Chapter 143: Miracle

Her heart throbbed in her chest more and more as his gaze lingered on her. His narrowed

eyes stared and observed her. She felt her chest tightening, and she was only able to breathe

in when he nodded, giving her a green signal.

She rushed inside, grasped her scarf, and draped it around her chest properly before

reappearing from the restroom.

Out of nowhere, he felt a smile appearing on his lips upon seeing her. His features softened

as he stood up and approached her, the soles of his boots striking the floor, making her feel

as if the angel of death was walking towards her.

She squirmed under his gaze. His gaze shook her core. Made her heart tremble. She wanted

to step back. And run. Run to a place where his gaze could never find her. But even in her

dreams, zhe would see his grey eyes following her. She would keep running from them. And

they would keep following her.

His hand moved, and he grabbed the dupatta draped around her chest, slowly taking it

away. Her eyes longingly stared at her ornament as he fully opened the scarf and draped it

around her head, covering her like a Pakistani bride would wear her dupatta.

The action was indecipherable even to him.

He liked her wrapped in the scarf.

As he draped the scarf over her head, his fingertips brushed against her skin, lingering just a

second too long. She felt her breath hitch, her heart racing as she watched him, his face

mere inches from hers. She held herself as still as she could, torn between the instinct to

step back and an unexplainable terror that kept her frozen in place.

His finger caught a stray strand of her hair that had escaped from beneath the scarf. He

tucked it carefully back in place, and in doing so, his fingertips grazed her temple. She felt

her pulse quicken, and a strange, helpless vulnerability washed over her.

He adjusted the scarf one last time. “Do you know,” he murmured, “how beautiful you look

like this?”

Staring at her button nose and anxious eyes, his lips twitched into a smirk as he lowered his

lips towards her forehead and kissed her. He stopped but didn’t remove his lips from the

crown of her head as he closed his eyes.

As he leaned close, the faintest hint of her perfume filled his senses, intoxicating him. A

blend of jasmine and vanilla. He inhaled deeply, and a wave of euphoria washed over him,

making his pulse quicken and his chest tighten with an almost aching sweetness. For a

moment, everything else vanished. All that existed was her.

"Calm down, my little lady. I can hear your heartbeat," he whispered with closed eyes

against her forehead, and he felt her breathing become more rapid. He placed his thumb

where her two shoulders met to feel her heartbeat, and it escalated more with each passing

second, so he decided to step away from her.

Her eyes were already teary. He was speaking to her calmly, but still, she couldn’t control

her fear around him. It wasn’t in her control. The fright was so extreme that it instigated

tears to fall from her eyes. He saw the glisten of tears tracing down her cheeks. His gaze

followed the path of a tear, and before it could fall any further, he wiped it with his thumb.

He continued to wipe each tear away, his thumb grazing her skin in tender strokes.

"Don’t wear any makeup tonight," he said. The makeup she had been wearing earlier, done

by that beautician, he didn’t like it one bit. It gave her the persona of what she was not. And

he wanted to see the real her while he would take her. Without those extra layers of

makeup.

Extra layers of these clothes.

He had waited. Waited desperately for her, something she had no idea about.

He held her hand, which was tightly fisting her shirt to the point that her knuckles were

turning white. Slowly, one by one, he released her fingers from the fist, gazing at her small

palm.

Small, beautiful palm.

Her everything was so small, tiny, and fragile.

It was one of the reasons he always called her "little lady."

He reached her ear and whispered, "You’re like a dream…” his breath lingered over her ear.

He took a deep breath before mumbling, “one I never want to wake from,” his voice barely

above a murmur. He brushed his nose against her ear shell.

Bending, he spoke near her lips, "You’re beautiful without any adornment," as he slightly

brushed his lips against hers. Suddenly, he wanted to bite those luscious lips brutally until

they bled, but before things could escalate between them, he retreated and straightened.

He would touch those lips. Not now, but soon.

"And now I should not hear you screaming anymore, hmm?"

"I won’t. I won’t," she shook her head in the negative, her eyes landing on her hand that he

was holding. To her, her hand seemed much more important than her entire self in that

moment, as Shehryaar was holding it.

"Will you be ready for me tonight?" he asked, and her heart skipped a beat at this question.

Nevertheless, she replied, "J-jee...jee," Sheharzaad’s chest rose and fell as she tried to keep

herself steady.

(Yes... I will)

"I don’t see your head nodding. Seems like you don’t agree," he said, slightly narrowing his

eyes at her.

"No...no," she said with utter confusion and panic, her chest suddenly squeezing.

"You don’t agree?" he asked with a raised brow.

"No...I. Yes...I me...mean yes...I ag-ag-agree."

"But something tells me you are not ready to give yourself to me... that you don’t agree.

Hmm, Sheharzaad?"

She gulped, finding herself cornered against a wall as she shook her head, her eyes widened

to the size of saucers.

He was reading her mind.

She felt her mouth go dry, her mind scrambling for the right words, for some response that

would satisfy him. In that moment, she wanted a miracle to save her from him now. A

miracle to happen so he would believe her.