She turned around to look at him, shock dancing in her eyes. Without a word, she stood up and hurried toward the door.
"Oye, ladki, kaha jaa rahi ho?" Raza called out when he saw her making a quick exit.
(Hey, girl, where do you think you're going?)
She didn’t stop. She reached for the door, her hand trembling on the handle, when suddenly, Raza sprinted across the room and grabbed her wrist. Her bangles jingled sharply in the sudden silence. It was the first time he noticed how slender her wrist was.
"Let me go! You’re going to do exactly what they said you would! They told me a man is always going to be a man. He’ll do what he wants, and I saw the way you looked at me—just like they described, like you wanted to devour me. And you will—"
Her frantic words were cut off as Raza pinned her against the wall, so close she could feel his breath against her skin. She forgot how to breathe.
"Saans lo, buddhu ladki. Nahin toh tum mere khane se nahin, lekin saans na lene se zaroor mar jaogi," he growled, his voice a dangerous whisper. "Mujhe uksao mat ki main tumhare saath kuch sach mein galat kar dun. Aur kisne tumhe iss halat mein kamre se bahar jaane ki ijazat di? Tum Chaudhary Raza Behlaaj ki biwi ho, andaza hai tumhe? Bina meri marzi ke ek kadam bhi bahar nikala, toh pair tod kar bitha kar woh sab karunga jo un aurton ne tumhare iss chote se dimag mein ghusa diya hai."
(Take a breath, you foolish girl, or you’ll die—not from me devouring you, but from not breathing. Don’t provoke me to do something truly wrong to you. And who gave you permission to leave this room in such a state? Do you realize you are the wife of Chaudhary Raza Behlaaj? If you take even one step out without my permission, I’ll break your legs and do exactly what those women put into your small mind.)
Her eyes widened as she felt his fingers trace a slow path up her forearm, then to her elbow, and finally to her shoulder.
Her lips trembled. She wanted to say something, anything, but his words had terrified her into silence. Her gaze dropped to his chest, shame keeping her from looking him in the eyes.
"Raza bha-ahh!" she gasped, jumping as his nails dug into her arm. She whimpered softly, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain.
“Shohar hun tumhara,Agli baar ye lafz suna tho Zabaan kheech lunga,"he warned sharply. He knew this was new for her before their marriage, she had always called him "Bhai," but now that they were husband and wife, hearing her call him "brother" felt like a deep insult.
(I am your husband now. If I hear that word from you again, I'll rip your tongue out)
“Tho…tho mai..mai bhi Biwi hun aapki ab…"she stammered, her voice small and uncertain."pehle ki tarah mujhe dekh kar oyee Ladki mat kahiye…Biwi kahiye…aap pehle bhi aise hi kehte the oye ladki paani la do,oye ladki khana lado ,oyee Choti Rafia ko bulao–”,
(But... but I'm your wife now,".... "Don't call me 'oye ladki' like before. Say 'biwi' instead. You used to always say, 'Oye ladki, get me water,' or 'Oye ladki, serve the food,' or 'Oye Little one,call Rafia-")
She was babbling on like the innocent child just like she still was, but he abruptly silenced her, pressing his large, veiny hand over her mouth.
"Tum ladki nahi ho… choti bachi ho abhi tum meri," he muttered, staring intensely into her eyes as he leaned in closer. His words and actions were in stark contrast, each one more contradictory than the last.
"You're not just a girl... you're still a little one for me,"
He kept his hand firmly over her mouth, not giving it much thought, as if his body was acting on its own. He could feel the warmth of her soft lips against his rough palm, a sensation that sent a thrill through him. Her delicate skin felt almost intoxicating, her lips supple against his touch, igniting a strange sense of ecstasy within him.
How would it feel if he did that to her? The thought crossed his mind unbidden, dark and intrusive. To silence her screams by placing his hand on her lips again... What on earth was he thinking?
Raza abruptly pulled his hand away from her and stepped back, putting several paces between them. It felt forbidden to even entertain such thoughts, but his emotions were a storm inside him, tearing at his self-control.
Something about her drew him in-perhaps it was because she was now halal (permissible) for him, his young wife, bound to him in a way she hadn't been before. The pull was undeniable, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her. He turned sharply on his heel and threw himself onto the bed, draping an arm over his eyes as if trying to block out the images that kept flooding his mind.
She stood there, her breaths coming fast and uneven, still feeling the lingering sensation of his hands on her arms and lips. Her lips trembled, her chin quivering with fear and uncertainty. Slowly, she walked over to the bed, grabbed a pillow, and returned to her mat on the floor. Wrapping herself tightly in her dupatta, she lay down and closed her eyes, beginning to recite a dua. For the first time, she felt she needed protection not from Satan, but from her own husband. Gradually, she drifted into a restless sleep.
Raza remained on the bed, his mind a chaotic tangle of thoughts and emotions. He watched her, unable to look away, her back the only part of her visible to him. He tried to close his eyes, to shut out the turmoil inside him, but sleep wouldn't come. Restless, he sat up, then lay back down again.
Frustrated, he sat up once more, grabbing a cigarette and lighter from the bedside table. Lighting the cigarette, he took a deep drag, the smoke curling around him as he stared at her still form on the mat.
He spent the entire night like this, caught between his thoughts and his desires, unable to find peace. When he finally heard the call to prayer at dawn, he got up from the bed, his body heavy with exhaustion and tension, and left the room, seeking some form of solace outside.
After finishing his prayers at the mosque, Raza returned home and closed the main gate behind him, only to find his mother standing there, her eyebrows raised in question.
Without a second thought, he said, “I went for Namaz, not drinking, Amma.”
She shook her head, noticing some guests within earshot, and her gaze shifted toward the door of his room as she thought about something.
“Is Halima sleeping?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Did you take a bath?” she inquired further.
“No, I’m going to take a bath now,” he replied, not understanding the hidden meaning behind her question.
His mother’s body trembled with anger, and she glared at him, but she didn’t say a word. She decided she would have a serious talk with her daughter-in-law in the morning.
Feeling there was nothing more to discuss, Raza headed toward his room. Once inside, he locked the door behind him and noticed Halima shivering on the mat.
He hesitated at first, but then, remembering that he was allowed to touch her, he gently scooped her into his arms and placed her on the bed, covering her with a duvet to keep her warm.
He sat beside her on the other side of the bed, his eyes fixed on the door as he thought about his mother's behavior. Suddenly, realization dawned on him, and his face turned red with embarrassment, anger rising within him.
How could she ask him that? She had actually asked if he had taken a bath, as if assuming something between thm had happened.How can they even think of him doing things with a seventeen years old girl?
Glancing at the clock, he lay down beside her and studied her closely, taking in her delicate features.
She looked so innocent, with a small button-like nose and large eyes closed, hiding her blue pupils beneath long lashes that rested on her soft, creamy skin.
His gaze fell to her lips—full, yet perfectly thin, and naturally pink.
He sighed, imagining the day when he might finally touch them with his own, when she would willingly come to him. But that day was still far off—at least a year away, when she would be more mature.
One more year...
Before the marriage, he had never thought of her in this way, but now, considering his duties and the incident with his mother, he was starting to see her differently.
There was no reason to avoid her presence as his wife.
Just a few months ago, he had watched her play and then began to distance himself once he learned that she had agreed to marry him.
He wanted to ask her one thing: why did she marry him?
In the back of his mind, he already knew the answer. He understood that she was trying to act and appear mature because her mother and others had pressured her to do so.
He knew how women were often taught to do things they don’t truly want to after marriage.
As he thought about this, his eyes fell on her red bangles. He couldn’t resist the urge to gently place his hand on hers, and the soft chime of her bangles filled his ears.
Intertwining his fingers with hers, he drew her hand closer to him. He realized that she was a deep sleeper after he had put her to bed, so he didn’t worry about her waking up.
Mere haat me tera haath ho,
Saari jannatein mere paas ho,
tu jo paas ho phir kya ye jahan?
Tere pyaar me ho jaaun Fanaa..
The fragrance of henna reached his nostrils, and he drew her hand closer to his face, inhaling deeply. His eyes shut as he savored the smoothness of her hand and the scent of the henna, while the gentle chime of her bangles intensified his emotions.
He kept her hand close to him, his gaze shifting to her face. He placed her wrist in his other hand near the pillow, confused by the stir of feelings he couldn’t fully understand.
His fingers brushed against her cheek, where small strands of hair played with the breeze, moving from her nose to her cheek. He gently stroked her cheek and gathered her hair between his fingers, tucking it behind her ear. As soon as his fingers touched her earlobe, her eyes flew open in shock, and she stared at him, wide-eyed.
She first met his gaze, then her eyes fell on her own hands, which were still held in Raza’
s grip. Quickly, she pulled her hands away and sat up, looking around in bewilderment.
“How did I end up here?”
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