Behind A Smile ✔

6

The pet name, "Zee," a nickname she used to love but had grown to hate. It was a sweet melody from the past, one that she desperately wanted to silence.

Bilal tightened his hold, a possessive gesture that sent chills down her spine.

Before she could grasp what was happening, his lips were already on her neck, trailing kisses down to her collarbone. Panic jolted her awake. With all the strength she could muster, she shoved him back. "Please don't touch me," she begged in a quiet, but firm voice.

Bilal's brows furrowed as he took a step closer to her. "Why shouldn't I?" He hummed. "I'm your husband, aren't I?" He asked, the entitlement thick in his voice.

Zynah met his gaze in a silent plea. "Please...stay back."

"Why should I?" A dangerous glint flickered in his eyes, the possessiveness morphing into suspicion. "Have you been seeing someone else?" He seethed, snatching her arm forcefully.

A humorless scoff escaped Zynah's lips. "That's ridiculous! With me practically a prisoner in this house, how on earth is that even possible?" She couldn't believe the nerve of Jameel. She felt stupid for even trying to explain herself. She should allow him believe  whatever he wanted. He was not worth her explanation. Not at all.

"That's true," he conceded, a self-satisfied smirk curled up his lips. "You wouldn't even dare...but then again," his grip tightened around her arm. "Why are you backing away from me? You have an obligation to fulfill, don't you, wife?"

"Just stay away from me. Please," she begged, her voice tight and eyes squeezed shut. The very thought of him touching her turned her stomach. He wasn't her husband; he was a beast in human form.  All she wanted was for him to let her be. His presence was suffocating her.

He smirked and roughly cupped her chin, forcing her face up. For the first time that days their gazes met and all Zynah could see was the hunger burning in his eyes. She ripped her gaze away. "Stay away from me," she repeated, trying her best to sound firm, but it emerged as a strangled plea.

He raised his hand, a backhand poised to strike. But then, something changed. Perhaps he took pity on her. Maybe it was the dawning realization that his control was slipping. Whatever it was, his fist clenched mid-air and he gnashed his teeth. "I'm trying my damnedest to be good to you and instead of complying by being the good girl you've always been," he snarled, the words strained. "You're acting out? Will you go back to how you've always been or do I have to make you? You choose," he shut his eyes, and when he reopened them, they were bloodshot. "The decision is totally yours to make."

By the tone of his voice and his hardened demeanor, Zynah's breath hitched in her throat. In that split second, a horrifying image flashed through her mind — him, enraged, capable of anything. Murdering her and dumping her body in a secluded area. His gaze, devoid of any humanity, confirmed her worse fears. There and then, she knew she had lost the battle. There was absolutely nothing she could do to stop him from getting what he wanted. She was powerless. She hated to admit it, but it was the fact. Slowly, her eyelids met, a silent surrender. She had finally succumbed to his desire.

Her heartbeat increased when she felt his rough hands scoop her up, bridal style, then felt him ascend the stairs. She dreaded each step he took.

The slam of the bedroom door echoed in her ears.

She had lost. He had won.

•

Like a loose faucet, tears streamed down Zynah's face, hot and relentless. The memory of what has transpired kept repeating in her mind. She used to enjoy the feeling of intimacy but now, all that was left was disgust. She had given up everything just for him and he ended up ruining her life with no intention to stop.

She swallowed a painful lump in her throat as she felt him move closer, his unwanted warmth radiating against her back. His arms wrapped around her, his lips brushing against her temple in the process. Every fiber of her being screamed to push him away, but was emotionally too weak to do so. Her attempt to wiggle out of his hold was a feeble struggle that made him tightened his hold and pulled her even closer to his body. 

"Stay still," he murmured into her ear, his voice tender.."I'm sorry for hitting you yesterday. It was your fault. You pushed me to the wall."

Sorry? He was sorry? If the situation had permitted it, Zynah would have laughed. A loud, humorless laughter. Was "sorry" even a word he understood? To him, it was a mere tool to manipulate her back into submission. She knew this cycle — the violence, the fake remorse, the inevitable repeat. His words held no water. Wiping the tears away from the corner of her eye, she spoke, her voice strained. "Please le me go...I need to use the bathroom ."

Surprisingly, his arms loosened, setting her free from his oppressive hold. She wasted no time running into the bathroom. Slamming the door shut, she fumbled for the lock and pressed her back against the cool tile wall. Every second in that house was torture— a reality she had learned to embrace. And she had no one to thank but herself.

After what seemed like hours, she emerged from the bathroom and met with Bilal's absence. She heaved a long sigh of relief. It felt as if a huge burden was lifted off her shoulder by his absence. For a stolen moment, she would be able to breathe properly.

Her relief was short-lived when she heard his footsteps approaching.

Bilal sauntered back into the room, a tray of food balanced in his hands. Zynah's stomach clenched, not from hunger, but from a prickle of unease. Just what was he up to? Why was he suddenly acting strange? Was he perhaps trying to taunt her? — these questions flooded Zynah's mind.

"Come here," he beckoned. "I made dinner for us."

For us? Including her? It had been ages since he had bothered with such domestic gesture. She had stopped expecting anything good from him. Only bad.

""Did you hear me?" He asked, his voice hardening.

Zynah flinched a little. "I'm not hungry." She replied, looking everywhere but his direction. She knew that statement of hers alone would anger him, but that didn't stop her from saying it. She felt the urge to defy him again.

"That was not a REQUEST, Zynah," he snarled. "It was a COMMAND."

Zynah remained stubbornly rooted to the spot.

"I'm starting to lose my patience," he gritted through his teeth. "You wouldn't want that, would you? I won't repeat myself, Zynah. Sit down and eat. Disobey me, and you know the consequences."

Not wanting his callused hand on her, her feet moved against her will. It was as if his voice held an invisible leash, tugging her towards him.

"That's a good girl," he purred, the corner of his lips lifting in a lopsided smile; his dimples pronounced. His smile seemed so genuine. It reminded her of the man she once fell for — a man who seemed to have vanished overnight without a trace. "Sit." He commanded, patting the space beside him on the bed. And that was exactly what she did.

Despite the hatred she felt towards him, a traitorous part of her acknowledged his attractiveness. His smile was what attracted her to him. Memories flooded back — the first she saw him smiling so brightly while speaking to someone, the smile had drawn her in, making her believe he was 'the one'. And when she finally got the chance to speak with him, she became so confident that he was the one she wanted to grow old with. She still couldn't believe how much he changed after all those years. His kindness and tenderness were nothing but a facade. Indeed, all that glitters, she thought, is not gold.

"Interesting," he drawled, his voice dripping with a sickening amusement. "I have noticed a thing about you. It seems you don't like being treated with kindness like a lady. You prefer being treated with force... like an animal. Am I wrong?"

Zynah opened her mouth to retort, but the words died on her lips. Was it true? Had his cruelty become her twisted normal?