.

And suddenly, the darkness alleviated and he saw his mother's grave infront of him.

A look at the grave and again he felt his heart getting gripped in a tight grasp of dilemma again.

Was she dead?

She has died?

She was not with him?

And his mind played the last scene, the last meeting, the last normal meeting and conversation he had with her.

Her beautiful eyes, full of love and affection as she kissed his cheeks and he just looked away. He could see a frown coming over her brows and a painful expression masking her eyes. The white of her eyes slightly glimmering with unshed tears as she hugged him.

'I'm sorry,'  her whisper played in his ears.

"I'm sorry, ammi," his lips moved in unison to her voice in his mind.

Almost twenty years later, he responded. He replied to her. But this time around, he did not have her loving and affectionate warmth around him. He did not have her protection, the feeling of her presence, her fragrance around him. Her melodious voice replying to him or her beautiful eyes staring at him with love. Unparalleled love.

He responded.

But she wasn't here.

And a tear escaped his eye and fell on that grave. He immediately plucked the sand and threw it away where his tear had fallen.

No.

He didn't deserve.

His tears didn't deserve to be fallen or touch her grave.

All his life, he had hated this woman then how could he now cry over her grave. More and more tears propelled out of his eyes and he kept on roughly cleaning them, jerking those tears away from his face with his palm.

And the dam broke when a sob hit his throat. He knew it was his breaking point. It was his point of release. The time to let go of the hatred that has been in his heart for decades.

As the sob travelled from his throat and touched his lips, and pushed out of his mouth.

His eyes moved up as he looked in the sky.

The sky that looked grey. Clouds gathering as the sky thundered.

It reminded him of the sky of that day when she died.

And then those sobs turned into screams. Wails. Cries.

As he sat on his knees, eyes on the sky and body shook with every sob. Every painful cry.

Every dead lying beneath the ground heard his painful cries. It made them wonder what pain must have reached that soul to cry like that. With such pain. Such helplessness. Such agony.

He fell.

His head fell on the grave as now his tears fall on the mud freely. He fell on the grave as if he was hugging his mother. His sobs died down. His cries down.

The graveyard went quiet.

Only the rumbles of cloud could be heard.

His eyes witnessed an ant crawling on the ground as another tear protruded out of his eye, cascaded down the bridge of his nose and fell on Jaha Ara's grave.

After long moments of silence, his shivering lips move and he uttered, "Aap kaha chali gayi hain ammi?"

(Where have you gone, mother?)

....

Sheharzaad placed another soaked washcloth on his forehead. His fever wasn't subsiding. And in his unconscious state, he was just muttering, 'ammi' and'ap kaha hain ammi?'

(Mother. Where are you mother?)

When she had gone inside that graveyard, she had found him fainted on his mother's  grave. She called the guards and they took her to haveli where she was now taking care of him.

They had come back to haveli for past few days. The sole reason he had decided to come here was to pay a visit to his mother's grave.

"Sherry," Sheharzaad whispered, placing her palm on his face, "sherry," she whispered again, placing her head near where his heart beated. She closed his eyes to feel his calm and rhythmic heartbeats.

"Sherry," she whispered, feeling and getting comfortable in his warmth.

....

A few days passed. He had recovered from his sickness as she took great care of him. But she noticed he had gone quiet with her. Especially when he had come back from the graveyard.

He didn't talk much.

He didn't respond much to her questions either. He preferred solitude and silence around him. He remained closed in the room that used to be of their parents.

His grandfather had shifted his father to another room after Jaha Ara's demise and he ordered their previous room to be locked. It has not been opened since years and after all these years, he had opened it.

Once Sheharzaad saw him lying on that vintage bed and stared at the fan. His eyes were focused on the ceiling and he was unaware of the world around him. That night he had told her that it was the same ceiling where his mother was found hung.

Shehryaar needed time.

To process everything.

Perceive and understand the truth.

Accept the truth, wholeheartedly.

The grievance of his mother's death had taken a toll over his heart that to suppress that grievance he had opted a state of denial and to strengthen his denial, he let other emotions overpower his grief and sadness. Those other emotions were nothing but hatred and detestation.

His loathe equaled his grief. Rather stronger and intenser than his grief of her demise.

He wanted his heart to be invested in any other emotion rather than painful sorrow that had his young self breathless, pushing him in a pit of darkness with every passing second.

Hate was his coping mechanism.

Hate was the evidence of his denial.

Denial of his mother's death.

And when that day in the graveyard, he couldn't find the same hatred in his heart, the denial died within him and acceptance was born.

Acceptance of her death.

And he was still in the phase of accepting her death.

Every moment of his was spent in recalling her last days, the last moments he had with her, her dead body, her janazah (funeral) and his grandfather's coldness towards her. The days after her deaths had occupied his mind too.

All he remembered that he wasn't allowed to cry. Rather his grandfather had already began their mafia training which didn't allow him to cry. That training had taken a toll over his young mind and his heart became callous. He knew from the start he was the future of mafia, he can't cry. So he never cried over her death.

And now the hole, the space that was created in his life years ago, he felt it. That unfillable place. The more he felt it, the more his heart was clutched in the paws of sorrows.

And in that sorrow, he just found one hope. That light of hope of his life.

Sheharzaad.

He just needed her presence in his life. Her presence did not let him fell deep in that pitch darkness.

It was just her presence.

He needed.

He wanted.

....

Sheharzaad slept alone on the bed again tonight. Shehryaar has been sleeping in his parents' room after his visit from graveyard. She didn't bother him much since she understood he wanted space.

She placed her hand longingly on his side of bed.

She missed him.

She still couldn't understand when this all began?

When she had started missing him?

How and when those words, 'I love you'  had slipped from her mouth for him.

When had she began to crave his presence?

She loved looking in his eyes. His eyes were the most enigmatic, bewitching and attractive pair of eyes she had ever seen. His eyes always drew her closer to him like fire drawn to moth.

When had she began to miss those eyes?

His lips.

His nose.

Cheeks.

Cheekbones.

Jawline.

Eye lashes.

The way he talked.

The way he walked.

And the way he would look at her.

Every single thing about him always made her heart skip a beat. She knew these emotions were brewing within her for him but his accident made her realize the potency of these emotions. Made her realize how much he affected her. How much she desired him.

They were husband and wife but they were celibate.

But their closeness of past few days made her desire for him.

She was aware that he was more than ready for her but he kept his fantasies for her only because she did not want to break the celibacy yet.

And now.... she was ready for him but he was not here.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and felt sleep slowly overtaking her.

...

In the middle of the night, she stirred in her sleep when she felt a presence behind her. And a hand that was wrapped around her and her back buckled up against someone's sturdy chest. Slow and hot breaths falling on her neck and light stubble tingling her cheeks and soft spot.

She felt a smile taking over her lips as she turned her side and now her front was against his. Her magical eyes moved up and stared at him.

He came to the room after so long.

His lashes were closed. And breathing normal.

He was sleeping and she took that as a chance. Her hand moved as she began to caress his well-defined cheekbones, nose, lips, eye-brows, jawline. Her thumb traced every feature of his delicately.

She was too immersed in his beauty.

Too drowned in the warmth of his presence that she didn't realize his pencil-grey eyes had opened and was staring at her.

As soon as their eyes met, she inhaled a sharp breath. A red hue coming over her cheeks and she looked down.

She tried rolling away from his arms when he held her, not letting her move. He placed her small hand on his face as hooded eyes bored in hers.

"I'm all yours," he whispered and the red hue on her cheeks darkened.

.....

Shehryaar had gone to Islamabad for a week. Sheharzaad remained at the haveli. Chahat stayed back with Sheharzaad as well since she was on her summer holidays.

Chahat was having the best time. She had her cousins here with whom she enjoyed and played all day long. And a grandmother who showered love on her, endlessly.

Meanwhile, Sheharzaad was... sad.

She was missing him.

After her abrupt confession to him, she had hesitated coming infront of him. Just like a few days back, when she had gone to his study to give him his morning black coffee, she immediately tried to leave the room but he held her wrist. The incessant and staggering heartbeats still drummed in her ears. He made her land on his lap and those intense eyes of his was making her heart do a somersault making nervousness surface up. Her hand shivered as she immediately got off of his hold and ran away but she did hear his chuckle.

And when the morning he was set to leave for Islamabad, he had come out of the washroom with bare upper body with which she had collided. Her small hands on his sturdy chest as their eyes met.

She saw his lips advancing towards her as he held the nape of her neck. She closed her eyes, expecting the touch to land on her lips. She waited. And waited. Waited for that drop of pure essence of joy touch her and fulfil the brewing and burning desire for her.

But she felt his lips on her cheeks that had her eyes opened. A masked disappointment coming over his eyes. She was left hanging in the middle of nowhere.

She traced a subtle smirk on his lips.

Was he doing it on purpose?

Was he giving her spoonful of the same medicine that she gave him?

She now understood how that burning desire could play with your senses. Make you mad. Occupy your mind with the thoughts of that special someone.

She clenched her fists and closed her eyes, taking deep breath.

The night was set on the sky.

The same might he was supposed to come to haveli after a week.

A week that  was just 7 days but to her it felt like an eternity.

She wanted to be completed with him.

As she stared herself in the mirror. She got ready. Got ready for him. Her heart was beating wildly.

And in that dimly lit room, the door opened as he stepped in.

His eyes fell on her as he stared at her. Analyzed her from head to eye.

Her dress provocative. Inviting him to her.

Tempting him.

Atlast the moment came.

When she was ready for him.

His patience and his burning desire for her atlast was satiating.

Now, she wanted her as much as he wanted her.

Only he knew, how with every passing second, with every moment of closeness they had spent and he couldn't touch her.

He had determined to let the barriers between them break only when she would be ready for him. Only when she would desire him as much as he did.

He closed the door behind and advanced towards her.

Through the curtains, moon peeked the two souls atlast becoming one. Finding peace and tranquility in each other's embrace. Completing each other. They knew they both were enough for each other for the rest of their lives.

....

A few years later.

Shehryaar was delivering a speech at one of the seminars organised by women empowerment organization ran by Sheharzaad.

Sheharzaad now owned a business of her own. She had asked Shehryaar that she too wanted to contribute in providing for their family. Not just that, she wanted to set up a business of her own and wanted to make a name of her own apart from being recognized just as his wife. She told him that she wanted to have a separate identity of her own as well.

Shehryaar helped her in setting up her business. He became an investor of her company. Also, she took a loan from him.

And once her business took off, she paid back the debt to him. With the same money, Shehryaar had bought her a personal yacht of her as a gift.

Sheharzaad set her foot in the business world. But with the support of her family and with the help of her husband. She knew that without his support and help and his understanding towards his goal, she wouldn't have reached this stage where she was now.

She started woman empowerment organization that gave job opportunities to many women and arranged workshops in helping them developing skills which could help them earn.

But she did not ignore her family in all this. Shehryaar not just supported her in her business but also in making home, a home. He did not leave all the homely duties on her but also took equal responsibility in bringing up their children. They both together helped each other not just in business but also at home, looking after their children.

Shehryaar still was in the mafia. Their family was still involved in underworld activities. Mafia was a curse. Once you get in the business, it was impossible to get out because your enemies would always be after you. He taught her self-defense, shooting and other skills that would help her in times of difficulty. She and her children always moved with tight security that was personally looked after by him, himself.

Sheharzaad had a son named, Zohan who was younger to Chahat and currently she was expecting her third child as she sat in the ceremony, watching his husband deliver his speech.

She could see a smile popping on her lips.

There stood that same man who years ago loathed woman and now was giving a speech on woman empowerment at the fundraising event organized by the same woman whom he had once brought to her knees.

"In the end, I'll like to quote last words by my mother to me, 'Respect woman. Never hurt a woman. Her heart is fragile' " As soon as these words left his mouth, claps roared through the atmosphere and his eyes stared at Sheharzaad.

Sheharzaad clapped for him too as her eyes glimmered with happiness. She didn't know about the rest of the speech but she knew these words at the last were genuine.

Through life, we learn.

...

They both had gone home afterwards and found Zohan and Chahat playing. They all now lived together at the haveli as a complete family and each family was alotted their own sectors in the estate.

Sheharzaad held Chahat and Shehryaar held Zohan as they all had dinner with the whole family at the big table. Spoons clinked, plates clanked and their were laughters as everyone talked and enjoyed. As usual Dua and Haseeb were bickering. Born to them was a beautiful son, which they named, Azlaan.

Zahra and Sheharzaad with Dua had set up a hospital that helped the under-privileged as they talked about it. While Shehryaar and Irtaza with Haseeb and Saif talked about a business tender and situation of mafia in the capitals of the provinces.

Irtaza and Shehryaar were thinking to elaborate the areas under their rule by joining hands with the surrounding countries.

This was life for them

Through thick and thin they stayed together.

Sheharzaad's eyes moved around the lounge and she saw the children playing in the lounge. Then her eyes landed on Shehryaar who talked with his confidant, Irtaza while some were busy with food and some watched TV.

Shehryaar's eyes landed on her as he pointed with his eyes at her stomach and then raised his brows in a questioning manner. She showed him a thumbs-up, indicating that their baby was doing fine with a smile on her face when Zahra called her to talk something about the hospital.

It was the family time where everyone was suppose to get together.

She felt an utter gratitude encompassing her upon seeing everyone together.

This was her home.

Her safe haven.