Chapter 21: Chapter 21
Haya's POV
A thousand emotions are currently clogging my throat. Emotions I long buried somewhere deep inside me. Every memory of Aarib that I locked away somewhere in my heart comes crashing down all at once, making my head feel dizzy—literally—I sway a little on my feet.
"Woah, you okay?" he begins to move in my direction but I hold up a hand, halting him. He stops, but his expression hardens while his lips press together in discontent. "Don't do this," he growls—he's angry with me?
"Are you for real?" I scoff, clutching an arm to my waist. "You're sick. Utterly crazy. You should try seeing a doctor. Goodbye." I turn around but his words stop me from moving further. I think I also stop breathing.
"I'm sorry. I know what I did is something you would never forgive me for—but I had no other option. I was in a very, very bad situation and I couldn't pull you in it with me."
I snap my eyes shut.
"But I am asking you, Haya. Give me another chance. Please. These past months have been the worst time of my life yet, and I would be a liar to say I didn't spend each and every day thinking about you. You're always on my mind—"
I spin around, unable to contain my emotions tamed. It's the look in his eyes that unleashes my temper. He's hopeful. Hopeful that I will come back to him? How dare he even consider that now after he left me with monsters to hurt me emotionally. How dare he even talk to me like that.
"What could be such a big matter, huh? We were going to get married—I thought you said my life was in danger? So, you lied to me as well? Just because you wanted to get me," I snort, the pieces of the puzzle fitting into place now.
His ocean blue eyes wash with guilt. "I didn't lie that your life was in danger. It was, until my brother gave me an option that would keep you safe, and you wouldn't even have to marry me." He licks his lips. "And isn't that what you wanted? You told me that day in school that you didn't want to marry just yet—and especially not to me. I figured the deal that my brother offered would keep you happy. I shook hands on it."
We were still standing in the middle of the curb and people were eyeing us curiously as they pass us.
"So, did that deal say you had to leave?"
"Yes," he mumbles with a defeated sigh. "Yes, I had to leave."
"Is that all it said? What did it say about me? Why did Feroze think I was no longer a threat?"
Aarib seems to weigh his answer, pondering over it. "There's something I kept from you."
My heart goes into overdrive. "What?" I found myself asking.
"Feroze. . .he said if I handed over Areesha to him, he'd let you live peacefully." His eyes turn grim. "Areesha is my sister."
The blood drains from my face. "You—you have a sister?"
"Yes. She's fifteen. My mom didn't just run away with me. She took my sister as well. But we didn't keep her with us. Years back mom gave her to a family in los Angeles. We wanted to keep her somewhere away from us, somewhere my father couldn't find her. Mom cut her hair, even dyed it when she was just six. And since then she's been living with this other family."
I don't know what to say. Not only did he keep such a big secret from me, he also gave his sister away for me. That thought makes me sick.
"Why would you do that? Do you realize what you've done? You gave away your sister to a monster—"
"Feroze would never hurt her," he clarifies.
"Then why did your mom run away with the two of you? She wanted to "
His eyes darken. "Because it's my father who is the real monster."
"You shouldn't have done that—oh my God. You gave away an innocent girl to your brother!"
"She's his sister as well. She's safe," he reassures me. It's not working. "My brother just wanted Areesha back with us. He wouldn't hand her over to my father. He loves her too much."
"So, where do I stand? What did the deal say about me?" About us, I wonder.
"I am to stay away from you. I think my brother is jealous of me, because I think he wants you. Actually, he definitely wants you. You're a prize he wants to win."
"And yet here you are."
He looks my way. "Here I am."
Suddenly, Aarib's eyes go wide at something he sees beside me. He opens his mouth—probably to warn me when suddenly I feel a hand cover my mouth and pulls me back until I collide with a hard chest—and then nothing but darkness washes over me.
4 days later
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, but the girl who stared back at me was not me. She looked different. She looked weak. She looked bad. There was a purple bruise right under her left eye and her lips were swollen at one corner.
Behind me, Aarib appeared in my vision, looking as charming and attractive as ever. We matched the same bruise, except his was on the forehead.
"When'd you wake up?" he murmured in a soft whisper, almost like he didn't want to scare me away. And he always kept his distance since. . .
Since that day.
Four days—to be exact— Feroze had taken me away with him. Taken me to a place I would only describe as my worst nightmare—a dark, empty room surrounded by four dark walls and just a chair in the middle. The room was extremely huge, and at first I thought the chair was for me. But then a few hours later Aarib was thrown into the room, then tied by men with guns to the chair.
"Haya?" Aarib's voice draws me back to the present. He steps closer to me, worry lacing his guilty face. That's all he felt lately. Guilty. As if this was his fault.
"I'm fine." I fake a smile at my husband. Suck in a sharp breath. Shivers run down my spine—something that has been happening a lot to me. "I figured you went to work."
I was lying—half lying. I knew he'd never go to work without telling me, but then again this was Aarib I was referring to. He does what he wants to do. A wife won't change his habits.
"I didn't tell you yesterday that I'd be going," he frowned, jaw clenching. "I'm going to destroy that prick. I am going to make him regret what he did."
Emotions burned at the back of my throat. I blinked away the tears that glazed my eyes.
"Just leave it," I rasped.
He grabbed my arm and spun me around to face him. Fury reverberated through him, his jaw clenching and unclenching while his eyes hovered over my face—over the ugly bruises.
"Don't. Don't ask me to not do anything. He will pay. He will pay for what he did."
I was losing the battle with my tears. They gushed out of me suddenly, and that was when I at last, broke. Everything came crashing down on me—all the events from that day. I went back to the day I wanted to forget the most.
I could still clearly remember Aarib's father when he stepped into the room Aarib and I were in. Aarib was chained to the chair, his mouth covered with tape. When I had tried to help him get free, a man had entered and tied my hands and he had slapped me. Hard. I still felt the burst of pain that spread across my right cheek. He warned me not to go near Aarib, so I had obliged—mainly because I figured there were cameras in the room.
I would've have thought Aarib was lying when he said that his father was a monster—he looked the complete opposite. But then again, looks shouldn't be used to tell what kind of a person someone is.
Fahad Massood could be easily mistaken for a very respectable honorable man. With his hair—the same as Aarib's—jelled back to perfection, and his welcoming smile that reached his striking blue eyes, I thought this man was nice. But he proved me wrong when he came towards me and his palm connected with my cheek, the voice penetrating through my thoughts. He didn't stop. He kept hitting me until Feroze entered and he saved me. Till then I was almost unconscious.
I still blamed Feroze. He saved me—yes—but he was the one to take me in the first place. That didn't make him any less guilty.
Throughout all that, I could hear the muffled screams of Aarib, the way he was going crazy not being able to get up and come help me.
My hatred for Fahad Massood reached the peak when he beat his own son mercilessly. I kept coming in and out of consciousness, but it was impossible to not hear Aarib's loud cry of pains. The way he was being hit by his father—I puked all over the place.
Coming back to the present, and out of the dark memories, I fell on the ground, my knees hitting the soft, plush carpet. I wanted these memories to go away. I wanted them to just leave me be. But it was close to impossible doing that. Every time I looked at my face, it reminded me of gloomy times.
I was sobbing now, my hands shielding my face so Aarib couldn't see me crying—see me at my weakest. Why was I even trying now? What did it matter that Aarib saw me like this?
I felt his hands on mine, prying mine away from my face.
"Please, don't cry, il mio amore," he whispered in a breaking voice. "I will take revenge. I don't know how, and I don't know when, but they will have to pay." He promised.
I tried to contain my sobs. "No. I—I don't want you to get hurt," I croaked.
He was mirroring my position, sitting on his knees watching me with a look I couldn't decipher. In this moment he looked like a man urging violence. After all, his wife had been made to suffer at the hands of his own family. And men like Aarib—possessive, daring, vengeful—don't let the matter just go by like nothing happened.
Our marriage. . .this was something that happened and was decided in a matter of hours. After a day, we were free to go, and I didn't just go back to the hotel—I didn't even want to imagine what would be going on with my family, how much worried out of their mind would they have been.
Aarib and I got married. He figured this was the only way his father wouldn't do anything else to me. Because once I would be Aarib's wife, they couldn't lay a hand on me. This was another one of their rules. I didn't mind marrying Aarib. Not after what I had just went through. If it meant the safety of me and my family, I would say yes—and I had agreed to marry him before as well.
So, now I was at the hotel Aarib was staying in. I came here two days ago. I still didn't go back to my own hotel, to my own family, instead I had just sent them a message saying I was okay and would be back in a day—which made today—and I could only imagine what my brothers would be thinking.
Oh God.
They would be worried crazy!
"You won't do anything, Aarib!" I yelled, tears still falling down my cheeks. "Don't you know what he'll do if you step in his way?"
Pain flashed in his eyes. "They can't lay a finger on you—and I won't let them."
"But he will hurt you again. . ." I trailed off, my eyes wandering over his cuts and bruises that still looked fresh. "He will hurt you," I whispered again.
He dropped his head on a defeated sigh. "Every time I look at you Haya. . .it's like this rage that takes over me, and I can't think anything but all the different ways I want to hurt that man. He made a grave mistake by laying a finger on you. There's not one minute that passes without the guilt I feel. Every look at your bruised face is like a punch to my heart." He looked away, eyes glazed.
"But you don't have to feel guilty. It was not your fault."
"I didn't do anything—"
"And what could you have done, huh?" I searched for his eyes. I wanted him to see the transparent honesty in my words. I didn't blame Aarib for any of it—it wasn't his fault. "You were tied. You could not have done anything. And even if you somehow managed to get to me, there were men everywhere."
He didn't seem convinced. "Does it hurt?" he asked me politely, nodding at my bruise.
"Only if pressure is applied," I replied honestly.
His jaw ticked. He was quiet for a moment. ��We have to go see your brothers. I sent them a text too that you are with me. . ."
"Did you bring what I asked you to?" I questioned.
"Yeah, I asked my driver to get it," he murmured, and fished out the concealer from his pocket.
I grabbed it and mumbled a thanks, hoisting myself up and walking over to the mirror to cover the purple marks on my face. Although I couldn't make the redness in my eyes go away, I wanted to hide the bruises at least. I couldn't tell my family about any of this. Not yet. Not when they would be so mad at me.
At Aarib.
"Hello? Yeah, hey listen," Aarib's voice, once again, pulled me out of my reverie. Who is he talking to on the phone? "I'll be busy today. No—no don't come here. Book me two tickets to Turkey on Wednesday. . .no. . .tell you later." He hung up.
I paused midway applying the makeup.
"You're going to turkey?" My heart sank at that thought—to be away from him. And mostly because he wasn't going alone. Was he going with another woman? Jealousy rang through me. I clenched my jaw.
I saw him flop on the bed, and covered his eyes with his arm. He was still dressed in shirt and sweatpants, his hair not brushed and sticking out in every corner.
"Yes."
"And you didn't bother telling me?"
He dropped his arm from his face and glanced my way. Our eyes met in the mirror.
He smiled. "Nope."
Enough of it.
I spun around and leaned against the dresser, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring at him. "It's not funny. And who is going to escort you?" I spat out.
He laughed softly. "You, princess. Do you really think I would leave you here alone?"
I shrugged my shoulders. Relief flooded me. "I thought you'd send me back with my family."
His forehead creased at hearing that. "Haya, you are my wife now. You go where I go. Why would I send you back to San Francisco?"
You go where I go.
Warmth blossomed inside my chest at those words.
"I don't know."
"You have beautiful hair," he complemented, eyes raking over me.
My hand unconsciously went up to touch the strands. "Thanks. You have good hair, too."
He chuckled once again.
"Why are we going to Turkey?" I asked.
He plopped himself on his elbows, quirking a brow at me. "For our honeymoon?"
A blush crept up on my cheeks. "Oh," I nervously whispered. "I just thought. . .with all that happened and the way we had to get married—"
"That we wouldn't go for a trip?" he completed the sentence for me.
I nodded, biting my lip.
Those utterly gorgeous blue eyes hardened. "Haya, don't you are once think that I didn't want you. I agree that the way we got married was sudden and it might look like we had no other option, but I had planned on making you mine from a very, very long time. We're still a newly married couple, and we will go for the honeymoon."
My lips curled at the sides. "Okay."
"Okay." He smiled back. "Mia ragazza."
"What does that mean?" I demanded, suddenly in a bad mood because I didn't know which language it was. My guess was Italian, but Aarib seemed to shock me many times, and I wasn't going to toss a guess at him. What if he laughed at me! I'd be mortified.
"It means 'my girl'."
My heart fluttered. "Is that Italian?"
"Hmm."
"How did you learn it?"
"I took classes for it in high school," he told me. "I'm not very good at it. Yet."
"Oh okay," I nodded in understanding.
"You're saying that a lot."
"Saying what?" I suddenly went nervous.
"'Oh' and 'okay'."
I gave off a throaty laugh. "Um."
"Why are you so nervous?"
Was he seriously asking me this?
"Uh, maybe because things have changed between us?"
He sat up straight, frowning cutely at me. "Does being my wife make you uncomfortable?"
"No! Not uncomfortable," I sighed. "All of this was sudden—and now living with you. . .it��s all a bit strange, you know."
He stretched his hands above his head, groaning. "Ah, my muscles—have to workout." He jumped up to his feet and closed the distance between us in four big strides. He bent a little to level his gaze with mine. Something twinkled in them. "And, Haya, I would never want you to be uncomfortable around me. If you'd like, I'd sleep on the floor."
"Or change rooms?" I joked, biting back a grin.
He quirked a brow. "No way. And I was joking on the 'id sleep on the floor' thing, too."
I giggled. "I know. I was joking, too."
"Be right back." He disappeared behind the closet and returned within seconds with a black, velvet jewelry box.
I gasped, already knowing what it held. "Please don't tell me that's a gold ring."
"Relax," he laughed, probably at my horrified expression. "It's not gold."
I heaved a sigh of relief.
"It's diamond."
"Aarib!" I screamed. He bought me a diamond ring? Diamond? ��Why would you spend so much money on me?" I wanted to cry—I'm never comfortable with someone spending a ton of money just on me. But I forced the tears back and raised my shaky arms to take the box from my husband.
"You'll break my heart by not accepting it. Actually, you don't have a choice." He slowly pulled open the box. "You have to wear it now."
My heart skipped a beat. "Aarib. . .this is. . .beautiful."
"Yeah?" his smile broadened. He took out the ring and threw the box on the bed behind him. Grabbing my hand, he slowly slipped the ring on my finger, his eyes never once leaving my face. My eyes were glazed, fixed on the band of ring covered with small diamonds that shone under the bulbs.
"Wow," I whispered.
"A beautiful ring for an inquisitive girl."
My eyes snapped up to his. There was a whirlwind of emotions inside of me. I couldn't focus, or express just one. Aarib's eyes were full of. . .love. full of warmth. This was the first time his eyes softened so much, shining with affection.
"I don't have anything to give you at the moment," I expressed my discontent.
He shook his head. "You don't have to give me anything. You give me everything just by breathing."
I chuckled, and replied, "You're quoting twilight. I thought you didn't watch romance movies. You're more like the action movies type."
His grin was infectious. "You did? Well, you're just about to find out a lot of stuff about me then." He glanced to his left—checking the time on the clock hung on the wall. "We have to go," he said, his mood shifting.
"Yeah."
"Meet me in the lobby. I'll be waiting." He dropped my hand carefully and made his way to the door when I called his name and he paused.
"Aren't you going to change?" I raised a brow.
"What's the point, anyway?" he shrugged and left.
Wow. That was a very sudden mood change.
I bit my lip as I stared at the door. Anxiety was finally making home inside me, crawling up my legs and tugging on my knees. But I refused to fall, to stay weak. If I had to face the world, I had to put on the mask of braveness until I didn't need it anymore.
I quickly got dressed and met Aarib in the hotel lobby. He was standing at the reception, lips thinned as he talked to the lady who was very noticeably all over him, practically drooling on the desk. When Aarib saw me approach him, he opened his arm wide and beckoned me over. I smiled sheepishly and went to him. The lady did not look happy to have me.
"Room for two more days?" she asked in a pissed off tone, furiously typing on the keyboard. She was also very annoyingly chewing a gum with her mouth open.
Gross.
"Yes, that's what I have repeated three times. Two more days. Hope that's clear now." Aarib glared at the woman though she wasn't looking up.
"Behave," I whispered low so only he could hear me. "You have an admirer."
His eyes cut to mine. They were a sea of warmth, strikingly beautiful and easy to get lost in them. "The only admirer I want is you."
I chuckled and rolled my eyes.
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