Her hands clutched her dress as she looked down. I placed my both hands each side of her head on the wall and caged her. She was terrified to be in that position. "Move back. What are you doing" Turning her face to a side she pushed me with both han...
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It was very early in the morning, the sky still wrapped in darkness, the sun not yet daring to rise. But Arsh was already awake.
For the first time in what felt like forever, his sleep had been peaceful — soft, unbroken — all because of the words Shafiyya had spoken last night. Her voice, trembling yet steady enough to hold meaning, still echoed in his mind. She wanted to give this marriage a chance. She was willing to try. Willing to hope.
He had been on cloud nine hearing it. Stunned, breathless. It almost felt unreal.
He had forced her into his life, blackmailed her, hurt her... more than once. And yet, despite every bruise he had left — on her body and her heart — she still said those words. She still dared to imagine a better future with him. She had given him something he didn't even know he was craving — her willingness.
Arsh knew his own truth. In the beginning, he hadn't loved her. She had been an obsession, a storm he wanted to capture and keep locked away, nothing more. He had wanted her to be his simply because he couldn't stand the thought of her belonging to anyone else. Love hadn't been part of it... not then.
But now? Now it was different. Somewhere between her defiance and her fragility, between the nights he watched her from afar and the moments she accidentally let her guard down... he had fallen. Hard. The thought of a life without her didn't just unsettle him — it felt impossible.
And yet, he hadn't expected her to feel even a fraction of the same. Not after the way he had treated her. Not after he had lost control and slapped her just yesterday. But she did. And she said it out loud.
His gaze dropped to the delicate figure lying beside him — his wife. Fragile, yet somehow the strongest person he knew. Her head had found its place against his chest in sleep, her breathing deep and even. She looked so unaware of the effect she had on him, so unaware that her simple presence was undoing the cold walls he had built his entire life.
Arsh reached up, brushing his fingertips along her cheek. The skin was still warm, faintly red from the mark of yesterday, though no longer swollen. His touch was feather-light, as though afraid that even the gentlest pressure might disturb her peace.
He stayed there like that — awake while she slept, his chest rising beneath her, his arms reluctant to move. Time blurred. He didn't know how long he remained there, holding her in the stillness, afraid that if he moved, he might wake up from what felt like the most fragile dream he'd ever been given.
It was seven in the morning when Shafiyya slowly opened her eyes. The faint golden light from the early sun had yet to fill the room, leaving it wrapped in a soft dimness. She lay still for a moment, feeling the quiet hum of the morning.
She remembered she was on her period, so there was no need to get up for prayer. Turning her head, she reached instinctively for the other side of the bed—but it was empty.
