FROM NEVER TO HAPPILY EVER!

7.

Mahira Khan.

The pleasure of love lasts but a moment. But! The pain of love lasts a lifetime.

My eyes fill up as I read the message in the card that came along with Amir's bouquet. I donot know why I picked that bouquet up from among the lot that were heaped up there. But I did. Curiosity took the best of me, I had seen the card while he was handing the bouquet. I wanted to know what was in there, it is only now I am realising he is a sadistic jerk.

There is no other possible reason he could have written it. I sniff rubbing my eyes to avoid any tears from falling.

"If your wailing session for the day is over, get off my bed. Ordinary people like us sleep at night." Why is he so big on sarcasm? I humph getting off my supposed marital bed.

"You and ordinary cannot be put into the same sentence. Ordinary would be lifting your wife's veil, giving her a wedding gift and asking her if she is okay." I rant huffing and puffing as I try to remove the heavy jewellery. From the mirror, I watch him rolling his eyes at my drama as he makes himself comfortable on his side of the bed in his casuals which he changed into the moment he entered the room, without sparing me a glance.

Not like I was dying for his attention.

Oh yeah? Then why did you stare at him from the corner of your eyes until he disappeared into the closet?

Whatever.

"Ahh" I hiss in pain as the pin of my long ass dupatta presses into my skin when I tugged at the cloth. I am sure it will leave a bruise. I tilt my head in an absurd angle trying to remove the safety pin without causing anymore damage to my skin. When it gets difficult, I wait for my husband to come to my rescue. But guess what?

Not so surprisingly, Officer Baig is engrossed in his phone typing away something that he didn't even hear my hiss. And if he did, he obviously did not care enough to check up on me.

"Mohsin! I need help with the pin. It is pricking my skin." I whine slumping on the couch, exhausted. He just looks up from his phone, and goes back go typing again. Did he just ignore me royally?

I am pissed off now, getting up I walk straight to him snatching that phone away, I glare at him. This jackass needs lessons on how to be a gentleman. Or it is just me that he has reserved to witness his asshole version? Whatever it is, I won't take the disrespect and definitely will not go down without a fight.

"Can you be less dramatic, please? I didn't dishonour you or something that you are acting all jhansi ki rani." He says nonchalantly as if his head is aching with the possibility of dealing with me anymore.

This time I roll my eyes at his instigation, and pull him out of the bed with his hand and my my! His biceps are a masterpiece. I have this intense urge to feel them more, and discover myself the treasure beneath this piece of cloth. For a while there, the pricking pin stopped digging my skin or so I felt like. Once I am before the dressing mirror, I stand before him nudging him to remove the pin.

Mr.High and Mighty stands there with an expressionless face, reluctantly raising his hands and slowly pulling off the front of my dupatta. Even though I know he is looking at me only due to the situation, his eyes trained on my neck raise the heat on my face, my stomach does a quick somersault. I can feel the thudding of my heart, why is this happening with me? I have never felt the rush of adrenaline in blood this way, not even with Arif and I graduated with him.

He finds the place where the wound is, and if I wasn't closely observing his features I would have missed the slight grimace that formed on his face.  So he does actually feel, for a while there I doubted if he had a disorder or something. His fingers slowly grip the pin, pressing the area around it slightly and I bite my lips to stop myself from groaning. Then, swiftly within a flick of his finger he pulls out the darned pin. Shit. This is painful.

I am assuming blood trickled out of the cut skin because he presses more on it, "Darn it, Baig! It's paining." I finally give in and a few tears flow down.

"Sorry, just give me a minute. The blood won't stop flowing out. It needs an antiseptic." He mutters distractedly, as if contemplating something and call me a sadist but I definitely would bear more such wounds if I get to hear the same concern in his voice everytime I get a wound and that sorry! Oh my God, it was definitely a once in a lifetime thing.

I see him rushing into the closet to get what am assuming is a first aid kit.

Haaye. Bas ek chot khani thi iski attention ke liye? Main roz na zakhmi hojaon.

Damn! When did I start turning into a lunatic now? I am losing my shit already and it is not even the first day of our marriage yet.

What exactly are you made up of Mohsin Baig? Will I ever be able to decode you?

I sit on the couch by the time he is back and begins working on my wound immediately. I feel his breath tickling my ear, as he bends dangerously close to my neck, trying to focus on the gash on my scapula.

I am sitting straight on the sofa and he has settled beside me facing me. Without thinking much about the implications, I plant my head on his tempting shoulders inhaling his scent discreetly. I turn my head to the right, my hair touching his neck and thus shifting my body slightly towards his to make it easier for him to work on.

His fingers continue to work on my wound as I settle with memorising the feeling of his sturdy, toned front pressed against my sides. I close my eyes, his spice cologne lulling me to sleep as his soothing heartbeat adds to the dizziness. I feel lightheaded, like I am high. Something about this dangerously intimate position is terribly wrong and I can't put my finger on it. My brain is shutting down on me, like it knows I am finally at my home and it can now let the exhaustion of the day take over it.

I am halfway into bliss when I feel a feather like caress on my cheeks, and a light peck on my shoulder blade. Am I already dreaming? I thought I was still slightly awake but guess not and I am too exhausted to ponder over it as I feel my body slumping completely on something hard.

" You never cease to surprise me, spitfire! Only, if your oblivion did not bother me. Only."