**A Wattpad featured story**
Bekhudi || بیخودی
❝ He gently dragged his hand around the delicate skin of my neck, slowly caressing it under his stifling touch. I felt his breath curling against me, as a wave of sultriness rod...
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I was born in the lap of luxury and wealth, power and privilege. From afar one would think my life was perfect and for a while even I believed it to be. I was the first daughter born in the Malik family after generations, needless to say I was adored. Sweets were distributed, sacrifices were offered, destitute were fed, feasts were held, shrines were decorated; all to celebrate the birth of a baby girl in the family.
As a young girl, I relished the power I had over my family. I was pampered and cherished, even my absurdist of demands met without objection. Life was perfect. I was spoilt.
As our political influence in the country grew, so did my social circle. Children clung around me, hoping to forge a friendship with the Malik heiress. I would love the attention I received, but soon it became apparent people didn't love me for who I was, but for the weight my surname carried in the country. A seed of resentment took root within me.
After my thirteenth birthday, I was no longer allowed to visit my friends or any public places. The occasional times I was allowed, Zaroon Bhai or Zayan would have to accompany me. It angered me. I began to envy the unbridled freedom my brothers enjoyed. The seed began to grow.
As I grew older, my demands were no longer entertained, instead my life was organised around an imaginary rule book. A rule book bound with the wires of morality, aimed at transforming me into a perfect docile woman. A woman who would one day be wedded off into a powerful, affluent family, to further cement our family's position in the country. I still remember the nauseating feeling that clawed my throat when I overheard my grandfather casually suggest the few families he was considering for his grandchildren. I was fifteen.
That was the day I realised, when politics becomes a profession, power becomes your dearest relationship. The small seed that day blossomed into a plant.
I knew my life would come to this one day, but I never thought my family would deceive me like this. My heart bled at the cold beguilement. They were well aware of my predilection for Yaar, yet they chose to keep me in the dark.
My heart beat quickened as the vortex of my stupidity came knocking over. I wanted to laugh at my naivety. Of course, Dada Jaan would want the scion of the Chaudhry party. Yaar had no political ambitions. He was as useless to our family as a candle is during the day.
Before I could say anything, a soft knock announced the end of our meeting. Huda walked in informing us that our presence was required downstairs. Shehryar nodded in acknowledgment, while I stood there frozen.
"Ammi is excited to meet you. She still can't believe Aliyaar Bhai is getting married." I could feel the hesitation waltz in his words. When I did not speak, he sighed softly taking my hands in his. "I didn't think your family wouldn't have informed you about Aliyaar Bhai. It was their demand after all."
His words slowly rang through me. "What do you mean?" I murmured.
Yaar ran his hand through his hair, settling back into the chair with a frustrated groan. "You really have no idea?"
