||12.||

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***Make sure you read chapter 11***

•||Ch12: Back To Hell||•

•||Ch12: Back To Hell||•

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||Mirha POV||

I hated these goodbyes. I sadly hugged mom and dad and held myself back from crying.

“Take care of yourself!” Mom and dad said.

I hugged them last time and turned to Zain bhai and Sania bhabhi. I pulled them in tight hug.

“Next time when I visit you all guys then you both must give me some good news,” I whispered in their ears.

I pulled back and smiled at my blushing bhabhi and at grinning bhai.

“We will,” Zain bhai said winking at me.

I blew them flying kiss and turned to my car. I climbed inside and waved at them goodbye.

Please stop me.

I don't want to go back.

Mom, Dad, Zain bhai, Sania bhabhi. Please.

I wanted to yell that words loudly at them for stopping me but those words were stuck in my throat.

Driver started the car and drove away. Slowly the house got smaller and smaller then disappeared.

I sighed and put my head back on the seat. I closed my eyes and mentally preparing myself for the hell.

The car stopped outside of the house of Arash. With each steps I took I felt my feet getting heavy and heavy.

Thud...

Thud...

Thud...

I could hear my heart beat loudly. I swallowed hard as I wanted to turn back and ran away but my feet was carrying to the house.

The guard opened the gate of the house and I walked inside. I wrapped my arms around me and breathed out shakily.

I put my hand at the cold knob of the door and turned it slowly. I pushed the door opened and entered inside the room.

I closed the door behind me and took few steps. The lights of the house was off.

“Where were you last night?”

I rooted at my place and tensed at him voice which was cold. The lights of the hall turned on and I looked up at Arash.

He took big steps towards me and I took steps backward. With each step he took towards me I took backward.

He quickly grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him. I looked up at him with wide eyes and gasped as I hit with his hard chest.

“I asked you a question. Where were you last night?” His voice getting angry and loud ever so slowly.

“I. I wa--,” I shuttered because of our closeness.

He moved his hand from my arm to my waist and pulled me more close to him. My breath was hitched.

“Tell me,” He demanded as he moved my hairs from my face behind my ear.

“Why?”

I looked at him with more wide eyes when he pulled me more close to him if that was possible. We were chest to chest. Our face was an inch away from each other.

There was rage in his voice. My breath was getting heavy and I felt lightheaded.

“Why you did this?” He asked, loudly this time.

I jumped in fear in his arms and tried to pull away but all in vain. His hold was tight and it was useless to pull away.

“Arash you are scaring me. Please leave me,” I whispered in fear.

I was afraid of him. I was afraid of his anger. I was afraid of his hold which was making me uneasy and giving me unwanted feelings which I didn't want to have in my heart. The unwanted feelings of falling for him which was the last thing I wanted.

“How funny. I was scaring you but you are not scared of spending nights out in someone else's arms or,”

I looked at him with tearful wide eyes as he said it but what he added in the last, made me hate him more

“in someone else's bed.”

Slapped…

The only sound echoed in the whole house, suddenly. I was breathing heavily. I looked at him with hateful eyes and disgust. My hand was hurting and paining.

He slowly turned his head to me and gave me blank look.

“Who do you think of yourself, Mr. Arash Ali?” I asked, loudly.

The anger inside me bubbled out on the right person. My angry tears were streaming down.

“Who are you here to judge me and think of me like that?” I shouted, loudly and angrily at him.

“I am not a characterless girl. I have some respect for myself. If you think of me like that then divorce me,” I yelled, frustratedly.

I turned around and ran upstairs to my room. I locked the door and threw myself on my bed. I cried on my pillow.

I hated him.

I hated myself.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

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