Billionaire's Feisty Wife (Updating In the End of September 2021)

Chapter 4 - Henna by him

(The Above picture contains Elza's Home and Henna which Airab applies on Elza's fingers)

and Eid Mubarak Bunniess... 😚😚 🌙🌙

Chapter 4

ELZA

(2 months ago)

I turn another page, another page, another page and another page. The thriller and mystery is long way to go. I am at two hundred and fifty third page. Five hundred and seventy more to go. Hu!

Thank Gosh, Rabiha lent me her novel or you can say her own novel was missing so she gave me this from her brother's study room. Due to Shaina's wedding thriller, her novel must has been misplaced. Whatever, my real concern is the novel, not the owner. The real fun of the novel is by reading through book not online – especially the Urdu novels.

A feeble smile appears on my face like the cuddling lull in my heart as I read how the Hayaa loves her childhood fiancé without seeing him for years. She has trust on him and Allah. I want to do the same – complete trust on Allah. It is something I am being away from. Exact reason is inconclusive to me but hearts feels occupied by Satan. I do over-rage behavior. I want peace. I desperately want it in Namaz now. I am trying but...

In the next moment my mobile rings and there is my bestie... calling me when I need her. I am amazed that how can she judge me this best; earlier when she was miles away and now when after marriage she lives in the other end of city as of mine. She is elder to me but got tied into the divine thread of marraige four months ago. I love teasing her even after she begs me to stop.

The call was brief in which she told the reason of her slow texts; the iftaar-guests are still lingering at her home. I sulk like a kid but did not object. She and my Zee are the only ones around whom I am carefree. Because neither of them are judging. As if I care about the world!

My stomach growls reminding me of delicious fruit chat lying there in fridge. Breaking the fast, I ate a small date and then downed two glasses of mango shake in a go. My tummy was thus heavy to accept anything more, and so my Iftaari is enjoyed the chillness of refrigerator.

I sprint out of my bedroom towards kitchen. Taking bowl of fruit chat my feet stop listening to the whining of my elder sister, Tabeedah, about her in-laws. Rolling my eyes, I control the urge to not pass the comets. It's been two years. Why does she still think Rehan Bhai's family not hers?

Truthfully, I hate it when she tells wee things happen at her home. It only crafts misunderstandings fueling the negativity, tainting the positive atmosphere.

She should play her part nicely and especially not fight with her husband in the holy month of Ramadan. 'Husbands' around me have short stamina. Men are angry-creatures, I think, and always pregnant; moody and wrathful. Show your mood swings only to those men who can handle it. Simple!

Problem is such men exist only in books and we cannot marry to books. More Simple, isn't it?

Instead of going back to bedroom, I rush to balcony to get some fresh air along frosty spoons of strawberry and vanilla mixed with five delicious fruits. My lips are cold but I am feeling good with this chillness in clammy weather. I inwardly pray for Rain from Allah. From 4 days, I am active in all kind of religious activities; Prayers, recitation, Tasbeeh and all other things.

I breath out, feeling free of the chaotic and monotonous university routine. No lectures, no discussions, no questions, no presentations, no assignments, nothing.