~Closeness.~

"What kind of conspiracies life has played?

(जिंदगी ने की है कैसी साजिशें?)

All the desires of my heart seems acquired.

(पूरी हुई दिल की वो फरमाइशें।)

How did my prayer meet you, my beloved?

(मांगी दुआ एक तुझ तक जा पहुँची, परवरदिगारा।)

Oh, how did you decipher the language of my silence?"

(कैसे सुनी तूने मेरी ख़ामोशी, ओ परवरदिगारा?)

************

He is famous. Quite famous.

All of this is maybe because of his looks or status. Probably because of both, cause there had never been any news of him doing charity and some social work for the welfare of people.

But whatever the reason was, it wasn't doing him any good.

It's easy to ruin famous personalities.

Personalities like Zaid and Nerina.

Both might have been already ruined if they were only famous and not powerful.

Just like Nerina, unfortunately, Zaid is both --- it was a dangerous combination.

It's hard to ruin him, almost impossible when he had left behind no traces or evidence of his doings. He always makes sure to do things cleanly, especially when it includes killing someone.

What a clever bastard!

With thoughts cramming her mind, Narina put away the magazine she was reading, a bit unhappy with its content. That magazine was all about Zaid, his recent interviews and projects the Grover industries had taken.

Relaxing into her seat, she gazed at the jet's window nearby. In an hour or more they would be in India.

It was a part of their plan.

They will go to India, being unnoticeable as possible. Then, they will get Shravya out of Grover's estate and will fly back to the safe territory.

But, to get her out of there, they have decided to kidnap her. Yes, kidnap her - it was the only reasonable way left because Shravya will never agree to escape as long as Zaid has her ex-husband Aayush aka Danish Singh.

She even married Zaid for Aayush's sake then how possibly she can escape, leaving Aayush behind with Zaid --- she won't! And that's the problem troubling Nerina. She doesn't want more trouble and issues like saving Aayush along with Shravya.

He is not her problem to care about.

Shravya should have saved herself on her own. She should know - no one can protect you as long as you're weak to fight. No protector will not come to your rescue because life is not a fairytale.

If you want protection you have to prove you are worth it.

Honestly, she has agreed to save her just for Tanveer. Otherwise, Nerina Genovese's enemy list is already long enough, in a shortage of space for a new name.

"I hope his name will fit in along with the others," she mumbled to herself, her eyes drifting to Tanveer who currently was beguiled by his laptop.

What would he be doing with that thing?

She couldn't help but wonder. Tanveer had always liked computers. He had always been a geek, that too a handsome one.

Even though he was taller and muscular, he still possessed beautiful facial features. His skin glows like an oasis in the middle of an unending desert, and those sharp, deep, sapphire eyes of his are just mesmerising.

His presence alone can make any girl feel special.

She smiled to herself, two small, rare, and beautiful curves lifting the corners of her lips before her gazes wandered over to her abdomen and that flower-like smile withered helplessly.

---✳❇✳---

"Sweven?"

Shravya asked, slowly flipping the page of her book. It was exactly not a book, but an encyclopedia, containing numerous words from different languages.

"You know about this one?" Her eyes shifted to Zaid, who was standing behind a canvas board, painting her portrait.

"Sure, I do." In a brisk movement, his eyes were on her as he bit his lower lip, unconsciously peeping a glance at the art piece before looking back at her. "Hmm. Sweven means a vision or a dream, and it came from the Middle English period."

She nodded thoughtfully, again turning the pages. "Ciùineas?"

Strangely, she didn't know why she suddenly had to divert her eyes away before pulling her knees together when his gazes lowered, back upon the canvas.

"Ciùineas is a Scottish Gaelic word that came from Old Irish. It means peacefulness, tranquillity."

From the corner of her eye, she could see the grin stretching on his mouth into a flawless sight.

"Clair de Lune?"

Yet, she continued the game, even when he was winning.

To be honest, it was not like she was playing to win. She bought up that game because she didn't want to sit ideally in boredom.

"It's the title of a poem written by a French poet named Paul Verlaine in 1869." His grin faded softly, a frown taking over. "The origin of this word is French, and it means moonlight. Clair de Lune is also used as the name of a pale bluish-grey colour."

With her finger still holding the book's pages, Shravya hummed; he had almost answered every question.

"How can you know almost all of these?" Thoughtfully, she mumbled quietly to herself while stroking the edge of the book with one thumb.

"Are you cheating?" In an accusation manner, she frowned deeply, hauling her gazes to him, who in return, just carelessly shrugged his shoulders. "I just read about some of it."

"Mm. Believe me." He added further, tilting his head and pointing the paintbrush at her. "I am not cheating. It's all skills and knowledge, Belamour."

Regardless, her hazel eyes still peered into his coal-black ones with wariness as his lips curled into something akin to a smile, eyes flickering back on the unfinished painting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

With the sunshine lost, somewhere behind the grey clouds of rain, the sun was there --- a perishing sun of the slowly approaching night.

Mildly, Shravya stared at the smoky-grey sky, her fingers tracing the watery form of the raindrops sliding against the window's surface.

As it was already the season of rain, it was raining, again. And again, it was seeming as if it were some sort of an echo, something which kept repeating itself endlessly on and on as if it never went away.

Only if she knew - the rain had reached its fated destination but the destructive storm was yet to arrive.

Wiping off the paint from his hands, Zaid stared at her, standing some countable steps away, beside the easel.

He was done with the painting.

And now, if he looked at her and then at his work, he could see an immense difference --- the painting, it was not even half beautiful as what was standing before him.

"So?" His voice had her head whipped to him. "What are you looking at?"

"Rain," she replied, softly.

"With such attentiveness?" He scoffed.

"Sona, don't carry it up like it's a big deal, you know... it's just rain," he said while stepping in front of her, taking a look at what she was looking at. "It's just rain," he repeated, more quietly this time.

Shifting, she slightly tilted her head, looking at him. "I thought you love rain?"

"It's not love but liking." He took another glance at the rain outside before solely pushing the attention on her. "I only love you."

The words made her freeze.

For a moment, her mind felt dizzy as if the threads of her thoughts got tangled before she blinked once, twice, thrice...trying not to mind how much his statement affected her.

"The painting. . . ." With stability, she diverted the topic, moving her eyes to the easel. "Is it done?"

At the moment, she decided to stay patient with him. She will reveal everything about his condition. She will tell him everything, but slowly with bits of patience.

"Yeah." He nodded, dropping his hands into the front pockets of his pants and eyeing her as she stepped away from the window, away from him, walking towards the canvas board as soon he also followed.

Just as she reached the easel, her hands moved on their own, touching the canvas lightly, her movements gentle and delicate, almost as if the painting would break if she did something even a fraction rough.

They both stood in cessation for a while, the rain still falling outside, making a cadent sound that seemed to echo against the wall of their hearts.

"Zaid. . . . ." she mumbled, her fingers trailed along the edges of the artistic work. "It looks so pretty."

It was actually beautiful, entirely different.

In the illustration, she was painted as sitting on the sofa with a book in her hands, reading. He had coated her features with the colours of solace as the imaginative sunlight poured upon her frame, brightening up her body with a soft golden hue.

She wasn't presented nude there, and it was a relief.

"I'm glad that it worked out," his voice came from behind, nearer.

She hummed in response as tentatively her fingers moved upwards, again wanting to touch the paintings, yet at the last second, they halted themselves when she felt him inching closer as his fingers wrapped around hers, pulling her hand down, gently.

Her heart skipped a beat as he squeezed her hand, holding it firmly as his warm breaths unfurled over the side of her face.

"Don't touch me with your paint-smudged hands." Taking a deep breath, she lifted her eyes upwards before turning around, meeting his eyes. "My body is not your canvas."

"Uh, is it so?" He stilled, his lips curling upwards. "But my hands are all clean."

This made her gaze slip down onto her hand which was still gripped by his grasp.

"Now, am I allowed to. . . . ." He squeezed tighter, bringing himself closer, his warmth seeping through to her skin. "Touch you?"

When he leaned forward, his lips brushing over her cheek, she could feel his breath caressing the sensitive surface of her skin.

Unconsciously, she held his hand as tight as she could, as if her grip was going to be enough to hold him back.

His eyes intently met hers, searching, questioning her. A moment later, he spoke: "You are so easy to read sometimes."

"Oh?" Her eyes shifted downwards, a hint of amazement playing around them which soon vanished when he left her hand, deliberately cupping her face and pulling closer.

"And why is it so?" She inquired, taking a hold of the moment.

He chuckled, gingerly clasping her chin as the thumb of his other hand brushed against her cheek, stroking.

"Honestly, I also don't know." He gave his head one quick shake before leaning down, his hot breaths tenderly caressing her soft lips as he touched them with his own lips, making a soft contact by a small peck.

"From some days, I've been thinking something," he mumbled, pulling back --- but by that time, his scent had already invaded her senses. His incense, it was making her cling to an imaginary warmth of the summer. It felt cosy, warming, something made up of cedarwoods and sandalwood, fusing with the artificial smell of paint lingering in the air around him.

Blinking in shock, she briefly closed her eyes with the silence of some seconds following.

"And...what is that?" Calming down, she looked at him as his dark eyes roamed to the wall behind her before again landing upon the sweetly familiar sight of her hazel eyes.

"Let's have a ball party," he spoke, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer, making the distance between them completely deceased.

"Why?" The word escaped from her mouth without her even realising it. She didn't know why suddenly he made her feel so uneasy. Perhaps, because, she knew the look in his eyes --- he wanted more. A lot more than a mere kiss.

"Do I need a reason?" He asked, softly pressing his lips onto her cheek, bringing a few strands of hair to slip out of her messy bun and fall on her smooth skin.

"Umm. Yeah." Clutching his shirt, she lightly hit him in the chest, earning an amused chuckle from him.

"Okay then, it's because I want to dance with you." He grinned, two perfect curves uplifting the corner of his mouth as his fingers swiftly put back her hair strands behind the ear, back into their place.

Dance.

He wants to dance with her?

Well, it surprised her.

"I don't know how to dance."

She said. She really didn't know how to dance, it's just when the last time he asked her to dance with him, she wasn't having any choice to put this thing forward.

"Then, mind if I help?" He uttered, his tone tender.

She hesitated, but even before she could utter a word he grabbed her waist, holding her slightly up before smoothly placing down with her feet resting upon his.

"Relax," noticing the surprise beginning to rise on her features, he whispered against her ear shell. "Just leave it to me."

Despite everything, she held her breath as slowly, he positioned his hands around her body, soon beginning to sway from side to side.

"Now, looking at this, the idea of not having any kind of party is seeming tempting." His free hand moved to the crook of her shoulder, guiding her until her chest rested against his own.

"It feels so nice to be alone, and closer with you," he whispered, his tone giving her the whiffs of a dazy spell. "Only a fool would want to ruin this moment for having a mere party."

"And, you're not a fool?" She asked, her gazes resting on his chest, wavering upon the scars which were proudly peeking through the unbuttoned part of his shirt.

Shravya was unexpectedly stunned.

His movements were firm, slow, harmonious and smooth. Every single step he took, itself sounded like music to her ears; it was like his feet were dancing to her velocity, an imaginative rhythm which obviously wasn't present in the room.

There seemed to be no point in doing anything else than to let the movements take control.

"If this is being foolish, then I'm the foolest human alive."

His hand trailed lower on her waist, propelling her to arch her back before being pulled back by him, their noses almost touching and breathings dissolving with an air of intricacy as his dark eyes bored into her hazel ones.

~My obsession brought us closer.~

(ये फ़ितूर मेरा, लाया मुझको है तेरे क़रीब।)

If you like the chapter then please follow me PanchiVerma (for Instagram, check out the link in my bio)

Q - So, how was the chapter people?

Btw, I actually wasn't going to update (sorry, I'm getting a little busy with my studies) but something happened which led me here.

Wanna know what that something is?

Well, yesterday I met a reader of Numb. Actually, she was reading Numb on her phone and I happened to be a stranger, sitting beside her on the park's bench.

She was complaining about how the author is so lazy when the author was sitting beside her 😅

Believe me, her desperation for the new chapter really made me feel guilty.

Anyway, sweetheart if you're reading this then, I want to tell you that you're so cute. I hope you like the chapter. I will try to update soon :)

And yeah, the didi who was sitting beside you, wearing black shorts and a red tank top with Donald Duck printed on it - it was me! 😂❤️