CHAPTER 7 'TAKE ME BACK'

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CHAPTER 7 *Unedited

'Take Me Back'

 

Any other normal happily wedded couple would most likely visit an exotic country for their honeymoon.

But 5 years ago I wasn’t happily married and five years ago no honeymoon was planned or attended to, instead I was dragged to an airport and flown to Toronto, Canada. I was forced into such a pure relationship and isolated. 

In the period of 5 years I accepted and fulfilled a mother’s duty. I attended to every duty, which should have been rightfully assigned to Malika. Woke up during the late hours of the night to sooth Zaisha’s cold, helped her to walk, to form words. 

He never touched me, looked at me and no extra words unless the necessary left his mouth towards me. He avoided me at every cost. 

I was lonely and if I could switch back to the day my Nikah was read to Zayn Shah, I would have whole heartily agreed. If I had the option to step and look 5 years down the line I would have saved myself from the hell I was suffering through now.

My life’s biggest mistake was marrying Zayn Shah, a mistake I would forever regret.

My line of thought was broken apart as the large golden clock hanging from the creamy detailed walls dinged in the eerie and empty living space. My ears registered the sound and a sigh left me mouth as my eyes trained on to the large double doors. A shiver ran through me as I continued to stare at the door with glint of hope.

My stomach rumbled as my eyes swept down to the now cold food spread upon on the dining table, set in portions on two plates. My eyes continued to sway between the glorious food and the door.

Every night was the same. I would wait and wait for Zayn to return from his office duties so we could at least like two civil people share a dinner. But it never happened. In the five years I had lived under the same roof as Zayn, we had never shared a meal together. Not as strangers, not as friends and most definitely not as husband and wife. 

The warmth from the fresh food would seep away as the seconds would continue to tick away and the sunset would wash into a dark night.

It was 12pm.

I gave up.

I pushed back my leather-dining chair from the table and rose. My eyes glistened with wetness as I lifted the plate filled with cold rice and chicken curry. My hands shook as the door slammed open bouncing against the brick walls. My heart raced as I took him in.

He looked troubled, but handsome as ever. His once lush dark hair was now short cut and supported the buzz style. His sharp jawlines supported a dark stubble and his icy blue eyes seemed lifeless and drained.

His eyes locked on to mine as he slowly shoved his foot towards the door closing it and stalked towards me.

“I made dinner,” I stuttered out as I stared down at the food on the plate, which now looked unappealing and displeasing. 

“I’ve eaten,” He grumbled as his hands worked on loosening his silk black tie wrapped around his slim collar.

“Ok,” I whispered, as my hands automatically moved to concealing the pots of food with their respected lids. 

I heard him walk away and move towards the long staircase.

He never cared to ask how I’m doing, how my day went or even if I’d eaten or not. He search out the maid to ask about Zaisha, that’s the length my husband would go to avoid any interaction between us.

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