VENGEANCE

43

For a moment, Khizr’s face fell, but then a slow, knowing smirk tugged at his lips. "Oh, so you know?"

His voice dropped lower, filled with a mix of challenge and curiosity, his eyes locking with hers. There was a strange flicker of something in them—something that made her breath catch, her heart stutter again, as though she had touched something raw, something unspoken between them.

“Everyone knows.” Amal’s voice held a slight hesitation as she met his gaze, her expression guarded.

“Forget everyone,” Khizr replied, his tone quiet but pointed. “What do you know?” He raised an eyebrow, hinting at playfulness, though his eyes stayed steady.

Amal blinked, steadying herself. “That you got married,” she said, her voice firm yet carrying a hint of vulnerability.

“And?” Khizr asked, his calm tone inviting her to continue, his expression unreadable.

“And?” Amal repeated, uncertain what else he wanted her to say.

“Why are you so curious?” Khizr asked, a smirk tugging at his lips as he took a step closer. “Jealous?”

Amal narrowed her gaze, catching the shift in his tone, a flicker of irritation crossing her face. “Jealous?” she countered, her voice sharp. “We don’t share that kind of relationship, Khizr. There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

Khizr’s smirk softened, though his gaze held its intensity. “Really? Because I mind the idea of you with someone else.”

Amal drew back, her expression shifting to surprise and disgust at his words. “That’s your problem,” she shot back. “Or is this just another tactic to gaslight me into another deal?”

Khizr’s expression cooled, though his voice remained composed. “Gaslight?” he repeated, his voice calm but edged. “Do you really think I need some trick to get my way with you?”

Amal held his gaze, her skepticism clear. “Do you think I’ll fall for this, Khizr? Whatever game you’re playing, I’m not interested.”

Khizr’s eyes darkened at her words, though his face betrayed little else. “You think I need sweet words to get what I want from you?” His voice was low, controlled, hinting at restrained frustration as he held her accountable to her own words.

Amal’s eyes narrowed, her skepticism unwavering. She could sense the control in his voice, the way he held back, and yet, she couldn’t fully read him. “Maybe you don’t need to,” she replied coolly. “But I’m not falling for it, Khizr. Whatever this is, I’m not playing along.”

A shadow of something—anger or disappointment—flickered across Khizr’s face, but he remained silent. The contradictions in his words and actions left her questioning herself, yet she held her ground, refusing to let her own uncertainty show.

“Acha, chai toh le jao,” Khizr said, his tone soft again as he watched her grab the jug on the table, clearly preparing to leave.

[Atleast drink the chai?]

“Nahi chaiye kacchi chai. Khud piyen aur apni biwi ko jaa kar pilayein,” Amal said, glaring at him. She was nervous about his temper, but maybe having Raheem around gave her a bit of a safety net.

[I don't want to drink half-cooked chai. Drink it yourself and give some to your wife.]

Khizr rubbed his forehead in frustration as he watched her walk away, Fateh's words echoing in his mind.

“Bhai, Bari ammi se chupa li hai tumhari harqatein—yeh hi bari baat hai. If I was in your place, I’d try once and leave her peacefully if that’s what she wants.”