ISHQ-E-MOHABBAT

5. chasing Game

Mayura abhimaan deep Shekhawat:

I gripped the steering wheel tightly, my heart racing with every turn and swerve. I had never driven so fast in my life, but I had to get away. I had to escape the prison I had found myself in.

As I sped through the city streets, I could see him behind me, his car hot on my heels. I knew he was angry, but I didn't care. I had to break free from the chains that bound me to him.

Tears streamed down my face as I thought of the life I had left behind. The life I had thought I wanted. But now, I knew the truth. I was just a pawn in his game of power and wealth.

I swerved and dodged through traffic, my eyes fixed on the road ahead. I could hear his car screeching and honking behind me, but I didn't look back. I didn't dare.

Suddenly, he pulled up alongside me, his face twisted in anger. He reached over and flung open my door, and I felt a surge of fear. But then, something unexpected happened. His anger suddenly flew away, replaced by a look of shock and concern.

He saw me, really saw me, for the first time. He saw the tears streaming down my face, the desperation in my eyes. And in that moment, his expression softened. He reached out, not to grab me, but to comfort me. And I knew, in that instant, that everything was about to change.

He didn't say a word, just gazed at me with a mix of confusion and compassion. Without asking any questions, he gently coaxed me out of the car and into his own. I didn't resist, I was too exhausted and emotionally drained to fight anymore.

As we drove back to our estate, the silence between us was palpable. I couldn't meet his eyes, fearing what I might see there. Shame, anger, or worse - pity.

When we arrived, he led me straight to my room, his hand guiding me as if I was a lost child. I felt a strange sense of security in his silence, as if he understood that words would only make things worse.

He closed the door behind me, and I heard the soft click of the lock. Not to trap me, but to keep the rest of the world out.

No one knew about our midnight escapade. Everyone was asleep, oblivious to the turmoil that had just transpired. And as I lay there, surrounded by the opulent decorations and the weight of my secrets, I realized that sometimes silence can be both a prison and a sanctuary.

I sighed, gathering my courage, and confronted him. "I'm ready to do as you say," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'll fake a happy bride in front of everyone, and be a stranger in this room, as you've ordered."

He just stared at me, his expression unreadable. I expected anger, or maybe even a hint of satisfaction, but his face was a mask of indifference.

Without a word, I took the pillow from the bed and walked over to the couch. I lay down, turning his back to me, and closed his eyes. The silence was deafening.

I felt a sting of tears, but I refused to let them fall. I had made my decision, and I would see it through. I turned away from him, my heart heavy with resignation . The distance between us was palpable, a chasm that seemed impossible to bridge.

As I lay there, I couldn't help but wonder what the future held for us.

Abhimaan deep Shekhawat:

As I lay on the Bed , my back to her, I couldn't help but think about the woman who had just defied me. Mayura, the shy and timid bride, had revealed a steel-like determination and driving skills that would put even the most seasoned racers to shame.

I was impressed, despite myself. Her commitment to our agreement, even in the face of my anger and disappointment, was admirable. She had faced me, her eyes flashing with a fire I had never seen before, and declared her willingness to play the part of a happy bride.

I couldn't help but wonder what other secrets she held, what other strengths lay hidden beneath her demure exterior. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I had underestimated her. Mayura was not just a pawn in my game of power and wealth; she was a player, with her own motivations and desires.

And as I drifted off to sleep, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of respect for the woman who had dared to challenge me.