Gereksiz İntikam

47

Taniya's pov

The air in California was different. Less heavy.
The salt breeze near the beach didn't carry the weight of betrayal or blood.
It just… flowed.

We came back quietly.

No dramatic exits. No tearful goodbyes. Just a soft “take care” from Rubab bhabhi,and Taha bhai unreadable nod. Shoaib said nothing—his eyes cold even as he kissed Rubab’s forehead goodbye.

My heart knows, bhai , bhabhi is worried for me but they respect my decision,

I don't have any option then comming back with him like a good wife, because i went their to console my bhabhi , my Bhai not to grief about my own misery, so here I am .

I sat beside him on the flight like a mannequin. His fingers laced with mine. Tight. Possessive. But not cruel.

And that was the strange part.

He didn’t lash out. Not in the way I expected.

He was… softer.

Still volatile. Still broken. But something had shifted.
Maybe because I didn’t run this time.
Maybe because I whispered “I’m yours” even when it tasted like ash in my mouth.

Days passed like pages in a book I didn’t write.

Shoaib went back to work. I started breathing again—first in the yard, then the park.

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Shoaib didn’t stop me from going.

Maybe because he was too busy pretending everything was normal. Or maybe—he was trying.

He didn’t scream anymore.
He didn’t use my body,
But he still said things.
Things that made my heart bleed in private.

Like—

> “Your brother must be proud. Raising another man’s baby like it’s a trophy.”

Or

> “You didn’t just run from me, Taniya. You abandoned your punishment.”

I met Ella again. She smiled like she’d been waiting all along. We drank terrible iced coffee and spoke about books. Nothing heavy. Just fiction and flowers and shade trees.

She is my buddy in need, i am still taking those pills as his sexual limits are increasing day by day,

Ella once talk to me about kristina,but I don't want to face her and uncle Theodore,

I know it wasn't their fault that Shoaib mistook us but I still shudder remembering his authoritive touch on my belly, but know nothing matters, i am trying to collect my broken pieces,

I laughed. Lied. Said I was better.

Even Shoaib—he still snapped. Still said cruel things under his breath whenever Taha bhai's  name was mentioned.

But with me…
He started pouring my coffee in the morning.
Leaving a shawl on the couch when it got cold.
Touching my ankle when he walked past, like a silent apology.

A small voice in my chest whispered, maybe he’s changing.

Another one whispered, don’t be a fool.
..

Shoaib was different now.

Still sharp-tongued. Still unpredictable. Still a man stitched from ashes and steel.
But he wasn’t breaking me anymore.

Not like before.

He’d drive me to the park. Wait nearby.
Sometimes, he even asked how me day was.