The Unwanted Marriage

Chapter 43

Amina's POV

It's been two agonizing days since I last saw Zayd, and Saad has been absent too. I'm a bundle of nerves, wrapped in a constant hum of tension and worry. Layla, has lost all her sparkle. It's been so incredibly difficult to manage her; she's stopped talking, her usual vibrant energy completely gone. Even Mom noticed,  but I tried my best to deflect, to offer reassurances I didn't quite feel myself. My heart aches for Layla, a deep, persistent worry. And Zayd... I have no idea where he vanished to. Ya Allah, please keep him safe, a desperate plea echoed in my mind, a constant prayer.

Today was the Mehndi ceremony, a day usually bursting with joy, but Layla was utterly disinterested. I'd been trying to coax her out of bed for the past hour, my voice soft, pleading. "Layla, please don't lose hope. Trust Allah, leave everything to Him," I whispered, gently pulling the duvet from her face. My heart clenched at the sight of her defeated eyes, hollowed by fear. "Wait, I'll bring you something to eat," I said, getting up.

"No, I don't want to eat," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper, thin and fragile.

"Layla, you haven't eaten since morning," I insisted, a desperate edge to my tone. "Just wait, I'll get you something." And with that, I hurried out of the room.

On my way through the opulent corridors, my eyes scanned instinctively, almost unconsciously. And then I saw him. Zayd. He was walking towards his room, his posture radiating a quiet strength. Alhamdulillah! I breathed, the silent prayer a profound wave of relief washing over me. To see him, fine, unharmed, exactly as he was when he left, dissipated so much of the worry that had coiled tightly in my chest. I quickly flagged down a staff member, asking them to take food to Layla's room, then, my heart picking up an anxious rhythm, I veered towards his.

I hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty. Then, I knocked softly on his door, waiting for a moment, listening. Nothing. With a nervous flutter, I tentatively pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was immense, larger than mine, a breathtaking display of luxury, but he wasn't there. I checked the balcony, but it was empty. As I turned back into the room, the bathroom door suddenly opened, and he walked out, a towel wrapped low around his waist, water glistening on his skin.

His body seemed even more powerfully built than I remembered, lean muscle clearly defined. He looked impossibly handsome, his wet hair falling artfully over his forehead. But then my gaze snagged on it - a deep cut on his neck. My eyes widened in alarm. As his gaze fell on me, his eyes widened too, a brief flicker of surprise. I quickly spun around, my cheeks burning with a sudden, intense heat.

"Aap yahan?" he asked, his voice husky, slightly rough, and oh, it was so incredibly deep, sending a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with fear. I bit my lower lip, trying desperately to compose myself, to form a coherent thought.

[You here?]

"Woh, mai..." I stammered, my words failing me, my voice betraying my shock. "I'm sorry!" I blurted out, turning quickly towards the door, desperate to escape.

[Uh... me..]

"Wait," he said suddenly, his voice firm, stopping me in my tracks. I paused, half-turned towards him. "Give me a moment," he added, then, to my profound relief, he disappeared into another room - a dressing room, I presumed. I saw his ears turn a faint shade of red.

But the cut on his neck... it gnawed at me. My worry for him outweighed my embarrassment. I quickly scanned the opulent room for a first aid kit, my eyes darting over polished surfaces and ornate furniture. I finally found it in a drawer. I pulled out a small tube of ointment cream.

Just then, he emerged from the dressing room, now dressed in a dark green kurti that clung to his broad shoulders, making him look immensely handsome, so much so it quite literally stole my breath away. He walked over, his movements fluid, and sat on the edge of the bed, facing me.