Gunnah e Shab

20. Destiny • تقدیر

The greater the love, the greater the chaos - Jonathan Carroll

Anbar stared at the dark shade of henna on her hands. Tears filled her eyes as she brushed them away. Sniffing slowly, pushing her blow dried hair behind her ear. The pink glass bangles in her hands made soft noise as she opened her closet, rearranging her outfits in a colour coordinated manner. The loose bell sleeves of her peach organza shirt, raised with motions. Placing her porcelain skin on display. The tips of her fingers stopping as they touched the fine needle work of her wedding day outfit. Her heart stilling inside her chest for a second-before it fluttered back to life.

A harsh hand rested on her delicate elbow, pulling her backwards. Her back colliding with a firmness. The spicy cologne of her husband tickled her senses. Husband. She had always imagined Azmaray to be in that position. Never Asghar. Yet who could play with the pages of fate? It did as it wished to. This was what was meant for her however, the pain killed her. The pain of having thought of a man as your husband -to be abandoned and then thrust into the arms of his brother. Anbar wanted to scoff at her fate.

"Let me go," she pulled her arm out of his grip.

Asghar sighed, he knew his feelings were not returned. His wife yearned for his brother, who was a thorough gentleman. Educated and heir to the whole fortune, whilst he was an uneducated man whose job was to visit the grounds and ensure it was all being done right. His words were callous and his movements were not familiar with the gentleness. His heart caved on seeing her feline eyes furrow at him. Holding back his strength, he softened her brow. His own eyes turning gentle.

"Anbar please don't cry," his gruff voice sounded harsher than intended.

It did little to reduce the scowl on her face. Her auburn hair resting on her shoulders. Copper chandelier earrings hung from her ear, a small diamond nose piercing on her nose. It made her delicate nose all the more enticing.

"Kyun nahi roun?" [Why shouldn't I cry?] Anbar fought back.

"Itna bhi bura nahi hun mein," [I'm not that bad,] Asghar weakly defended.

He had never given her a chance to trust him. And now he was regretting it all a little bit.

"Azmaray bhi nahin hain," [You aren't Azmaray either,] she shot back.

That had Asghar seething. Comparison with his brother. Everyone in his life threw the competency of his brother at his face. They were all humans who wanted the best, pushing Asghar into a box of loneliness and all he wished for was to be the best, atleast in the eyes of his wife.

"Anbar I get your disappointment. Par humari taqdeer mein yahi tha," [But this was in our fate,] he sighed.

"I don't want this! I don't want you! You're nothing like my dream husband!" Anbar hit his chest.

"Then help me. Help me be the man you want Anbar". He tried.

"And what if I dont? Will you hit me? Will you raise your voice at me?" She fought him.

"Anb-" he stopped, the shout dying halfway in his throat.

"Anbar I've been clear about my feelings towards you. I want to change, fit into the box of men society likes. Just don't ever give up on me. Please," he swallowed.

"Even if I do, how will I forget about the women you slept with? The dancers you see and the cheap alcohol you drink? Can you promise me loyalty?" She urged.