A rosy sky at dusk inferred fine weather. There was no sign of rain but then from nowhere grey clouds appeared to besiege the sky.
He was driving back home. Yes, home is where one lives, feels comfortable; no matter if it's in a forest.
Highway ended, now all marshy land started. The jagged path made the Jeep bounce every meter. Serkhayl had a severe headache as his hands were clasped so hard around the leather cased steering wheel that his knuckles turned white.
The forest was eerily quiet beside the whispers of the sullen wind and roaring engine.
Soon raindrops began splashing onto the dusty soft roof and windshield.
Serkhayl immediately turned on the wipers.
Rain commonly calms nerves but here it was evidently the opposite as he yanked, almost uprooted the gear lever, and squeezed the race pedal under his boot. His actions were indicating his ragged mood.
Jeep couldn't handle a little more slamming onto the accelerator as it jerked with the force.
He crushed half of the kilometers more beneath the tyres, before reaching his cottage.
The Jeep took a final wiggle before coming to a halt.
Healthy drops welcomed him as he hopped out. His jaw flexed along with his fists as he turned and tramped towards his cottage.
Walking past the moss rock hedge, he halted In the circle of light, coming from the bulb hung up into a shade above. His already grim mood turned into anger when the door, as usual, refused to shift.
He never locked it.
"Fu*k!" He pushed the door with his left hand but no coup. Meanwhile, the rain wholly soaked him and the dooryard was like mud. He shouldered the stubborn door this time and with a screech, the door finally unrolled.
After getting inside, the next thing he did; jerked his jacket off along with the gun holster he was wearing beneath and flung toward the chair.
Trailing his fingers in his wet hair he spun to locate the candle and lighter as inner instinct and prior experiences were enough to foresee power failure anytime soon.
Suddenly his phone bleeped in his pant pocket. He picked it out mindlessly to check. There was a message from an unknown number.
Photo message.
It was an intimate selfie. He recognized the half slept man under the duvet. He was Mr. Ludwig with the half-naked woman. She was topless with her arm at her front; it was barely covering her tits.
Serkhayl's eyes sparked with anger.
He narrowed his eyes and forced himself to read the text, "I'm done with this sleepy sack! kab tak mujhy youn tarpao gey Meri Jaan?"
His grip went tighter on his phone as he swore under his breath, "bloody bitch!"
It was from Jennifer. Ludwig's wife.
No wonder she pilfered his number from Ludwig's cell, who was her husband in name only.
She was giving him lewd notions since the day they first encountered. But today her hypersexuality was on the next level. In front of Ludwig's eyes, she found every excuse to touch him. Ludwig was tipsy enough or was deliberately overlooking his wife's obscene manner. Today she was in full mood to flatten this handsome hunk over whom she was drooling over for many weeks.
When Serkhayl strictly rejected her dinner request, she nearly begged, "Please don't deny a cheerful drink with us at least!" Ludwig took the side of his wife, "C'mon Serkhayl! Look how she is fanatic for you to accept her hospitality," Ludwig little slurred, his ale was slowly influencing. "Ok," Serkhayl reluctantly agreed. She with a bossy grin scuttled inside to bring drinks for them.
أنت تقرأ
MY EMPEROR
العاطفية⚠️ Wild and prostitution theme alert. "Finished! I'm finished!" She mumbled with bruised lips, face stained with dirt and tears. Golden scruffy hair with little curls was lime lighting the dry leaves, twigs entangled. Lilac dress fabric was likely r...
