HIS FATAL SHADES (BOOK-TWO)

Part Two.

Part two. 

It was obvious to ask some basic questions which I desperately wanted the answer to because the whole situation was instilling an impending sense of doom in me. Wasn't that obvious? What was it with the half-spoken truths? Why won't anyone let me know about everything? What was so hard about it? 

A chill went down my spine remembering a certain someone. My breath got hitched. I got chilling goosebumps while thinking about him. I did not understand him. I could not understand him one bit. Because I couldn't forget about what he had told me; about us, about my past: about having gotten into an accident and losing my memory with it. Was that true? I could not stop thinking about all of it. I couldn't stop thinking about him; about his brooding eyes that held something close to lethal emotion in them which I couldn't read, not because I was bad at reading emotions, but because he was so good at schooling his features. I couldn't stop myself from thinking about that dangerously glinting ear piercing he had in one of his ears that gleamed in the light, making him look fearsome and daunting. 

Blinking, I tried to avoid thinking about him and his half-spoken truths. 

Resting my back at the headrest of the bed with Shaur cradled between my crossed arms, over my legs, and on my lap, I deflated, thoughtfully. Kissing at the top of his head, I murmured in his ears at his sleepy state: "Wake up, bo, will ya?! You've been asleep for a long time. It's time to wake up, pal!"

The wind blew haughtily as my eyes strayed away from my brother to the open windows. The whoops of cold wind swooping around the delicate palish white curtains making them fly all over in the air had me remembering my days with my family making me nostalgic over the memories which we'd shared uncountable times. My eyes blurred over at those very souvenirs of us. My home wasn't as large and lavish as this, but it was airy and more than enough for four of us. We were happy together. It was our home, apt. We were happiest.

We were so safe and carefree. The voice reminded me. Weren't we? 

I was very much still in the memory lane of my beautiful and enamoured family when the door opened again. With a swift blink of my eyes, I surveyed the moment along with a neat frown embellishing my forehead as I tried to observe the sound of any footsteps. 

And, this time it was him. Uzair was the one coming inside. My nerve tensed suddenly as I stared at him with caution. Eyes enlarged. He stepped royally inside with quiet and steady steps. 

Meanwhile, I compelled myself to look away. As the intensity of his eyes was unnerving me, probing me even.

I turned my head away.

"I thought to bring some food to both of you, this time." Clicking the door closed, he decreased the distance between us. Upon sitting at the edge of the bed, he placed the tray full of food near us; besides me. My brother stirred and his eyes fluttered open. My boy was always hungry! The voice in the back of my head scoffed. I blinked, astounded. Just with the smell of food, he was waking up.

"Here you go. Eat before it gets cold. Come on, go ahead, little one. I know you both are hungry,” he grinned, eyes gleaning with an unknown glint. His fair glowing face shone with something that I didn't quite get. Despite the things he had done with us and still doing to us, there wasn't any trace of guilt or shame on his face. I observed. How could someone be at this peace by doing this sort of abnormality with us? With anyone? I asked myself.

"Someone's angry, are we?" The brightness on his face never wavered as he came closer, putting his outer thigh over the bed while bending the knee. He sat rather comfortably in his dress—black pants. He waited for a reply. Not getting any he shook his head. He then chuckled. "Let me feed him," as quick as a snake can even twirl, he took, now a very awake Shaurya from me in his arms. I sat there gapping upon his stunt once again. What? I was quite stunned.

He grinned yet again, his front white enamels visible. His wolfish smile reached his eyes which held happiness as evidence. My eyes stayed wide in astonishment and shock as he, opening the cap of the milk bottle, let Shaurya suck from the nipple of the bottle, feeding him diagonally over his lap, still grinning. He looked so experienced in handling kids. His dimple showed a depth which I never noticed before. I blinked. “Staring is rude, little one,” he voiced out. “I know I am much better with kids than you are,” he cackled. “I have always loved them.” 

How many shades could a person possibly have? Sometimes he was threatening me one minute and just the other he was taking care of me. This question suddenly popped into my mind like a swooning wind.

Coming out of my daze, I blinked. "Don't ever do that!" And, gasping by the end of the sentence, I demanded. “Ever!”

"Do what? Stop feeding him?" Smirking, he winked before focusing his eyes on my brother again. "Can't leave that one thing I love doing the most, little one,” his completely nonchalant behaviour left me fully speechless. “And, if you are envious, I can feed you too,” he negotiated.

I was appalled at his indifference. 

Dismayed and tongue-tied, I kept quiet. "I want to talk to my Uncle," ignoring his indecency, I asked instead hastily after a couple of moments. 

"You can, but not now as of yet. Now, eat," gesturing from his eyes, he said, keeping aside the question I asked. His grin had disappeared. 

"Not until I talk to my Uncle, first." I met his stare as best as I could have as I stared up at him fiercely. 

"You can. But not now. And definitely not before you finish your meal. You should know one thing about me, Radhika: what I don't like the most; and that is: anyone skipping meals. Anyone!" His demeanour changed in a blink as he said that. I blinked too, my heart escalated at this certain tone of his. Finality.

His other hand stroked Shaurya's red cheek. My heart rate escalated even more as his eyes held mine making me see the threat of a sentence in his speaking eyes.

"Go on, little one." Holding my gaze, he stressed out. "Eat."

My lips wobbled. And for the sake of my brother in the arms of that brute, I complied, accepting defeat, taking the plate of food from the tray. I started eating— all the while feeling two sharp holes digging at the side of my face.

"It is for your own good. And, I want you to finish each and everything serving on your plate,” his eyes spoke of the threat when his mouth did not.

“It is making me hate you more.”

“So does that mean: you were in love with me the moment you saw me?”

Feeling the food being stuck in my oesophagus, I coughed wildly. 

“What?”

“Water, drink before you cannot breathe,” he urged as if what he uttered was normal.