Gunnah e Shab

26. Deny • انکار

Real love is always chaotic. — Jonathan Carroll

The next morning the valley was a bit more chilled than usual. Though no breeze blew through the tall branches, there was a freshness in the air. Dew covered the vegetation, everything a bright green after being freed from the weight of silt. Flowers bloomed with twice as much might, their large petals and bright centres called forth the eager honey bees who buzzed around. The warm walls had turned cold. A tremor running through the finger as they glided against the sage green walls of the house. In the still of the world, scents traveled slow but with a determined might in their toes.

The kitchen burned bright. The chef's sweating infront of the burners as they whisked at the eggs and brushed the fresh bun with butter. In a large pot, dough was being fried whilst in another tea leaves steeped in the boiling water. A hint of ginger and cardamom going in next followed shortly by the spoonfuls of cinnamon. A spiced tea—to beat the weather of course. Nuts were ground and placed in a large blender, milk and sugar next. Rows upon rows of maids carried the large brunch into the dinning room, working mechanically in silence.

Azmaray helped Laila with her earring. The two standing on top of the stair case, looking for the stopper that had fallen off. She groaned in frustration, knowing that it would have camouflaged well with the marble flooring. She turned her head around, the sunlight that streamed in from the curved glass roof, casted a rainbow over the painting. The life-size portrait of a man Azmaray called his Great, times twenty, Grandfather. Her head ached to even imagine tracing her family line so back. She was Laila and had her mother, Sarah and a sister, Ayna. It was as simple as that—and now she was thankful to have no crazy family.

"Did you find it?"

"Yes Laila. I did, but I enjoy staring at the floor as a hobby," he rolled his eyes.

"No need to be rude!" She whined.

Azmaray let out a silent laugh on her attempt at raising protests. Shaking his head, he moved his fingers on the floor, stumbling upon a small circular nub. Gently, he lifted it in his fingers and observed closely—here it was.

"Found it. Aao mein pehna dun," [Come let me help you wear it,] he smiled.

Nodding she silently walked over to him, moving her long hair out of his way. Azmaray slid in the gold crescent shaped earring, tiny faux diamonds studded on it. His fingers lingered on her soft earlobe, taking their sweet time on sliding the stopper on. He moved his fingers towards the back of her ear, grazing the side of her neck. His face lowered towards her ear, a small smirk on his face as he observed Laila loose her breath. Her heart beating fast.

"Chalein?" [Let's go?] He whispered.

Laila felt her soul jump out of her body. His words having caught her off guard. She was too engrossed in his torturous touch that she lost her senses. With him, she had no recollection of time. It was no concept, it stopped. In those moments it was just the two of them and the heavy desire of being in his arms. Laying and listening to his heart beat.

"Urm—ye- ye- yeah! Yeah let's go," she rapidly shook her head in agreement.

He let out a chortle on seeing her shy face. The blush that spread over her cheeks made him want to hide her away. In a space where no one could come, except for himself. There were times his blood boiled with rage, remembering how Laila had had other partners before him. They had seen her body and had touched her skin in ways no one should have. Yet, he could not hold her accountable when he himself was guilty of those. Whilst Laila had enjoyed who she was, as Rani, she would have had no option anyways. His though was of free will and if one of them were to be furious, it should be her and not him.