His Prisoner 21+

39

"I killed her."

The earth seemed to slip from beneath her, leaving her in stunned silence, unable to process the weight of his confession.

She let out a nervous laugh, "You—you're joking, right?"

But he wasn't. His demeanor darkened, a sinister edge creeping into his expression.

"She was unfaithful to my father," he replied to the unasked question she had.

"Aur bewafai ki koi maafi nahi hai, chahe phir woh koi bhi ho." (And there is no forgiveness for betrayal, no matter who it is.)

Emaan was too stunned to respond, frozen as fear sent chills coursing through her body. She felt the weight of his confession settle like ice in her veins. He could sense her terror—her forehead now glistening with beads of sweat despite the cool, air-conditioned room. He knew he needed to think of something quickly to calm her.

Gently, he cradled her face in his hands, his voice softening, "Emaan, I didn't want to kill her. Me waisa nahi hun. I'm not that kind of man... but that bastard—he made me do it."

He pulled away, reclining against the headboard, his gaze distant. Emaan sat up beside him, looking at him intently.

"I was just fourteen," he began, his voice low and strained. "I walked in on my mother... with my father's friend. I ran straight to my dad and told him everything. What happened next..." His voice trailed off, dark with the weight of memory. "He made me shoot both of them after he had brutally tortured them."

Emaan's heart ached for him. He was just a boy—a child—forced into something unspeakable. His father had scarred him in ways she couldn't begin to imagine.

"But sometimes," he continued, his voice heavy with regret, "I wonder... if I had kept quiet, would my mother still be alive? Would she have been spared that pain... the loss of her dignity?"

Overwhelmed with empathy, Emaan quickly embraced him. "Arzal, us mein apki koi galti nahi thi," she whispered, her voice tender. (Arzal, you weren't at fault in that.)

His eyes softened, surprised at her response. "Tumhe waqai mein aisa lagta hai?" (Do you really feel that way?)

"Bilkul lagta hai," she replied earnestly. "You did what you thought was right. How could you have known what would happen?" (Of course, I feel that way.)

Her words caught him off guard. How easily she defended him, how quickly she tried to soothe his guilt.

"Arzal," she asked gently, "is that why you still have nightmares sometimes?"

He removed her arms from around him, lying back down. "I don't want to talk about it."

She sensed there was more to the story, but she respected his silence, choosing not to push him. She lay down beside him, their eyes meeting in the dim light.

"Tum toh mujhe chorh ke nahi jaogi na kabhi?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. (You won't ever leave me, will you?)

"Kabhi bhi nahi!" she replied instantly, her voice full of conviction. (Never!)

His lips curved into a small smile at her immediate response. Extending his arms, he beckoned her, "Idhar ao phir." (Then come here.)

Without hesitation, Emaan snuggled into his embrace, clinging to him tightly.

"Arzal," she murmured, tilting her head to look up at him.

"Hmm?"

"Us din ke baad se ap ne kabhi gun ka istemaal toh nahi kiya na?" she asked, her voice soft, almost hesitant. (You haven't used a gun since that day, right?)