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

47. Munafiqat

ZEHRA

I wasn't a weak person, for things I have survived, for the battle I have fought with myself, I had strength that kept me going.

But, the whole time somehow my strength was attached to two things in my life, one was the hope that I lived through the last six years of abuse and pain and suffering I was offered by my brother who was now paying for his sin losing his sanity.

Another was my family, one that made me live the last six months of my life in that marriage and the brothel, my brother, and my father were sick, and my mother suffered the greater pain of the people of her family ill like this.

I tried to survive, with these two things.

In one day, both the reasoning was stolen from me, the hope that I laid myself with for the last six years was a falsehood, and yet here I am questioning myself, lie or not, fake or not.

It did make me get by.

I am insane, instead of ravaging rage in me, I tried to see reasoning.
Daiwik was a genius to make me fall in love with him once again, so the feelings would win the battle of righteousness.

My father was to be blamed for his loss, but aren't we one down on another?
My father killed his brother, and he killed my soul twice?

Doesn't matter that he helped me rebuild it.

I stood there, watching the men before me sitting on their knees, their one hand missing, the faces that were visible right now was the similar face that had torn my clothes for the very first time.
Before it became a daily employment.

And what I have been through, I was not enraged for what they did, because so much worse had I been through that what they did look so insignificant. And yes, my father is to blame for what happened to their family.

There was no right or wrong here. There was only one sufferer and it was me. Why? Because I shared blood with the man inside, I bore my father's sin.

Arti stepped closer to me, her hand resting on my arm, but the blanks before my eyes were neither overwhelming nor empty.

Something was there, and yet there was nothing.

I am to blame Daiwik for what happened to me, but at the same time, I can't blame him.
He did wrong to make me the carrier of my father's load.
But my blood did wrong to him when he was made carrier of his family after everything was broken down in fragments.

He helped me rebuild myself when I was shattered by my father's deed.
And I helped him regain himself when he was destroyed by his brother's death.

We both demolished each other and then we both assembled each other.

And yet, he one-upped me when he hid the truth from me.
He was selfish to choose to compel my heart into loving him again before he chose to speak the truth.

"How long did you know Arti?" I asked her, turning my eyes to meet her. She blinked, her gaze settled down,

"The day he was going to leave for work. I went to him and asked him to talk to you. And found what he told his friends, he begged me to keep myself down. And that he will keep his promise and come back. But he didn't..."

"He did come back,"

And once again, we are equal.
Why?
Because he was tortured because I am Muslim and he is Hindu. And then that for he loved me.
He was tortured.

Why am I weighing each other? Only to come to the dead end of balance?

I felt my cheeks getting wet, no longer my body was crying it was my soul that shredded this tear like second skin. The pain was too much to bear, but the same goes for him.