Chapter 27.

In mourning of their intentions that have passed away.
Rest in peace.

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He breathed deeply.
He could see properly, he could hear the joy that the world had to offer. From the tiny mewling sounds of the cat that rubbed against his legs to the soft cries of complete happiness that escaped his own clenched lips. He held her to his chest, covered in smoke and soot, smelling of sweat and cigar smoke. With the back of his fingers he traced the scar on her neck, red and raw — to match the one on his palm too. He tenderly pressed his lips on her throat, below the scar, inhaling the scent of her lavender and vanilla fragrance. His fingers pressed into her skin, holding her hands in a tight grip, crushing her bones as he felt his tears run down his face.

Filza stroked his beard in soothing strokes, watching with a hurt look inside her eyes as he sunk to his knees. His head pressed into her stomach as the rest of their family cleared the room to offer privacy. With her other hand she ran her hand through his disheveled hair, dusting the remnants of lingering dust from over his shoulder. The muscles inside her neck and right calf throbbed in pain, a numbing sensation pricked her teeth as she held herself together for a bit more. His silent sobs, one more heartbreaking than the previous. She bit her lip in agony, going over the events of the evening, trying to still her heart.

With bloodshot eyes Arham stared at her face, her rosy cheeks had lost all hue of color and all that remained were tear stains on a porcelain  doll like face. Whimpering he kissed the back of her hand fervently, his cold nose digging into her palms. In truth he had been filled with relief as soon as he saw her seated on the maroon upholstered chair. He was glad, she was not just another number on the roster of the doctors, that she had lived and he could kiss her to his heart's content. Arham's throat congested up with feelings of loss and anxiety. The selfishness of man is great ; his duty to mankind is greater. In the grief of plenty he had managed to find his joy — the feelings of which felt illegal. Trouble marred his features as his gaze ran to the altar covered in burning candles — and then back to Filza's face that even in the darkest of shadows carried about itself an angelic glow.

"What — what happened?"

With a look of a mad man, he enquired as soon as the first sight of semblance found him. Arham's fingers inched nearer to the end of her wide trousers, lifting them. His heart twisted in pain, his lungs running out of all breath. The thick plaster that ran all over her legs reminded him of where he had failed. Of the moment he had walked out on her, in fury, and had things gone wrong, he would have lived the rest of forever wandering these halls like a lonely ghost.

"I don't know. I was in the — in the kitchen and then — I don't know Arham! I promise I really don't know!" She cried, her teeth clenched in pain as she relieved the cross checking of the police officers. There faces were covered in disbelief and she knew, most would label her crazy — a rich heiress that had completely lost her mind.

"I trust you! I trust you! Just calm down okay?" He stared deep into her eyes, "count with me one..two..three—" he whispered each number.

Filza followed along with slight hiccups and short cries. Clarity withdrew itself from the still air and buzzed into her skin, the deep pounding in her chest resembled the strokes of a chef hitting a chicken breast with a mallet. Her fingers crossed with his, the dried blood on his palms caught her attention, it was a painful reminder of what had occurred a few hours ago.

"How did this happen?"

"It was an accident nothing serious."

"Nothing serious?" She hissed, scaring Luna who ran away.

"I'm sorry Arham but I've just seen too much — bodies of people that we saw every day. I can't — can't fathom seeing you hurt too!"

"Forgive me zarrgiya. It is really not that important in front of the injuries you have sustained." He smiled.

"Seeing you in a sliver of pain is above any pain I go through Arham."

She shook her head in a violent speed, resting her face in the crook of his neck. Arham pressed his lips to the side of her neck, his arms wrapped around her awkwardly — a result of the height difference as he sat lower. He held her tight, fearing that as soon as he opened his eyes he would realize it was all a dream. That his beloved had parted, that his zarrgiya had left him alone to deal with the world. Feeling her pull back he whined, the back of his throat making an awkward sound as the two stared in each other's eyes. Filza kissed his cheek sending a wave of calmness inside his body. Sparks flew the longer her lips stayed in contact with his sweaty skin. They were tired, every inch of them, and the lazy way their tears bled from their eyes was indication of that.

His hazel eyes clashed with her green ones. Like forests during torrential rain their colors intermingled. In between the light of their orbs was a world indifferent to all the suffering that went on outside. In between the rogue shadows of the candles that mirrored their faces perfectly on to the retina of the other, there was something tangible in the air. Be it the love or be it the longing they felt even as their chests were pressed against each other's, it was a mystery. Only the buzz deepened as Filza pressed her lips softly to his. Arham sighed into the kiss, tasting hints of caramel and mint, the tender smoke that had settled on to her lips fired up his heart. She pressed her mouth against his harder, kissing with all the fervor she could posses. They breathed loud into the faces of one another — how they wished they could mould into one another. Their hands traced the seams of their skins, for once sated — for once out of touch with their reality.

"Arham can I tell you what happened? Will you believe me?" Filza spoke softly, the air around them too illicit to be broken with the web of pain.

"Of course," he smiled tenderly, "you have my trust, now and forever."

"I was in the kitchen. I was working on making a sous-vide for you — I wanted to apologize for my stu-pidity." She explained.

Arham smiled at her, "you were not in the wrong Filza. I should have cleared my files. I should have trusted you, I know that you'd never want to harm me intentionally."

"That's true, I wish you knew that before," she replied, "anyways, I was chopping some peppers and rubbed my eyes accidentally. They were in pain and from the blurred vision I saw Luna about to be attacked by an eagle so I ran outside. I stumbled over something and fell down. Somehow, the kitchen caught fire in between and the windows exploded. A big piece was jagged into my leg and the other grazed my throat. I however, promise you, that I have no — no — no recollection of it's odd beginning."

Her hands pointed to the injuries she had sustained. Startled at the events of her own tale, Filza stared in oblivion at the kitten playing with a ball of yarn. It had saved her life, her darling pet or else she would have been caught in the fire, trapped, burnt to dust. Her throat filled up with a bitter taste, the metallic essence spread through every inch of her jaw. The flashes of blood and fire, the bodies that still lay to be claimed in the place that was once her home. Destruction — utter destruction had taken over and managed to bring everything to the grounds. Gone were the walls witness to her happiness, the room where she had lost her virginity, the hallways that they had danced in. Everything. Ravaged. Eaten. Gone.

"I owe my life to Luna, who was gifted to me by you Arham. In truth I owe my life to you." She spoke.

"We're mortally indebted to our first child," Arham chuckled, before clearing his throat, "I wholeheartedly believe what you just said okay? There are people that have been trying to hurt my family. We've almost located them, just a few more weeks. However, it is alarming that someone so close to us is giving them information of us." He sighed, opening up to her for the first time about his problems.

"What do you mean Arham? Why didn't you tell me all of this before?"

"I didn't want to worry you. Yet, now I think you must know that Major Raheel has been conspiring with our enemies. We have full proof but you must not tell anyone, not even your parents okay?" He held her hands.

"Never. It'll be our secret. What is your plan though?" She reclined into her chair.

"Azhar and I plan on luring him out on the day of the provincial skiing tournament in two weeks from now. We'll record his confessions, their first mistake was to have called me from a private number. The tracker has traced it back to Khalid Sarwar's vacation home in the outskirts of the  city."

"Don't you think this is all a bit too easy?"

"We were of the same mindset a few weeks ago. However the research from Burhan came through and," Arham bit his tongue in pain as the memories of his best friend filled into his mind, "and they've been using him as a ploy. It is Humayun and Haider Ilyas behind this campaign. Their overseas bank accounts have been tracked. Funding through various channels has been placed into Raheel's account."

"Wow! That's just —" Filza stared at his face, stunned.

"It's scary zarrgiya the lengths they'd go to hurt abu and I. For the next few weeks unless I call you or Azhar brings you a message trust no one, okay?"

"Okay, I won't. I promise."

"Thank you my darling. Mushkpur is about to enter turbulent times." His voice drawled over by the end, his lips pressing a kiss against Filza's hair.

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Bright moonlight from the low hanging sun spilt over the window, and under the cushions. The dainty curtains along side the canopy bed had been pushed back until the silky cream white sheets were on display. The pillows fluffed up and the furniture hastily dusted before it's occupants arrived. In the centre of the ceiling a glass chandelier hung with tiny teardrop shaped filament bulbs keeping it alight. A fire in the brick mantle leaped around the iron frame as more wood was pushed into it's mouth. The cold floors had warmed up the slightest, the duvet thrashed ten times on each side before being set on the bed once more. A chamomile scent diffused into the room and the gold bolts on the windows were fastened shut, lest any of the night's howls or ghouls escaped into the room.

An affair of large proportions, the bedroom reeked of opulence. Marble and clay filled each inch of the room, the windows gave view of the rubble. Under the ostentatious sky, delicately covered in a million tiny stars, each one twinkling more brighter than the previous, the funeral of many a dreams was occurring. The last of the debris had been collected, underneath the pillars and iron, a mutilated body with green eyes frozen had been discovered — information withheld from an already jittery Filza. Arham grimaced at the sudden information and answered through the tens of calls and texts — Azhar already searching for the camera footage installed inside the garden.

Under the sage green duvet, Filza rested in a fitful sleep. Her body trembled as she relived every single moment of the day. From his anger, misplaced, to the sudden fire that was still unfolding new problems hours after it had been put out. She gripped the thick sheets into her red fists, the tips of her fingers dug into them, hidden from sight, biting through the threads, imprinting herself. The last time she had stepped inside her bedroom, Filza had been a single woman, now though, married she realized how sheltered her life had been. Every inch of the room was a reminder of her naive childhood. From the vines carved into the walls to the many books that littered her vanity. Sweet smelling herbs and perfumes, an assortment of her favorite candles. The bitter truths of adult life hidden behind the bright crevices of her parents shelter.

Her eyes peeled open once more as the heavy doors that led to her chambers opened. The sounds of her husband's whispers and her mother's giggles replaced the silence that threatened to eat her alive. She relaxed into the coole sheets, observing them from her position in the centre of the bed. Her mother's hand around his shoulders as she explained something to him — a gentle smile on his face as he listened to everything in silence. They were all, trying to ignore the tragedy of the evening, ignoring it and brushing it under the Persian rugs for as long as they could. It had been an incredibly taxing day for them all, Filza thought deep in contemplation — her face filled with confusion as she did so. They were safe though, and the mortal injuries sustained by the pagan workers, what of that? Her family would not let them suffer she knew — but the hands of justice could never rid her hands of the blood that stained them.

"Filza you're still awake?" Her mother turned to her, the change in her tone did little to hide the visible shock.

"I couldn't — couldn't sleep."

"Everything okay? Is your leg hurting? Do we call the doctor?"

Laila marched over to her, fretting over her only child, hiding behind the façade of strength the tears that she wanted to let loose. Arham walked behind his mother-in-law, holding a cotton sleeping suit in hand — Filza recognized the pale blue out fit, it had once belonged to her father. Though it no longer fit as he neared his fifties. She passed her hand into her mother's seeking the warmth from her hand to wash out the pain inside her chest.

"I just — keep seeing those faces. All of them died. Who knows if it were for my stupidity? Maybe the sous-vide machine sparked and the fire caught on. Mor I'm responsible for so many deaths and I don't think — think I'll ever truly heal from this!" She sobbed, opening up about her feelings for the first time that night.

"Filza aisay nahi sochtay. Kuch bhi ap ki ghalti nahi hai! Eik maa keh dil sai behtar koi bhi nahi janta keh uski aulaad ka kia gunnah hai." Laila kissed her head, staring out of the window at the moon — Oh Azmaray come soon, I need you, she thought.
[Filza you shouldn't think like that. Nothing is your fault! No one knows the crimes of their child better than a mother's heart.]

"St-still though. Maybe I should have taken your offer of dinning with you guys. All I wanted — all I wanted was to cook for Arham to appease him. I'm so stupid! I can never do anything right."

Her sobs gripped his heart, pierced them with a trident and left a jagged wound as they retracted. His breath hitched inside of his throat, seeing the naïveté wash out of her face. Replaced with a haunted look. Eye bags and a pale skin, fat and joy washed out of her face to leave alone a pile of bones. He held her hand, squeezing it in reassurance as Laila kissed her forehead, slipping out of the room. It was a matter of husband and wife, it was best they solved it themselves.

"Filza you never have to appease me. Never!" He gulped painfully, pressing his face into his shoulder, mindful of her injured leg as he held her close.

"I had to. You left - left without a note and – and were mad at me! I missed you. The touch of your skin against mine at night Arham. It's soft warmth that eases my nightmares. I missed it all. Now it hurts so much being awake, knowing that when I close my eyes I—"

"You what?"

"I'll be haunted by that scratchy voice. By the faces of everyone that died today, by their families. I fear I'm no longer going to be able to find peace in anything Arham. In anything!"

"Filza yes you will. It won't be an easy journey, but it is possible. I'll be there for you every step of the way. Even if you no longer want me by your side, or if my presence irks you, I do not care. I won't leave you alone, not anymore." He added the last bit as a promise to himself.

✵ mature content ✵

With her bony fingers she traced his face, searching for any signs of lies. Only after she was comforted with him, did she rest her head in between his arms. He leaned over her face, kissing her gently, soothing the skin below her chest with his hands rubbing at them. With every breathless fill of air they shot into a realm of joy and peace. Just the two of them alone ; no one in the world to pain them. Her arms gripped his neck and held him in place, her back arching to meet his chest, pressing her soft breast against him. Want dripped through her skin as she rubbed a hand over his built torso, feeling the warm skin under his shirt.

Under the yellow lights he stared at her, removing the fitted shirt off of his body, pressing his sweaty chest against her. Filza inhaled softly, drinking in the sight of his figure, her nails scraped the skin of his back, the pillowy lips pressing against the base of his throat as she dragged her tongue at a snail's pace along it's length. She grinned, her eyes clouded with lust, hooded in a sultry manner as she pushed her uninjured leg away, wrapping it around his waist. Underneath the blankets, dressed in nothing but a silk night-robe, her body begged for him. An icy flame wrapped through her brain and danced amongst the stars in her vision as Arham kisses her erect nipples from above her robe. His fingers worked on loosening the knot, dancing deeper, under and over her thighs. All of a sudden he was everywhere, consuming her mind, body and soul whole.

"I don't think we should do this right now Filza. You're not well." He stopped, his fingers still continuing their torturous assault on her stomach.

"I want you. I need you. I desire you. You and you alone Arham. Do not deny me of yourself, I need to taste every inch of your skin with my own. I want you to make me forget my nightmares. I desire to feel alive under you!" Filza spoke with passion dripping from every word.

Her hands pulled at his trousers, the depth of her now dark green eyes staring into his soul through the window of his eyes. She panted in short gasps, wrapping her leg around his waist, the other held down by his palm. Her hips rubbed against his well formed thighs, arousal coating her inner folds as she moved with hunger.

"Patience zarrgiya."

He nipped at her fingers, holding her down with the weight of his knees, undressing her first with his eyes and then his hands. His mouth lowered on a peak, his tongue drinking in the flavor of her skin. Her skin flushed under his touch, writhing in pleasure she came alive. The flares inside her mind opened with full speed, her fingers gripped his hair and guided his head. Moans escaped her lips like a tune of Beethoven. No sweeter sound he had heard ever, he hummed, his fingers spreading out across her folds. His middle finger rubbed loose circles on to her clitoris, moan after moan befell her lips into his ears, arousing him even harsher.

"More please!" She begged, spreading herself for him.

"All in due time Filza." He kissed her forehead.

He sucked his fingers, sliding them inside her walls. He watched in delight as her face contorted in emotions of desire. Her teeth clenched a sheen of sweat covered her aristocratic face. The high arched brows ousted together, the lips loose as sweet sounds erupted. He stretched the folds, rubbing in and out in harsh impatient strokes. His thumb rubbed loose circles on to her clit as he felt her clench around his hands. Her own hands deftly raised to her heaving mounds, pinching at the pierced nipples, her eyes rolling to the back of her head in pleasure. Arham's fingers moved at alternating speeds still, his mouth placing kisses along her navel, biting the flesh of her hipbone.

"Open those precious eyes my darling. I want you to see yourself in my eyes as I taste you." He whispered into her ear, tracing the shell of it with his tongue.

Wrapping his arms around her hips, he raised her bottom to eye level. His eyes constantly in contact with hers as he gave her a small lick. She instantly shut down, still basking in the high of her first orgasm. He licked her sensitive folds, sucking on the skin, his fingers pinching the skin of her round ass. Arham made well of his promise, marking her his and devouring each inch of her soul. To the point that as he held her in his arms, the pale sunlight flooded into the room, over their skin. He had kept her nightmares out, she smiled, her eyes half shut with sleep. Arham pressed a kiss to her sweaty hair. Whispering words she could not make out as she was far too lost in the realm of her dreams.

✵ mature content over ✵

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Inside the bustling bedroom, the phone buzzed with wild anxiousness. Harshly, fingers gripped it, tearing out of the embrace of his wife as he held the phone to his ears.

"We're moving in. Everything is ready."

The man spoke with a prideful glint in his eye, stroking his face deep in thought.

Showtime.

Any idea on who it is?
What is the statement's meaning
Very curious.