Sahir Arzoo FF | Love, law, inter alia | Chapter 20: Pg 91 [COMPLETE] - Page 39

Originally posted by: _.serendipity._

🤗

Yes, if it does close, I will continue in whichever forum the FF gets migrated to.

Originally posted by: SanKsgian

how come she is married
nonono
what will come of saaz now?????

Originally posted by: raaz19

Before I make a post about the last two chapters let me just say that hema..Thank you for arzoo and sahir in this avtaar...

whole reading the chapter about sahir ammi I had a thought about what his mum my have been thinking while laying there in the hospital bed...and hence while I was away for work in decide go pen something about his mum for all of you to read...

As u said before this story is as much ours as it is yours and I would like to take the chance and tell you what I imagined while reading the chapter...

Please enjoy the post and let me know what you think...

I will post it shortly within your story... I like say before I post it that I have no intention of taken the story away...its just a image I had I my mind for serval days that I wished go share...

Enjoy razia

Chapter 14

Indemnitas

Arzoo watched Sahir walk away, with tears weighing down her heart, and an impenetrable expression drawn on her face. Shiraz was looking at her intently, with that wolfish hunger salivating in his eyes, waiting for a sign of weakness that he could prey on. She held back the remnants of fear behind a sharp intake of breath, and threw him a look of utmost disdain as she spat out, "Okay, he's gone. Get out."

"Is that how you talk to your husband?" Shiraz muttered, forcing a chilling calmness in his voice, but shaking with anger all the same. It was the quiet before the storm. A year ago, his tone would have made her quail, but she was able to steel herself. It seemed to her then that all the horrors that he could mete onto her paled away in comparison with the heartache that she had caused Sahir, and herself.

"Ex-husband," she reminded him wearily before slamming the door of her bedroom shut, and allowing her tears to gush out of her exhausted eyes.

Sahir's name tore itself out of her heart in a silent cry of anguish, repeatedly. None of this was his fault. It was so unfair that he had been sucked in the whirl of pain that had previously been hers alone; all because she had allowed herself to grow close to him. She should have known better. She was to blame, and he was being made to suffer the brunt. He, who had been such a good friend...

Even after she had treated him so unkindly, not even calling to find out how he was holding up or offering to accompany him to his mother's funeral, and instead, inflicting another blow on the broken man, by taking an indefinite leave from work without even informing him... even then, he had come to see her, to find out how she was.

Perhaps he had sensed something that her silence had unwittingly conveyed, for he had somehow thought of the scars on her back, and had indirectly, using Mrs Mehta as a pretext, asked her if it had been Shiraz who had been responsible for them. Arzoo had seen right through it of course. Mrs Mehta had no scars to speak of - her case was premised on adultery, not domestic violence. But this was something that Shiraz would not know, and she understood that Sahir was being his usual protective self, wanting to ensure that she was safe, and being sensitive to the fact that her husband was in the room, erring on the side of caution in case his hunch was incorrect.

How could a person be so good, so selfless, so pure? How could he, even after knowing that she had hidden such important fact about herself from him, still be so concerned about her? How could he put aside his own pride, his own hurt and anger, with such effortlessness, just to be there for her?

It had to be a good thing that she had held herself back, that she had chosen not to dispel his misunderstanding and inform him that she and Shiraz had been divorced for nearly six months. Sahir had done so much for her, and already been through so many setbacks of his own. She could not drag him into the nightmarish truth of her life, the nightmarish truth that was her life.

In any case, Shiraz would not have spared Sahir if his suspicions had been confirmed. Shiraz had happened to see them together at the hospital when they had gone there to visit Sahir's mother. He had followed them to Sahir's apartment. He had lain there in wait, until he had seen them leave together and drive to her apartment, which he had then stormed into, accusing her of having an affair.

After the initial bloodcurdling shock of seeing him before her eyes, the ludicrousness of the whole situation hit her. She did not know where she had gained this newfound courage from. But somehow, she was able to look him in the eyes and inform him that he had no authority to ask her any questions on her personal life. She had remained unfazed even when he had grabbed her by the hair and flung her across the room, coolly telling him that she would call the police on him. He could break her body, but not her spirit.

But when he had growled that he would ruin Sahir's life and leave him begging for his death, her eyes had betrayed fear, and rightly so - for she knew that Shiraz was capable of stooping to the lowest of lows to get his way; he was not a man of hollow threats. And the jubilant look said it all - he had sniffed out her weakness. She had quickly proceeded to pretend that Sahir was just a colleague, and nothing else, but it was too late. He had not quite bought it.

Perhaps now that he had witnessed the aloofness with which she had spoken to Sahir, Shiraz would have been reassured. And he would have succeeded spectacularly in sapping from her life every prospect of happiness and love, in ensuring that she would live as a hollow, emotionless wreck for as long as her breaths sustained her. For even when she would manage to free herself from Shiraz's clutches, she would live in constant terror, looking over her shoulder, knowing that no matter where she went, somehow, somewhere, he would be watching. There never would be an escape.

She choked back a dry sob and stared at the bedroom door. Shiraz was banging his fist on the door, threatening to break it open, shouting that he deserved a second chance, that he loved her and could not live without her. She felt a strange urge to laugh at his words. What could he know about love? Love was what Sahir had, in his own understated, overwhelming manner, demonstrated for her, with his selfless care and concern, his unconditional friendship. Love was in the way Sahir appreciated her for who she was, and encouraged her to follow her dreams. Love was what she had seen in the flickering moistness in Sahir's eyes, in his quivering eyelids, in the catch in his throat, in what he must have felt on seeing her shun him away from her life with such apparent coldness.

If only Sahir could understand that whatever she had done was to shield him away from the horrors of her past, her present, her future. But he was probably convinced now that she had whipped those scars on her own back, that she did have bipolar disorder, which incidentally, was one of the lies that Shiraz had fed her family to get them on his side. If her family could fall for it, in spite of her vehement protests, why would Sahir doubt something that he had heard straight from the horse's mouth? And it was just as well, she reminded herself bitterly, wiping away her tears. Sahir had suffered enough. He deserved better.

-------------------------------

Scroll down for more

Arzoo jumped with a start at a sudden crashing sound. Shiraz had managed to break open the door and was striding to where she was. She was not sure if he was going to hit her or force himself onto her, but found that she had arrived at a stage where she had become so accustomed to living in the shadow of his terror that she had become jaded and felt no fear anymore. She felt like she was watching herself from another person's perspective. She was watching a woman with hopeless, soulless eyes, and translucent streaks of dried up kohl lining her cheeks, rocking to and fro on the edge of the bed, reliving the dreams that she had strangled with her bare hands. Nothing mattered anymore. It did not matter what Shiraz's intentions were. Sahir had gone... far, far away. And soon, as per her plan, she would soon leave the city, away from Shiraz, and Sahir.

Shiraz had knelt to the ground. He was asking her to forgive him, to come with him to Dubai and start a new life, afresh. He was saying that he would not leave until he had convinced her that he was a changed man. She looked at him, through him, blankly. His words were sounds that meant nothing at all. A senseless cacophony clashing violently with the constant ringing sound in her ear. She craved for peace and quiet, she craved to be enfolded in the warm embrace of the man she had herself so ruthlessly driven away.

Quite predictably, Shiraz was not used to being thus ignored, especially when he had condescended to place himself, literally, at the feet of a woman, and his temper was beginning to rise. A vein was throbbing dangerously in his temple. Arzoo found herself smiling slightly at the sight of his tortured face. And when he grabbed her savagely by the throat, her smile widened at the prospect of an easy death, an end to all the pain.

"Why don't you get it?" he yelled through gritted teeth, after releasing her, "Look, just forget whatever has happened. I love you! It's just that when you don't listen to me, I... and I can't bear the thought of you with somebody else. That is why even when you used to talk to that Zaki, I would get so angry. Because you are mine, only mine."

And suddenly, in the midst of her numbness, she felt a wild fury blaze within her, at Shiraz's defilation of the word which in Sahir's eyes carried such immaculate purity. He could hit her, kill her, but that he should do so under the guise of love made her want to pummel him with blows until he bruised and bled.

She wanted to unleash onto him all the anger that was burning in her heart, all the disgust and hatred that she felt towards him. He had eroded away everything that she had. And, worst of all, he had made her hurt the one person who had always stood by her, who had helped her regain her confidence and faith, who had made her truly and genuinely happy.

But her hands hung limply by her sides, helpless in the knowledge that no matter what she did to Shiraz, it would not bring Sahir back. In any case, she would continue to do whatever it took to keep Sahir safe in his ignorance of the truth, even if it meant abandoning her dreams for the life of an anonymous recluse.

"You don't love me," she stated calmly, poker-faced, "And you are not sorry for what you did. Your ego was hurt when I managed to obtain the divorce, and when you thought that Mr Chaudhary and I were in a relationship... That is the only reason why you want me back. It has always been about you and your oversized ego and your deranged mind. Zaki was not just my college friend, he was like a brother to me, and you managed to sully that relationship too. You know why? Because for you, I'm only a thing... a puppet for you to possess and control. But you are wrong, and I will never be yours. The sooner you understand that, the better it will be for you. Now leave, or I will be forced to call the police."

She knew full well that calling the police could only be a last resort, because she had no wish of fuelling his anger further, lest others should come to bear the repercussions, but she made sure that her face betrayed no signs of hesitation. And sure enough, he was fuming, not so much at her words, as at the fact that the person who could once barely raise her eyes to meet his, had dared to speak to him in such a manner... at the realisation that he seemed to have lost the power that he had once wielded over her.

But soon his expression had changed.

"How will you call the police without a phone?" he smirked.

--------------------------------

Chapter 15: Page 62