A Court's Maim

نکاح |Marriage

To those that have no extra classes today.

Bonus — I

A drop of honey slipped down the edge of his pinky finger as he placed the spoon back into it's enclosure. His lips latched on to the dripping and sucked at it, the soft sugar melted into his mouth. The void of his soft palate melted from the darkness of perfumed silence, the honey in it's gold ringlets he could feel drip down the back of his throat. Coating the span of his oesophagus. Covered in saliva he retreated it from his buccal cavity. Wiping it against the coarse linen handkerchief that his brother had insisted their family adopt too.

On the linen the gold silhouettes of meshed together frames were to be a reminder of their family. With the tip of his finger he rubbed the coarse edge, his thumb rolled over the cursive embroidery of their family name. Squinting his nose, Aliyaar pressed a hand against the rimless spectacles that had once more slid down his sharp nose bridge. The butterknife cut through the golden pancakes with buttery smoothness, dipped into the deep brown honey, he chewed on slowly. Throwing a piece of smoked Turkey bacon to his — soon to be their — pet, Lightning.

Sunlight slipped in through the thick raw silk curtains his mother had insisted on being changed, much like the polishing on his bed that she said had to be refreshed. The tiles and wooden details, all redone. Just yesterday professional cleaners had wiped down the every last inch of the glass shards of his chandelier. Now it glimmered. Casting ringlets of a sharp rainbow over his breakfast spread. One that he was uncharacteristically taking in his private apartments far later than he would usually. 

Yet than again, he reminded himself, sipping on the glass of apple juice, nothing about the day was characteristic.

Wiping the ends of his aristocratic mouth with the plain beige napkin, he covered the dishes once more with the covers. The deep brown chair — one that resembled the shades of her hair — tucked into it's neat place once more. Mindlessly, Aliyaar finger spun the thick platinum band around his ring finger, dreaming of the moments that would soon slip inside of his life. Tucking the sleek glass back phone into the pockets of his vanilla trousers he slipped out of the door. Closing it softly behind himself. Feeling the embedded handle against his flesh — one last time.

As a single man.

Sun overhead, with lingering puddles of water against the cobblestone drive way were an ode to the weather of Lahore in the unfeeling Monsoon's. Bright and orange — the sun's unfiltered and un fleeting rays shadowed over the vast expanse of trees and greenery, the undersides painted a riveting shadowy shade of grey, and the sky a reflection of their electric greens. Washed at last of the dust that had been collecting on the top most levels of their branches. Flowers bursted across the curving driveway, with the youngest of hydrangeas finally bursting their heads against the ever green rose tree.

Aliyaar's Audi purred softly as he slid inside the already chilled back seat. The door closing with a satisfied click and the driver disengaging the hand breaks before rolling through the tall iron gates. On to the open, vast boulevards of Model Town. Through the tinted windows the sunlight lost it's sharp intensity and fall along the upper half of his toned thigh. The flesh that throbbed with life hidden beneath the enclosure of the plain white cotton-silk fabric.

His trousers fell with a straight hem to his ankles, from where his beige socks took over and cut off smoothly where the deep auburn — almost charcoal tie shoes began. Their heels sinking, the tuft of suede on the shoes, matching that of the carpets. With a hand propped over the arm rest, the fingers resting in a crooked crown's hold against his thigh, the thick platinum buttons embossed with their initials and the impression of her favourite flowers, struck the plastic. The large discs matched the ones that lined his coat, the buttoned white shirt stitched to his flesh almost.