-Sometimes the heart already knows what the mind had denied-
Eliyas
She was still the same. His wife, the woman whom he had refused to give divorce, was still in parallels with her trauma, and Eliyas couldn't help but spend days assisting her.
Spending nights with a loosened collar, he would do his office work in the lounge and then try to block out the whimpers of the battered woman whose screams would reach each corner of his apartment.
Hearing her now scream once again made him frown, close his laptop and get up with a grunt.
"You need to go to sleep now." Casually jutting into her room, he leaned against the threshold of his room and raised an eyebrow at the sight of her sitting upright. She was softly crying into the curled palm of her hands.
Thankfully, Nabeel was sleeping on the living room's couch.
Eliyas had shifted his son's sleeping spot since the night Sila had decided to scream out her trauma instead of keeping it bottled in.
"Where is Nabeel?" A quiet cry echoed through her whimpers. Her gaze was lowered to her folded hands. She had a need in her tone; the desperation to hold his son.
"Sleeping...as you should be. It is three in the morning," he sighed, eyeing her pitiful form snuggled so miserably in a blanket.
"I want to go back to my home." She miserably began pleading, looking at him with watery eyes.
Terribly heartbroken.
Her expressions caught Eliyas off-guard, hiccuping him out of his casual stance.
"Go back to sleep..." He turned around to walk out of the room again.
He was exhausted, too tired for it all.
"I miss my ma." Resigned, stuck in nostalgia...she seemed to sound like a lonely child that simply wanted the embrace of her mother.
"Do you think she will want you back after you chose to run away with me?" An eyebrow quirked, and he swiftly turned back to stare at her with a taunting frown while folding his arms in a stern manner.
It was too late, too frustrating and just too bitter.
"No." The teeniest resignation peeped out.
"But I miss her. I hurt her." An anguished sob entered her tone. "I am suffering because I hurt my parents, and now, I just want to go back to her. Please..." She had started full-blown crying now, hiding her face in the palm of her arms.
She was an absolute crumble, a mess.
"I want to go back home! I want to, but I cannot...I can't go back. This is my punishment. I don't want to stay like this anymore." Verging towards hysteria...
So much pain and anguish escaping out of her heart.
Eliyas was staring with a slightly disturbed and uncomfortable expression, trying to run his hands through his hair while giving up on doing anything.
She would have a fit, often.
However, her next words widened his eyes in shock.
'I don't want to die like this. I cannot be this alone. I can't."
Sheer broken and miserable...
His tired stance shifted, and he pushed up his shoulders to stand straight.
He had heard the same words before, held the same crumbles before.
Nabeel's mother had pled the same.
Bleeding on the ground before him, shot by the folks on the road...it was part of living on the streets. She had got influenced and morphed herself into an easy target.
"I don't wanna die...please." She had sounded so meek, so scared, hand grabbing his ankle.
He had moved back and looked away with a retired look; angry, hurt and not really surprised.
It was just too disappointing, felt like an obvious defeat.
"I told you so. You knew this would happen." His words had been curt, almost cold because of suppressed anger, emotions cut back, and his voice was quiet.
His shoulders were slumped down.
Her pained sobs immediately echoed in the air, mixed with a gurgle.
"I am so sorry, Eliyas. I am just so sorry."
"I know."
"Our son won't have me."
"He will have me."
He knew there was no point in taking her to a safe place. The people who had shot her would be back at any moment to clean up their mess and take care of the evidence.
He was too selfish to stick around, take her, and risk the chance of going back to his son.
Gang Rings erased all pieces of evidence and all witnesses.
His wife had made a mistake.
He had warned her, thought she was clever enough to avoid such doom since they both had grown on the streets, but she wasn't.
She was a fool, a tactless con artist.
Her sob had then echoed until they faded away.
He had turned his back towards the raging storm in the distance. It was only until the pelleting down of the rain, that he bent down with a look of a hint of sadness, a sense of loss, and carefully closed her lids with a gentle touch of his knuckles.
Bent before her on one knee, he had caressed away the blood mashed on her neck and remembered light days when it felt good having a partner by his side.
She was sweet support.
Celebrations, which included coffee mugs and cheap Chinese food, after each successive con, racing, riding together on his bike after midnight and just firing bullets in the air in a show of rebellion; they had been a good pair.
"Goodbye," he had whispered.
She had just been too reckless.
Her death was considered a usual on the roads-nothing out of usual.
Snapping out of his gloom and doom memories, Eliyas moved his gaze back to Sila while feeling tempered by her attitude.
It was disgusting.
Born with a silver spoon, her collapse was an insult to him. To break so easily when she had suffered bruised and cuts, but never a bullet to her skin.
Rich brat!
Somehow, the image of her face replacing his late's wife's on the road forced a sudden sharp pang to his heart. That image unsettled him. She was too cultured and poised to be treated as street disposal. Tough roads didn't suit her. It was like forcing two parallels together.
"You chose this." He simply shrugged, walking Sila break into pieces. "You chose me.
Immediately her watery eyes reached him with the clearest gleam, "Not anymore. I just want to go back home. I miss my family. I want it all back...please..."
Another fit, another wave of anxiety-induced tears...
Sighing, he turned around, only to stop when he heard a sudden strangled tone escape into her tone.
"Sila?" He turned back, eyes widened in shock.
"I cannot breathe!" She had started hyperventilating, moving her hands around her neck. "I cannot breathe."
She had started to claw.
"Shoot!" Rushing up to her, he watched as something shifted, and she fell back on her bed.
Eyes closed, her stance still shaking, she had fainted.
********
102 degrees...
Hands folded before him, he was sitting on a one-seater and watching Sila still fast asleep because of being overdosed on medicines.
Her fever was hardly going away, and he had pushed a seater beside her bed.
A crumbled rose...a poetic thrill to experience, a possessive growl of control, but the spark of experiencing a sadistic appease had dimmed when the petals had simply started wilting instead of twirling in impact.
Three days were gone, and her fever just seemed to be staying.
Dark circles had formed under his eyes. He was still working from home, and he hardly got time to punch out his aggression and exhaustion.
Night times were tricky because sometimes, Sila would start to hallucinate in her dreams.
Like now...
Her limbs had started moving, her eyes had started leaking tears, and she had started mumbling desperate pleas in her tone.
'Please...no! Don't leave me here! Don't leave me here!"
She had started madly thrashing.
Immediately, he sprung into action.
"Sila, wake up! Wake up!" Pushing her by the arm, scolding her back into consciousness, he watched her with aggression, as her eyes finally opened to meet his gaze with a hint of fear and grogginess.
"Not another one of these!" He bared his teeth in irritation. "I will throw you out if you ruin sleeping hours like this!"
Her grogginess quickly cleared up into awareness.
"You did this to me..." She started retorting in mad shivering while hiccuping, but his sharp glare was quick to shut her up.
"Nabeel is asleep! Don't you dare let out another peep and disturb his sleep!" His voice was harsh and stern.
He was going to have none of this.
"I hate you so much! You are disgusting. I hate the day I chose to marry you! I-I wish I could just go back home. I-!"
"And I have heard you say that a million times!" He was fed up. "You stole from your family to run away with me! Some love you have for them, princess! Now stop with this brattiness and let me check your temperature." He stood tall before her.
Roughly rubbing his hands against his forehead, before she could back away from him, he frowned as the heat bit his palm.
She still had a high fever.
"You are burning up." He simply remarked all signs of temper and irritation vanishing.
He was simply exhausted again.
It was silent again.
Collapsing down on his seat, he sighed, closed his eyes and momentarily pinched the bridge of his nose to regain control.
"Listen," he opened his eyes to see her now silently crying on her folded knees.
She looked up and met his gaze in a miserable manner.
"This is not going to work."
Her breath hitched.
"My son needs consistency. He likes you, and we need to get rid of this constant back and forth, so tell me what do you need me to do for you to get better?"
She didn't speak, so he decided to propose the option.
"Okay, so this is what we will do...we will develop normalcy. I will go to work, take Nabeel with me, and when I will return home, you will be ready with our dinner. We will dine together. It will make you feel less alone, and Nabeel will feel good. Capisce?"
She still didn't respond, but he had made up his mind.
"Capisce." He reiterated, answering his own question.
Yawning, he then got up and stretched to destress the pent-up aggression and annoyance.
It had been a long day...
With Saud still on the roads, on the run, it was strange returning back to normalcy. He had no clue where Saud still was, and he was meaning to have a word with Don.
What happened to Sila was still suspense...but he knew that it was Don sealing a deal that he had yet to make.
Snatching instead of signing was a direct show of undermining one's authority, and with Saud gone, Eliyas knew that there would be words around, people wondering who had the better business hand.
No one enjoyed a weak trade or a powerless businessman.
Where people could snatch, why would they trade and make deals...?
Sila had been on his property before she was taken. She had been his prey, his choice and his deal to be bargained. Don had misstepped. It was an indirect threat, a violation, and if he let that go, then the respect and reputation he had gained on the streets would be put in jeopardy.
Showing yourself as an easy target on the streets was a blunder.
Allowing others to make a fool out of you is a dangerous choice.
One has to maintain the upper hand, keep a crass grip and school those who dare question your position.
Street laws mostly revolved around earned respect and the survival of the fittest principle.
Making his mind to sort out things in the morning, Eliyas strode out of his room and decided to prepare a cup of tea for himself.
Sila was left sniffing behind.
The city life was shouting outside, and Eliyas needed some calm and control to deal with the unorganized thoughts in his mind.
He liked to plan, control and think out his next moves.
Right now, he was just thinking about returning back to having a routine in his life.
a/n: thank you so much for reading! So sorry for the long wait! I work as a teacher, so alas, it is becoming complicated to maintain a routine.
Hope you liked this chapter.
Eliyasss!!! This guy....