A Court's Maim

الزام | Blame

Eid mubarak 💐

Chapter 23.

"I only trust my husband." Barekhna scoffed.

"So you're willing to ruin your career after him? A man?" Meeha rolled her eyes.

"That man as you state has taught me the meaning of love and what it feels like to breathe. I owe my life to him."

"Barekhna it's the love speaking, take some time and I suggest fighting it from the Sukhera's side."

"Leave my office Meeha. I have to go somewhere to get evidence for my husband's innocence." Barekhna tutted, throwing the door to her office open.

The clasp that wrapped around her ankles in a grip that would rival the strength of her spirit, tipped on the back of her ankle. Her fingers gently pulled it into place — watching wide eyed as the woman she had befriended a handful of years ago arranged to make way out. Parting her lips nothing but disdained breaths of air escaped. The choking pain in her jaw created an ache she was beginning to loathe. Barekhna's fingers trembled over the copper knob as Meeha gently passed her, under the guise of a friendship she had nursed a fiend. A betrayal that ripped her heart into two. Just the thought of it stabbed her chest into two pieces — one jagged and the other left in smithereens.

"If you take this case Barekhna, my father will fire you."

Resting her hand over Barekhna's bony shoulder. Squeezing the warm flesh underneath, she pinched the skin. The hiss from the woman's lips offered her a comfort. Something that had for a long time been forgotten.

"I'll actually resign myself. He will have my resignation tomorrow morning," Barekhna swallowed.

"I still can't believe you're the same Barekhna who'd never have compromised for a man."

"Oh I'm the same woman," she leaned in, dragging her nail alongside Meeha's chin, "however he is not just a man, he is my husband!"

Barekhna's fingers moved with defiance and undid the pearl studded clasp in her hair. The silken strands curled instantly around her face, shielding the length of her long neck with their thickness. Her curled lashes kept the pain from sight, swiping away the reminders of disappointment as they brushed the air around them. Dusting her pale cheeks with the lightest of mascara. Pressing her lips — the claret of them like a fiery phoenix reaching out to burn any that stood too close, her mouth dropped. A few inches to the south. The dimple on her chin hid under the shadows of her plump lips. Where had fate brought her?

At least something good has come our of this — her mind came to a rapid rescue. It always did. Years of training made it sharp — suffering strengthened it still. The throbbing that dwelled in the back of her brain buffered like a broken signal. Noise from the surroundings was streamlined — tweaked to pinch the ends of her nose in a searing pain. One that without fail split her into two aching halves of a blossoming whole. Her tongue ran over the front of her mouth. Moistening out the dryness. Ebbing away at the formal crumbles of her confidence. A funeral was ringing nearby — of her dreams and valor. She sensed it beneath her nail beds, that quivered as she walked through the illustrious corridors.