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Mature content ahead. Please read on Ink.

In the morning, Arzal opened his eyes to find Emaan's nipple still in his mouth.

Mature content has been trimmed. Please read on Ink.

"Emaan," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Hmm?" she murmured, nuzzling against his chest.

"Me tumhe bohat pasand karne lag gaya hun, par shayad tum mujhe utna pasand nahi karti ho," he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. (I've started to like you a lot, but perhaps you don't feel the same about me.)

She smiled up at him, her eyes reflecting the trust and love she felt. "Ap hain toh sab hai," she whispered back, her heart filled with a sense of belonging in his arms. (As long as you are here, everything is perfect.)

Arzal kissed her deeply, their lips melding together.

"Toh tum bhi mujhe pasand karti ho, right?" (So, you like me too, right?)

"Aur ap ko aisa kyun lagta hai? (And why do you think otherwise?)

"Lagta toh kuch aisa hi hai. Aj kal apne shohar khush rakhne ki koshishen kar rahi ho, kya iraade hain?" he teased, referring to the lingerie she wore for him last night. (It seems that way. You've been trying to make your husband happy lately; what are your intentions?)

"Iraade naik hain." She said, raising her hands in surrender. (My intentions are pure.)

He chuckled and kissed her lips.

...

"Arzal ajayein, nashta ban gaya hai." Emaan said, entering his home office where he was working on his laptop. He closed his laptop and stood up, walking towards her. (Arzal, come on, breakfast is ready.)

"Emaan tumhe kitni dafa bola hai knock kar ke aya karo, meeting mein tha me. Sun liya hoga sab ne." (Emaan, how many times have I told you to knock before entering? I was in a meeting. Everyone must have heard you.)

"It's okay, kuch nahi hota hai. Aur me kyun knock karun? Ap shohar hain mere." Her face turned red as she realized what she had said. (It's okay, nothing happened. And why should I knock? You're my husband.)

Arzal smiled at her teasingly and raised an eyebrow. "Ap ka shohar?" (Your husband?)

"Ji, mere! Ab chalen nashta thanda hojayega." She held his hand, leading him to the dining table. (Yes, mine! Now come on, breakfast will get cold.)

"Aj konsi spaghetti banayi hai?" He joked, sitting on the chair. (Which spaghetti have you made today?)

She glared at him, "Koi spaghetti nahi hai. Mujhe pata hai breakfast mein spaghetti na hi banate hain aur na hi khate hain." (There is no spaghetti. I know that spaghetti is neither made nor eaten for breakfast.)

"Itni zaheen kab se hogayi ho?" He bantered with her as she served him breakfast. (Since when did you become so intelligent?)

"Me shuru se hi zaheen hun!" (I've always been intelligent.)

"Poached eggs with avocado toast? Kya baat hai." (Poached eggs with avocado toast? Impressive.)

"Ji. Mujhe pata hai ap breakfast mein yeh khate hain icliye maine yehi banaya hai." She said, pouring black coffee for him and serving some smoked salmon, and placing a bowl of fresh fruit near his plate. (Yes. I know this is what you like for breakfast, so I made this only.)

He smiled, appreciating that she did everything according to his preferences.

"Tumne itna sab kuch bana liya mere liye." (You made all this for me.)

Arzal felt overwhelmed; no one had ever done this for him. He felt truly blessed to have a life partner like her.

"Me nahi banaungi aur kon banayega? Ab jaldi se khayen aur mujhe batayen ke kaisa bana hai." She said excitedly. (If I don't, who else will? Now hurry and eat, and tell me how it is.)

"Tumhare cooking skills improve hote ja rahe hain," he said, pecking her hands lovingly. (Your cooking skills are improving.)

"Really?" She asked him happily.

"Really."

After breakfast, he was about to go outside with Emaan so she could see him off, but she received a call from her mom. Seeing her attention elsewhere, he felt a bit upset. He put on his coat and left the house.

As he was about to get in his car, Emaan came running to the door. "Kahan ja rahe hain?" (Where are you going?)

"Office ja raha hun, Emaan." (I'm going to the office, Emaan.)

"Mujhse mil ke toh jayen!" (At least say goodbye to me!)

"Tum busy raho apna, me nahi mil raha tumse." (You stay busy with your own things, I'm not saying goodbye.)

"Nahi naa, me kahin busy nahi hun. Ami ki call thi." (No, I'm not busy at all. It was just Mom's call.)

She rushed to him and hugged him tightly. "Ap se zyada zaroori koi bhi nahi hai." (No one is more important than you.)

He smiled hearing her and hugged her back, then kissed her forehead lovingly.

...

Arzal sat in a conference meeting at his office, his phone incessantly flashing with notifications. Disregarding them, he focused on the discussion, standing up once it concluded.

"So, that's it. Keep up the good work, and keep working hard."

He retreated to his cabin. Settling into his chair after hanging his coat, he felt a sudden touch on his lips. Startled, he jerked away, eyes snapping open.

"What the fuck, Miss Mehak?"

"S-sir, I thought... you seemed tired, so I wanted to help," she stammered.

"Help me? You, a worthless tramp like you, think you can help me?" His words cut sharply.

Tears welled in her eyes as she managed to speak. "But sir you didn't mind it before."

"That was different. Regardless, you've crossed a boundary here at the office, he said, mindful of the commitment he made to his wife.

"Please don't fire me, sir, please," she pleaded, sobbing.

"I have no choice but to transfer you to a different department in the lowest position," he declared firmly.

"Sir, please forgive me. It won't happen again," she implored.

"Miss mehak, the word forgiveness doesn't exist in my dictionary."

She fell on her knees, "Sir, I'm sor-

"Get out, NOW." his voice was commanding, and she hurriedly left his cabin.

Earlier, he wouldn't mind having such encounters for stress relief at work, but ever since he has got married to Emaan, he couldn't bring himself to break her innocent heart. He had completely surrendered himself to her.

Arzal leaned against his desk, rolling up his shirt sleeves, and switched on his phone. He frowned as a barrage of notifications flooded his personal device. Emaan was receiving messages from a saved contact. His mind raced back to the guard's hesitancy earlier.

"You looked amazing yesterday."

"We're still on for today, right?"

"Don't forget, you promised."

"Same place as usual?"

Arzal had installed a program on Emaan's phone to receive notifications of any communication, ensuring transparency. A pang of pain briefly gripped his heart, swiftly replaced by anger. Here he was, striving to be faithful and good to her, while she was making plans with someone else!

The last message was timed at 18:31 PM; he checked his watch—it was now 18:43 PM.

He retrieved his gun from the office drawer and tucked it into his waistband as he did every day, but today with a bloodthirsty intent.

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