𝐏𝐚𝐚𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧 | 𝟏𝟖+

باب دو : قربت

سمجھنے میں بہت قربت ہے۔

𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚'𝙨 𝙨𝙤 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙘𝙮 𝙞𝙣 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜.

•••

Raheela Bibi came and gave me the most sizably voluminous shock of the night. My heart commenced to beat more expeditious.

"A bidder has bought you for the night," she verbalized.

Someone had booked a room for me.

My heart stilled in my chest.

My step stilled; I could remotely take a tarp forward.

My hands shake. I was revolted at the cerebration of some old man putting his hands on me.

The helpers came forward to avail me with my dress.

I pleaded with my eyes with Raheela Bibi. But she had an arduous time. She has done this for years. She wouldn't just stop, because out of me.

"Ye lein bibi," the helper verbally expressed, giving me a herbal tea, "it'll help with the pain." (Take this ma'am.)

She verbalized it with pity. The helper looked above thirty, and she said with experience.

"Mujhe nahi chaheye!" I verbalized, not wanting to face the reality, "le jao isse." (I don't want it!) (Take it away)

I engendered a scene to distract myself. I didn't care about the consequences.

"Par bibi ne--." I took the cup of herbal tea from her hands and threw it at her. (but madam sai--)

"Le jao isse yaha se!" I shouted, I didn't care that I was making a scene. (Take it way!)

"Kuch bhi kar lo, le jao isse!" (just please, take it away.)

Raheela Bibi's helpers came forward to restrain me.

"Shut up!" Raheela Bibi snarled, "You think you have a choice? You think anyone cares about your opinion?"

I visually examined her with tears in my eyes.

"This is my life," she verbally expressed, "and I'm giving it to you for one night. Don't mess it up."

And with that, she isolated me in the room, with a man waiting for me.

I realized then that I was just a commodity in this world, bought and sold for someone else's congeniality.

And Raheela Bibi was just the middleman, profiting off of my misery.

As I lay on the bed, tears streaming down my face, I made a vow to never let anyone treat me like this again.

I will fight for my liberation, no matter the cost.

"The room is paid for," she verbalized, ambulating away with the tea. I felt tears building up. My soul felt contravened. I couldn't believe this was transpiring to me.

"Welcome to your new life," Raheela Bibi said, with a sly smile.

•••

In the soft glow of the morning light, the maids had arranged my dress on the bed, anticipating your every desideratum. Yet, I sat motionless, my thoughts, a whirlwind of trepidation and skepticality.

The door creaked open, and in ambulated him-the man who had spent the night in my abode, his presence as commanding as the sun's first rays.

My heart, which had been racing with fear, now seemed to pause in his presence.

The air seemed to thicken around me, making every breath feel like a caress. I was affrighted of what was to come and of the unknown that hovered between the two of us.

Would he hurt me? Would I bleed? Or would he be gentle, tender, even? A thousand questions swirled in my mind, each more clamant than the last.

His tan skin was a canvas of warmth, and his eyes, like liquid gold, held a depth that stirred my very soul.

He kneeled down Infront of the bed, his eyes filled with a darkness that scared me. "Tuada naam?" (Your name?)

He inquired, his voice a gentle hum that seemed to soothe the very air around me.

I endeavored to move away, my hands trembling with fear.

But he held my chin; his physical contact was firm yet gentle, and he coerced me to meet his gaze.

"Ay'Noor," I whispered, my voice scarcely above a whisper, as if the very act of verbalizing his denomination would evoke the
each of my feelings.

"Noor." He said, tasting the denomination of his tongue. His voice sent deep tremors through my body.

He perpetuated to stroke my chin, making me delirious. I endeavored to scoot away, but he kept a firm grin on me.

He chuckled, "Main tuanu ko kha nahi jan ga." (Relax, I'm not going to eat you up .)

His dark eyes ran through my body. Leaving a trail of fire behind.

He leaned more to see me, and as soon as he did, I moved my face away.

A deep frown composed on his face, and this time he visually examined me profoundly and pecked my lips.

Again and again, tears composed in my eyes, and I think he saw them in the way his body tensed.

"Ki gal hai? Mai kuch kita hai?" he became alarmed, probing for conspicuously signs of distress. (What happened? Did I do something?)

"Kuch nahi." I shared my head, wiping away my tears, recollecting Raheela Bibi's words. (Nothing.)

This time I initiated the intimacy, just wanting to get it over with.

The moment my lips physically contacted his; he tensed but then expeditiously responded.

Thankfully, taking it slow.

•••

Hopefully, I can keep my motivation and perpetuate this story till the end. I'd dote to read your comments regarding this story. I'm open to criticism-no hate, though. I have this story all orchestrated out, and I would like you to integrate some bits to it. This is my Desi version of a Mafia romance, so hopefully I don't flop.