Love for Mr.Mafia

Expectations

khushbu's pov:

My mind screaming me not to do, but I do it. The heart wants what it wants. The pain, the suffering, the loneliness hitting me in a full wave that my mind does not process and my heart takes the decision as I scroll through the contact and coming across the name I have being yearning. Whose voice I have been yearning to listen to for days now.

just once! only once! maybe things will set straight.

with that thought in mind I hit the call button and it hardly takes thirty seconds for the receiver to pick the phone up.

"hello?" the soft voice of the receiver brings peace into me.

"Ammi." I respond. The other end silent as her soft breath is the only sound I can concentrate on.

"Khushbu." Just one word speaking volumes not a question , an answer, like she knew I would call.

" Are you with Raftar?" her question kills the hope in my as my heart lets a shrinking feeling at her acknowledgement .

" I'm at the Mansion with him." I make a cold statement.

The other end is silent . Both of us unsure on how and what to talk and that is when I realize this may not end well. This conversation is sure to break my heart in the end.

" Am I still not allowed without him?" I voice my thoughts afraid of the answer I would recieve .

"No. Its either with him or not at all." her voice a mear whisper though with a determination as all my hope shatters and my heart breaks into peices.

stupid ! stupid heart!

Dragging my legs to a wodden bench in the green world of the manshion drwaing in the fresh air that burnt my lungs I pray , pray to god to give me strenth for I hold pain beyond my capability. If this is a test then I shall go through it but how do I forgive them , for Allah would want me to forgive them no matter what they did to me.

I stay seated for hours together stairing at the brown almost black bark of a tree that stands tall infront of me. The leaves on the branches sway with the breeze as my hair sways in tune with them. I bend and pull out the sandal strap and let my feet touch the wet grass feeling the slight prick of the pointed ends of the grass. Taking a deep breath I ignore the commotion that has been paying inside the house . I ignore the yells, screams and shouts for all I have been doing is wondering about my future and the aftermath of today's argument. I ignored all I could until I felt something sharp and glistering object against my neck.

Am I worried ? NO. why? I don't care.

" reste fermé et n'ose pas bouger" A dark husky voice from behind me murmurs. The stench emitting from the man reeks of piss and something metallic and rotting.

"English " I whisper out but my voice comes out more like calm and steady.

what is your confidence about ? my subconscious speaks out though she casually lounges in the back of my mind with a sad expression.

him......

"No move , no sound hushhh" The man brings the small object closer to my neck drawing blood from my neck as he warns me in his thick French accent.

I stay still with my ass rooted on the bench when a set of leather clad feet come into my line of vision. Moving my head up I see the hazel eyes of my husband glaring at the man behind me . The look in his eyes says it all. KILL. Never have I ever seen his this cold and .... ruthless. A shiver runs down the spine when he looks into my eyes for few seconds and without much thought aims the gun in my direction. As much as that should worry me , I am not. I feel nothing but numb as I stare back into his eyes. Its a feeling that states that he wont hurt me when I know he has done so beyond repair. What is left for him to do when he has taken all of it?