Gereksiz İntikam

33

Taniya's POV

I open my eyes, and the first thing my blurry vision sees is the white ceiling. My nostrils fill with the pungent, nauseating smell of the hospital. 

I don’t know how long I stare at the ceiling like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. 

I can’t be pregnant. I don’t want to carry the result of sin. Tears gather in my eyes. 

Please, Allah Ta’ala, don’t test me with this. Just the mere thought of my doubt turning into reality—of carrying the filth of sin—disgusts me to my core. I want to scratch my belly, my whole body. 

I don’t want this. But my weakness and the IV drip attached to my hand won’t allow me to act on these thoughts. I lay there like a dead body. 

Well, my soul is already dead. 

I don’t know how Shoaib brought me here—my so-called husband. 

Lost in my inner turmoil, I am pulled back to the present by a gentle touch on my hand. 

Shoaib is sitting at the bedside table, his hand resting lightly on mine. His touch feels soothing, like balm on a wound. 

Allah, how can I feel safe and comforted by the touch of my annihilator? 

My poor heart. After my brother, this annihilator of mine is my only mahram. 

Tears well up in my eyes, and I let them fall. 

“Taniya…” He opens his mouth to speak, and somewhere in my heart, I pray that he will tell me it’s just my overthinking—that I am not pregnant. 

But his tense face doesn’t let me think straight. I know he can't be worried for me. 

So is he worried about my pregn— 

My overthinking halts when his words reach my ears. 

“Taniya, hum Chacha Chachi ban gaye. Danish bhai ke yahan bete ki wiladat hui hai.” Tears roll down his cheeks as he says this. 

My heart skips a beat at the sight of his tears. Is he really crying out of happiness? 

“Hum Chacha Chachi ban gaye, Taniya,” he repeats, and suddenly, he presses a kiss to my forehead. For a few seconds, I feel loved. A strange warmth spreads through me. 

I close my eyes, feeling his lips linger on my forehead. I don’t know why, but I wish my hands had enough strength to hold his head there, to keep him close. 

He is ruining me, Allah. 

His dual personality is beyond my understanding. He has been so unhinged and oblivious since we arrived here, and now, this sudden affection makes me question both my sanity and his mental state. 

I open my eyes when I feel wetness seeping from my forehead down to my eyebrows. 

Allah, why is he crying? Is he really this soft-hearted? 

I stare at his face, letting his tears wet mine. But his tears are piercing my heart. I don’t know why—maybe because all my life, I have only seen strong, heartless men. 

He opens his eyes, his lips still pressed against my forehead. 

My own eyes are damp—but for entirely different reasons. 

Our gazes lock, and for a moment, time seems to stop. 

My ocean-blue eyes meet his brown ones. We are so close that I can see his pupils dilate slightly. 

“Get healthy soon. We’ll go see my champ,” he says with such care and warmth that I cannot comprehend it. 

I nod because words refuse to leave my mouth. 

“Is something wrong with my health?” I whisper. 

We are still in the same position, staring at each other. Hearing my voice, his hand, which was resting beside my head, moves to my face. 

His palm is large enough to cover my whole face, but he holds my cheeks gently. His rough fingertips glide up and down my neck at a painfully slow speed. 

“You are p…” He stops, staring into my eyes, and my heart stops with him. 

Please don’t say I am pregnant. I don’t want to carry this filth inside me. 

“You’re perfectly fine. All your reports are clear, but you’re still not healthy enough to travel such a long distance,” he says, taking a deep breath. 

Why did his demeanor change so suddenly? 

“Get well soon, so we can go see our champ,” he says, straightening up and sitting beside me. 

But why does my heart skip a beat when he says "our champ"? 

I don’t hold grudges against anyone. Daniel bhabhi is so sweet and loving. I am happy for her. 

Yes, I think I am just overthinking because of loneliness. 

I stare at him, filled with countless unspoken questions. Am I not pregnant? 

“Stop overthinking, Mrs. Malik. You’re fine. It’s just weakness and an allergic reaction that caused your health to decline,” he says, making me frown. 

Do I even have allergies? I’ve never eaten the kind of food I’ve had here before, so maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m just overthinking. Maybe I missed my date because of weakness. 

Yes, that could be the reason. 

Taking a relieved breath, I look at him. 

“Is Daniel bhabhi alright?” I ask, trying to sit up. He immediately gets up and helps me, adjusting the pillows behind my back. 

“Hmmm…” He nods. 

“And how is our nephew?” I ask. Saying the word "nephew"—a newfound relationship—brings an unconscious smile to my lips. 

“he is fine as well,” Shoaib says, looking at me with unreadable eyes, making me question a lot of things. 

I will talk to his mother about it. My instincts are telling me that he must have some issues.

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How the chapter?

Unedited,