"The nightmares drag me to the its sea,
There is a darkness where I can't see me,"

♤

Author's POV

He loves to chase the chaotic wind. Which has the power to destroy humankind in the blink of an eye. 

The cold air hitting his bare face was what he liked the most. His knuckles turned white as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. Jaw tight, looking at the darkness in front of him as he continued to drive on the lone street. The gushing wind hitting his cheeks. Five O'clock beard shadowing his half face, making him look more intimidating than he already was. Cold air makes his skin go cold and numb. Lips moved as he murmured prayers under his breath.

He didn't like it, the feelings he felt. He wanted to let go of them, not to hold them. Even after so many years, he still breathed the air of the past. His shaking hand made it obvious for the nature around him, about how he felt. 

His heart was going at the speed he never felt it would be possible; after all he was going to meet his wife, finally after two months. His mind went numb at the memories of the past, making his knuckles turn white more. The reason for his down going reputation.

“May Allah give me patience.” Muttering under his breath he took a sharp turn in the dark alley.

The sudden burst of memory triggered his brain making his hands go numb. Car lost all control and he forgot how to breathe.

 Again. 

He murmured a quick prayer, asking for patience and strength to let this relationship turn out in his favor. He always wants to forget them, but there is always something which makes him remind them of his past and because of that he can't live his life like he lived before. 

The brewing hatred increased with each passing second as he neared the place, which was the cause of the destruction in his life.

"I hate it here." A low grumble escaped under his breath as he rubbed his face. Inhaling a huge amount of breath he rubbed his face, again. Somehow, slow breathing calmed him and he scrutinized around himself. He was at the right place at the right time, but for the wrong thing.

Moving out of the car he locked it and made his way towards the big mansion. His steps falling firm and hard on the cobblestone pathway leading him towards his past, which he wanted to destroy. Those dark brown eyes flashed in his brain making his lips twitch upwards. Pearly white canines shining under the moonlight. The menacing smile stared at the heavy, intricate door in front of him.

He pressed on the doorbell as the wind gushed towards him, caressing his hairs so softly ever; once like his mother used to do. And a small smile formed on his face on the memory.

"Assalamualaikum." His gruff voice rang in the atmosphere around him making him cringe at his own voice. A frown marring on his face.

"Wa'alaikum assalam! Dear son-in-law. We were waiting for you!” Exclaimed the man with his pot-like belly hanging out and the crisp white shirt fitted well around. Fateh Hussein was a rich man with a wise mind, he knew what to do and how to do it. He was a cunning fox.

Everything around him screamed old-money, luxury, and enchanting miracles. The shining material choked his soul. He felt his throat tightened as he saw all the maids lined up for his welcome. The fake courtesy of them.

The highness and brightness was screaming from every corner around him. He felt uncomfortable standing under that big chandelier. Yellow bright hues of light shone in every corner screaming royalty, bathing the place like a fairytale he once saw in a movie. The fairytales and movies he despised.

"It’s so good to see you again Waqas Rehan," Fateh's wife chirped towards the man in his early thirties. Her chirping voice itching in his ears. 

"Come inside." She ushered him inside towards the huge sofa, making grimaces take place over his face.

The air was thick with tension as they sat across each other. Fateh's eyes glinted with something as he scrutinized Waqas. 

An aura oozed from him. Even his cunning abilities couldn't pinpoint what was missing. 

“I still think I saw you somewhere.” The old man remarked, making her wife stare at the man sitting leisurely on the sofa. The darkness glinted in his eyes, scaring her.

“It's a pleasure to know that. However, I have never met a family like yours before. 

It isn't up to my taste.” Fateh knew what Waqas was implying. The way his twisted smile slashed into his cheekbones, Fateh doubted his decisions about this man.

A loud roar of laughter escaped through Fateh's mouth. 

“Your jokes are too funny.” To let the conversation go on Fateh dismissed his thoughts with a laugh. 

“How is your business going on?” His wife diverted the topic as she sensed the air pricking on her skin.

“I don't think your husband did a great research before marrying his daughter to someone. Or if he did, he didn't make it clear to you. 

I am a psychiatrist. I have my own clinic which is successful.” The corner of his lips turned upward as he fixed his sleeves and answered the couple politely. Waqas enjoyed creating a good show for himself. 

Fateh and his wife's face turned red with his words. If Waqas wasn't Zohra's husband, he would have made sure that Waqas didn't breathe another day. Alas, his dream lay abandoned as the maid walked over the entrance to announce about the dinner time.

"First I would like to use the washroom." He voiced out his words, before anyone could say anything. The unwanted feelings crawled on his back making him have a thought of running away and never coming back here.

"Sure Hun, Misbah will show you the way. Go Misbah." The love from the voice made his guts churn. Controlling his unfavorable feelings for them, he let the maid walk in front of him, leading him towards the bathroom. The politeness this family offered choked him.

"Thank you." He politely thanked her with a curt nod and went inside to do his business.

♤

Sitting down at the very corner, he waited for his wife to ascend down the stairs. He was sitting far for the dinner talk but still heard the chattering around him which annoyed his brain cells. The slow murmurs grow louder by each passing second. Gripping the fork he started having his chicken alfredo pasta without paying any attention to the ongoing chatter; forgetting about his bride.

"Assalamualaikum." His ears perked up listening to her familiar voice. Slowly lifting his eyes he saw her smiling brightly like the moon. Vicious feelings coiled in his guts, making him curse himself, he hardened his eyes.

…

Ignoring the shudder going through her spine by seeing his intense gaze pinning her, she neared the table with soft steps.

"Oh, Zohra, dear! How are you?" Asked her father to raise the spoon for another bite. The beaming smile choked the life out of Zohra. She wished for her sister to be here.

Waqas rolled his eyes at his small courtesy.

"I am better than before." Answering she walked with slow steps towards him, timidly, he stood up and pulled her chair out for her. Passing him a gentle, soft smile she sat down, while he continued having his meal.

Loud thunderous voices strike against the clouds making them look out the window.

"I guess a storm is about to hit. It’s better that we stay inside." Suggested her father. Lines of frown marring on his face as he gingerly looked at the dark clouds.

He grumbled under his breath but didn't let it show on his face how unsatisfied he was with the weather. The bright hues of life were suffocating and he wanted to just leave this place. Grimacing over his life choices, he took another bite.

He noticed her struggling for the bigger bowl of curry. Looking around he found no one paying attention to her. Without thinking, his hand moved forward to help her.

Their hands brushed making him yank his hand back which resulted in dropping some bits of curry on his clean, white, linen shirt.

He stood up abruptly making all the heads turn towards him.

"I will help him." Zohra softly offered and quietly took him to her room.

He was alert all the time and walked steadily behind her, gingerly. His hands shoved in pocket as he scrutinized the bright lights and the show pieces which didn’t make any sense. The carpeted floor didn’t let the walls know about his small walk with his wife.

"There's the washroom." She gestured towards the door on the left. As they entered her room. 

His senses were high on alert as he firmly stepped inside the bathroom. He washed his sleeve and sighed seeing a yellow mark already making its place, staining his once white cuff. Avoiding making eye contact in the mirror, he rubbed the fabric hard, thinning his lips. He never saw or made eye contact with himself, in the past few years.

 It only made it worse for him. But he gazed at the fancy white marble of the sink and the fancy cabinets located around, not paying any more attention when he came out.

He came out and took in the details of her room. White with golden hues on the side walls. 

"You have a good theme." Commenting, he initiated the conversation making her hum and nod her head.

"You know what is better?" She asked him with a gentle smile. Something untamable shining in her eyes.

He nodded his head in no while narrowing his eyes on her. Cautiousness dripped from his gaze. He almost stepped back as she leaned forward. 

Holding his sleeve she dragged him to the other side of the room in front of what looked like an old wooden cupboard. She pulled the door open and dragged him inside the darkness. 

Seeing all dark around him his breaths quickened but soon he composed himself when she switched on the lights making the room bath in the hues of white, striking white, which hurts one's eyes but he was amazed by the beauty of the hidden library, it was like one of the royal libraries he had heard of from the people about. The shelves of books were made of white marble and two walls were filled with them. In the center of the room was kept a purple wooden coffee table which had so many drawers in it.

She left his side and started telling him about the books, the coffee table, the chandelier and the big wall window on the right with purple curtains hanging on it. She drew open the curtains. And saw the rain pouring outside, already.

He was amazed by the beauty of the library. Tuning out her words, he caressed the book spines.

"This is my favorite place." She informed him, making him give a curt nod.

Zohra was undoubtedly sad with her husband's no-nonsense attitude. She animatedly talked about everything in the library trying to get a response out of him but failed miserably. She accepted her fate the day gave her consent. But, still about Waqas, something doesn't feel right. She doubted her decisions as well as her life's trick.