Chapter 3

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Author's note: Because you guys are awesome and been patient, another bonus update today. 

Next update: Tomorrow! Yaay

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Beating the ceramic pots to a gentle tune, the maids gathered in Fiza's bedroom where Fiza danced Dilruba's famous inauguration dance she saw two weeks ago. Since watching Dilruba convey her passion for Shah Nawaz in her dance. Fiza donned a heavily embroider red Anarkali dress, like a bride. With matching red drop pearl earrings, Malikah spent hours brushing rouge on her cheeks with perfect pink lips. The maids sung as Fiza danced, her arms moving gracefully, Malikah clapped encouraging passion in Fiza. How did she learn these moves in a short time? The dance was exceptional. Fiza's dress spun like a firework round and round with her anklets dancing in her feet. The servants sang with the music and Fiza danced her heart out. Every word, every lyric was for her beloved. The dance was the only way she could convey her love for her beloved.

Halfway through her dance, the door flung open and a red face, livid Uzayr stormed into the room.

"Stop this nonsense!"

The maids jumped to their feet in fear and stepped back. But Fiza was in her trance and continued to dance swaying her arms to side and side and dancing with skill. Uzayr stepped closer, his glare narrowing his nostrils flaring in rage watching her dance like the cheap courtesan. Fiza continued, she made her way towards Uzayr, like Dilruba danced towards Shah Nawaz. Like a whirwind she spun around him trying to awake the love in him. Round she spun increasing his anger until she rested her forehead on his chest and took deep gasps of breath, breathing his strong scent.

Uzayr stepped back and smacked her on her face as she fell to the floor as the maids gasped. Fiza touched the burning redness on her cheek and smiled staring up at Uzayr. Finally, some emotion, albeit anger. Fiza smiled pleased she'd exploded out her emotions. Uzayr glared at the maids as they scurried out of the room.
"Uzayr-" Malaikah stood up. "Calm down" She touched his strong arm.

"Please-" He lifted his hand to stop her speaking. "Don't get involved." Uzayr stood over Fiza, his hands in balls of fists.

"This is a haveli! Not a brothel. How dare you dance like a thwaif (prostitute)?"

Panting for breath, Fiza stood up and faced him without a flint of fear.
"If you can sit in the hall and watch a mujra, why can't I dance behind these four walls?"

He raised his hands ready to hit her, she closed her eyes ready for the strike. But he couldn't. She looked stunning in her red earrings. He took a deep breath and lowered his hand.
"You are a Shareef-Zaadi (respectable woman)."
"A dancer was a shareef-zadi once. It's men like you who made her a famous dancer."

"Fiza!" He yelled snatching her arm and yanking her towards her.
"You're surpassing your limits. Get out of these hideous clothes and wipe off that slap off your face."
"You liked it when she danced." She pulled her arm free.
"It was the first time since your father's death I saw you smile. What does she have that I don't?" Her face hardened and her breath sharpened. He turned away refusing to answer her. Fiza hotfooted around him and faced him.
"If I see this-" He ran his finger over her clothes and makeup. "-again, I will shackle your feet."
"I will break the shackles." She promised grabbing his shawl and pulling him closer.

"I will cast iron on your feet. Now stop this shamelessness or else I'll tell baba." He warned knowing that Baba would deliver the harshest punishment for imitating a courtesan. He didn't want to do it, but it was the only way to stop her.
"Tell him!" She pushed him away. "My love is not afraid of anyone."
His eyes widened in shock. He grabbed her wrists and dragged her out of the room.
"Uzayr!" She cried out. But he was on a warpath. She had to be punished for her shamelessness. Fiza's dupatta traipsed behind her, the clip holding her hair broke into pieces on the floor, her bangles broke from his tight hold. The servants stopped what they were doing watching him dragging her as she cried to let her go.
"Uzayr! Stop it!" She cried.

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