FROM NEVER TO HAPPILY EVER!

13.

Suman Malik.

He smoothly brushes my hand away from his, straightening up then dusting his shoulder.

"Meri tumhari zindagi me koi jaga nahi rahi ab. Tumhari madad ke liye bahut log hai, tumne bonds bana rakhe hai yha. Aur agar Khilb lautne ka faisla bhi karti ho tab bhi tumhe meri koi zarurat nahi hogi"

That's enough now, I push him with all my strength. "Oh acha! To wo mai thi jisne do saal nikah me rehte hue bhi kisi aur se mohabbat ki? To wo mai thi jisne biwi ko kiss karne ke bawajood kisi aur aurat se nikah ki guzarish ki? To wo mai thi jisne apni galti ki mafi bhi nahi maangi? To wo mai thi jisse aaj bhi apni biwi ke liye hamdardi nahi? Mai hi thi. Isliye mujse aisa sulook kar rhe hai. Aur isliye mujhe apa watan chod kar ana pada."

I didn't plan on this confrontation. Atleast not now.

His eyes darken, and this time he doesn't hide the storm brewing behind his irises.

Good progress.

"Maafi mangne layak to tum mujhe kabhi samjhi hi nahi" He speaks as if talking to the wall. He is not even looking into my eyes. It's as if whatever little connection we had made, it's all vanished.

Ofcourse, ab to Huda api ke sath itne
mashruf honge ki mujhe puri tarah se bhul gye. He is such an asshole, he didn't once apologize to me for all that he has done and then has the audacity to say all this.

"Sahi kaha apne. Mai abhi dikhati hu ki mai kis layak samajhti hu aapko", I mutter not knowing what to do with all of this hurt.

But I am not letting him off the hook this easily now, I am going to get back at him. That's all I tell myself, when I turn around and spot a random guy drunk out of his mind, I step towards him pulling his hand. He turns to me sizing me up with a smirk, I am hating every second of this but I have to show Gaddi Nasheen he can't just get away with everything.

The plan is simple, kiss a random guy before him and walk out with my head held high.

I gag internally at the steel smell of whiskey coming off him but still step closer, hold the lapels of his jackets while his hands circle my waist. Before I can even move my face closer to his, a rough hand pulls me at the speed of lightning.

The force is too hard resulting in my back slapping into his chest, I swear I heard an animalistic growl emerging from his chest before he lifts me up like a sac of potatoes and puts me over his shoulder marching towards what I assume is the parking lot.

I struggle, crying for help and hell does anybody care. Everybody is involved in their own thing, his hold is very tight and me trying to wriggle out of there was only resulting in rubbing of our bodies against each other, if I wouldn't be this enraged I would be flustered by the delicious friction that had been created.

He throws me in the passenger seat of what looked like a Rolls Royce. How he managed to get hold of one is beyond me, this guy is super rich. I quickly try to unlock the door but somehow it wouldn't budge. I let out a frustrated hiss at the fact that he always seems so in control of the situation. Right now, I am hating it.

The moment he opens his side of the door, I quickly unlock my door and jump out. I have taken only two steps away from the car in a bid to spring away, when I hear smashing of the window. Before I know it, I have reflexively stepped towards him to see he punched the window of his seat.

"Gaddi Nasheen", I gasp trying to make sense of what just happened with trembling hands. I grab his hand, the rage radiating from his body least affecting me as I step forward. His knuckles are badly bruised and pieces of glass that tore his skin are hanging off from the subcutaneous tissue.

For some reason, the trembling in my hands doesn't stop as I try to remove as many glass pieces as I can and he does nothing but stand stiff, breathing haggardly as though trying to control himself.

"Kya kia apne? Zyada macho ban rhe hai?", my words are a jumble of desperation and need. Explicit need to stitch his wound.

He tries to withdraw his hand from mine but I hold still, making sure I don't hurt him more. But the irony! Perhaps in reality in a bid to hold him firmly, I might have hurt him a lot more.

"Don't touch me!", he speaks monotonously. The tone is so inconsequential that I physically coil back. It's like he is talking to a stranger. There is no anger at all, or any sort of emotion for that matter. When did this happen? And why?

"Don't touch me Suman Malik! Not when you have forgotten your limits. Mallika-e-Khilb ho tum, is baat ko bhi bhula chuki ho kya? Kya teen mahine kafi hai ye bhula ne ke liye ki kiski ke Nikah me ho? Kisi ki izzat ho? Kisi ki shayad jaan nikal jaye tumhe is halat me dek?"

Questions. I can work with them. Just not his indifference. I forcefully drag his arm to the backseat. I settle in first and try to find the first aid box. I am sure it must be somewhere here, by the time he has settled and locked the car doors. Now I realise this compact place is too small and too quiet.

Fuck. He can easily pick my thudding hearbeats now.

Plan kya tha Summi? Yaad karo! Tumhe Gaddi Nasheen se farq nahi padta. Ab unse mohabbat nahi karti. Samjhi?

I finally locate it in the dashboard. From the back, the first aid wasn't reachable so I bent forward to reach for the dashboard, while being overly aware of his gaze on my now exposed midriff. Ah, this is the first time he is watching me in a skimpy one-piece.

Five minutes into it, I heave a sigh after successfully removing all the glass pieces, and then bandage it after disinfecting the area.

"Ha to kya keh rahe the ap? Mai bhul gayi hu? Ap nahi bhule the jab ap mere Nikah me hokar bhi Huda api se ishq ki bheek mang rahe the?"I speak and realise my mood is again declining and fast at that.

He.does.nothing.but.stare.at.me

Just stare. Like I am talking about the whether. Wait you asshole.

My eyes narrow in annoyance as I face him fully, only to surprise him by dragging my other knee over his thighs and positioning myself against his chest such that now we are face to face.

From this close up, I can even count the freckles on his zygomatic arch. His huge fingers trace the path from my bent knee upwards slightly bunching the fabric of my dress. Now that I think about it, my thighs look so thick against his sturdy ones. Just when his index finger rests against the most prominent point on my pelvis, do I lose count of the number of times I skipped my hearbeats.

He bends forward, his eyes boring into mine like never before. It's like a veil has been lifted off them, like he is looking at me like a newly born infant.

Our chests graze slightly and the contact has me electrocuted, and the gentle caress of his finger against my bone is all I need right now in this moment.

"Aur agar mai ye kahu ki afsos hai. Behad afsos hai tumhe kho dene ka. Itna ki shabdo me bayan na kar paun", he speaks gently and with a caress.

I have only one response, "Waqt beet jane ke baad jo qadar ki jaye, phir wo qadar nahi pachtawa hota hai."