Heeriye

Twenty Four.

Shehnaaz

Serves him right.

Serves me right, too. I should have known that entering the lion's den was a mistake. Honestly, I deserve this shitty feeling in my chest. I mean, what kind of woman lets her ex hate-fuck her?

A woman with very low self-esteem, that's who.

But you know what they say: hindsight is twenty-twenty. Before I walked into his office, I'd felt confident, almost in control. I'd come in here with a purpose. A mission. Let me see my best friend, goddammit!

It seemed like a simple enough request but of course I should have known:nothing is simple when it comes to Sidharth Shukla.

It took mere minutes for him to twist my simple request into a fight that turned into a pathetic, one-way confessional. I cringe when I think about the things I'd admitted to him.

I miss you.

I just want to be near you.

I could freaking kick myself. How many times do I have to remind myself that he wants nothing to do with me?

No, that's not quite true. He does want something to do with me—when it involves my body. He's perfectly happy to fuck me silly. But he doesn't want to talk me. He doesn't want to be with me. He called me his dirty little whore and, idiot that I am, I agreed.

Honestly, I deserve to have my feminist card revoked.

I storm out of his office like I should have done long before he pinned me to his desk and trapped me with those iron arms. I stomp through the house like a woman on a mission. The maids jump to the side the moment they see me. Little do they know, I'm the woman who's lost the whole damn mission.

Lost the plot, too, at this point.

Idiot.

Bad guardian.

Bad mother.

Bad person.

Idiot. Whore. Idiot.

When I get back to the east wing of the house, I hear the children's voices coming from the kitchen. I groan internally. My head is already pounding and those voices are nothing if not keyed-up right now.

The girls are running circles around the kitchen island while the chef maneuvers out of the way. Jahan is curled up in the breakfast nook with a book in his lap.

"Shehnaaz Bua!" Ruhi cries when she notices me. "Do you wanna play Tag with us?"

"Not right now, sweetheart. In fact, I think we should end the game right now before poor Chef gets knocked right over."

The French chef gives me an appreciative smile. "I am making macaroni and cheese for dinner as per ze children's requests, madam," he says in his slightly accented English. "And for you?"

Since I have zero appetite, I beg off dinner and join Jahan in the breakfast nook. He's frowning so hard at this book that I'm half-worried he's about to take a swing at it.

"You okay, kiddo?"

"The girls have been screaming and running around all day. I have a headache."

I sigh. "You and me both."

Apparently, Ruhi and Chaya have decided to ignore me because they're still playing their spirited game of Tag.

"Girls!" I raise my voice just so I can be heard above the din. "Can we use our quiet voices now? It's almost dinner time. I can see your dolls off in the corner. How about you play with them until dinner's ready?"