As I listened to her, I realized she loved talking to herself about me. The way she insulted me, no one had ever dared to do it.
And she was actually cursing me for not drinking her coffee? "Yeh kaisi zabar dasti hai Uns?" I asked myself.
I was li...
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Maine kabhi nahi socha tah ki mai aaj Tawaif ke khote ke saamne khadi hongi. (I never even imagined that I would stand at the doorstep of brothel)
Because of my love. I wish the person who called me a little while ago, being absolutely intoxicated wasn't Samir.
I wish someone else had called me from his number. I wish it was a prank and Samir wasn't there at all. The person called me and said he was in the brothel? If that call was from Samir... why did he call me?
With small, hesitant steps, I went towards the door and opened it with trembling hands. My face was covered to avoid any lewd glances, but even though my face was covered, these tears wouldn't stop.
When I entered, there was a dim yellow light everywhere, and people were doing all sorts of things under the influence of intoxication.
Among all this, my eyes were only searching for that one person, hoping he wasn't there, that he wasn't in that place, that he wasn't doing things under the influence that I couldn't even bear to think about.
But all my hopes, trust, and belief were shattered in a second when I saw him sitting on a sofa right in front of my eyes. There was a girl beside him, he was completely out of it, his shirt buttons were open, his hair was disheveled, and he was drinking with them.
"Sa-Samir," my broken voice came out, with great difficulty. Sameer didn't see me. Loving him, trusting his every word, believing in him, yearning to see him, waiting for him-everything was a sin.
What a grave sin I committed by falling in love with someone who shamelessly engages in debauchery in a brothel. Oh Allah, what have I done? The tears wouldn't stop, and he didn't even care to look at me.
"Samir!" This time my voice was rough. For the first time, I said his name with such coldness. He looked at me with his half-closed eyes. I had removed the veil from my face, and then his gaze fell on my tear-filled eyes. He suddenly stood up and started coming towards me.
"Sahara," he said my name with his filthy tongue. Earlier, I used to yearn just to hear my name from his mouth, but now that very voice felt like poison to me. I stared at him without blinking.
"What are you doing here, Sahara?" he asked sternly.
"Me? What am I doing here? Souldn't I be the one asking you this question, Mr. Farsi," I retorted without answering him.
"Shut up, Sahara, let's go from here," he said, now trying to reach for my hand, but before he could touch me, I took a few steps back.
"If you even try to touch me, I'll break your one hand and place it in the other, Samir," I said, pointing towards him. My voice was filled with hatred, betrayal, pain, frustration, and much more.
Sahara," this time he called my name softly.
People around us were staring, but I was in no condition to notice their glances.
