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Chapter 30 : Waqt ke asaar

Five Years Later.

Dark surrounded the bedroom covered in deep darkness. Thick plum covers brushed barely the marble ground, moving gently with the breeze of the chilled air. From the sliver of the window left open, enough breathed into the space to whisper lies against the burning candles. The wax melted against the bronze canister's hold, it crept down the sides, trickling in a mess of deep hotness. Burning to the ends of the stem — the amber of the mantle turned pale with the melted wax. The scent of the deep sugary rose coursed inside the bedroom.

The winter morning was lazy, as January just about rose it's head out of the jumbled up cocoon. It's first rays boiled against the horizon, the sunlight, murky even in it's perfumed glory. Against the thick curtains it's faint light was nothing but a faint flicker that died down. Striking against the glass of the window, reflecting — though just a little of the ray slipped inside the room on to the silhouettes hidden beneath the thick gold duvet. Coursing around the floor and the discarded night suits on the carpet beside the bed, it relentlessly put to display the show of sensuality inside the room.

Darab's hot lips pressed open mouth kisses over Golnar's gently softened chin. Even with the five years that had passed — she had kept the sharpness of her bones, though only her heart shaped chin had softened out, pressing into his throat. His hands large and calloused pressed into her bare back, his tongue licked the distance between her chin and the dip of her collarbone where a thin gold chain kissed her skin. Exploring the curve of her ass, he squeezed the soft flesh until his nails dug deep into the skin.

A soft moan that escaped Golnar's lips was like the first of spring's rain to his ears. He chuckled against her throat, the vibrations of his deep voice rose tremors against her pale skin. Nuzzling his nose into the side of her neck, the mature scent of jasmines mixed with his own deep musk scent filled his senses, and Darab squeezed his eyes shut as the sensations over rode him. Tucking a piece of her thin flesh between his teeth he ever so lightly grazed at it. Sucking — his tongue running soft swirls against the ends of her neck.

His thumb felt the pulse against her skin, rubbing her artery gently, Darab rose his gaze to meet hers. The skin of his forehead against hers, and knotted mess of his almost curly hair shielded their faces from the views of anyone that might choose it as the perfect moment to disturb them. Offering him her smile — the one that showed the blind trust she held in him — stretching the flesh of her lips beyond reach, rising to meet the long curly lashes. With a soft chuckle he pressed his lips against hers.

Darab's tongue licked the seam of her swollen lips, the bruises on the corner of her mouth were a reminder of the assault that had been landed against them a few hours ago. Moaning into his lips, she yelped as his thumb pinched the sensitive flesh of her nipple. Biting into her bottom lip, the ends of his teeth sunk into her flesh, prying open her mouth with the strength of his violent tongue. Golnar's hands fought to the top, tugging at his tendrils.

Though she had forgotten how much her husband hated being interrupted whilst he kissed her. For a few short seconds later, his wide hand gripped both her wrists. Holding them above her head, he pressed his face deeper into hers, tasting the flavour of honey that had remained inside of her mouth from the spoonful he had fed her after Fajar. As she struggled against him, her chest pressed against his and the beats of their hearts synchronised into an unanimous beat.

Breaking off the kiss, his lips traced a whisper from her lips to the tips of her breast. His nose skimmed the flesh, his tongue tracing the taste of her sweat as she fought his hefty hold. Golnar's hips jolted, in a bid to press against his pelvis. She shivered as his other hand held her against the soft mattress. The feathers held her, letting her sink in deeper and deeper. His unforgiving hold keeping her from falling too deep.

Sucking on to the flesh of her deep pink nipple that he had learned to love all those years ago, Darab matched the beat of her throbbing skin. The light blue veins that traced the flesh created patterns of a broken river beneath his mouth, his tongue tracing each of those from the top to the bottom. Twisting the skin of her hipbone between his thumb he waited as she trembled beneath him, slithering her parted thighs against his own, his grip on her body loosening as the throes of his own pleasure threatened to take over him in a senseless bid.

"Darab." Golnar pouted.

Her voice like the breeze of a winter's storm was hoarse, begging for his touch to hold her and then allow her to fall apart. Melting into his hold like she had learnt to do all those years ago.

"Jaldi da kam shaitan da honda ae." He whispered into her ear.
[The work of haste is the work of satan.]

As his words whispered against her skin, his fingers fell into the skin beneath her legs. Tracing the folds, as he used his knee to push open her legs — and the muscles so used to his torture complied without much thought. Stretched until an ache arose inside her hips, his fingers rubbing loose circles on to her clitoris. Darab ran his face over her stomach, sucking on to the scar over her skin that was a result from the emergency caesarian performed on to her body two and a half years ago.

Wiping down the tear that fell from his face over her skin, her wrapped her legs against his waist, pushing his dick against her own wetness covered folds. Entwining their fingers he pressed her hands against the headboard. The strength of his pelvis guiding him in deeper as Golnar's own rose to graze his. Her mouth hung open as he pushed himself in deeper, gyrating until he felt the force of her vaginal walls. Pulsating, they traced out his every movement and matched it with equal dedication.

Their mouths mumbling soft cries against the skins of one another as the high they most sought neared.

"Tu." Darab grumbled into her ear as his jaw twisted.
[You.]

"Menu." He grunted, matching his thrusts with each word.
[To me.]

"Khuda." Another powerful thrust.
[Are God's.]

"Da sabto." His voice shook as carnal pleasure took them both by their throats.
[Most.]

"Sohna tohfa ae."
[Precious gift.]

Darab melted, his cum coursing out of his body to spill inside of hers, the clenching of her walls only enabling and heightening their sensations. His hips riding them out, his lips peppering in soft kisses over her sweaty hair.

Golnar hummed, sighing as he pulled out of her body. Already feeling the lack of his physical presence as he replaced himself by a warm washcloth. Running it between her sensitive folds before he pressed a kiss against her forehead. Mumbling to her a soft good morning before he carried her to their ensuite.

Wrapped in the folds of her silken robe she stepped into the bedroom. Feeling fresh after the warm shower. The tips of her water logged hair curled against her covered shoulders and the odd droplet every now and then still slid down her back. Tracing the curve of her spine above the sheer beige silk. Her hands traced the velcro hangers inside of their closet, every few seconds her gaze ran into the direction of her husband who stood with his bare back towards her. Changing the sheets they had soiled, once again.

The scar on his back remained from the injury all those years ago. A bitter, mournful, truth of their lives. It hit them still every few months — the betrayal of family, the hatred and everything in between. The malicious intent to hurt them. To break and wreck their lives. It had taken an unexplainable toll on the both of them, and despite the many sessions with their heftily paid therapist, deep within Golnar knew some scars never healed.

Tugging the bow open of her gown she stepped into the creme coloured kameez with red embroidery and a light green printed swirl. It's sleeves that ran to the ends of her wrist — stopping at just a good enough distance to allow her bangles to rest against her skin — flattered the bone structure of her hand. The length of her bony fingers was left bare, save for the left ring finger were a ruby set into the mouth of a lion's head — moulded in gold sat. The bright red of it glittered as the mellow sunlight struck it.

"Tuaddi baliyan kithe ne?" Darab whispered against her neck.
[Where are your earrings?]

His hands traced the flesh of her elfin ears, staring at their reflection in the large mirror. Her nimble — curvy frame that filled out the stretches of her attire. Everything about her dress elegant, much like her presence. His oversized — burly frame pinched each ends of the kameez he wore. Everything about his dress of choice was homey, much like him. A far-cry from the luxe energy that his wife radiated. Their eyes, her's a mossy hazel and his an unmatched onyx, both glimmered with joy in their own right.

"Ap ka intezar kar rahi thi." Golnar replied, forwarding her palms in his direction.
[I was waiting for you.]

Sliding in the thin metal wand into her piercing, his hands twisted on to it the stopper to ensure it from dropping. His finger toyed with the dangling beads and his lips pressed a kiss into the nape of her neck. His actions so soft that had Golnar not seen his reflection — she would not have felt the sensation. Squeezing his hands she pressed her back against his front, her ears resting where the deep symmetrical sounds of his heartbeat were most intense.

The calmness of the air and the unity between their frames broke. A soft gurgle that shattered into earth shattering cries forced their figures away. Knowing smiles kissed the impaled cheeks — annoyance not a thought when it came to the young intruder whose voice sounded from the bedroom next to theirs.

Whilst Golnar had been pregnant, Darab had carved open a hole into their bedroom's wall that lead straight to the neighbouring one. A room that he had turned overnight into the overly accessorised nursery of his daughter. Curtains made of fine silk and cotton formed two protective layers, a thin net one installed for pleasant spring evenings to allow the breeze in and keep the mosquitoes out. Walls painted a soft pink that bit not the eye. Warm cream carpets — that he had threatened the finest of weavers to weave off season held the hand made wooden bassinet of his daughter. A creation he had made from his own hands.

Darab had made one promise after all, when his daughter was placed into the crook of his arm. Small and soft — fragile against his hold. He had promised to give her everything the world had to offer and all that she desired. He had promised to live for her a righteous life. He had vowed to the tiny Labibah Darab Haakim — that if she asked of him — he would rob the moon for her.

Pulling the child of almost two summers out of her bassinet, Darab pressed his lips against her soft hair. The natural brunette curls sat against her scalp, though a few dared to grow past her soft heart shaped mouth, teasing the gold studs inside of her ears. Cooing into her ears, Darab ran his hands over her back, kissing her face a few times before handing her over to Golnar.

"Aisay kia dekh rahay hai?" Golnar looked up from the rocking chair.
[Why are you looking at me like that?]

Darab shook his head, watching his daughter suckle on to the bottle of milk, his wife's feet softly moving the chair back and forth. Tucking his hands between the folds of his pocket, he felt at a loss of words. The inexplainable feeling of joy inside his heart, that threatened to burst from the seams, could not be put into simple words. Nor was their any poetry written worthy of the feelings he felt buzz him from top to bottom.

"Aj tusi madrassay da chakar la lena, mein apni Biah nu naal munshi de kar le javan ga." Darab spoke.
[Today you should visit the school, I will take my Biah with me to the accountant's home.]

The school in question was the first college built for the female population of Naazimgarh. Darab had had it constructed four years ago, a gift to his wife on their first anniversary. Ever since then, women of all ages had thronged to the iron black gates in a bid to get enrolled. The prospect of learning was far too good of an opportunity that no one wanted to let go of. In fact a second branch was currently under construction in the estate that belonged to the Haakim's in upper Naazimgarh.

It had been a mutual decision when Golnar had first told him about her pregnancy on that starry night. The home was far too full of tales of pain, and the two had moved into the original Haakim haveli — the one built before partition, the one Golnar had inherited from her father.

Arbaz Haakim had made full recovery. Shifting to Islamabad where he wished to spend the rest of his days. Opening the doors of his home to his daughter and her family, playing under the sun with his young grandchild. Perhaps his only grandchild.

"Golnar."

"Darab."

"Shukriya."
[Thank you.]

"Kyun?"
[Why?]

"Maaf karan laye. Te menu, tenu mohabbat karan da mouqa dein laye."
[For forgiving me. For giving me, a chance to love you.]