Taken As Reward (The war of politics and love BOOK 2 )

26. Jazbatein

ZEHRA

I walked out of the television room, my heart racing in my chest, tears welling in my eyes.

I see him ignoring me, trying hard not to look at me. He was not a bad man. And he was restraining himself to keep his title intact, but I?

Even no longer being in that chandravani haveli? I was still a whore.

Getting dressed in alluring clothes to be liked to be seen, to be chosen? I was standing right there.
Desperate for the money.

I was no less than a prostitute here. And I don't blame him, he did not make me this prostitute! I decided to pay him for what I am asking of him.

Yet, to begin with, who is responsible for me to be a whore ever?

Who was the one who chose to serve me down to people? How did I end up there? His face appeared before my eyes. His steps did not follow me behind, when I turned around I saw him still typing on his laptop.

Being rejected like this, several times. I am confused about whether to respect his decency. Or be mad on his decisions?

I need that money! My mother, father and brother are living in a moulded house, breathing the toxic air. They haven't gotten their medicines for a month, if this continues they die, and I am the one who won't be able to provide!

I wanted this money. I came back into the room, eyes that ran on the cabinet with his wallet, filled with cash kept there.

He lived his life! He lived his life fine! While I? I broke my bones every night! Several times! Only to get what? Three-four hundred rupees?

His purse is filled with more cash than I ever earned in a month! That is the life he lived after he abandoned me on the river that day!

When he refused to recognize me that day, the day he came back after getting his job, and declined my existence!

He chose this happiness and shoved me down into the pit of darkness. His emotions? His demand to have me love him? Where do they come from when he was the one who chose to leave me?

I was mad!

I picked up the cushion and threw it on the light switch, before I went over to the bed and kept myself down, hiding myself in the blanket.

The pain that jerked in my chest was too heavy, too much to handle. I couldn't control it, my eyes refused to hold the tsunami of emotions my sight wanted to release in the form of tears.

Turning both my hands in a fist, I brought it close to my chest, curling my legs to my chest, I sobbed, tears getting lost in the dark brown hair on the pillow.

The bed sinking on the other side, his heavyweight, his huge presence filled the room, but couldn't fill the emptiness in my soul with the heaviness in my heart.

"Why did you not come back to save me once you were settled in your life here?" I asked that one question I couldn't shrug off my mind with the growing pain. He had a life, a life better than something I could have ever imagined.

If he had only to offer me living in a mud house? I would have accepted it gladly! Only if he had come back! 

He showed me the letters and the rose petals to tell me he never forgot about me, that I was part of what he was, and that I am the trigger for his madness when his anger episode turned on! Why did he choose to never show up?

I turned myself further from him, facing the wall, I asked him again,
"You left me, even when you were suffering? Why?" my questions were painful but I demand answers now! I want answers now!