Chapter 17

4 years ago

Vintage Flow

@Vintage_flow

Chapter 17

“Tune chua aaj aise…Main kya se kya bangayi”

She had always thought raindrops were poetry in motion. Today her heart testified it. Her fingers caressed his cheek– the flickering streetlight crafting hypnotic shadows on his handsome face.

Rain poured around them chaotically drowning all sound. He inched closer to listen as Zoya whispered, “You are impossible Jahapanah.”

His short-startled laugh ran over the back of her neck. Butterflies swarmed. Pulse quickened. Her skin was icy, feet frozen from the downpour but somehow, she was warm.

She hadn’t said anything but Asad understood. Her head titled just fraction of a centimeter into his touch.

It was another kind of answer.

He took off his coat cocooning her trembling figure.

“Ghar chale, Mrs. Khan” He wasn’t talking about just the walk back home and Zoya knew it.

 She nodded smiling.

They strode back hand in hand under the cover of black, thundering sky. Their hearts finally felt at peace, but with a thrill of excitement underneath.

As they were about to enter, Asad turned towards Zoya “It might be a ridiculous excuse, but I’ve always been protective of Ammi and Najma and…you.” She nodded knowingly “I guess I never tried to see things from your perspective before, but I do now…You’re high up here Zoya” he gestured raising his hand above the level of his head.

He needed to tell her he never thought of her in any lowly manner. That her questioning her worth over him made him sick. All that anger was a mere shadow of his inability to think rational around her.

“I know, and I promise that I would attempt to understand your point of view as well” she murmured sincerely.

Asad beamed like a full moon as he held the door open for her.

xx

“Zoya? Asad? What is going on?” Dilshad questioned as soon as they stepped in, her features dancing with worry. Najma had filled her in, and she knew of his son’s mercurial temper. She could only hope he hadn’t done any permanent damage.

 The drenched couple looked at each other trying to figure how to start when Aapi interrupted.

“Ya Allah! Why in the world are you wearing that thing in the streets of Bhopal?”

Zoya’s gaze skittered from Asad’s perplexed face to her Aapi’s furious one.

Can a girl not wear a skirt in peace around here? And why was Aapi throwing a fit. She hadn’t stopped her in U.S.

“Miss Zoya Faaroqui” Aapi’s pitch raised.

“Mrs. Khan” Asad and Zoya corrected simultaneously. Dilshad relaxed a little.

“Fine, Mrs. Khan, Aap batayengi ki aap adhi raat ko itne toofan main ye skirt pehan ke kyu nikli hai”

“Zeenat” Anwar soothed trying to placate his wife.

“I got hot” Zoya muttered lamely. Asad had to physically force his lips from curving.

“Zoya, do you not understand this is India not U.S. Kuch hojata toh. You are a married woman now for goodness sake”

Allah Miyan! What was wrong with everyone?

“Hua toh nahi na. And what does me being married have to do with any of this Aapi. Also, this is a free country if I must remind you” Zoya answered just as sternly. Her anger was bubbling back.

Asad figured from Jeeju’s change of expression that something had been said that wasn’t meant to. He stepped in to stop the bloodshed.

“Zoya was with me the whole time Aapi. She was safe.”

“Par Asad”

“I understand your concern Aapi and Mrs. Khan does too. Par ab hum saath hain, aap fikar na kare.” he gently stated.

It seemed to have worked because she lightened a bit. Meanwhile, Dilshad and Najma looked on with a dumbfounded expression.

Zoya watched her husband, impressed. He had apologized for his boorishness, managed to verbalize his feelings, protected her from Aapi’s wrath, and was well on his way to charm her with his ‘we are together’ talk.

MA! Asad miyan!

Dilshad recovered quickly­­­ –happy and proud. “It’s okay Zeenat. Humare bache bahut samajhdar hai”

Zeenat looked at Dilshad relieved and thanked her God for the millionth time. Zoya had found a better home for herself than she could ever find. Khala was right. Bache samajhdar hai.

“You should both go change. Don’t catch any colds now” she said looking at her sister covered in an oversized coat. Poor thing was shaking like a leaf.

xx

His shoes squeaked of water as he walked in with two steaming cups of coffee. He made sure to lock up behind him after he set the drinks down.

Asad watched his wife dry her hair and slowly moved towards her. When she offered him the towel, he shook his head at her. But his hands stole it instead, taking over the task.

“Main karlungi” she protested meekly as his hands continued to massage her wet hair.

“I want to…don’t want to be indicted by Aapi for making you sick” he smiled

Was this happening or was she dreaming? And if she was, she never wanted to wake up.

She shivered again as a cool gust of air flooded the room, the open window swaying from its sides from the force of wind.

She crossed the room to close it, leaving his hands afloat.

Zoya suddenly felt him placing the towel around her shoulders. He was so close she could smell the rain on him. His hands closed over hers securing the latch.

Had everything gone hazy out there? Was it her senses or the storm ­– she couldn’t tell.

For a moment there, she heard each individual drop hitting the window. Mixed with every breath he took.

What was happening to her? One moment everything seemed out of focus, while the other her senses more acute than ever.

She felt his hands caressing her arms now… then shoulders…her waist… finally enclosing her in the circle of his arms.

Asad sighed happily “I used to dream of the day where I would be able to hold you like this.”

Zoya turned around to look into his eyes “You did?”

“Every day” he answered before he bent down to kiss her forehead.

She grabbed the towel in a dream like state and began to dry his hair “And I dreamt of being in your arms”

He hadn’t known of a desire so strong, so blinding. It wasn’t a want anymore; she had morphed into his need.

“You did?”

“Every day…every night” she added boldly.

Seven long heartbeats later she found his mouth on hers. Pleasure. Intense. Stunning. That’s what he was.

His mouth was gentle on hers even though the ache drove him mad. He savored the taste, the feel, the moment. Her lips were cool but warmed quickly to his touch. He felt her fingers kneading through his hair, kissing him back.

Power sped through him. He found himself stuck between contentment and urgency.

Zoya didn’t know when she reached for him, but she found her lips moving against his­ –giddy and intoxicated. For all the intense force of his personality, the kiss was as soft as velvet. It slowly drugged every cell of her body leaving her nerve endings on fire.

She had never known want before, now it screamed through her body– but he was patient. A lot more than she was. So patient, she didn’t know what price he paid.

Asad hadn’t expected pain. But she flamed through him like a forest on fire. And he had barely started.

A loud knock on the door separated them but he still didn’t let go of her.

“Bhaijaan? Zoya?” Najma called.

“What?” Asad barked. Zoya swatted him chastising.

“Di…dinner bhaijaan”

“I’m too tired tamatar and your bhabhi is already asleep” he said observing the look of astonishment on her face.

“Okay. Goodnight”

“So…I am asleep?” Zoya stated sarcastically when Najma left.

“Not tonight, you aren’t”

xx