Mrs.Mirza

CHAPTER 33

Shabbir Ali Khan
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"Why didn't you listen to me, dadi jaan? I told you that I want to marry Minha, but you didn't take me seriously. Instead you chose to prioritise these stupid elections and the seat of CM over my feelings", I shouted my heart shattered into million pieces, just the beer bottle on the ground. How could she do this to me?

"Minha is mine, mine I tell you! And yet, she had the audacity to marry someone else. Iam seething with anger and my heart is bleeding. It's not fair dadi jaan. I won't let this happen. I won't let anyone take my Minha away from me. She belongs to me and I will make sure she knows it, no matter what it takes", my voice trembles with rage and possessiveness as I declare my intentions to claim what is rightfully mine.

'There is nothing left for you to claim; she is someone else's wife now. I even think he has touched her, held her, and made her his', my inner voice mocked me, making me pull my hair while shouting and throwing things around my room.

No, No, no this can't be happening! She is mine; no one can touch her, hold her, let alone make her his. She is mine! Tears of frustration formed in my eyes as I started shouting like a madman at my own thoughts.

"Shabbir, stop it. Behave yourself; this isn't right. If she is someone's wife now, you have to forget about her", my so-called step mother said, looking around the mess I had created.

"Who the hell do you think you are saying this to me, huh? Get lost! I didn't ask for your opinion!", I yelled throwing the empty glass from the dressing table, causing her to flinch and step back as it shattered into a million pieces.

"Don't talk to her like that, Shabbir. She is your mother", dad said in a firm voice, glaring at me.

"Oh, please! She is not my mother; my mother is already dead", I retorted rolling my eyes.

My mother died two year ago.

"Ab tum hosh mein nahi ho. Kal subah baat karenge hum. Tum so jao", dad said with a forced smile.

"There is nothing to talk about; I need Minha. mujhe Minha chahiye!", I expressed my desire to him.

"Woh koi cheez ya khilona nahi hai. Insan hai, uska peecha karna, pagalon jaisi harkatein chhod do. Ab tum bacche nahi rahe, bade hogaye ho, tumhare cheekhne chillane se kuch faida nahi hai", dad tried to make me understand, but he didn't realise that she is mine. I can't imagine her with someone else; the thought alone is killing me.

"Dad, aap yahaan se jaaye", I said without looking at him, as I gazed at dadi jaan, who stood there quietly studying me with her narrowed eyes.

"You two leave; I'll talk to him", dadi jaan said, as dad and his wife left the room without another word.

I walked towards my bed, grabbed another bottle of beer, and started drinking it. That has become my routine now: thinking about her and drinking like an alcoholic.

"Are you even in your senses, Shabbir? Didn't I tell you that Minha will be yours, and you have to wait until the elections?", dadi jaan questioned, her eyes filled with anger.

"Aur kya maine aap se nahi kaha ke mujhe usse shaadi karni? Aur mujhe koi farq nahi padta ke woh pehle se married hai. Woh mujhe har jagah nazar aati hai dadi jaan---baat karte hue, muskurate hue, Agar woh mujhe nahi mili toh main pagal ho jaunga dadi jaan", I said gulping down the beer while looking at her. She sighed and sat beside me on the bed.  

"Main wada karti hun, Minha will be here in this house as your wife in the next two days", she said as she took the bottle from my hand, stood up, walked toward the dressing table, and placed the bottle on it.