I have to admit, handling all the post-wedding dinners would have been way easier if me and Khizer were on good terms.
We were never exactly friends, but we had a nice, professional thing going on. And although I don’t mind keeping to myself, I don’t like being given the cold shoulder by Khizer of all people. He’s talking and laughing with everyone, and is behaving as normally as a nut case like him can, but he doesn’t so much as smile at me.
And I am very used to Khizer smiling at me.
I don’t care though. I made a mistake, I accepted it, what else does he want me to do? Apologize?
I glare at my reflection in the mirror. It’s been about a week since our wedding, and things haven’t exactly been ideal. We’re always out, going to lunches or dinners, with colleagues or relatives. We’re barely home, and when we are, it’s only me and Khizer’s granny, because Khizer is mostly out working.
His granny told me once, over breakfast, about how happy she was I had taken a three month leave from work so I could pay extra attention at home. Mom probably told her that, and I didn’t bother correcting either of them.
Even now, I’m rotting in our room getting ready like a stupid, live-at-home wife, waiting for Khizer to come back from work and take me to dinner at his best friends house.
I don’t want to go. And I was very close to telling Khizer so yesterday, before I realized I’d just be giving light to his current disdain for me.
Refusing to go to his friends house would result in me breaking another condition of the contract, and that’ll just be shitty of me considering I haven’t yet received forgiveness for the first.
I’m positive though, that they’re both going to hang out and ignore me. His friend is so darn protective of Khizer, it’s frustrating. Like, he’s your friend not your baby. And whenever Khizer and him are together, it’s like there’s no one else around them.
He once came to one of our pre-wedding celebrations and it was like no one else existed for Khizer. They talked and laughed all night, and his friend didn’t once leave his side. They even shared one drink. What are they, thirteen year old girls?
I put my hair back in a pony tail, then go to the study, which is across the Hall besides the stair-case which leads upstairs to that ‘romantic’ place Khizer’s cousins were talking about. I still haven’t visited it, and don’t want to.
The study, however, is my favourite place in this huge house. It’s full of books, filled with a Woody scent and the table in the corner has a clear view of the glass wall which looks out towards the sky and the rooftops of the other apartments.
Right now the table is strewn with papers and documents. This past week all my free time was spent here, working on Raheels case. The hearing is tomorrow and I’m brimming with anxiety and nerves. Even Khizer seems to be on edge, as if he’s anticipating something. Maybe those bodyguards of his told him something.
For the thousandth time, I wonder what the mayor will do once I ignore his warning and attend that hearing. Raheel will be on the witness stand tomorrow. Tomorrows hearing is the tipping point of the case, and I’ve been prepping like crazy, but it still doesn’t feel enough. In the pit of my stomach, there’s a fire curdling with fear. I’m under continuous danger, and I know it.
“Miss?” I turn around at the housemaids voice. “Mr. Malik is waiting for you outside.”
×——-×
Khizer’s POV:
The moment Saeed opens the door for us, I make a beeline for Cat. How long has it been since I last saw her?
“How’s my baby doing?” I murmur in her ear. I scratch her ear, feeling Mansha’s gaze at the back of my head. She’s still standing near the door, fidgeting with the only ring on her hand. Her wedding ring.
I walk back to her, Cat snuggled in my arms. “This is your new friend Cat. Say hi.”
Cat stares at Mansha, and her face splits into a small smile. “Is she yours?” She asks, scratching Cat’s ear.
“She’s ours.” Saeed replies. “We got her way back, but Khizer is rarely home so she stays with me.”
“But she still loves me more.” I rub my nose in her grey fur, and she purrs loudly. “Don’t you baby girl?”
“No she doesn’t.” Saeed snaps.
Smiling, Mansha rubs her under her chin, and Cat leans in for more. Pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, she steps in closer, dark eyes trained on Cat.
She’s been very quiet lately, zoned out and uninterested in everything. She’s nervous and scared, no matter how much she tries to hide it.
“Do you wanna hold her?” My soul almost leaves my body when she looks at me through her eye lashes, only half listening. She’s fucking gorgeous.
“Sure.” She picks Cat out of my arms, and Cat goes voluntarily, which pleases me to no end. Cat isn’t a people’s person.
“Do you like her Cat?” I coo. She responds with a loud meow, which makes Mansha laugh.
Saeed takes us into the sitting room, and Mansha settles down on the couch, Cat in her lap. “Why’d you name her Cat?”
“It’s not her name.” Saeed calls on his way out of the room.
“We couldn’t decide what to name her, so we settled for Cat.” I explain.
She opens her mouth to say something, but quickly closes it again and turns back to Cat. She’s been like that ever since our wedding night-reserved. I wish I could say I don’t mind, but I hate it this way.
Part of me knows everything will be alright if I just tell her that what happened is okay, as long as it doesn’t happen again. But communication is key and that’s exactly what I’m not willing to do, because this way, it’s better for both of us. Getting closer to her means exploring parts of me I never knew existed, and I am not in the mood for surprises.
So I sit back besides her, watching her play with Cat and pleading with her inside my head to please talk to me. Even small talk will do at this point. But when she doesn’t, I finally decide to break the silence myself.
“You’re wearing a very nice dress.”
WHAT THE HOLY MOTHERFUCKING FUCK DID I JUST SAY. Who compliments a dress???? Granted, it looks absolutely gorgeous on her-she’s never worn purple before, but that’s not what you say to Mansha. I force myself to keep a straight face and not leave the room.
Mansha stares at me, visibly questioning my sanity. “Excuse me?”
She could’ve just said thank you. “The universal reply is thank you.” She stares with a perplexed expression on her face. I don’t blame her.
“Excuse me for saying excuse me when you complimented my attire out of the blue.” She finally says.
I physically feel my heart melt, my lips rising up in a smile. “Was that an attempt at a joke, grump?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
I open my mouth to tell her it was when Saeed comes in, talking at the top of his voice. “I forgot to ask you if you take your coffee sweet bhabhi.”
“Bhabhi?” Mansha repeats. Bhabhi is the customary label for your brother/friends wife. “Just call me Mansha.”
Saeed smiles. “Okay. Do you take your coffee sweet Mansha?”
“Yes.” Saeed exhales a relieved sigh.
“Good, ’cause me and Khizer take alot of sugar.”
I eagerly grab my cup and hand Mansha hers. My last caffeine intake was in the afternoon, and I desperately needed another.
Mansha goes back to playing with Cat, tapping her paws and nose and tickling her belly, her wide eyes the only indication that she’s enjoying herself.
My phone buzzes and I pick it up, frowning when I see it’s Saeed.
???? ??????? ?? ???.
I shoot him a look.
?’? ???.
??? ???. ???’?? ???? ??? ??? ??? ????, ???? ?? ???? ??? ?? ???? ?? ?? ??? ? ??????
I smile. ??? ????????
“Khizer?” My heart drops into my stomach and twirls around, before swinging back up where it belongs. Is it just me or did she take my name sweetly?
“Yes?” I squeak out, avoiding her gaze.
“Why don’t you guys call her Khalisi?” She glances at Saeed. “You know, she acts all sophisticated and she’s clearly very spoiled and loved as well. So why not Khalisi?”
“That. Is. Brilliant.” Saeed exclaims. I raise an eyebrow. “This loser hasn’t watched game of thrones. Ignore him.”
“Is that a show?”
“I asked you to watch it with me, but you said no.”
“I don’t watch tv.” I tell Mansha.
She rolls her eyes. “You don’t eat fast food, you don’t watch TV, what do you do grandpa?”
“Says the grump.” I tease. She shows me the middle finger, making me laugh. We stare at each other, her eyes gleaming and my lips smiling, and the ice between us visibly cracks, but then she quickly looks away, and the cracks remain unbroken.
“Anyway, Khalisi means queen. I think it suits Cat.” She continues to say.
I lean over and grab Cat out of Mansha’s lap, my fingers fleetingly grazing her upper thigh. Although she’s wearing tights, I can feel the warmth of her skin beneath the thin cloth, and my face burns. I pull away quickly, but she doesn’t notice, deep in conversation with Saeed about dragons and badass females.
Cat purrs in my lap, grabbing my index finger and playing with it, trying to bite every now and then. She looks to have had a bath just this morning, her grey fur smooth beneath my touch, one green and one blue eye moving between my two palms, trying to decide which one to lick first.
She’s adorable.
“So? What do you say? Should we name her Khalisi?” Mansha directs the question at me. “Saeed already agreed to it.”
I look at Cat. I don’t know what Khaleesi means. Plus it’s a weird sounding name, doesn’t sit on your tongue right. My eyes flit over to Mansha, who’s looking at me eagerly, and smile. “Sure. It’s a beautiful name.”
The small, pleased smile I get in return speaks to me louder then Saeed’s roar of victory, and makes naming Cat Khalisi worth it.