Enwrapped

Chapter 22

Saboor just wanted to cry.

And Muzammil could see it.

In the stillness of the Abdallah household, the little jingle of Saboor's bangles sounded like loud rattles. The sound, which was usually so beautiful it made Muzammil stop in his tracks, now felt like they were signals of impending doom.

But why?

The main door of the house was now locked- everyone was finally home. The reception event had gone without a hitch, and Muzammil was happy for his friend...but maybe not so much for himself.

The entire drive back home, his wife hadn't spoken a word. She had preferred staring out of the window in uncomfortable silence, eyes dazed in a way he had never seen, and he had been terrified. Wasn't everything becoming better since she had left her father's business?

Now, watching her climb up the staircase, she looked so small, so fragile. The red saree swallowed her completely, leaving nothing but her face and the emeralds at her neck visible. If she thought covering herself would hide the tremors that rocked her body, she was wrong- for Muzammil noticed it all.

She took a step up, and the saree tangled around her, making her stumble.

His hand shot out instantly towards her midriff, steadying her.

But instead of leaning into his touch like she did most of the time, her body jerked away.

"I'm fine," she mumbled, and walked up faster, like nothing had happened.

Something shifted in him. He couldn't call it anger, or fury... no, never with her. Concern and worry too were measly little things compared to what he felt for her. This feeling, a mix of both, and yet none of it, perplexed him altogether. And he didn't know what to do.

So he followed her to their room.

"Saboor." He tried hard to control his feelings.

She was at the dressing table, practically ripping the jewels off her ears.

"Saboor." More firm now.

She still didn't turn.

Muzammil's fingers curled so harshly into his palms, he could feel the fingernails bite into his flesh. It was so difficult, trying to channel all his feelings into words, to want to reach her, and yet not being able to.

~

It was the right moment.

Saboor had always pretended excellently. She had pretended in front of her parents, in front of Aynoor, in front of the society for most of her life. She had been pretending for the past few weeks in front of Mama, Baba, Moustafa and Muzammil, too.

She just had to pretend a little more.

"Saboor," he called for a third time, his voice trying to coax her to listen.

"What?" she replied, turning to him at once, eyes flashing in a way she never wanted.

His brows furrowed together. "You tell me," he said, tilting his chin. "You've been silent the entire evening. You barely ate, barely talked to anyone, and now, you're not telling me what happened in the first place-"

"I don't have to tell you what happened," she cut in.

Silence.

Silence so uncomfortable, she could hear the fast and continuous thumping of her heart.

She saw Muzammil's jaw tighten, but he didn't move.

Turning back to the dressing table, she began taking off her necklace.