Izzat An-Nisa (Pakistani Short Stories)

Rehbar Part 5 🌺

Riyaz stared at the form of his sleeping wife, her soft lips parted as she slept, hair in a wild mess over the silk pillow covers. An endearing smile overcame him at the look of vulnerability displayed in the way she laid so comfortably, tucked away from him although she had been sleeping snuggled into his chest moments before.

Sighing, he got up, pulling on a pair of sweats and treaded over the carpet flooring, reaching into the closet to look through her clothes. He quickly located the soft nightgown she often wore to bed and brought it back to her side of the bed. Kissing her forehead, he smoothed back the hair.

He knew she was afraid of something. He had been doing everything in his power to make her feel as if their relationship was stable. That he wasn't going to revert back to the careless man he was now that she was his. Riyaz desperately wanted to hear her say she loved him, that she too cared for him and that he hadn't somehow manipulated her into their relationship.

He drew back the comforter, breath hitching at the sight of her nude body as always. Her breasts that were covered liberally in love bites, a few trailing over her smooth stomach and onto her thighs. He stroked the red skin lovingly, apologetic for how rough he'd been although she had been more than willing.

If there was one thing their relationship didn't lack, it was intimacy. She was as eager to be with him as he was for her. And he swore in those moments, she was most vulnerable, on the edge of telling him how she felt, her eyes speaking volumes.

Unfortunately, Riyaz had always hated interpretation.

He lifted her head up, watching her mouth shift into a pout, the delicate lashes kissing her cheeks as he brought the nightgown over her neck and then pulled both arms through the strap. Ever so slightly, he leaned over her, bringing her nightgown down her body until it ended at her thighs.

It would be January in a few days. And he was losing the fight in himself. He was unsure of himself more than ever. Her emotional absence was killing him. He was reminded of the fact that they might share a home, she might share her body, but she still couldn't ever share her heart with a man like him.

Self-loathing was all he felt as he laid back besides her. And the only thing that broke him out of those toxic thoughts was when she turned and hooked her leg over his hips, burrowing her head into his neck.

A slight smile played at his lips. But he couldn't bring himself to hold her. He couldn't escape the buzzing sensation in his skin. The notion that tomorrow she would offer a simple kiss and then they'd talk of the most superficial things to occur in their lives and the moment he'd deepen their conversation, she'd turn her face. That he'd find her lost in some corner of their house, clutching her mug of tea fiercely in her hands as she took in their home.

He couldn't.

He slipped out of bed and pulled on a shirt. He didn't bother to get his jacket or keys, simply taking the subway to his destination.

//

She opened her eyes, feeling cold from the way he had slipped away from her, heart wrenching in her chest. She knew she was being unfair to him, but everyday was a struggle. Each day she wanted to cling to him, to beg him to stay safe. She feared for his life, for their marriage. She saw how his eyes would fill with unsaid emotions each time she pulled away.

She was trying so hard to not love him to pieces, and yet she had begun to anyway.

As soon as he left the room, she got up, pulling on a pair of pajama pants, hearing the door close. She hurried out, grabbing her jacket and pulling on her shoes, following him at a distance.

Her heart thundered. Where was he going? At this hour? Had she finally pushed him away?

Guilt edged away at her and she followed as he got off the subway, going down alleyways and streets until he reached a warehouse.