The Fallen Widow

Chapter 18: The Plot

The wedding was looming. Every day women hurried from their daily chores and gathered in the haveli like a social event. With a dholki, the women gathered in a huddle sitting in the courtyard singing traditonal wedding songs as the business of the haveli hurried around them. The laughter, the singing created a buzz in the haveli. Roasted almonds, pistachios, cashew nuts together with chai, sweets, gulab jaman and snacks on the go throughout the day. The mood was jovial and festival excited for the wedding which was days away. Hands clapping, bangles clinking it was strange, a maid, a villager, a teacher, a simple widow would soon be the queen of Jahanpur. Ladies giggled and chatted how she had become the king's obsession, stubbornness; his love and this above caste and creed was a fairy tale wedding. The stunning emerald eyed maid, would soon dress in bridal red and crowned at Queen of Jahanpur. Her past was forgotten, and her future embraced.

On the contrary, Shahgul stood on the balcony and looked down at the singing, laughter and rhythmic clapping with disdain. Her nostrils screwed, she despised the way the villagers accepted the widow. Her plan was warming up, tonight, under the cloud secrecy her plan would come to fruition. It took hours to convince her husband to be part of the plan, but it was her last chance to save Jahanpur, as she put it to Dilawar-Baksh.

In the bowels of the haveli, Uzayr prepared for revenge arming his men. He announced his plan to Shah Nawaz, who gave him permission to find Azaad and deal with him. Hearing the news, Fiza made her way to the basement, where Uzayr loaded on pistols and armed his guards ready for the trip. The arsenal was stored safely in trunks, with bullets, automatic and semi automatic rifles. On hearing her entrance with her jingle of her anklets, he turned to the door where two guard stood holding a rifles. Fiza looked at him in surprise.
"What's going on here?" She looked around. "Is there another battle?"

Uzayr nod his head at the guards sending them out of the room. She looked at his hands holding two rifles with fear.

"Uzayr, what's going on?"

"Fiza, stay out of it."

"Out of what?" She neared him, but he wouldn't look at her in the eyes. His head was already in the city, planning ways to kill Azaad the man who made him the fall guy.

"I have unfinished business." He announced piling bullet packs.

"Have you found him?" She was terrified of the answer.

"Stay out of it. I'm going to the city." There was no time for dramatics or emotions. His mind was hell bent on travelling today- no one could stop him. If it meant causing chaos in the city to take out Azaad, so be it. With fear bubbling in eyes, she pulled him close to her, grabbing fistful of his collar. His body taut with anger and rage, ever cell of his body ready to unleash terror.

"Look at me Uzayr, it's your wife."

He refused to meet her eyes. This wasn't a time for emotion or too crack. She shook him, but there was nothing in his eyes. She'd lost him to the hunger of revenge. He was thirsty for blood. She sobbed leaning her forehead against his chest.
"Talk to me, Uzayr. Say something." She cried. "I'm so alone - I need you."

He didn't flinch. Choudhary men were made of steel when it came to battle and revenge. The softness of a woman, the dampness of her tears wouldn't break their oath to revenge. Fiza knew this, she was a feather in the storm of Uzayr. He stood like a steel pillar, allowing her to drain her tears. In this battle, he may not survive, and this would be her only chance of mourning him whilst he was alive. It was the man's duty to allow the mother, wife, sister or daughter to cry when he departed in case he lost his life. Fiza wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body against him tight. Rising to her toes she kissed his neck and his cheek. Still no movement or eye contact. He was locked.