Chapter 23.

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"Araam sai!"
[Carefully!]

Arham had never imagined these words would ever leave his lips. Especially, when he was seated in the seat of his beloved car — moreover on the passenger's side at that. His hands gripped the door tightly, till his nails turned a pale white. Inside his chest his heart galloped like a horse, thrumming the sound floorboards of his rims as they resonated the loud sounds. In the dimly lit streets of Mushkpur, the sun barely out, his wife drove like a mad woman. Perhaps it was retribution for all the times he had worried his mother from his own driving skills.

He yelped, surprised that he was capable of making that noise, as she overtook a trolley. Her bridal dress was spread over her seats, tucked under her and the stiletto heels thrown in the back seat. When she had convinced him to let her drive them to her favorite place after the reception, he had agreed giddily, now though, Arham could not help but reprimand himself for the decision. Either they would die, the car falling into a ditch, or they would end up in prison thanks to his wife who was dead-set on breaking all the traffic regulations.

"Dekhein agar ap ko kisi baat ka ghusa hai tou waisay maar lein magar dono ki jaan le kar kia kar lein gi?" Arham sighed, hoping his words would cause a decrease in the car's speed.
[Listen if you are angry about something you can hit me anyways what will you do after killing the both of us?]

"Arham! Just sir quietly for a second. I'm trying to rush us so that we don't miss the magic!" Filza sighed, her eyes flickering towards his frowning face for a second.

"Eyes on the road." He said.

Some of his senses returned back to him as he ordered her. Unscrewing the cap of the bottled water — she had generously stopped to let him buy, he sighed. His brows scrunched up as the cool water softened the aching muscles inside his throat. Filza looked at him, sneakily as she could. The way his palms held the small bottle, the water running down his throat a bit as he drunk greedily — all combined to remind her of his actions on their wedding night. He had gone, from being cold hearted into a man who functioned with high emotions. His touch was still as strong as ever on her skin. In fact, Filza could still feel the tight grip of his hands on her body, holding her in place. She had woken up to sore muscles and a plethora of love bites, not that she was complaining.

The drive was filled with silence. The two deep in thoughts of each other, by the side of one another. Filza kept her hands steady over the steering wheel, the SUV successfully off roading. In the dark, as the last of the stars remained on the sky she drove them deeper into the orchards her family owned. Either side of them was surrounded by neat rows of apple trees — their largest form of income came from exporting those each year. The headlights shone at the tree barks, the windows pulled down to let in the sounds of nature. Rustling amongst the trees alarmed Arham, his ears perked up and his hands inched towards his sleek mobile phone.

"No! You can't use your phone. Remember you promised me!" Filza slapped his hand away, sliding the phone into the seat behind her.

"I just thought I heard the trees move, I need to call security Filza. You and I, we can't roam around the streets without protection. There are threats that always linger." He replied, his thumb and index finger pinching the skin between his brows.

"I know! However, you can take out a few minutes to enjoy nature without men of stone following us. This is a private property — we are safe."

The conversation died down after that. Her hand squeezed his in reassurance. Arham pressed a kiss along the back of her hand, waiting in silence to see where she was leading them to. The SUV crossed a stone bridge, that rumbled under its weight. Soft sounds of water suddenly collided their senses, rushing nearer and nearer as the car drove on. There was a trait particular to the nature that had been allowed to thrive for eons without human intervention. It maintained still, a rustic charm, the decade old families thrived and everything was in perfect order. Nature was no damsel in distress ; she needed no hero — she could, she had, and she would continue to survive on her own, thriving most where she was left alone.

The car came to a halt at the edge of a cliff. Arham was stunned at the sight, in the centre of the green grass that on either sides flew free, a waterfall fled. It came curving for miles as he saw, squinting his gaze to observe it's starting point. What was more shocking was the slow pace, as the river curled down the mountain slope, covered in thick vines and roots, underneath a shallow pool awaited to collect the offering. The two stepped out of the car, Filza without care plopping herself on the grass, dipping her feet into the cold water. Arham followed suit, letting his wife guide him.

"What is this place?" He thought out loud.

"Da jund khatma. My ancestors thought it would a nice name to give to this place, since back then, the river didn't exactly cut through this place and there was no waterfall."
[The end of the world.]

"Wow. I'm still baffled you've got such clear lines to trace back to first head of your family." Arham chuckled in awe.

"That's not exactly true. If we go back from the years 1600 we can't clearly understand the language written in the texts. It's preserved perfectly, but most words are no longer in use now." She explained.

"Well, your highness, I'm a man who comes from humble backgrounds. My great grandfather was a teacher you know. I don't know anything beyond that." He grinned.

Unbuttoning his tux, he threw it over the grass, laying down on top of it. His back sighed in relief, his arms crossed against his chest as he stared up at the sky. It was a bright blue, a cerulean shade as the moon darkened the corner on the other end of sky, the sun lighting up the sky on the opposite. Filza pressed herself against his chest, his arms wrapping around her body. He kissed her hair, the two breathing in softly — the fresh air of the Mushkpur morning. Something about it so wholeheartedly fresh that the lungs expanded under it's weight beyond capacity without calling for help.

The first of the birds roused, taking flight on the skies already in search of bread for their children. Sounds of hoops in the distant broke the melodious sounds of the water. The shepherds were already out with their herd to feed them in the lands of the people that were once their rulers. A mystical fog suddenly creeped up the waterfall, wrapping the two in it's blanket as they continued to stare at the sky in awe. A lighter blue tore through, the moon nothing but half of it's midnight glory, bidding goodbye's to the heart of her soul as it rose, bringing with itself to the skies a golden streak.

"It's beautiful out here." Arham spoke, breathless. The sight of the moon setting and the sun rising, was unlike anything he had seen before.

"That's why I brought you here. I always used to come with mor and palar to have a glimpse at sunrise. I just find sunrises so bittersweet." She smiled at him, placing a soft kiss on the underside of his jaw.

"By that you mean?"

"Isn't it so gut wrenchingly romantic that she welcomes her death for a fleeting moment of greeting with him? So selfless, as her own self dissolves into nothingness. The moon is —"

"Is someone that has your full sympathies isn't it? You're love for it surpasses any and everything else."

"Even in her pale light, that she's stolen, nothing defeats the moon. To protect her beloved's throne all night and then be sentenced to death for no crime — the world's never seen a woman in love like her!"

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With the wedding over time flew by. Within the blink of an eye a week had passed to the opulent celebrations. In their wake, they left the household empty save for the hired help and the newly married couple. The annex had turned into a private enclave for them, where they remained, surrounded by the spritely sight of their affections. Morning drenched in lazy coupling after the passionate embers from the night still remained. Soft kisses spread across their red skins, tiny giggles as they dined and had their share of the many alcohol free champagnes they had been gifted. Through their sloth like movements the week passed by and the winters continued on with full rage, a result of which led to Arham working from home and Filza's university break elongated by a week more.

A violent rapping on their bedroom door roused Arham from his deep slumber. He sighed, the sun's light hidden beneath the grey clouds of fury. It would snow once again — he realized. As much as the winter weathers in the mountains attracted him, they were proving to be a problem ; being stuck in the same place for weeks irked him. Sliding out from beneath his wife, he pressed a kiss on her closed eyes, tucking her under the warm duvet before walking towards the door. A uniformed worker stood behind the door, her hands wrapped around her back as he stepped out.

"Sir your lawyer is here to meet you." She informed.

"Have him seated in the study," he ordered, slipping back inside his room.

Rapidly he got dressed into his white shalwaar kameez. He had showered before the morning prayers and found no need to do so again. Wearing his wristwatch, he kissed Filza on her forehead once more before stepping out of the bedroom. The door closed with a soft thud behind him. The woman dusting the vases in the lobby was alerted by his presence, greeting him with a stutter before going back to her work. They acted like shadows inside his house — he preferred it that way. Lesser of a hassle, he was here to work and not to extend his hand in friendship. He would be called arrogant for his thoughts, he mused at times, yet it was how he was, he respected his workers but Arham did not like their interference in his personal life.

The grandfather clock in the hallway struck nine as he stepped into the study. His lawyer, Azhar, already seated with the papers and his laptop covering most of the table. Arham's presence demanded attention as the man stood up, shaking his hand, seating himself once more. The lawyer and client duo sat without speaking a word to the other for a few moments. Yellow lights inside the study and the brightly lit fireplace gave the room a farce warmth, much more than it was deserving of. A light frosty chill dwelled in the room, a mystery that wether it was the crippling black auras of the men in the room or the cracks in the wooden frames of the windows.

Arham's fingers toyed with the ink pen in his hand. It had a feather tip, his name engraved into the sides and the initials of his wife embedded into the gold plated butt of the pen. It was a gift from Filza, and he cherished. Already, all other pens he owned, save for the ones his family gifted had been given away. The ones from his family stored into a glass display in the cabinet behind him. Arham was a one woman man and the same courtesy was now extended to the pens he used. This one, for the rest of forever.

"I suppose you've got some important news coming this early Khan." Arham cleared his throat, his sharp gaze rolling over the man's curt posture. Something about him was amiss.

"Ye-yes I do have something — well a lot of important things to talk about." Azhar coughed out.

"You okay? You seem a bit out of it."

"Yes I'm fine. Just haven't slept well this past week — with the wedding security and searching for evidence. Hasn't been easy." He said.

Azhar's voice carried a hint of distaste, the notes of which had not gone unnoticed by the man in front of him. Arham's eyes filled up with a cunning glint, a foxy smile took over his features as he held the manilla envelope. With the tip of his pocket knife — that he kept in his desk drawers at all times, Arham ripped the top open. Gently, he turned the envelope over, images and sheets of printed paper falling all over his desk. He stared at them for a few seconds, remaining still as a statue before he picked them up one at a time. Each one filled Arham up with a strong conviction. All colors under the spectrum danced across his face, worry marred his features. He frowned pinching his eyes shut.

Disastrous. The proof was all disastrous. Now more than ever, he missed his best friend — with whose advice he could have led the party and his family alike, out of the mess.

"Who shot these pictures?"

He dangled them in the air, pivoting back and forth from the corners infront of Azhar's vision.

"You asked Burhaan to employ men, remember? They are the ones that sent them in last night."

"Interesting. This evidence is so blatantly obvious. Pictorial proof, call's have been tracked so have the bank statements. It shouldn't be this easy Azhar. I think—"

"You think what Arham?" Azhar spoke with urgency.

"I think there's something amiss. Our investigation, it's blind sided I think. As stupid as Khaild is, he knows being used directly isn't exactly good publicity." Arham sighed.

It was like they were going around in circles. Anytime something was on the verge of being solved, new evidence negated the previous. He pinched his thighs to keep from groaning out loud. His eyes, slanted over the documents ran through each minuscule details. Call logs, drafts, everything was at his disposal yet he was not reassured at the thought of it — at all. If anything, it had worried him even more, whoever it was, had the opportunity to listen to him up close. He shuddered at the thought, goosebumps flooding over his skin at the images of Filza or anyone else being harmed — solely for being related to him.

"Actually sir you're not far off. I think they didn't realize still how close we are into their networks. Major Raheel has been visiting Sarwar sahab, but not for him, instead to meet his daughter-in-law." Azhar explained.

"Daughter in law?" He whispered, puzzled.

"Yes. Wife to Khaild's son, Adnan."

"Where does she tie into this whole mess?"

"She's Haider Ilyas's daughter. And we all know —"

"'Course Azhar! Of course! Foe of a foe is your right hand." He grinned, "I think it's about time we begin our plan to unveil them Azhar."

"Yes sir!" He nodded.

Arham hummed in delight, you did not sacrifice yourself for me to see me welcome inaction Burhan, he thought to himself.

He would avenge his brother whose blood was different but still as red for his love. They had hurt his wife too.

Their damnation was a gift they sought — and he would give it to them on a gold platter.

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"Where is Arham?"

Filza stepped into the kitchen. Today was the first day she had woken up so late, to an empty bed at that. She had gotten dressed into a peach silk anarkali. It flowed around her, hiding the capris trousers with the diamond buttons in it's side from view. The veil rested on her shoulders and her blow dried hair moved gently in the wind. Tiny studs gleaming under the kitchen's lights as she tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"Sir is in his study." One of the help replied.

"How long has he been in there? Did he have his breakfast?"

"He was in there at nine, hasn't left yet. There is someone here to meet him. Plus, sir usually doesn't eat breakfast anyways." The sous-chef replied, passing her a small smile before continuing, "if you'd let me know what you want I'll make it."

Filza pondered over the woman's words, her gaze fluttered over the large analogue clock on the wall. Eleven thirty am. The man had been working for two and a half hours straight without a morsel of food. She sighed, annoyed at his habit. It was definitely something that had built up after he moved to Mushkpur for his mother was notorious for keeping her children fed. Dismissing the workers with a flick of her wrist, she slid her hair into a knot, puckering her lips as she opened the double door fridge.

Eggs, check.
Spinach, check.
Cheese, check.
Filza grinned, throwing her veil on to the barstool on the marble counter. Skillfully she cracked the eggs into the glass bowl, chopping the spinach leaves and throwing in spices of all kinds. It was a bit of an annoyance, having to go back and forth, searching for the basic of things. For instance, salt and sugar — she would have to set the room in order as soon as she got some time. It was her home now, Filza wanted her presence to be felt in the walls. Humming a soft pashto lullaby under her breath, Filza scrambled the eggs, throwing in cheese at the last bit for some extra flavor. Toasting two slices of fresh sourdough — that had been baked by and sent over by her aunt just last night.

"Miss is there something in particular you'd like for lunch?" The head chef, Khirad cleared her throat.

The rest of the staff had forced her to the front. None of them wanted to be in the presence of her, despite the friendly aura that radiated off of her body. Her crinkling bright eyes, the soft lavender scent should have warmed their hearts but it instead — gave birth to hostility alone.

"What do you make for lunch usually?" She took a keen interest in the menu, food was the other thing — after books that called her name.

"Sir mostly isn't home for lunch but he prefers to have light salads for dinner." Khirad reported dutifully.

Filza nodded, tapping her fingers on the cold marble before turning to the woman, "we'll make aloo ke parathay for lunch today Khirad. Please boil the potatoes while I take breakfast to his study." She replied politely, she had always seen her aunts and mother disturb their partner's meetings when it came to food — Filza could only hope Arham would not be troubled by this.

"I don't think that's a good idea miss, he doesn't like being disturbed." Khirad bit her tongue, perhaps she had spoken too much in front of the heiress.

"Oh! But I don't think it's good for him to work so long on an empty stomach," she frowned, before cheering herself up with the thought of his soothing voice — he wouldn't be mad with her, she knew, "it's fine, it'll be on me. Could one of you bring us tea please? Just before you serve it, add a few lemon drops please."

Filza climbed the stairs with the tray in hand. Her fingers tightened on the wooden tray, the texture dug into her skin the longer she held on. Her veil dragged along the carpet from one side, with each step she took towards the study. Suddenly she lost energy in her legs, her life drifted out of them as she neared the door. Oh God! Her heart ran rampant, she clenched her teeth to limit the overthinking inside her mind. It would be A-OK, she knew, he would not be mad at her for looking out of him. Yet she could not help but wonder, what it was an important meeting? Like a broken record, without fail her mind repeated the words of conflict as she knocked on the door. Sliding the door open, she stepped in, beaming in Arham's direction who seemed to have been explaining something to the man in front of himself.

"Filza?"

"Yeah! I hope I haven't interrupted an important meeting." She looked between the two.

"Not at all mrs.Arham. I was just leaving. Arham I'll send you an e-mail of the required documents."

Arham nodded, waiting until the man was out of the room before he stood up. Filza silently arranged the stray papers, stacking them on one side. Resting the tray on top of the table, she looked at Arham in silence. His hands wrapped around her waist. Filza nuzzled her head into his chest, placing a kiss over his chest. Barely brushing her lips over his buttons. He returned the favor, resting his lips on her forehead.

"What is this Filza?"

He looked down at her, before turning towards the buttery looking eggs. They tempted him, yet habits were seldom broken.

"Breakfast! Come on let's eat!" She pulled him, frowning as he barely budged.

"Zarrgiya I don't have breakfast."

"Why? It's really important for you! Plus I made it for you. Come on let me serve you some!" She uttered joyously, scooping up some of the cheesy omelette into a ceramic plate. Picking up some on the fork she brought it to his lips with an expectant look.

"No my love you enjoy. I'm not hungry."

Filza huffed, slamming the plate on the table she threw herself on to his swivel chair. Her eyes filled up with tears, thick and the rim of her eyes turned a bright red. Her lips wobbled, the ache inside her lower belly and upper thighs finally melted the little resolve she held. She placed the heel of her hands into her eyes, crying into them silently. Sniffing, Filza looked at him with a watery smile.

"Fine then. I won't eat either."

"Filza yeh kis bachpana hai? Chalo thora sai tou kha lo!" He kneeled in front of her, the plate of food in his hands.
[Filza what childishness is this? Come on have a little!]

"Arham don't test my patience today. Mor says when a man leaves his home empty handed something is wrong. I'm sorry if I hurt you, but please eat. I don't want you to fall sick jaanana." Her words slipped over another by the end.

"I'm not mad at you. When I came to Mushkpur I felt alienated eating alone so I had to stop eating. I promise I'll eat with you every morning okay?" He waited until she nodded her head in agreement, before letting out a worried sigh, his brows furrowing, "now tell me what bothers you so?"

"Cramps." She replied, her words muffled against his face.

"Oh— you should have told me before. Do you want painkillers? Do you want me to give you a massage?" He fretted over her.

"Can you read to me?" She questioned, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course. Let's eat and then I shall read to you the whole day my darling dearest."

Seven more chapters to go!
I absolutely can not believe it.
I am in tears.
My babies are about to go through some insane amount of shit and I don't think you'll forgive me for whatever it is.

Im sorry.

Thoughts & Comments here.