Fitoor

29 | Shattered Promises

Shehnaaz

I stare listlessly at the beautiful scenery in front of me whilst sitting on the window frame that overlooks the beautiful view of the castle’s garden.

“Then she left the shop. Can you believe the nerve of that woman?” I focus my attention back on the phone when my mum finishes telling tales about some awful customer she encountered today.

One of the many things that I inherited from my mother was the lack of patience towards the fowl mouthed people. We just never had any patience for them.

“Forget it, maa. Who cares what she thinks? Besides, did you try out the new recipe you were telling me about?” I ask her and look down at the green blissful scenery again that was now shrouded with the darkness
of the night.

Another one of the things we both love is nothing other than cooking. My mother started her own bakery when she was just nineteen and almost got disowned by her filthy rich parents for choosing such a ‘low class’ career route. Their words, not mine.

However, within a few months, the cooking business started floating in the air and her orders started increasing day by day. This made my grandparents keep their mouths shut and soon they accepted the fact that their daughter was better off being a chef instead of turning into some snobby lawyer like they initially wanted her to be.

And of course after that my dad met my mum and soon within a few years of dating they got married. Although things weren’t great in the beginning because my mother always got comments like how did my billionaire father end up marrying a chef instead of some rich socialite and whatnots to the point where mum stopped attending parties with dad.

All these conflicts stopped after Shehbaaz was born and everything fell back into pieces. We were always happy. Even though that happiness lasted for me up to 16 years but I’m still glad that nothing changed my relationship with them. Sure I always avoided talking with them after I was diagnosed with severe depression, bipolar disorder, PTSD, etc.

Sadly, the list goes on.

Their approval meant everything to me and after what happened nine years back, I was scared to see the disappointment in their eyes and built huge walls around me so that they can never affect me.

“Yes I shouldn’t care but it was so infuriating” She sighs and I hear rustling sounds of paper in the background.

“Anyways, how’s work sweetie?” She asks cheerfully and I flush replaying the last ten days over my head.

Images of Sidharth bending me over his study table as he took me from behind, throwing me on the bed roughly while I watched him undress hurriedly, me clawing his back as
he furiously pounded inside me, swirling my tongue around the tip of his dick as droplets of water cascaded over us inside the shower, him gripping my throat as I rode him with ecstasy, his head thrown back with pleasure as he fucked me with my legs over his shoulder. Each memory was plastered in my brain like some erotic dream I couldn’t get rid of.

I shakily take a quick breath to calm my raging hormones and answer her, “Oh it’s wonderful in here. I'm almost done with the work and the event will be held after four days”

Deep down, I was reeling with sadness at the thought of leaving this place. I was going to miss this view, even that dickwad of a butler, Gerard too! But the person I was going to miss the most would be Sidharth.

Over the last week, the only thing we’ve done is fucking each other to the point of no return.

Despite our passionate rendezvous, I did not know minor details about him like where he lived, why he got his tattoo done, what he liked to eat. Sure we had our fair shares of post coital bliss talks. But they were only irrelevant topics like weather, work, and bla bla.