Book 1 of the Holy Matrimony series
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Makhfi: Adjective. hidden, secret, concealed
6 lives on a journey for success, will they succeed in their goal or not.
/The story revolves around 2 souls who are tied together but can't be together. Join the...
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Chapter 8
Author's POV
The courtyard had a way of making sounds disappear at night.
By day, it was full of voices, servants talking and the birds chirping. But now, it felt like a different place entirely. The marble floor had the coolness of the evening, a bird sat at the edge of the courtyard, like it was watching everything and also understood the mess all of us were trapped in.
Mehrma stood near the edge of the steps, her eyes on the small fountain in the middle. Water fell from the carved stone edge slowly, each drop making a louder sound than it should in the quiet. She hadn't meant to come out here. Or maybe she had.
She wasn't even sure why was she here, maybe she was trying to escape the person who sat in her living room as if he had every right to do so. Her arms were tightly folded across her chest, her fingers gripping her sleeves as if she needed something real to hold on to. Just as everything was going perfectly in her life, he just had to ruin it by returning.
It was as if he knew that she was on the peak of success and peace in her life and he just had to remind her of the troubles that she had fought so hard to escape.
The night breeze pushed her dupatta back from one shoulder, then pulled at her loose hair. She didn't fix it. She didn't move at all. She wanted to be on her own, not caring what anyone thought or what anybody said.
Footsteps entered the courtyard. They were steady, familiar, unhurried. Obviously he came, like she just said, he just knew when to remind her of the vulnerability. She closed her eyes for just a moment. She wished he would sense her hate and would turn and walk back inside. But he never did what she wanted to.
How ironic!
Shahzain watched from afar, like he has been for the past 2 years, since he ruined what little they had. She looked different, her hair was longer, not mid length like she always preferred. She looked just as beautiful, she wasn't the most beautiful woman but she sure was the most beautiful to him.
He stopped a few feet behind her, not close enough for warmth, not far enough to pretend they were separate. Just enough to keep her on the edge and remind her of the past that they shared. They few inches between them felt necessary, as if It was a space they had both needed to keep to be sane.
Neither of them spoke, for a few moments. Maybe neither was ready to face what was going to happen. Both of them had ignored this conversation for years.
Somewhere inside the house, a wooden door groaned as it moved. The world felt like it was on hold, like even time was waiting to see who would break first.
Mehrma exhaled slowly, her breath stopping halfway. It wasn't a sigh, not really. Just the sound of someone trying not to feel too much all at once.
Behind her, Shahzain's hands were at his sides. Controlled, but his fingers twitched once, then stayed still. The movement was small enough to miss if you weren't watching for it. He wanted to comfort her, to dismiss all her worries and free her from these tensions but he knew that he had lost that right. He looked at her once again before taking a deep breath.
"You shouldn't be out here alone," he said at last.
His voice was quiet, without its usual strength. His voice didn't held it's usual authority, it had a hint of softness. Not a command. Not a worry either. Just something that had once come naturally.
Mehrma's lips curved into something that wasn't a smile. What was she supposed to say, was she even supposed to be here? next to him.
"It's none of your concern." she replied but didn't bother to look at him.
Her voice hasn't change since the last time he saw her, it was still velvety and soft but it held a note that could make everyone pause. Her voice was enough to make him weak, oh how much power this woman had over him. His lips molded into a smile. She was till the same, just more indifferent towards him. He deserved it, every single bit of it. But admitting it wouldn't make her forgive him.
He didn't answer.
The silence that came after wasn't empty. It was thick with things left unsaid, arguments not made, and all the things they had once said too late or not at all. Both wished the other to say something, so maybe they could yell at one another rather than retreating.
She kept her eyes on the dark stones of the courtyard. He kept his on her.
The wind picked up a little, bringing with it the smell of damp earth and old leaves. Her dupatta slipped further down her arm, the fabric falling lightly at her elbow.
Shahzain noticed. He always did.
He let the moment pass. Standing there in silence.
"You're still angry," he said quietly.
It wasn't a question. It was a statement. He knew her too well to pretend otherwise. She was angry at him but most of all she was disappointed. Disappointed in his actions and how he left everything behind as if it meant nothing to him.
Mehrmaz swallowed, her throat tight as if something heavy had to push through to get out.
"I'm not...I really left everything behind and I don't like reopening closed chapter, especially ones that taught me a valuable lesson." The words hit harder than anger ever could.
For a second, something passed across Shahzain's face, not something you could name, but sharp enough to hurt. He looked away toward the night sky, his jaw tightening, as if looking away could make the words hurt less. But it was better than looking at her because if he looked at her, he might soften.
And if he softened, he might say something he couldn't take back.
The response wasn't harsh. It wasn't defensive. Just tired, the way truth often is when it's been carried too long. He knew that one conversation wasn't going to make everything write.
They stood like that for a long time, two people caught between pride and memories, both knowing how easily one wrong word could break what little remained between them.
Mehrma shifted her weight slightly, the movement small but restless. The marble beneath her feet felt colder now. Or maybe it was just her.
Her fingers tightened against her sleeves. Her throat closing, she knew that if she said something else she would end up crying.
They didn't speak again. They didn't need to. The silence between their words said more than words ever could.
Another gust of wind came through the courtyard, colder this time. It brushed against them both, indifferent to whatever history stood between them. Somewhere above, a loose shutter tapped softly against the wall.
It wasn't an end. It wasn't an invitation either. Just an acknowledgment that he had a choice.
Shahzain looked at her again. Truly looked.
At the exhaustion in her eyes. At the quiet pain she carried like something familiar now. At the distance that hadn't always been there. He stepped back.
Not dramatically. Not in surrender. Just a quiet step, the kind someone takes when they're trying to honor a boundary they never wanted to exist in the first place.
The sound of it echoed on the marble. Mehrma's fingers curled at her sides as she heard it. She didn't turn further.
Just the quiet, stubborn presence of two people who hadn't figured out how to stop caring — even when caring hurt.
