The Fallen Widow

19. Steal of the Night

Fiza watched her husband polish his pathani black leather sandals on the table watching him with confusion. It was half past ten and lightening flashed in the fields. Tonight, would be a stormy night. Where was he going? Why didn't he get the maids to polish his chappal. Why so late? She dabbed two spots of lotion on her neck and worked the moisturizer in while watching him from the reflection of her mirror. Uzayr was non existent even than before. He spent his time running around Shah Nawaz. It seemed like marriage was a label to him, to make Fiza his and then he calmed down. She made her way towards her husband, barefoot, with her anklets tinkling on ever step. Alone in their bedroom, she allowed her long, charcoal black silky hair around her. Her kameez tight fight outlining her voluptuous figure, she made her way towards Uzayr and sat beside him with her hand on his knee.

"What are you doing?

Uzayr took a drag of her scent. She was alluring.

"Why are you polishing your chappal at this time of night?"

The first explosion of rainfall beat the window as the blustery wind howled against the window. Uzayr was nervous around Fiza, worried he'd hurt her or scare her. After he roughly man handled her after kidnapping her- his body now froze. She was still as beautiful as ever, the curve of her waist send flutters in his stomach, the nape of her neck drew him in. Now, married, she was less modest. It was yesterday morning he caught her freshly showered with an cool air of lemon zest and lavender in the air. Her shoulders bare and moist, he could have stripped the towel off her. Instead he froze and walked out in shame. What was wrong with him? There was something troubling him.

"Are you listening to me?" The tip of her nose was a kiss away from his cheek. If he turned, their lips would meet. His heart pounded and his armpits moist. He shook his head.

"Why aren't the maids doing this? Why are you polishing your sandals so late?"

Uzayr shuffled his body back away from Fiza.

"Why don't you get changed? Get ready for bed? Maybe I can massage your shoulders?" Her voice soft and inviting. Uzayr sunk into the thought of Fiza's soft hands on his bare shoulders. She breathed in sharply and stood up. His head heavy in worry.

"I need to keep an eye on him. He can't leave."

"What are you talking about Uzayr?" She stood up and neared him.

Throwing the sandal on the floor, he wiped his hands with the rag.

"Mamoo- he's become obsessed and I worry this will erupt into something that will consume him."

Fiza watched Uzayr's shoulders fall with worry.

"For the past few days I've stopped him from going to the darbar and dragging the maid out of there- you know how bad it will look? The darbar is sacred and Peer Haider will be angry. If word gets out to panchayat  Choudhary Shahnawaz's throne will be at risk."

Fiza felt the worry in his tone and followed him as he washed him hands.