Love isn't always butterflies and pounding hearts. Love can also lie, deceive and betray.
Her way of seeing the world was a lot different from his. She was broken with open wounds, standing high on her throne and giving no damn to the world. A stron...
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The mansion wouldn't have felt so empty if bibi jaan was around. She looked around as the emptiness of the place started getting to her. She was not used to such silence after returning from work as bibi jaan would always buzz around, ordering butlers and housekeepers to do one thing or the other. There was no one- no bibi jaan, no butlers and no other housekeepers and it was only her in the entire mansion that the restlessness was steadily crawling under her skin.
Taking off her plaid coral trench coat and tossing it on the lounge, she headed towards the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water from the fridge and found a bowl of palao kept in one compartment. Her gaze wavered for a moment, for someone had some softness left in their heart. She ate two spoonfuls of the rice and made her way to her room with the glass of cold water that was turning her palm numb.
And she was welcomed by the familiar warmth the second she opened the door. This place- her room was her little haven, her hideout and the place she would mostly be if she was home. The dim lights automatically brightened up, sensing the presence of a person at threshold. This was the room that got carved straight out from her dream, only leaving the canopy bed from her childhood since she wanted to keep a piece of her golden days to herself even though the interiors devastatingly outranged the bed.
She stood by the window sill, looking over at the people resting and relaxing at the park in the late hours of night. A warm gust of air swirled around her, bringing an ounce of rest to her uneasiness and allowing her to breathe like a normal human for a while, only a while before it would be wiped out. Behind the crown of the bed was a huge portrait of her that carried the remains of her happy self- one that was in love.
Never in her life before had she ever seen eyes as forlorn as his were- one that were lonely and estranged and it was strikingly horrifying that she too carried eyes of that kind.
"Fayd Malik," She tested his name and it rolled off her mouth as though it was used to it, "Fayd." She mumbled, her mind turning back to the time he yelled at her. It wasn't her fault that she had been receiving threats. It wasn't her fault that they found her incapable of running a business she had been running for a little over decade.
He acted as if everything was readily at stake and a piece of him alarmed her of menace and annihilation that she wasn't sure if she should go ahead and talk it out with him. She remembered how he burned red in rage. He didn't utter a word and kept his silence in hospital after she told him off. They both knew he didn't care and that he was just doing his work.
She turned on her heels, backing away from the window sill and going into the bathroom to change into running tracks. She needed to empty her mind to allow it to function properly once again after her encounter with Fayd. As she took off her dress, she noticed that there were splashes of fake blood soaked near hem of sleeves- she gagged at how unholy the color felt to her at that moment. Chucking it to the laundry bin, she noted to dispose it the next morning and went into shower for a long time and the next thing she knew she was standing on the beach, her eyes hooded from exertion.
