A Vow Of Love (Book #2) (Completed)

Chapter 23: A Psychopath And A Little PDA

EMAN HASHIM

I folded my prayer mat, glancing at the alarm clock on my nightstand as I got up. I had an hour and a half to get ready. It was plenty of time yet it felt as if I had no time at all.

It could just be the nerves but it felt as if time was running away from me too quickly and yet, my world had come to a standstill. I was getting engaged on Saturday, the thought occurred to me every fifteen minutes as if my brain couldn't get used to it.

I admitted that I was more than a little nervous about the decision I had made regarding my marriage. It was a big step. My life was going to change once I signed those nikkah papers and said those two words that would tie me to Tariq forever. I didn't know how Nikhat had done it, how she'd given up her old life for a new one.

As I put my prayer mat in the drawer in my desk, I walked over to my almirah and opened it. I'd already planned what I would wear this evening. It was a silver abaya dress with little white beads sewn across the waist. It was a gift from my parents. They liked to spoil me whenever they could and I respected them for it. I loved them for it.

I was going to pair it with a grey chiffon hijab that I owned, which was hanging beside the dress already. I pulled my outfit out and laid it on my bed. I stared at it for a moment as I thought about my decision once again. I was sure about the decision I had made. I remembered Nikhat being distracted and anxious before her marriage, too. I guess it was a phase every young woman went through.

I was about to head to my dresser to begin doing my makeup when a series of voices sounded from outside my room door. My heart stalled in my chest for a moment before it resumed beating with a force and speed which scared me. I ignored its incessant beating as I walked out of my bedroom to see what was going on.

I was glad to be still wearing my jilbab because there was no way I was going to spend another five minutes trying to fix a hijab. There was no one outside my bedroom and I realized that the sound was coming from downstairs.

I could hear Baba speaking but someone was talking over him in angry, rushed words. It didn't take long for me to figure out who it was. As expected, the moment I reached the bottom step, I spotted Shariq in the foyer, his angry gaze fixed on my father as he spat out words that barely made sense to my fuzzy brain.

"You owe my mother your daughter, khaalu!" His words finally registered to me as I came to a stand behind my father. My mother looked at me with a worried expression on her face before turning back to the men.

"I owe your mother money, not my daughter," My father replied calmly but Shariq wasn't listening to him anymore. His eyes found mine over Baba's shoulder and a scowl made itself home on his face.

"This is all your fault!" He snapped and Baba's attention turned to me too. I took a step away from my ex-fiance involuntarily, his words like a slap to my face. My fault? What was my fault? "You couldn't have kept your mouth shut? You couldn't have just went along with the original plan?"

"Mani, go to your room." Baba's hand came to rest on my shoulder. I heard him. I knew what to do but I couldn't move. My legs seemed to have frozen in place as Shariq cursed at me loudly in Urdu. "Mani, I said go to your room." My father's voice was firmer this time.

It propelled me into action. Taking a step away from the madman in the foyer of my house, I turned around and walked back up the stairs. My hands shook as I opened my bedroom door again and stepped inside. My entire body shuddered from either fear or disgust, I couldn't tell anymore. My brain seemed to have turned to mush and a sinking feeling took hold of my heart.

Shariq was not going to leave me alone so easily, I realized. He believed that I was his property because my father had agreed to a relationship between the two families. My stomach turned at the thought and I felt bile rising in my throat.