36. Uncertainty | عدم یقینی

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•Flashbacks are in bold•

Uncertainty. A word that never existed in Azlan Shehryar's dictionary. His mind had always been clear about things. Certain. Absolutely sure. The reason he was at the acme of business world. But, now, this woman was compelling him to venture back to the memory lane and brood if what he thought was really what it was? His mind was nothing short of daze these days. He couldn't fathom between right and wrong.

For the first time in his life he was facing this kind of trouble. All because of that woman. That damned woman who was making him question his conscience he had switched off the moment he had decided to torture her; to inflict every ounce of pain on her just like she did on that person. He wanted her to go through the same agony. Same anguish. He hated her. God, he hated her so damn much.

But what about his analyzing personality that could easily give him the vibes? And this woman was nowhere even close to his perception of her. Her stance screamed of purity. The way she cared about people around her. The way she loved Ayyan who wasn't even her own flesh. The way she had gotten all wrecked up for Raina. He didn't know if it was a façade or not. But, it felt real. So real. All those emotions. Everything about her was real. Then, how can someone so devoting and caring can commit such a heinous thing? Was there something more to what he had been fed with?

Raking a hand through his disheveled hair, he flipped out a cigarette from the box, the orange flame of which was the only fleck of anything closer to light in his study room, completely bathing in the color he was filled with from within. Even the sky tonight was an obsidian canvas with no light, whatsoever, as if mocking him of his soul which was nothing but a black hole. Dark and empty. With no emotion. But the question is; did he really not have any emotion?

Toxins soared within him as he revelled in the rings of smoke. Smoke was good. It was killing him. Something he had tried to do on his own but never succeeded. Who would believe that Azlan Shehryar, the top teir business man at the pinnacle of his life was so empty from inside? So broken and bruised.

This can't go on like this.

He shot up from his chair and stood by the window. When this woman was away from him, she was all he could think about. And now when she was back here, her actions were messing with his mind. Diverting him from the path he had so passionately carved for her to go through. But, now, he wasn't being able to act upon it. Not with her being around him, at least. He had to send her away. As far as he could from him. Yes he had to. And he would.

******

Silver and white. The amalgam of hair that indicated Ameen Hashmi's almost poverty stricken life. The wrinkles on his hands were the testament of his growing age. The sunken eyes nothing short of solemn nothingness.

Perched on his charpoy in the wide patio of his small house, he was in deep thoughts. That's what the scowl suggested at least.

"Hafsa bachay!" His loud voice boomed through the house and within a minute her nineteen year old frame crept outside.

"Yes, Abu?" Just how innocent that face was! Completely unaware of the havoc that was going to be her life few days from now.

"Come, sit here." He patted the spot next to him and without any further ado, she did as asked as she bored into the expressions etched on gruesome his face. The expressions that only awaited for her to succumb to them so the hell could break lose on her.

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