Chapter 25.
✵
Da bad kar anjaam bad vee — do bad and bad shall come, famous pashto phrase. It was famous in the old wives tales that the women told to their grandchildren, whispering soft nothing into the toddlers ears all the while going on about the mythical creatures that had haunted the forests of Mushkpur, the witch that was trapped in the sil-sil, all had fallen prey to this saying. It was to keep the young babes alarmed, to save them from indulging into a dark reality that they would not know of. To keep them under the bright shade of their wings, to stop that which was written in the twisted games of destiny.
A mouthwatering hunger is the result of centuries of holding back the pain and built up frustration. It keeps the eye focused on the goal, like a horse's vision focused on to the end, artificially. Man tends to ignore the responsibilities thrown at it from the sides, it's one sided, self centered perspective does not settle well with the complicated planes of it's soul. A coma is induced in the body to favor that which they want, it numbs all other sensations, including very much so the alarm from the mind and the caution from the heart. There is in the end, nothing but a creepy crawling vine of pain — stabbing the heart, the price to be paid for the carelessness the mind has sown.
Under the steep slopes of the Himalaya's, cut off from the rest of the world by a thicket of dense forests and a sharp cutting river, Mushkpur was a dynastic mystery. No one could ever explain why had the land, between the bone shattering mountains been chosen as the perfect place to call home. It was a mystery, how the land had been cultivated for years — for eons without repair the people had inhabited the land. Even centuries of invasions had not managed to damaged the integrity natural to the place. It still stood, tall and valiant with it's traditions and culture. The vulturous audacities of faux sympathies, were destroyed at the large gates to the province, surrounded on each side with statues carved into the mountain side. Mushkpur was indeed a mystery ; the events and the magic — unbeknownst was beyond anything that ever occurred in the rest of the country.
Dark and tumultuous — the wind's were a testament of the howling pain forcing it's way out of the back door in the largest home inside the capital of the province. Even in the midnight sky, when nothing remained bright instead a death of the skies, a mourning of the evening's sins, the house was still alight. It was over — the sweet rays of joy that had brushed the walls in their sweet honey ; were soured at the end of the day. Screams and shouts, at the top of the house in the depths of their throats. A matter was theirs to keep, hidden under a farce — an outsider would not be involved. As the sheer joy from the dinner came to an end, the bitter taste from the revolting words dissolved at the price of the baklava she had made on his insistence ; life threw a curveball. It shattered their ribs and left them in the midst of fiery red fires. A crash, a wave, an instant storm and it had all crumbled.
Her head pressed against the back of the rocking chair, her legs pushed against her chest in an attempt to remove herself of any presence. A breath — even a small one that escaped her body without any approval, pained her a great deal. She chewed on her bottom lip, her teeth tearing the skin off and then sucking the blood off in a desperate attempt to be rid of the poisonous thoughts. Vindictive.
Vicious.
Violent — the night resembled the artilleries of his words and her veins. The inky black that dwelled within them all left her mind throbbing with a pain she had never wanted for herself. Her skin was paler than ever, the rosy hue his words had gifted ; stolen from the curses he had spat, it was all obliterated. Would it ever go back to normal?
Tapping her fingers on top of her collar bones she gripped the tiny heart locket her father had gifted her a few days ago. It's cold metal warmed against her fingers, the sweaty marks of the tips left behind their reminders of existence. She could barely feel her heart beat as it kicked with an unmatched speed. There was no truth of how she felt. The facts were unknown to Filza herself too. Of how they got to this point. Of when had it all crashed. Of who was behind this destruction except for the enemy that was fate itself. A dance with the edge of the sword, had pierced into their skins as they allowed carelessness to lead them. Her eyes hurt the longer she forced them open, rubbing the heels of her palms into her swollen eyes. Soft sobs escaped her lips and her shoulders shook in violent sprints. Her hands stroked the fur of the tiny kitten, whose presence she could not ignore but also who rubbed salt into her wounds.
"I'm s-sorry Arham I swear I didn't think something so serious would happen." She whimpered, straining her vision in the bright room.
The man in front of her, pacing the length of the room, barking orders at his workers stilled. He stared at her with nothing but a revolting snarl before continuing to place duties at the end of each of his workers. His black waistcoat lay discarded on the seat behind his desk, Arham's hair disheveled and the rolled up sleeves gave a peak at his perfect toned arms, the veins bulging by the minute. It pained him, a great deal more than he would ever admit to see her sob in front of him. To observe her beg for forgiveness for a crime she had committed unknowingly. Try as he might ; the soft words of comfort dissolved on his tongue like cotton candy in water. With an empty hand and a sense of abandonment he stared at her, forced at the hands of their decisions to ignore the pleas.
"Arham please! I wouldn't ever lie to you. I'm your wife — I would - would never want to do something that would bring you harm. Trust me jaanana there has been a misunderstanding!" Her words and eyes plead to him, fighting a case she had already lost.
The heartless were unfair and unfit ; a barter with a short end — loving him.
"—Azhar I'll call you later." He sighed into the phone, rubbing his brows with a tired look, "Filza just stop crying. Go to bed. We'll talk about it in the morning."
The oncoming headache crippled his senses short, his nerves pinched in a painful knot, tugged at from directions — all at the same time. With a repressed sigh, and an unmatched urge to run away from sight, he dropped himself on to the chair. His legs lay limp against the wooden frame, tiredness creeped up his body like parasitic vines, holding him to one place — a single position alone. The axis of his jaw dropped, he had aged years in a single hour. When they were supposed to spend midnight in the lovable passions of each other, people on the opposite end had been on work. Like a bolt and hammer they had struck, every nerve of his. Reactions he had never imagined contorted his face in fury and his nostrils flared.
Victims to a crime greater than ever ; their hearts were the ones to suffer.
"You can't say that Arham! I'm not going to bed until we solve this matter. Whatever it is, since you don't want to tell me what I've done wrong anyways." She sighed.
Her voice broke off at the end, almost snapping at the man in irrevocable fury. How dare he paint her in his liaison of mortal enemies when all she had done was try to help him sort out his affairs!
"You've seen the footage, you clearly handed over they keys to her! Are you seriously that stupid?"
His tone terrorized her, even as he bit his tongue at the end, the anger dissolving in small bouts clearing up his tormented vision. It was the ego that held him back, made him fight the urge — painful one at that, to hug her and soothe her qualms. To kiss the diamond like tears, to lull her to sleep.
"You — how can you talk to me like that? I'm clearly trying to make up for my mistakes. I'm sorry for trusting her, it's just that you hired her before our marriage and of course she knows how to run this place better than I do. When she asked me for the keys I didn't think – think much of it!" She sobbed into her hands, peaking from between her fingers, thinking she had imagined the flicker of greif on his face.
"Have you ever seen me give the house help keys when going out?"
"N-no but mor would give it to them."
"Your families workers have been with them for centuries. Mine haven't Filza! There is a difference between their loyalties!"
"I'm really truly sorry Arham! I didn't think this would happen. She told me she'd bring over the dessert after it had cooled down so I readily agreed. Agar mujhe pata hota woh ap ki file le kar bhaag jaye gi tou mein yeh kabhi na karti. Zeh mutaasif yum! Eik baar maaf kar dein ainda nahi ho ga!" She begged, dashing off of her seat she sunk to her knees in front of him, her hands wrapping around his.
[If I had known she would steal you file and run away I would never have done this. Sorry! Please forgive me this won't happen again!]
"Oh Filza! You're naive attitude! There won't be a second time, I'm going to take charge of the house's affairs again. I think it's best you focus on your studies for now." He spoke, a defeated look danced on his face, his fingers rubbing the ends of his forehead.
"No Arham! This is my home too! I'll try to take better care of it. I promise!" She blabbered on.
"Zarrgiya it's alright," he passed a forceful smile, "you're too young right now. I'll safe keep it for until you're of age." He kissed her forehead.
"I'm seriously very sorry Arham."
"It's fine. Go to bed, it's going to take me all night to deal with this mess."
"Why? What happened? What was inside this file that Khirad stole?"
"All the proof against our enemies. Against the people that have been targeting our family!"
With a half soothed and half a broken heart Filza walked back to their bedroom. Her feet were heavy as she stalled each step towards the room. In the desolate emptiness of her bedroom, her heart ached. Under the sheets she missed his arms around her body, his warmth and soft whispers to still the nightmares. All of it. Every fibre of her being grappled in the fires of wanting for herself his attention — for herself alone. The dark sky and shadows fell on to her comforter, tiny sniffles stripped her off all peace that she had. They played hopscotch, her mind and eyes with her. Filza slept in an aching desolateness, his absence brought her to her knees and the bony crushes against her soul were not what she desired. Her night was spent in a fitful sleep and his staying out all night had it's toll. He was gone, before she woke up.
His forgiveness had been a farce ; for not a single rose was on her pillow. Tonight — she vowed, she would fight for his wholehearted one. Tonight, Filza promised to put her best foot forward. Today, out of all days she thought, she would show the world what she was capable of — even with a broken heart.
⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️
A broken heart wrapped in the cusp of her sweatshirt's sleeve was the best accessory she could have worn to university the next day. A bony appearance, wide eyes deeply set into her sockets, dark eye bags that could carry everything in their huge depths were untapped. The forlorn zephyr in the midst of the vast — gracious gardens of the university pained her. An ungrateful rosy hue on the tip of her nose was a valid explanation of the embarrassment she felt at her disheveled state. The perfectly manicured nails had been bitten off as the stress and unhinged emotions from the night that had past brought her to a colossal collapse. Wrapped in an everlasting pain of her cruel thoughts, the ones that had coupled with her nightmares kept her from being at peace.
Devoir. That was what kept her going. Her head sunk low to her chest, rubbing the edge of her chin against the soft material of her shit. It belonged to him, it smelt of him. A painful reminder and a short sweet memory froze the blood inside her veins. It was a distant memory all of a sudden where Filza had last felt happiness. Like a salty - sweet bag of popcorns, at every turn there was a surprising twist and change. Yellow sunshine had decided to annoy her jittery eyes at the worst day possible time. There was nothing about the day that was bright, a dark grey cloud hovered over the very backbone of democracy in the state — years of her uncles and father's hard work was on the line, but more importantly her husband and his family's life was in a fix — hers too now.
Filza's eyes refused to meet those of her colleagues. They could have sensed, it in the way her eyes shied from theirs that something was wrong, for her sake though, as she pulled her hand knitted scarf closer to her neck. A fear of being left alone for a mistake so grave — yet not so much had her cowering from her own self. Every small movement, every sound skittered over skin and irked her more than ever. Chirpy bird noises, screams and echoes of laughter seemed to her an announcement of her funeral — a morbid case. The confidence he had instilled in her had dropped out at the first sight of his absence — once more left alone with second guessing thoughts.
"You're late miss Khan!" The curt voice of her professor broke her reverie of thoughts.
Snapping out of the realm of utopia where things were still, and would always be — flawless, she stared at her teacher. As they broken, watery green eyes stared into the cold relaxed mocha ones words were exchanged. The woman, elder in age and experiences grinned with a knowing look on her face. Rapidly she forced her eyes on to the floor, stuttering her apologies out, she walked towards her seat. With a hand around the strap of her tote Filza could not help but wonder if things would have been better had his ex not returned. Perhaps she was the ill omen — all of a sudden however, her mother's voice rang through her mind. Reprimanding her for it, Abeer had till now, save for those crude words tried to hurt either of them.
"Would you like to let us all know as to why you decided to barge in during the middle of class?" Abeer pressed on.
"I overslept!"
"Learn to set a timer. We are not your father or husband's slaves who will put our life on hold for you. Class begins at ten, you should be in by nine fifty tops!"
"Yes ma'am. Won't happen again ma'am."
"Good petunia." Abeer whispered.
"We have no bond between us, so I suggest you call me by my name and no pet names!" Filza bit her tongue, apologizing as she slid into her chair.
Heer and Afiya hugged her after the class was over. Luckily, this semester all three of them shared the same class. Filza weeped into their shoulders, the pain from last night and the jabs her instructor had taken at her, pained her beyond repair. The two wiped her tears and kissed her head, in every sense of the way they had played the role of being elder sisters to her perfectly. Force feeding her the sandwich Filza had packed for show, they dropped her back home. Where another day of being alone in the vast annex awaited her. Despite her insistence the two declined coming in, they had plans prior to this excursion. She apologized politely, for her they had to come out of their way. Had it been a time where she had not fought with Arham, Filza would have accompanied them to the fun fair herself.
Yet ; in the abandoned vocation of her own thoughts, there was a singular thing that could save her alone.
Orange sunlight in the afterglow of the dawn's hours set like a cap on a perfectly round head, descend behind the canopies of the tall fir trees. With our without fail, every day, the twinkling tiny stars that win through the fights of decades, eons long forgotten, come on the vast horizon. They remind of tales that the midwives were spinning from their worn out fingers, into strands that the newly wed wives wore in their necks. From one breast a babe hanging, and on the other their husband's possessive grips. Times had changed and so had the way these tales passed on. In the midst of change, when the seeds were sown in patterns unknown, one thing remained. It would, never change. The truth behind nazar — evil eye, could never be ignored.
A grunge sky covered everyone in the dark. An early evening filed into the streets. Loneliness now more than ever, had become the fate of all women whose husbands were employed in the armed forces. The government sought them for a secret investigation, most men new tidbits of information, no one was being trusted with the sensitive facts. In the streets leading up to the estate many a home were burning the candles bright, and on the dinner tables the women sat alone. All day they had slaved over dishes and now, eating them in their own company — a gift that was a rarity, the flavor had all faded out. In the main part of the estate life was still brimming without any sign of subduing. Preparations for the youngest born's birthday were going on however, there was an emptiness as the ray of light — the moon in their dark skies refused to attend.
Standing under the slanting windows of the kitchen with the back door pulled open as Luna strolled around in the fresh grass — playing the part of an aristocratic cat with small mewls escaping her lips, Filza chopped the peppers. Her fingers held them in a tight pull, chopping away skillfully with a small smile on her face. The almond shaped eyes were still swollen, the now curled hair tied into a braid over her back. Sous vide — a perfect show of skill and power, her favorite to cook with. A highly marbled piece of steak cooked slow in the water, the marinade infusing into it as time went on. It was a recipe she had curated, a bright flavor with the perfect freshness — reminder that she was more than a simple snowflake. And that the world knew nothing about her.
"You know what Luna your father infuriates me! He is so stupid — a fool! How could he hurt me so much?" She whined to her pet, slamming the knife down on the cutting board.
"Oh Luna my darling, I'm the one that's wrong. I led to this. If only I had used my minds. Am I wrong? I probably am! Arham is such a sweetheart you know, no matter what he thinks. I guess he is just probably stressed. Haina?" She whimpered.
[Right?]
"I miss him! My heart hurts so so much! Why can't he come hold me and tell me 'zarrgiya it will be okay'. I failed him! I failed him!" She rubbed her eyes, the spices burning her eyes as she screamed for help.
⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️
"What is it?" Arham spat, answering his phone that had been ringing for a few minutes, disturbing the meeting.
"What! I'm coming!" He shot up from his seat alarmed.
"Arham where are you going? Everything alright?" Azhar questioned.
"I am going home. The annex is on fire!"
Teray agay kuch bhi nahi khaak barabar typa scenes.
Im locking the doors to my home.
Logging out.
Mwahahah
*evil laughter*
Thoughts & Comments Here.
New goal — don't make this chapter flop or watch me not update for a solid 2 weeks <3