Chapter 29.

Blinded by the sudden light from the lamp he winced. His muscles fished themselves into a contour, wrapping around the sensitive orbs. With a vision left bleared, his hands mustered the sheets loosely, gripping the glasses between his hands. Sliding them on to his tall nose, scrunching his upper lips, Aliyaar frowned at the deliberate intentions of annoying him. Grasping her strands that were laced with a caramel shade, blended with the deep shades of her natural roots, he pushed it behind her ear. His fingers — pinched the apex of her cheeks. They had rounded over these past few weeks, dwelling into her early days of the second trimester, she was weaning the signs of pregnancy. Wearing them with pride.

"I've got a meeting tomorrow Barekhna." He groaned

"I can not sleep!" She groaned in reply, punching his chest.

Her fingers rubbed over her eyes, running through the stringent strings of sleep that kept her achingly awake. She yawned into the air, nuzzling deeper into his side, the comfortable warmth from his body eased out the chill of the world outside. Too hot then — Barekhna brushed her hand over her forehead, tutting under her breath. With the edges of her nails she scratched his scruffy beard, laughing to herself underneath her breath as he shifted in annoyance. Though still no word of reprimanding fell from his mouth. Tipping her head over his chest, Barekhna pressed her cracked lips over his throat. Licking the strip of skin, her hands pinching his earlobe.

"Please let me sleep Barekhna."

Leave the poor man alone — the soprano voice of her inner thoughts pinched the sides of her head. It rung through the silence that like an enigma crept over her shoulder. Dragging down her bare arms gently with time. The ticking clock in the shadows was hidden from sight, even as her sparkling gaze searched for the sight of it. Squinting her gaze to make out the arms of the clock. Four am — on the dot. She should let him sleep, but the rumbling waves of hunger in her abdomen and the ache that traced down her legs decided against it. Muffling her annoyance, she shifted from under his heavy arm, kissing the back of his palms. With her back pressed to the headboard, her fingers pinched his biceps. If she suffered then it was only right that he did too. It was their child. Equality had to be ensured.

"I'm starved." She hissed, wiping the sudden tears that erupted like molten lava from her eyes, "and I'm aching all over. You don't care though now do you?"

Barekhna's voice tore off at the ends as she hunched. Pushing her delicate knees to her heaving chest, she dug her fingers into the warm flesh of her thighs. Stabbing them with her nails, running in soft circles to alleviate herself from the ache. Her feet — swollen rubbed her the wrong way as she immediately pushed them underneath the duvet. With her cheek placed over the top of her knees, she made stared at Aliyaar. His eyes — half shut, covered with the prescription glasses that rested crookedly against his nose. He painted the image of misery. Deep eye bags weighed down on to his pale cheeks, his fingers holding on to the edge of her shift.

"Let go of me. I'll go find something to feed myself." She grumbled, at the end of her wit somehow.

"Ruko I'm up!" His voice busting with sleep, and mixed with the huskiness of his gentle aura, whisper yelled.
[Wait.]

Yelling into the abyss of the room with his eyes still shut, Aliyaar pulled away from his pillow. A careless yawn seized his mouth, pushing open the buccal cavity, his tongue running against the side of his mouth. With the width of his palm, the callousness of them a chilly contrast against the warmth smothering texture of his lips, he wiped at the water she had dropped on to him. Fixing his glasses in place with the tip of his index finger. Lazily, his hands dwelled over the woollen sweat shirt, it's pale beige matching the tone of his chest exactly. Murmuring reprimands and feeling his heart snap into two as he walked into the arms of the merciless cold, he walked over to her. Wrapping an arm around her stiff shoulders. Leading sleepily their figures to the kitchen.

"What do you want?" He enquired, sifting through the warm aglow fridge.

"Could I have an omelette?" She asked, her voice soft though her gaze was steely.

"At this hour?" He replied.

"Fine then, I'll tell our son how his father didn't love us enough to feed us what we wanted," she shrugged, pivoting on to her feet, "if I knew how to make it I would have." She threw in a choking sob, wiping her faux tear.

Sleep deprived and forced out of his bed in the middle of a wintry night, that was raging onwards with no stars, and only a thin shaft of the defiant moon, Aliyaar chuckled. His baritone voice rumbled in the sphinx of his mouth, rising into the air. It fogged before him — his cheerless laughter. Sucking in his cheeks, his contoured bones protruding all of a sudden, he bellowed over with laughter.
She would never cry over this.
His wife was trying to guilt trip him.
His lawyer was the smartest person.

"You're definitely living up to your title as a siren," he spoke, rounding over to his side, pressing his lips into her silken hair, "I am not the cruel one between us."

"Han par abhi tou aap hi hain. Koi apni biwi ko bhuka rakhta hai?" She pouted, twisting his round collar between her fingers.
[Yes but right now it is you. Does anyone ever keep their wife starving?]

"Sit down my wife," he patted the cold marble island, "I'll make you that omelette."

"Add some cheese," Barekhna said, "please." She added demurely.

Nodding his head he pressed his lips to hers for a short moment, tugging his sweater around her frame tighter, wrapping the drawstrings that hug around the hood into a pert little bow. He moved with a lethargic speed. Muscles still laced with sleep, the revolving images of his soft bed called to him despite the many attempts he made to forget it. Latching his arm on to the fridge's door, he stacked the ingredients in the crook of his arm. In the dim yellow lights of the kitchen ceiling, his sturdy figure cast a long shadow over the island. Hunching every now and then, he noiselessly accumulated the pans and plates, humming to himself the tune of his favourite song as he worked.

Against the smooth edge of the peach clay bowl, the egg rammed with a sound that was between a crack and a shatter. The thick of it fell silently into the bowl, on a bed of spices and chives — added only last minute as Barekhna's eyes washed over them. Whisking the eggs until airy, he silently poured it over the pan, feeling her hooded gaze against his back. The contours of his shoulders blades smacked against the fitted slouch of the tailor made shirt, his muscles bulging as he tore and threw in pieces of cheese before folding the egg into a thick hemisphere. Placed against the width of his favourite knife, one that moved with his body as one, he chopped a handful of lush green chives, topping them over the golden omelette.

Inside the kitchen there was a warm air of spice. It breathed out through, muffling into their nostrils as he plated it on the straight porcelain plates. A spoonful of hot sauce and they were done. The clock struck four thirty as he cast it a short glance. Aliyaar shook his head, placing it before her, taking a seat beside her. Waves of the soft rose scent of her moisturiser caressed his own skin, wrapping them in it's luxurious essence, perching him into a branch of heaven. Tracing languid patterns above her skin, he watched with a small smile as she tore into her eggs. Ravaging them with the absolute skill of a beast. The siren in her gone missing. Barekhna's motions were crushed and rough — farthest from her usual sultry touches. The air of seduction having melted into nothingness. Yet still, Aliyaar felt his heart full. A smile pushed over his being, sating his aching heart.

Their eyes met briefly. Hers were a shade of deep ebony that matched the skies and the shade of his trousers. The humbleness of the ground within them lost, her soft open mouthed chews offering him a company. Of devotion. Her cold fingers rubbed his arm in assurance, offering him a broken bite. Though he could see the willingness to offer in her eyes be next to nothing. Shaking his head in negative, he stared at her. Toying with the strands of hair that refused to leave her alone. Much like himself.
His eyes the shades of the lightest of umbers sparked with curious joy. The back of his fingers rubbed the bump on her lower belly, feeling it's warmth between the lesions of his flesh, he lowered to place a chaste kiss above her clothed skin. A waterfall of humility and thankfulness stained her dress, her fingers stroking his hair as the two sat in silence.

"I have a question." She whispered, staring out of the window, her fork gliding over the warm omelette.

"What is it?" He questioned, staring at her face — her serene face.

"You had a hand in the downfall of my former law firm didn't you?" She questioned.

"All I did was simply pull back my money, the collapse of it is on their mismanagement."

"It must have been a hefty investment."

"Seeing as I was the mysterious share holder, yes it was." He hummed.

"Why would you though? You're not at all interested in law or anything related to it."

She spoke with her voice filled to the brim with disbelief. Her hands stilled, only the soft chews of her mouth created for the two of them a wilful assurance. Like the sky beyond the thick bricked walls of their mansion, in the solidarity of the evening, her eyes were abandoned of all that was. A single star twinkled between her orbs, like the planets of the world beyond their reach. She was a universe in herself, her heart beat raised softly. Bellowing amongst the gusts of air, her breasts pushed against the linen cloth, the garment on the seams twisted between her fingers.

"I had to make sure the company was worthy of you." He replied, no remorse dripping between his tongue.

"So you invested millions?" She said.

"Billions, and yes."

"You're crazy Aliyaar!"

"For the woman I love, this is the least I could have done." He smiled remorselessly.

"This life and every else I'm going to haunt you!" She whispered into his ear, a smile barely grazing her lips.

"Okay." He hummed in reply, "now let's get you to bed, tomorrow is an important day."

"Oh yes the gender reveal." She sighed.

"That and it's your first day as the head of RJA."

"Okay." She nodded with a soft smile.

"Yes, Okay." He smiled, sweeping his hand over her face, placing it over his chest. Ready to doze off for the next fifty minutes.

➖➖➖➖➖

Burning like the first man to enter the depths of hellfire, with an ashy azure streaking behind and a raging red seething over the horizon, the sun and skies lived up to it. They lost their amicable blues to the devout hunger of satan who had gurgled all night over their heads. Bright and displaced from it's affixation the sun was blistering, boiling any and all things in it's way. Even during the winter season. It's heat broke over the frozen grounds of Lahore that had been abandoned. For a lack of abundance. The crackling warmth had unfolded itself right after the night had been a shower of shooting stars. Satan falling through. Alarming sinners and all else.

Inherently evil the heat was welcomed. The bare arms and skins that had been wrapped in various shades and textures of shawls, took in the light with desperation. Like depraved sinners, they melted in front of it. Against the green lawns and trees that kept their leaves intact even during the horrid season, the beige tones of their skins were unusual. For the past few months had been enough to wipe their memory clear. To make them forget. What it was like, to not let your body be shrouded in veils of muslin and cashmere . Lightened as only the thick of their dresses remained, their tresses brittle, curled over their shoulders. Spirits alluded.

Spinning into the vast lawn that was surrounded by nothing but the finest of flowers on either side, each bush more looked after than the previous, there were smells of sweetness that lingered. Gusts of dry air blew through the neutral hanging chiffons, winding past the clear whites, curving under the pastel blues and pinks. It dissolved against the arching bricks. The howls of it died a death of passion. Scratching against the thrown open windows, murmuring ballads into the ears of the furnished rooms, the wind was a symbol of mischief. Toying with the lightweight decor that stumbled over every now and then.

Afternoon had dwelled into nothingness. Dancing with the rays of the clear skies, the cold airs and the hot sunlight were a loved union. The opposites were an allure to the gales. With their beaks set into arrogant grins and the likes of which were an impossible dream to fulfil, the birds covered the horizon too. Taking turns to swirl before the crowd that was gathering in the lit up yard of the estate. Either side of it fortified, guarded from eyes that might find reason to lurk around. From the criminal thoughts of those that were not family. Dressed in crisp beige uniforms with guns strapped across their chests the guards moved with devout intentions. Marching up and through the hallways. Securing every way possible. Their sharp gazes no match for the hawks that flew low.

I don't feel lady like at all — Barekhna frowned as she rose from the sheets. Her figure was laced with sweat, dripping from her fingers that curved into a crooked cage above her breast bone. The ache in her lower back had not yet subsided, reeling in gently, before it would hit her with it's complete intensity. Her feet pressed into the floors and walked over the lush carpets, the fur dug between her toes. Pinching her nose, the ends of her lips twitched into an upright frown, her sharp jaw jutting into a uncomfortable posture. The scent of jasmines was still annoying. Disdained she stole a glance at the decor of the lawn below. Taking a soft look around as the guests dressed in their evening gowns already surrounded the place. Her chest collapsed. Air gushed out of her lungs as she forced herself into the ensuite. With delicate strokes she undressed, standing underneath the spray of warm water.

Barekhna rested her hand over her bulging womb. The flesh there was taut, her eyes washed into a light smile. Through the skylight, pale shades of light washed over her, dyeing her eyes a shade too unknown. Having never worn that colour of joy, unbridled, and wholesomely hers. Tinkling like the sounds of the water, her laughter to the drums of her own ears was rather pleasant. A crisp change. Running beneath her ribs, the warmth flesh of her breast gently grazing her pale fingers, she rubbed circles into the bulge. Veins sprouted at the sides and streaks of purple ran down — her flesh stretched into riverine like shapes.
Change can be wonderful, Barekhna smiled to her reflection. Tracing each of her stretch marks. The longest of them matching the scar that rested on Aliyaar's torso.
Definitely soulmates — she hummed, kissing her fingers before resting them over where she assumed was her child's heart.

"I shall love you even after I perish."

Barekhna's tone was low, dying in between the streams of water as she ran the loofah across her sensitive skin. Breathless, she took her time sliding over the built in bench within their shower, taking deep breaths. Quivers deep in the ribs died as she rubbed her breast bone, burping — a giggle full of disgust washed her skin. Puckering her lips, Barekhna wondered out loud, rubbing her fingers on the outsides of her tired thighs. Missing the presence of her husband more than ever.

"I had such a busy day," she yawned, talking to her bump, "being the owner of your own law firm is such a tough job my star. Everyone is too dependent on me and they won't even let me breathe free. All I wanted were the sugar dusted lava cakes but no — I'm the owner so I have work to do," she grumbled.

"I don't think our son wants to hear about your work day." Aliyaar's chuckles resounded against the vast emptiness of their bathroom, matching her elated laughter.

"His father does not have time to spare so someone has to listen." Barekhna scoffed.

"Now don't you go on lying my siren," he replied from behind the fogging glass, "you're the only one I give my time too."

Turning the shower off with the hilt of her palm, she took the towel he offered with a wide grin. Wrapping it around her heavy tresses she stepped out, sighing in content as Aliyaar dried the rest of her body. With his fingers he ran circles into her shoulder blades, running lines over her neck and then to the small of her back. A gentle sigh escaped her lips as he placed soft kisses over her skin, tracing the stretched skin above her bony shoulders, laying a chaste one behind her right ear.

"I have a question." Barekhna whispered, feeling her toes buzz with softness.

Aliyaar hummed in a genteel reply, resting his chin over her shoulders, brushing his fingers against the swell of her stomach. Waiting with unmarred attention to hear what it was that she had to say.

"Why have you never given me a nickname? Siren doesn't count — that's a personality trait."

"Well," he paused for a second, "people usually offer names such as sweetheart or meri jaan. I never figured out one for you because you're all of the above for me. There is not one name that identifies what I feel for you," he explained, "simply put, I live because you live."

"You love me that much huh?"

"Very much so." He nodded with seriousness.

Cold streaks of air loomed over the setting sun that had it's identity rooted into the bony arms of it's collapsing rays. Washing the streets with it's gilded light and strength, changing the horizon into a smouldering shade of natural colours. Nature took control as the evening rolled nearer. Lulling into it's sweet poison with short words and kisses of toxin that would bleed new rays. The intensity of the cars that rolled into the driveway died by the minute. The crowd behind gaining intensity as the lasts of the guests arrived. Swishing their skirts and the gauze wraps that offered nothing more than a formal cover from the crippling cold, the people were ready to celebrate.

Nasally — their voices meshed into a web of oneness. With similarity they ran through the property. Iridescent shades of blues and pinks pinched the eyes and the little that was left was dominated, by their heavy gems. Delicate — a synonym that had been skimmed over for the night as the crowd sprouted to a distance far from humble. Giddy, children ran across the magnanimous jumping castle that had been shaped to match the castle from a Disney movie. Flood lights crept up it's side. The white strobe lights washed flush against the neat rows of tables lined with food and dessert.

Covered in a thin diamond studded band, the fingers of her right hand bunched up the side of her pale dress. It's colour matched the shades of Aliyaar's cheeks in the early morning. When there was no colour save for the dusk's strokes that painted him. The silk draped around her figure, cinched in at the waist and tucked into a overhead swipe. They lingered a moment longer between the ironed creases, feeling the fine India silk beneath her fingers. She swept her gaze over her reflection, standing underneath the lights she matched her origins. Every way she lived up to her ancestry of pure blooded royals — an irony. Tracing the dress that had just lightly grazed a well of pink, Barekhna caressed her curves with a fondness.

To match the sharpness of her tongue, the sleek black liner had been drawn in with sharp wings. Her soft arched eyes with the depth of leagues deeper than the Arabian sea, lined with a dusty shade of pink, and her cheekbones brushed with a light shade of sparkling champagne. Lined with a sweet bow, her lips painted a light peach matched her aura. Subtle at it's finest. The dress's high neckline rounded around her swan like neck, the thin chain of teardrop shaped diamonds rested over it. Earrings to match — like sharp snowflakes all bunched together on a hoop, grazed her cheek. Pear shaped the diamond cuff on her left wrist held it's nimbleness in a grip that comforted. Her arms left bare.

Barekhna wore an arrogant grin as her heels grazed the steps of the curving staircase. An arm resting over Aliyaar's elbow, the other lightly grazed the copper shaded railing. Cold gusts of air kissed her lightly blushed skin as they walked out of the warmth of the home. Into arms of her enemies — Barekhna thought to herself. Raising a finely made brow, the sharp arch like a crossbow, slashed at the eyes that managed to challenge her. Cameras glared at the sight of them. Aliyaar's frame was in it's own right a sight to enjoy. Suave in the foam blue dress shirt and white trousers, he was the sky on Earth. Her sky. A man of grave importance at that. Barekhna offered a heated look to his eyes, the browns of their matched. Having fallen from grace, their eyes were a shade far more intense than the shade of water logged soil.

Accidentally, Barekhna's lips grazed the side of Aliyaar's mouth. Her arm resting above his chest in an almost fighting position. Staking her claim — a first for her. Aliyaar played into her palms as he placed a chaste wet kiss against the back of her hand, his fingers tracing down her back. The flashes around them full of a maddening fury. To catch the first shot of them — so open to the public about the affections they held for each other.

"I'm kind of glad Zain couldn't fly in from Karachi this weekend because I would never live this down."

Aliyaar chuckled, lowering a few inches to place a kiss on the corner of her lips. Winking at her with a humour that he in no way possessed at the start of their marriage.

"Okay." Barekhna giggled at the thought of that, inspector sahab teasing her husband was a vision.

"Okay!" Aliyaar reassured.

"Okay—okay will be our eternity saint."

FIN.

How rich that I develop a swollen/itchy eye the day this ends huh. My eye won't stop watering, I love these guys so much it makes my heart hurt. Can't wait to binge read these guys tonight <3.
Aliyaar & Barekhna you will always be my babies.