Beinteha

07

A man's heart is a wretched, wretched thing. It isn't like a mother's womb. It won't bleed. It won't stretch to make room for you.
— Khaleed Hosseini

—'☆

Ibzan x Mahira

MAHIRA ENTERS their room after her mother-in-law leaves her at the door. 

The door is closed behind her with a soft click and inside the warm-colored walls, she finds Ibzan on the bed, sitting with a poker face.

Their eyes clash against each other. His, are dark and mysterious, staring at her without a word. Inside them is a whirl of wildness, sparks of mischievousness illuminating the shade of brown.

Meanwhile, hers are open and alive, letting him get a crystal clear understanding of the nervousness and fear that grip her being. The hazel lens in them is wet, and the olive green specks flicker with the restless thoughts. 

It is their wedding night, after all.

He does not say a word. She, too, does not encourage him to initiate any conversation. 

She walks away from the door, her feet almost getting dragged. Her heart feels heavy as she feels his eyes on her all the time. 

On her back, as if drilling holes. 

Now, she feels spending time with his mother was a great idea. Wish she could do it for the entire night. She is a lovely woman, she must admit. Meanwhile, Ibzan makes her stomach churn with a restlessness that claws upon her heart. 

She swallows, keeping her gaze down. She busies herself in shedding the ornaments and he watches her every move like a creep. 

What's wrong with him, she silently wonders. It is not like he cannot take his eyes off of her because she is looking too beautiful in this bridal. No. She knows him better. He will never admire her that way. 

Then why is he staring at her?

She puts down her necklace and begins unlocking her earrings one by one. There, their eyes meet through the mirror and the intensity of something in his dark orbs makes her heart skip a few beats. 

She immediately breaks the fleeting contact of their eyes through the reflection and puts down those earrings, going for her bangles the next. 

The silence lingers, the air getting heavier. Every tick and tock of the watch in their room is like a vice grip on her breaths, choking her without a touch. She finds breathing the same air as his way too hard all of a sudden. 

Why? She wonders. The effect of his eyes is the answer. The intensity of that bitter emotion is the whispered mystery unlocked by her soul. 

There is something about him that keeps pushing her to leave the room before something bad happens but she, too, keeps waving it off, thinking it might be the fear overwhelming inside her that warns her for nothing. 

She twists her dark and smooth hair into a loose bun, keeping it still through the stick. 

She gets up from the chair and takes a step towards the suitcase to take out her nightwear when he finally speaks, "Kahan ja rahi ho?" 

(Where are you going?)

Till now the silence was eating her from inside. And now that he has spoken, the tone being baritone and smooth as silk, she still considers it to be a problem because it has seized her heartbeats in a fist, in the blink of an eye. 

She wonders what's so scary about him.

Taking a deep breath, she turns around. At the same time, he gets up from the bed.