DECEPTION

7

Zaraar

I was silently fuming with rage and the first one to leave the car as soon as it stopped into the driveway. It had not been enough that I had spent an entire day locked up for a crime I didn't commit that I was made to sit with my guilty brother, ride in the same car as his for the entire way to home.

"Zarrar," I heard Asraar, I ignored him. I refused to turn around and continued to walk inside the house. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me after everything he had done to me.

Once I was in the room, I collapsed onto the bed, took off my shoes, tugged the blanket and buried myself beneath it. I needed to sleep it off before I lost my cool, it was the most selfish thing I had done for myself in years.

The incessant knocks on my door woke me with a jolt. I felt hot all over and sticky with perspiration, my T-shirt stuck to my chest, I was sweating bullets in the cocoon of the warm blanket.

"Leave me alone!" I shouted, sending the person on the opposite side of the door away. I didn't hear the knocks, again. I regretted it but I didn't care enough to apologize for my misbehaviour, they didn't deserve my kindness.

I bathed, finally finding peace in the cool spray of water. I ate a little from the tray of food that was left at the door, tasting nothing but stale bread, the watery soup which I had to painfully swallow while I was behind the bars. I couldn't have eaten more while the memory was still fresh.

I pushed the tray and looked up, my gaze caught the phone on my bedside table. Embarrassment burned my ears, Asraar had warned me not to contact her before my flight, I did.

"I am flying out of the country in a while. Wait for my call."

Shortly after, I was surrounded by the police and my hands was cuffed behind my back as I was dragged through the airport into the police van without dignity, I was reminded of Asraar's warning before my hasty departure. A throng of reporters had been waiting for me outside the gates with my woman at the forefront, she had led the crowd to me. Why?

I didn't know the reasons behind the mistrust in her eyes or the burning hatred.

The sharp camera flashes blinded me, my gaze remained firm on the woman who had betrayed me.

Why?

Did she think I had wronged her as well?

Their- Her questions still rang in my ears.

Were you fleeing?
Where were you going?
Why did you try to kill her?
What did you argue about?
How do you know her?
How long have you known her?
What was the nature of your relationship with Gulbahar?

Those questions were personal, laden with accusation. I hadn't understood until much later in the solitude of my private cell.

I had chosen Manar over Asraar, then and I had suffered for it.

I learned to pull the file under the phone. I didn't want to open it but I needed to see just what I was thrown into.

The woman in the passport picture, my wife stared coldly at me.

My sentiments, really.

I skimmed the details on the pages, I already knew she was the only daughter of Aurangzeb and Asim's sister, never married or engaged. There was no history of past relationships, she had been practising law for a few years, now. She would represent me in the court of law.

Zaraar Alamgeer. Her husband.

I was Marjan's husband.

I was married. I was devastated. For her and me.