“We will be leaving at 10 tomorrow morning. Zoya kid, if you want to pack your important things, then ask Adarsh, he will take you to Alam Villa. And do not be afraid of him; I have already taken care of him. I have also asked Nasir to bring your passport; he will be here with it soon,” Nawaaz spoke in his authoritative tone. Zoya just nodded her head in agreement. Her mind was stuck on the phrase ‘taken care’, just uttered by her father-in-law. She knew that her father-in-law’s statement carried significant weight; she wondered what sort of treatment he had administered to Shahzeb.
“And baccha, don’t bother with clothes and other stuff; you can shop there as much as you need. Just keep your medical files with you, in case we need them there,” Nawaaz sipped his coffee and commanded again.
“Okay veerr rrr … Dad.” She corrected herself ruefully and bit on her tongue as she looked up at the man who was looking at her with narrow eyes. Nawaaz smiled triumphantly on her mischief. He had always treated her as his own daughter, but Zoya could have never guessed the real reason behind it. Now she knew that she was ‘actually’ his daughter by virtue of the relations that they shared with Shahzeb.
In-fact, Zoya could not be happier with the fact that her husband was actually the first-born of her beautiful and most adorable Saba apa and Nawaaz veerji. But she was left to rue the fact that Shahzeb’s personality had been tainted by his ruthless grandfather Sardar Alam Khan. She did, however, heave a sigh of relief; now that everything was revealed and there were no more secrets, she could at least hope for happier days in the future.
“Sir, Shahzeb sir has come.” A mail servant announced softly to his master. Nawaaz’s hand stilled on his cigarette on this unexpected announcement. He looked at Zoya who seemed to be as surprised as him.
“So, have matters now come to this that you will henceforth be announcing your arrival like an outsider? Don’t provoke me boy, I don’t want to be harsh with you.” A heavy voice boomed in the pleasantly silent lounge. Shahzeb turned his head and glanced at the man who was the owner of the silky smooth voice. His eyes instantly connected with the pair of night black shining eyes. A spitting image of his own; he could now see the absolute resemblance of himself. How naturally they were connected; and how easily he had been fooled.
“I want to speak with my wife. You can’t stop me.” Shahzeb retorted like a totally spoiled kid. Nawaaz felt his blood rushing up to his skull on his son’s outrageous declaration. He took some much needed whiffs from his cigarette to calm his raging pulse.
“She is my daughter; don’t you dare to dominate her in front of me.” Nawaaz gritted with clenched teeth while examining Shahzeb’s now fading bluish bruise on his proud arrogant nose.
Nawaaz had never ever thought that he could manhandle his own flesh and blood. His wife would be damned angry seeing her beloved son beaten up so brutally by her husband. A son whom she cared and loved for her whole life above everything else; because she had somewhat convinced herself long ago that Shahzeb was the last belonging of her loving husband, her Nazi’s last loved possession.
“She is still my wife dad.” Shahzeb’s overly annoyed voice and the use of the term ‘dad’ brought Nawaaz back from his journey of the past. He felt a strangely acute feeling of ecstasy, gripping his heart in to an indescribable happiness. His eyes again feasted on his son’s strikingly handsome features, his strong lean physique. He and his Alie had indeed created the most beautiful sons together. He looked behind his shoulder. Zoya was looking frightened by the situation that had arisen; an astonished expression was plastered on her face on looking at her husband’s bruised face.
“She will always be your wife. But that does not change the fact that you had cruelly demanded her to terminate your own child, my first grandchild. That’s the reason I am taking her with us; she needs to be relaxed, along with your mother. I don’t trust anyone anymore.” Nawaaz stated thickly and left from the sitting lounge, giving them privacy.
Zoya could feel her husband’s burning gaze settle upon her. Her skin warmed up immediately as her pale cheeks were tinted rouge. He slowly closed the distance between them, standing some inches away. His eyes were scrutinizing her slender form, clad in a loose yellow linen top paired with off-white leggings. Her matching yellow and off-white striped scarf was carelessly hanging on her slim right shoulder, showing just a glimpse of the pale supple skin of her slender neck and the prominent juncture between the hollow of her collar bone. Her long, silky chocolate tresses were still wet from the shower, emanating a familiar light fragrance; the fragrance which keeps him awake during lonely nights. He bent his head a bit and sniffed her familiar scents. “Rosy vanilla”. She looked above his shoulder at the open double doors of the sunbathed lounge and took a step back, creating a decent distance between them. Anyone could have crossed the connected corridor or entered in the lounge.