Ruhani ~ The Language Of Love

48 ~ The Fear of Blood

Ruhani POV

His eyes scanned all the dishes platted on the table and I felt slightly nervous. But, instead of commenting anything over it, he started eating in silence.

Seeing me not joining him, he exclaimed.

"You are supposed to be hungry after a workout. Do not you?"

I tried to hide my smile and nodded lightly.

I saw him licking his fingers and his eyes speaking euphoria having the delicious food.

"You are so thoughtful Ruhani,"

He muttered and I also started eating.

We finished in some time but my mind was still a lot confused about whatever happened.

First, his full name was Aahil Aashiq Ibrahim Khan. Aashiq was the name given by his father for his loving nature. That I knew. But, Aahil. It was not a simple name but a name meaning The King, The Conqueror and I did not know anything about it. 

Second, What did Rabia mean when she said if your wife knows about you, completely? And, what did she actually mean when she said if he was really in love with me or plotting? It scared me.

Third, there were so many things going on in the Sultanate that I had no clue about. People were being slaughtered for no reason and I was certain there was something, something big and dangerous.

Suddenly.

"Thank you,"

I was caught off guard a little and looked at him.

"Thank you so much for the food, the letters, and your words. And, I promise I will try my best to not hurt myself and remember my father in happiness only,"

His voice was slow, patient, and calm now. 

I sighed and smiled.

Finally, he smiled a little and he finished.

"And, I am so impressed by your skills with swords,"

A wide smile appeared on my face and he asked.

"Rehman Bhaijaan taught you?"

I nodded and I wanted to add that my father also taught me a lot. The men in my home were so caring towards the women be it my Badi Ammi, my mother, me, or others. 

"Have you killed someone with your sword?"

He asked and I inhaled a deep breath shaking my head quickly in a 'No'

He smiled.

"What if one day you have to?"

He asked teasingly and I did not reply anything. Practicing sword fighting was one thing. It was fun and kept your body energetic but using your sword to kill someone was a really really different thing. I was someone who was scared of shedding blood. I could not stand blood. Even I escape my eyes watching my own menstrual blood when I bleed. Blood leaking off the body was something traumatic to me and in no case, I could watch it.

The last time I saw someone leaking blood off his body was when I was just four years old. And, it was his father lying right in front of me. Struggling for his breath. His body was covered in his own blood. His one hand was ripped off his body and it made me scream so loud. It was so threatening. I screamed with all my strength for help, scared as hell to my core and I remembered it was the last light when my voice was heard.

The scene before me traumatized me for years. My voice was lost. Physicians tried their best to return it to me but it never happened. The over-screaming and the scene before me that happened because of me, because of my mistake, my foolishness cost me my voice and cost him his father.