FROM NEVER TO HAPPILY EVER!

11.

Mahira Khan.

Spitfire? Was he referring to me? A surge of confidence hits me at his words and I cup his face looking into his eyes but his hands don't stop wandering. I bring my face closer, as he stares at my lips. I have never felt a stronger urge than now and every fiber in my body is chanting just one thing, kiss him. Before I close the distance between us, his hands hold mine, moving away.

He curses something under his breath as he steps back and disappointment washes over my body and soon hurt overpowers it. He places the towel around my shoulders walking out of the room without sparing me another glance.

Mohsin. bloody. fucking. Baig.

I jerk off the towel from my shoulders, walking straight under the shower to bathe. I rinse the sweat away trying not to think about his soft lips, or his sensual fingers. I hurriedly get out leaving my wet hair open without using a hair dryer. I wear a plazo set with golden embroidery rushing downstairs to serve his lunch.

I don't find him in the lounge or the kitchen. I quickly heat his food setting it on a plate and walk towards the study. As expected, his nose is struck in a file which he seems to be studying. I clear my throat and he still doesn't look up, ah my favourite version of him, the asshole mode.

"I got your lunch. Phupi said if you don't have lunch, she is kicking you out of the house. Now be a good boy and eat." I speak like a school teacher.

He places his file on the table, still not looking up.

"I thought you were at Khan Villa."

"Oh yeah? I bet that's not what you were thinking half an hour ago with your lips on my skin." I smile sardonically. How dare he ask me to go there! This is my place now. That's when he looks up at me, with a poker face of course. Now I have his attention.

"And I am my own person, I don't take orders from anyone. Not even uptight CBI officers." I sass.

"Of course. Hamari aukaat hi kya hai Mahira Khan ke samne ki wo ham mamuli mulazimon ki sunein." He says sarcastically getting up from his chair settling on the loveseat beside his desk. Who keeps a love seat in the studyroom?

I hand over his plate to him settling on the seat beside his, "Mohsin! What are you talking about? Shohar ho tum mere, kyun nai sunungi tumhari baat?"

With the way his hand froze when I said shohar tells me he is surprised with my reply. What was so surprising anyway, it is true.

He takes a moment to chew the bite and then chuckles sarcastically.

"Shohar? Badi jaldi yaad aagaya ki kya lagta hun main. Teen saal se to bas inteqaam ka zariya tha, nai?" His words are plain normal but something between us has changed which is why I can clearly read the pain in his plain tone. And they hurt me more than they probably did him.

Ya Allah! Ye kya kar diya maine. Anjane mein itni badi bhool.
Mujhe inteqaam ke alawa kuch dikha hi nai. Mohsin jitni respect is rishte mein deserve karta tha, wo respect dena to dur maine to is rishte ko accept bhi nai kiya.

After his food is done, I stretch my hand to take his plate but he shakes his head in a no, walking to the kitchen himself. I follow him to the kitchen filling him a glass of water which he reluctantly takes from me. After gulping his water under my creepy stare, he keeps the glass on the counter moving out.

He stops at the door, "Khana kha lena. Jab tak yahan ho, hamari mehmaan ho. Main nai chahta khatirdaari mein koi kami reh jaaye." His cold words and dismissing tone is not lost on me, I cradle my hand close to my heart as the hurt makes it's way in. Two tears drop off my eyes,  disappearing into my clothes.