Ya'll for real gotta start asking about updates when I miss them :( Sorry I forgot yesterday's update. But here it is. Enjoy ❤❤
What cannot said will be wept - Sappho
Winding lanes dwindled, estuaries and streams washed down the rocky mountain sides. Shrubs and Fir trees grew plenty. Sprouting out from the uneven grounds, loose rocks falling onto the road sides occasionally as the mountain goats slid and stumbled across. Mouths lowered in devotion of God's bounty. The summer sun hid behind the towering mountain peaks. It's brightness dimmed at such extreme height, yet the rays were sharp as ever and warmed the freshly carpeted roads. Wild flowers reached out from under the bricked sides, their bright yellows contrasting with the cold, wet browns.
Laila stared out of the cars window in absolute awe. Her eyes widened, taking in the sight of the water gushing down the crevices. The small streams filled the sides and tourists filled their bottles with the fresh water. Her jaw dropped on seeing the homes built with metal rooftops. The architecture was opposite that of Lahore's grandeur. Polished SUV's whizzed by them, men with guards and German shepherds strolled in the outskirts. Laila fiddled with the sleeves of her maroon velvet shirt. The gold tussles hanging from her cuffs, a sheer organza veil rested in her neck, her hair curled loosely at the ends. She eyed the ring in her finger-courtesy of Azmaray. He had produced the ring last night, surprising her with whilst they dined in one of the finest restaurants in Islamabad. It was a thin platinum band encrusted with diamonds. In the centre, a teardrop shaped cushioned diamond. It screamed of opulence-and yet was delicate at the same time. Laila had been stunned with his choice and within a short twelve hours she had vowed to never remove the ring from her finger.
Azmaray turned his head towards her, his body finally slacking with the car door as the entered Mushkpur. His eyes traced Laila's shadowed face. The way her hair softly fell against her cheekbones. The nose ring glimmering under the sunlight, her lips pouted. His heated gaze, had Laila blushing-despite having been in the company of men plenty of times, there was something different about the man being your husband. He chuckled lowly at her reaction to his stares, his hand slowly reaching out to grasp hers. Hesitantly acting as they were still stuck in setting the boundaries of their marriage. Whilst he has married her due to his feelings, she clearly had not. And he would be dammed if he ever crossed lines she was not yet comfortable with.
Laila stilled visibly on feeling his touch, before gently relaxing herself. She passed him a soft awkward smile. Turning her attention towards him, trying to ignore the daunting mansion coming into sight.
"Is this really the place you grew up in?" She questioned.
The exterior of the marble home seemed cold. And the man next to her, the total opposite.
"I did," he half smiled.
"Phir ap kharoos kyun nahi hain?" [Then why aren't you rude?] Laila tilted her head, widening her eyes.
"I have my days. You'll see". He tsked.
"What's your favourite part of this large place?" She rested her hand on the console, resting her face on her open palm.
"As cliche as it's going to sound, my bedroom," Azmaray replied.
Laila nodded, the car filling up with silence. The doors had opened and the car slid into the private property without much trouble. She gasped on seeing the fine statues. They seemed so effortlessly real to her. The focal piece of a fountain that was installed in the roundabout of the driveway stole her attention. Her put together cover slipped from her fingers.
"If this was my home I would never leave it," she sighed dreamily.
"It is your home though, remember we are married now," he warmly spoke, tapping the side of her head.
Laila hummed in reply, feeling intimidated. She had heard of the draconian laws of Azan Khan, his iron grip on members of his family. The sheer strength he exercised over them. His snake mouthed walking stick and that steely gaze. The closer they got to the gates, the more she wanted to run away. Her heartbeat raised and the sound of her blood rushing through her veins suffocated her ears. Her hands tightened into a fist. She was not the kind of women any family would like to have as their daughter-in-law. And judging by the lack of family standing in attendance to greet them, she knew she was not being accepted into the family.
"Laila don't worry. You only need to be here for me. Not my family," Azmaray kissed the back of her hand.
She took a deep sigh nodding her head. She had seen many affluent families, from behind the scenes. No one knew better than her the way these people slipped on rose glasses to ignore all that was wrong with them. Laila willed her heart to be strong. To pull herself together. If she was going down-it would not be at the hands of a man who had been stuffing his face with the money of tax payers.
"Ready?" Azmaray interrupted her pep talk.
"As I'll ever be," she sighed.
Stepping out of the car, her gold heels sunk into the loose gravel. The cold wind and bright sunshine calmed her instantly. She was gratified, atleast marriage had fulfilled her dream of being in the mountains. Pursing her lips, coated in a deep maroon shade she slid her arms around Azmaray's. Pulling her shoulders back and straightening her body, Laila surveyed the surroundings with alert eyes. Her eyes hiding under the black sunglasses Azmaray had got for her. The world would only ever see a sophisticated, put together woman. Laila was a master when it came to putting up a facade. It was not slipping now.
They walked the short distance from the driveway to the large foyer of the mansion. Everything inside was perfectly in place. Not a thread out of place. Just like she had expected. Laila turned towards Azmaray, noticing his expressionless face. So not a fan of his family, she concluded. Her eye caught a movement on the lavish staircase. A slender figure moved towards them, with a muscular man in tow. Judging by the getup, she was the ex-fiance. Also known as the woman-who probably despised her. Laila gently rested her head on Azmaray's bicep. Inhaling his warm cologne, the perfect mix of dark chocolate and spice. All in all her man smelt heavenly.
"Tired?" He whispered.
"Very much, can't wait to see the kind of bed you have in your bedroom," she winked in return.
Azmaray gave her a lop-sided grin. Wrapping an arm around her waist as a soft soprano voice called to them.
"Azmaray, you're home," the young woman grinned.
He gave stoic nod. The woman's eyes taking in her form. Laila stared at her too, noticing the pristine way she carried herself. Her posture screamed money and luxury. The lack of eye bags and porcelain, supple skin-probably result of overly expensive creams, intimidated Laila. She bit her lower lip, sliding her tounge over it, sneakily. Breaking out of Azmaray's embrace, she stepped forward. Kissing Anbar's cheeks in greeting, a sharp smile on her face as she slid her shades down.
"Laila, pleasure to meet you". She forwarded her hand.
Laila would not fight this woman unless she wanted to, or if she saw her make advances on her man. She could understand the wave of cold air that radiated off of the woman, Laila had after all married her fiance.
"Anbar, and the feelings are not returned. But I'm sure you knew that," she winked.
"Oh I do, I know very well," Laila nodded her head, feigning innocence.
Anbar nodded, walking towards Azmaray with a hint of savageness in her gaze.
"Seriously? A prostitute? If you wanted to replace me, you should have atleast married a rich heiress," Anbar patted his collar, straightening his shirt for him.
"If I downgraded, you clearly fell of the charts marrying Asghar," Azmaray smirked.
He could understand the reason behind Anbar's reaction, but he would never let her disrespect his wife-who was innocent in her own right.
"Meray shohar keh baarey mein izzat sai baat karein," [Talk about my husband with respect,] Anbar shot back.
"Aur ap meri biwi ka naam izzat sai lein," [And you take my wife's name with respect,] Azmaray waved his hand in the air.
"You left me on the altar for her-" she sighed.
"An altar I was forced to step on. I had clearly rejected this proposal many times. Your grandfather is the cause of the hurt you got". He scoffed.
"Anbar he's not worth it. Everyone will see you and your wife at dinner," Asghar stepped forward.
His signature black shalwar kameez on his frame, with a brown shawl draped across his shoulders. Laila stared at the two brother's with a deep interest. The difference between the two was-astounding. One was night and the other day. One was the prince and the other was a pauper. One was the beauty and the other a beast. She smiled at her thoughts, ignoring the couple's presence as she wrapped her hand around Azmaray's toned waist.
"I think we could do with a nap after that tiring drive jaan," [life,] Laila purred, her eyes narrowing softly.
"Of course. Excuse us please," he gave a tight lipped smile.
---
Anbar ran the brush through her curled hair. Loosening them up a bit, giving her fiery copper hair a full, voluminous look. She sighed observing Asghar engrossed deeply in tallying the pages. Her husband was not educated but he was definitely sharp when it came to maintaining their properties. Taking soft steps towards him, she leaned over his work table, her hair brushing the starchy pages. Resting her heart-shaped face on one of her palms she glanced at his face. Her other hand moving through his rough curly hair.
"Why do you work so hard Asghar?" She whispered.
He looked up from the pages, passing her a blinding smile. Resting one of his calloused palms on her cheek.
"For us. Some of us weren't born with a gold spoon in our mouth," he sighed.
Tsking, Anbar walked around the table. Pushing his chair back, she took a seat on his inviting lap. To others their pair would seem odd. With his burly build her and slender one. However, she was beginning to see the humanity inside her husband.
"But we were," Anbar countered.
"Yeah we were," he murmured, with a distant look in his eye.
"Khair hum bhi kin baaton mein parh gaye. Kehna tou mujhe yeh tha keh aj raat ap aur mein bhair khana khanay chalein?" [Anyways what have we gotten into. What I wanted to say was that can you and I go out for dinner?] Anbar spoke.
"Aaj mushkil ho ga. Azm-" [It might be difficult today.] Asghar pinched his brows.
"Please. While I'm giving us a chance, I'm not ready to share a table with Azmaray and his wife. Plus I've been craving that karahi you bring from the river side," Anbar batted her eyelashes.
"Of course. We'll go, I'll inform mama," he dropped a kiss on her head.
Anbar nodded, resting her head on his chest. Asghar's hands wrapping around her nimble frame. Maybe their elders were right.
Jo hota hai, achay keh liye hota hai.
[Whatever happens, happens for a good cause.]
OKAYYY
FAMILY CONFRONTATION UP NEXT
I JUST LOVE ASGHAR WITH ANBAR
AZMARAY AND LAILA ARE *Chef's kiss*
THOUGHTS & COMMENTS
LAILA'S RING