Chapter 12.

Midnight crept up the lonesome mansion. Even in the starless reverberations of the winds, the callous grey shoals of cloud striking against the ancient architecture. The columns borrowed from the Greeks, the windows from England and the statue work from Rome — it was an array of juxtapositions. Around it the lonesome airs with the crispness of abandoned neighbors allowed it's freshness and the vast allure of it to last. Propped on the end of the street, it's solid glass doors with the backbone of iron, held through winds and torments of all kinds. Fines paid around kept the guards lips shut and it's melancholic secrets, generations after died.

Inside the living room time and sound had frozen. Stillness covered each motion, with lights yellow like the sun burning through the game of stares. Down in the dumps — the mood had crumbled with an intensity. Ghastly eyes with hollowed out affections, steamed at the sight of the comfortable woman. How with ease and motions smooth as flowing water she nibbled on the crème brûlée, stealing a spoonful every now and then from the man beside her. The twinkling mirth in her eyes made up for the lack of stars in the sky. Her calm — triggering.

The stifled sobs from the corner of the magnificent room were the background noise. Merging with the rainfall that showered the trees. As outside the temperatures fell, the room simmered. Complacent with the requirements she kept her lips sealed, swirling the spoon in her soft fingers in the dessert. The light bitterness from the burnt sugar and the fluffy inside smoothed over her pink tongue. With a grip around the porcelain ramekin, she felt the vanilla bean flavor of the custard choke her throat, tones of the caramel coming through. The stem of the spoon rose above her gentle grip, her face the explanation of merriment. Closer to her roots than ever — the authentic taste from her mother's hand was unbeatable.

Aliyaar's hands smoothed over the veins of the vessel, reaping in the steam that blew over the cusp of his hand. The ridges of his thumb and index finger held on to the spoon, creases appeared on to the soft skin of his forehead as he chewed with a deep gaze. A mile a minute, he thought. Strapped into the midst of an incoming trouble he silently avoided meeting the gazes of the rowdy —in law's. Smoothing over the custard, his mouth coated in it's richness, the underside of his jaw moved. With his side pressed into the arm of the couch, her body slouched against his arm. Her hair curled over his arm, and nothing but the soft sounds of her own laughter could be heard.

What she offered to her cousin was a formidable gaze and no consolation — but that was Barekhna. Aliyaar held back the smile that forced itself on to his simpering mouth, propriety stated he be mournful. Though he felt anything but. His sympathies laid with the heavily pregnant woman whose world had all but crumbled. Although, Aliyaar could not hide the pride he felt at his wife's moral compass. One of a kind — unusual to see her like that. She deserved it though. Years of trauma and pain from their end had pushed her into a blind corner. He would only enjoy from the sidelines as she created a mess, mischief her friend.

Siren — it was a bloody well suiting title.

Placing the delicate ramekin on to the trolley, his fingers rubbing against Barekhna's hand accidentally, he felt his ears heat up. Warmth radiated from the tips of them and he could all but feel it gush around him. Vibrations in his cheeks — the only inclination of a blooming blush. Under the guise of a cough he hid his face from sight. Barekhna's burning gaze melted his flesh on the left side of his face until it was one with the bones and nerves.

Kismet — destiny it had a funny way of working, it pulled you in and snapped you around it's thick hold. It was a deceit — cheat and a liar. Amongst everything it was the backbone of hope. Kismet, he wondered, running a hand through his lush flossy hair, fixing the cuff of his shirt as he sat amongst the emotional family. Kismet, it held six letters and destroyed beyond measure. That was why he sat beside a woman as wondrous as she was, as her husband. They were two rivers that bled in their own paths but destiny forced them to move as one. Then, there was Saliha and her husband — the picture of a put together couple. Both, born to rich parents, fell in love and the rest was history. Yet kismet it deceived.

And it would until the ends of time.

Aliyaar's train of thoughts drove on, even as Barekhna passed him a side glance and fixed her own hair. Murmurs of audits and business continued — some never learnt to separate their lives, and he loathed that. With a shriveled nod of his head, he fixed his disinterested gaze on the animated figure of his mother-in-law, who was busy indulging into her fantasies. Sophia Saleem — the woman with an iron fist and a soft heart, was a genius in every capacity. Aliyaar's face deepened into a state of relish, as she spoke of Barekhna as a child. Using the ends of his rich fingers he threaded her hands with his — the beats of his heart like a horses gallop as hell falls on it. Their pale hands — though his rosier and hers colder, were all the contrast they needed.

Barekhna pushed herself over the edge of the two seater, her derrière hanging mid air as she sifted through her dad's phone. The arch of her soft spine stirred a dormant emotion, lingering in his mouth ardently. His breaths panned out in a haste of unevenness, her full breasts rubbing against the outer curve of his thigh. From the smirk that danced along the ends of her lips he knew she did it on purpose. Aliyaar pinched the bridge of his nose, the lenses inside his eyes beginning to itch. Think holy thoughts — he reminded himself, battling his nafs.

"I wish Aman could have been here too." Sophia sighed.

"I miss him too, and I miss champion!" Barekhna nodded, her voice soft.

"Champion?"

Aliyaar tasted the word on his tongue, staring at her with a suspicious air. The nod in his direction, helped him piece together the puzzle, and Aliyaar chuckled to himself under breath. Much like him, she had named her beloved pet after him. Though he knew it had more to do with the Arabian horse's winning streak and not with his identity.

"Which reminds me," Sophia sat up, waving at her husband who immediately left the room, "an invite was delivered for you Barekhna."

"An invite? Who sent it?"

"Samuel."

Barekhna inhaled sharply. A burning sensation inside her eyes, and the tears that rushed to clog in her throat pulsed with pain. She clenched her teeth, resting her lips into a finite line. Holding on to his hand, she fixed her posture, once more looking the part of Barekhna that they knew. Curving the skin above her elfin ears, the disc of bronze shaded gold just the tip of the iceberg. The composure was bled off of Aliyaar, her hands digging the tips of her coffin shaped nails into the centre of his palms. Her heart swelled withe emotions as he squeezed her hand in reassurance — hiding the slip in her behavior.

"It's an invite to?"

Barekhna spoke with her tone full of a breathiness. The valves of her heart functioned at an abnormal speed, the soft cover of her blouse and the silent understanding nature of her husband kept her safe.

"His wedding. Samuel is marrying your childhood friend."

"You mean him and Erina?" She quipped, humoring her mother who knew nothing of the bad blood between them. "Match made in heaven I think."

Just then Saleem rushed into the room and handed over the beige wedding card, that with pink details looked tasteful. Money and designers could take you places — Barekhna wondered as she let her fingers run over the thin cursive words. The doves and roses were out of place. Probably should have been illegal — she mused. The date was in two weeks, fourteen days. A fortnight. Her fingers toyed with the lingering threads on the ends of her drape, gaze full of a swirling poison winking in the direction of her heartbroken cousin.

"We can go if you want to."

Aliyaar whispered into her ears, his lips brushing against the side of her head. An action — a result of the spur of the moment confidence. The date was doable, and he knew it. Visiting her hometown with her would be an unrivaled experience, much of an excuse to get away from the busy life he borderline loathed.

"Oh we'll go saint, we'll go." She grinned.

"Leave that for later, stay the night you two!" Sophia spoke.

"I agree. Beta it's raining cats and dogs outside, it would be best if the two of you stayed." Khawar Obaid spoke, his voice like rocks as it faked smoothness.

"We'll stay!" Barekhna nodded, only turning to Aliyaar once her announcement had been made.

"Apnay shohar sai tou puch lo pehlay." Sameen reprimanded.
[Ask your husband first.]

"She speaks for the both of us, you shouldn't worry about that." Aliyaar defended, biting his tongue shortly after as he realized how out of line he had been.

Although the grin Barekhna gave him, melted his worries.
He was the cause of her losing the air of melancholy around her head — it was a realization. He had stood up for her, for them, and the appreciation she lauded him with, did wonders.
Oh he would wait for another day to gain her approval like that.

Articulate. That was the only synonym Aliyaar's mind could come up with as he followed behind Barekhna into her bedroom. Or what once was. It screamed her, the lights that hung with not a single shadow out of place. The plaques and awards — many of which he had seen her win caught the grains of dust that remained after the daily cleaning. A bed, filled with her favorite pillows and bare of anything else. There was her personality and touch of personal, at the same time there was none. Her windows opened to the grave views of the night sky — constellations were her strong suit, as he had heard her murmur their names over to herself more often than once. Even before they were married.

Depth filled eyes followed her every movement. She swayed on to her feet as he locked the door with gentleness — on her orders. Her frame under the shadows of the almost midnight sky looked dainty — almost fragile. He feared one strong wind would topple her over. Aliyaar's feet glued themselves to the ground as he watched in wonder, Barekhna's walls fall, and something of a sarcastic princess appear. Her eyes that narrowed into slits, with the embers flexing in them called him over with so much as a motion. Sloppily her voice found itself out of her throat and soon enough the cries, like that of a nightingale pinched his ears.

There was nothing in this world she could not do. There was nothing in this world he would not do for her.

"You."

She walked towards him with a sultry look in her eyes, had he not accompanied her all evening, Aliyaar would have mistaken her for being drunk. Smacking her lips together, Barekhna pushed her finger against his chest as she demurely pouted — out of character.

"You. Did. Not. Compliment. Me!"

"What?" He swallowed.

"Don't feign innocence. You did not tell me how I looked so now you can sleep on the couch."

Intense fuchsia scrapped his cheeks with the back of a pellet knife as he stared at her face for more than a moment. Not entirely acceptable—nor was it ethical. Yet when had they or well, she, adhered to the rules? Slight emotions fostered their way to the top of his eyes, the lids laden with sleep and fatigue threatened to close on their own. He stifled a yawn, holding his sighs in the back. Meandering through his emotions — a bit too much, and a handful. The clipped nails chipped at his jaw, picking at the dried pimple there as he thought of a solid reply. As his eyes did a double over of her face, the powerful strokes of anger in them warded away all that whispered at night.

With her back to the windows that were a testament to the bleakness of the mid-Autumn night, she brought his dreams to his reality. Aliyaar's muscles contorted as he forced his hands in place, touching her face now would be an insult to her ; a praise to him. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, the gushing through the edges of his ears pulsated till they pained the back of his head. The muscles of his lower calf twitched and the airs of a forlorn heir washed his face into a paleness. Shrill enraptures of the bats that struck the windows with their wings collapsed his mind.
For all it was.
For all it's worth.

It had been beyond it's worth the tenacious pain that had led him to this point of pleasure. This banter — the feeling of her holding him accountable, for more than a client - lawyer relationship. It was more than enough to tempt a man whose morals were as crooked as the sewerage system of the city. He was a saint then ; waiting for corruption. Aliyaar's words failed as he searched her face that could rival the beauty of Diana. A thought illegal in this part of the world, Lady Diana was an untouchable legend.

Barekhna moved froward with a gentle saunter, her heels dug into the front of his shoe. Pain pierced through him as she placed her entire weight on to it. Narrow lines appeared on to his forehead as her soft cheeks — endearing than ever under the strokes of peach — brushed against his beard. It ignited a flame, deep beneath his dermis that sparked. Violent surges, involuntary. With the back of her hand she stroked his jaw, carelessly. The edges of her painted nails dug into the apex of his throat and her lips left behind a trail to the side of his soft mouth. Her eyes lifted with the last bits of humanity dwindling to an early death within. She spoke with a wheeze, her words pushing — clawing at the temperature that rose. Forefront, despite the icy showers of rain outside.

"What do you have to offer in your defense?" Her words were followed by the hollowed kiss against his lips.

"I—"

"Go on. I'm sure you've got something."

Barekhna waved her hand in the air, her thin wrists wrapping around his neck. Aliyaar's nerves plummeted into a never ending circle as he wrapped his hands around her waist. Palming the small of her back, he took his chances — a risk, he hoped would pay off. Pressing a soft kiss to the top of her right brow he stared into her glittering eyes that could convince him to commit murder. That was only the tip of the ice berg of course.

"There's only one of us that can present a good defense and wield answers well enough." He replied.

"Don't leave me hanging Aliyaar, I know you can do better. Tell me," she stilled, tugging his hair as she whispered, "did I really look that repulsive?"

"Ravishing. Rambunctious. Radiant — yes. Repulsive? Never."

"Really? Come on saint give me something that suits me best." Barekhan bit her lip, her muscles twitched into a grin.

"Racy. The risqué dress definitely paid off, it more than ruined my mind."

Aliyaar's breath gained weight, burning her skin with it's minty flavor. His chest heaved and a thin mist appeared before the innocent eyes, the brown in them wrapped. Out of touch. A luxury denied. With her hand pressed to his chest, she felt the heart beats rain down against the poor ribs — that suffered a bit too much. Humming, clasping her lips against his in tight hold. The kiss melted them, heavy breaths drained the last rush of adrenaline on either side as their hands wandered off to touch.
They craved.
They ached.
They denied — the ever powerful fire that threatened to destroy.
They survived — fighting fire with fire.

"So saint's have sinning thoughts too?" Barekhna whimpered against his swollen lips.

"More than most."

"I'm still waiting on that compliment by the way." She replied.

"Take a dagger and slit my throat with it Barekhna," he swallowed, "even then all my blood would testify for would be your beauty, grace and intelligence."

"You win, but just this once."

"Looking forward to a lifetime of losing to you." Aliyaar winked in return.

The clock ticked in the background, the rain trickled down the jagged leaves of the trees. The meagre weight of the water droplets twisted the leaves, until they splashed across the broken asphalt beneath. Branches struck the hard glass, the frame too from where it had been left opened. Gentle winds — cold like the ice tipped their cheeks and bare skins, the thick duvet covered their lower halves. Only bare arms and his chest rose out. Around them warmth synonymous to the comfort of a new found affection swept away the eerie dreariness. Insurmountable, the clouds outside reigned terror. Harsh rains, dripped.
Tip, tip, tip — one could say almost, that the harmony of the nature vibrated with the atoms.

Wiped out the skies outside with a large painters brush, not a streak of light remained between the world and the universe. The thin curtain of their atmospheres kept then separated. Not a star covered the bejeweled linen, charcoal and ebony mismatched in blotches with the spurts of grey. If there was a hell that pelted with water not fire — this was it. In the bleak night, even as dawn inched nearer by the minute, nothing remained. Intense greens ; weak blacks perched on to the thicket of shrubs, and the zephyr finally gained force. Like glacial sheets it smacked against the hot sweaty skins, their bodies huddled nearer and nearer. They held each other with forces unparalleled, even as they dreamt of things entirely unrelated.

It was often said and heard, that the weather relates to the expressions and intentions of man. In this heinous torrent that ripped through ripe crops and flooded the villages — destruction in the fates of every. It was understandable.
The corrupt had seized power. The despicable had it all, and when nature came for it's sweet revenge, it destroyed all.
All that was.
All that were.
She was fury, and she picked no favorites.

Barekhna's eyes twitched as she dreamt of what had occurred many years ago on the night like this one. For years the storms had been calm, and with that her heart too had strengthened. With walls fortified enough to win battles at an unmatched pace, she deemed herself powerful enough. Her head rested on Aliyaar's bare chest and even in her slumber a part of her could feel it beat. Lub-dub, lub-dub. The rhythms kept her afloat, when all else stifled her senses. Nuzzling her face deeper into his body, her nose rubbed against the bottom of his collarbone and Barekhna whimpered under her breath as she felt the stabbing pain. Feminine hands pinched his bicep, the span of them curling around them.

The raven hair that was let loose rose in soft ringlets on the fair pillowcase, and a few spilt on to the man's chin. In his unforgiving hold, her cheeks rested tiredly, her lips pouting in a softness. Their breaths mixed and rose like a phoenix does from it's ashes. Melting down to a t, they kept them from seeking refuge and acted as all the guarding they needed that night. Peculiar birds with their beaks shaped like that of an arrogant woman's sat on the windowsill, scared to fly into the room.

Aliyaar's arm draped over her figure and held her close. Even as he dreamt of them and all that was left for them to achieve, his hands tightened every now and then. Too afraid. Thin goosebumps rose along the underside of his arm, pale lights — not strong enough to completely diffuse the darkness of the world, fell on to his forehead. Sharp brows that clumped together every now and then relaxed as his nose found itself in her hair. The scent calming and entirely devouring.

Barekhna twitched in his hold. It started as a darkness that followed her out of the gold reverie. It emboldened and rushed her back into the room where there was space not for a naïf woman, whose heart believed what it saw. Jagged whimpers like the edges of broken glass struck her throat, pain unlike any stubbed her jaw. Her tongue slid out of it's place, pierced under the sharp edge of her teeth. Twisting her lips into a grim line, her features morphed into one of immense torture. Sighing her breath reverberated as she felt the nails — short and full of mud pinch her shoulders. Barekhna shrieked, losing composure, her back hunched into a ball as the socket of her kneecap smacked his abdomen.

The sheets rustled from the sounds of her hasty motions, and despite the winds that flew in from the north, sweat laced her skin. Beads of it dribbled down, the pale nudity turned slick. Shaped like a broken heart her lips tore apart and cries of agony, heartbroken to the point of no return. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, their saltiness surged into her mouth. She fought the hold around her body, pushing with the force that rose from within. Her palms slammed into the side of her head — half asleep still, she made out the shadows that all rose to get her. Long claws crashed against her arms, leering smiles kissed her skin as Barekhna tried to spit at them.

One last push in her dreams snatched her out of the realm. The crooked teeth colored bright orange from the misuse of paan, almost bit her flesh off. Screaming in fear — her figure buzzed with adrenaline as she tore out of Aliyaar's grip. Barekhna pulled her knees into her chest, hiding her face in between the bony hooks of her knees she cried. The lithe frame shook as she went into flight or fight response. Soft gushes of the wind sounded like knives trapping her skin with their pointed teeth. Smacking at the uncomfortable touch that still crawled to life, she sobbed crazily.

Aliyaar's eyes opened to a scene that would perhaps mark him forever. The sight, unadorned, brought him closer to a version that was all but enclosed into a glass cage. To be seen from afar alone. His hands found themselves forced to the bed, his back in mournful agony as it tried. Feebly he found his legs that had prior to this entanglement lost all their grip. Her hair appeared lifeless. The night light dimmed on her skin that was not the usual supple nor rosiness he was used to. His aristocratic fingers disappeared into the smokiness of the dark as it wrapped over her back, covered in her sweat in an instant.

She shivered and Aliyaar felt himself loose an inch of his mortality. Who had hurt her to such an extent that she was left into her shell? The capricious woman long lost as eyes — red and full of tears that burned his skin. Instead what remained was a hollow entity as his arms pulled her into himself, the fight she put up close to nothingness.

"Barekhna?"

Aliyaar tested the name on his tongue, whispering it into the saturated darkness as he stared at her. With his almost blind sightedness he could make out the blurry shivers of her body. He ran his hands over her bare arms, the willow arms attached to hers wrapped over his narrow waist. She sobbed still, slobber dribbled down his chest as he held her to himself, whispering words of confidence. Reassuring — though whom, he could not put a finger on. The encapsulated sweatiness of her hair, rose like pinches into her scalp and he brushed it aside, running his fingers like a woman sauntering. Slow and sensual — soothing her, and himself too, as her sobs softened into something more softer.

"Barekhna ap ko paani chahiye?" He whispered, afraid that too much force would break her.
[Barekhna would you like water?]

"Ali-yaar Aliyaar," she swallowed with pain, staring into his eyes with all the hope there was, "he's in this room. He's here to get me. He — he—"

"No one, Barekhna there is no one here except you and I."

Aliyaar pressed his lips to her sweaty hairline, even as she mumbled the words over and over again. Her hands smacked his arms, the long neck, jerkily staring around the span of the bedroom as she tried to spot the face. He was here, Barekhna had seen his gaze. She had felt it. Screaming into her hands she bit the tender flesh there, on the verge of having the skin break. He softly pushed his fingers beneath her jaw and stared at the abandoned eyes.

She was broken in that moment — and that broke him for eternity.

"He is here. Trust me Aliyaar. I— I don't lie!" She hiccuped.

"I know jaan, I know. There is no one. The door is locked." He reassured, "want me to show you?"

"Just— just hold me. Can I — can I cry?"

"Of course!" Aliyaar said.

"Okay." Barekhna whimpered, nuzzling her head into his neck, feeling his arms hold her closer to himself.

"Okay."

The softness of his voice the last thing she heard before falling into a dreamless state. Hoping that when she woke up next, the sun would be out and everything would be okay.

I guess not all's well with our baby, Barekhna huh.
Guess she's not so tough so drop all the hugs you can for her 🤭