Shiddat

thirty eight

Taha's POV

When Abraham Ahmad leaves, I sigh deeply,
And my eyes settle on Rubab's prone figure.
Her petite body appears weak, with dark circles visible under her eyes,
Yet her beauty and innocence remain constant.

Taking small steps with great pain and difficulty, i finally reaches the bed,

And my eyes catch the large wall covering the portrait of my mother-in-law.
Undoubtedly, Rubab is the doppelganger of her mother with some minor changes.

My mind drifts to a few moments ago, the conversations between Abraham Ahmad and my mother-in-law.
Indeed, Abraham is not completely wrong, and only we men know the pain of hiding our emotions behind anger and a muscular demeanor.

In front of the world, he is a ruthless Mafia ruler who controls Turkey and many other countries,
But in front of his deceased sister, he behaves like a toddler craving her attention and love.

I blink, clearing my mind, and with my limping legs, I lie flat on my back, causing my wounded shoulders and head to cry out in agony.

I close my eyes, gritting my teeth. "Okay, okay, I am a trained terrorist, but the person who tortured me is a Mafia lord," I chuckle sarcastically, even in tremendous pain, because I'm probably the only person who has been beaten up by my in-laws this badly.

Slowly I discarded my shirt because it's troubling my wounds,

Putting my head on her chest, I unbutton two or three buttons of her comfortable nightshirt,
And I place my head on her exposed chest, closing my eyes in sheer comfort.

I want to be drawn into deep slumber, but my whole body is aching really badly,
So I just close my eyes and hold her little form in my arms, encircling her waist.

It's 4 in the midnight when I feel her moving beneath my head.

I feel her hand on my head, and I tilt my head to meet her eyes.

She is still not completely awake, maybe due to the medicine.

Boring into each other's eyes for some minutes, I caress her cheeks to make her aware of her surroundings.

"Taha..." she meekly whispers, but I hear it completely. I am just a few inches away from her lips.

"Taha ki Jaan," I said, grabbing her cheeks lovingly, but suddenly she bursts out crying as if she is in severe pain.

Panicking, I try to get up from her, but I groan in pain.

Tears fall from her green orbs, and my heart clenches seeing her cry.

"Meri jaan, why are you crying?" Finally, with great difficulty, I get up from beside her and balance myself above her with the help of my elbows.

"Did Mamu beat you this brutally?" She asks, touching my bandaged forehead with her trembling fingers.

I take her fingers and kiss them.

"Is she crying because she sees me wrapped in bandages?" I ask myself.

She cries more, touching every part of my body where the bandages are wrapped, and seeing care and worry in the eyes of my dear little wife, I momentarily forget my pain.

"Rubab, stop crying," I say after some time, and she looks at me with a pout and a wobbling chin, her green orbs full of tears, her brown strands laying carelessly beneath her petite body.

"Taha, tell me, did Mamu?" She asks, grabbing my stubble-clad cheeks on her small frame.

I nod with a slight smile because somehow, Abraham Ahmad is not completely wrong, but his ways of doing things are wrong.