Maryam Chaudhary
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I stood there, looking at him as we broke the kiss. My heart was racing and my cheeks were flushed as he looked into my eyes and said, "I love you, jaan". He pecked my lips before continuing. "Shall we continue what we started?", pulling me even closer to him, my body pressed against his as our breaths mingled.
But I couldn't help feel a little hesitant. "We don't have anything to continue", I mumbled, turning my head away from him. "Can you please leave me now? I need to change", I tugged at his grip, trying to break free.
"Munh, dikhayi nahi chahiye Kya?", he asked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
I shook my head. "No, I just need to change my dress". He shakes his head, telling I need to stop behaving like a brat.
"Come on, let me give you your muh dikhayi", he said pulling me towards the bed and making me sit on it. I watched nervously as he pulled out a box from his pocket and opened it. Inside was a delicate anklet.
He gently took my ankle and placed it on his lap, carefully fastening the anklet around it with his own hands. "There", he said with a satisfied smile. It wasn't for his bipolar personality and anger issues, he really is a handsome and caring man. I couldn't help but feel a wave of affection for him as he showed his loving and gentle side.
But, who was the real Danish? Was it the person who was constantly angry and capable of destroying anyone's life? Or was it the person who sat in front of me, gazing at my ankle adorned with the anklet he had just placed on me? I truly want to understand who the true Danish is, and today I make a promise to myself to uncover the answer.
"Thank you, it's really pretty", I said as I removed my legs from his lap and ran my hand through the anklet, admiring how it even made a soft sound as I moved, "well, I have one more thing", he said, standing up from the bed and walking into another room, which I assumed was his closet. He returned with a black box in hand and gently gathered my hair to one side before placing the delicate chain around my neck.
As he fastened it, he pressed a sweet kiss to the nape of my neck and whispered, "Never remove it". I nodded in agreement, giving him a slight smile, and he returned the gesture by pecking my lips affectionately.
"Can I please change my clothes now?", I asked, as I looked at him, to which he nodded and moved towards the bed. He lay there on his left side with his arm resting on his cheek, watching me intently. I stood up and went inside the closet, which was bigger than my room at my parent's house, for sure.
It was a walk-in closet, with one side all black and the other side all purple. I walked over to the black side to see all of his clothes neatly organised. Then, I made my way to the purple side, where I found a collection of women's clothes.
I decided to change into white salwar kameez and took a dupatta that I found in the closet. As I changed, my mind drifted to my parents. Are they okay? Did they have their food? Did mama take her tablets? I knew for sure that baba would make sure she took her tablets.
I wished I was there with them, instead of here. Despite putting on a facade of normalcy and politeness in front of him, I knew deep down that I would never forgive him for the pain and suffering he had caused my parents.
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Allah hafiz 💕💕
My apologies for the mistakes, I'll fix them once the story is done 🤗🤗
🥀Million feelings, zero words🥀