Chapter 144: The dying hope

Her hand tightly grasped her shirt as she stared with utter fear on her face.

Her face paled.

No.

It turned white.

Or even worse.

It turned to a strange shade of purple.

She wasn't breathing either.

And the only thing she could hear was her heart palpitating like a drum in her ears, wildly.

Her voice suddenly got lost with the tendency of heaving in a breath.

She began to whimper, "nhi...wo...nhi," she muttered incoherently.

(No...it's not that)

"Agree or disagree?"

"Ag--agree,"

She saw a frown forming between his brows, and it was then that she began to pray

inwardly that he would believe her.

That is what he had transformed her into; a woman who was nonchalant about anything a

person contains, to an unrecognizable porcelain being she had become today.

A tear was already on its way to fall from her eye. She was so close to crying, and she was

aware that if she cried, given how she had stopped her breath, she wouldn't have the

tendency to sob. It'd be a sobless, breathless cry. A cry that would rip her insides, but no one

would ever know.

"Are you sure?"

She let out a whimper again. It was a moment of truth for her that he knew she hadn't

agreed with whatever he said wholeheartedly. And he came to know of it.

It was the first time after she came out of that cell that she took a tiny step back from him,

without his acknowledgement, while giving a subtle nod to him.

Her prayers increased as she wanted a miracle to occur for him to believe in her, that she

had wholeheartedly agreed. Her expressions and the way she was clutching the hem of her

shirt were the clear giveaway of the denial she still carried within her.

Suddenly, he let out a chuckle, taking her by surprise. She frowned, her lips forming an O

shape, still deciphering the true intent behind his chuckle. She was confused, to say the

least.

Her grip around her kameez tightened as he cleared the tear that had fallen from her eye

without her noticing.

"Was just playing with you," he said, and then she found herself able to breathe again as the

weight from her chest lifted, yet her face still remained pale.

"Now get ready," he said and was about to leave when he heard her voice.

"Shehryaar," she said, not above a whisper.

He stopped.

His name... it sounded so profound, so angelic, and so complete in her voice.

"Yes?" he turned towards her, before holding her face with both his hands. Her soft cheeks

could feel the rough texture of his hands that almost squished her face.

Her lips got sealed as she didn't have the courage to say those words running in her mind,

yet those words did appear in her eyes.

A plea.

A plea stood profound in her eyes.

A plea, begging him that she couldn't sustain being ruined again.

"K-kuch nhi," she said and hopelessly looked down.

(Nothing)

The hope was dying down slowly.

...

Dressed in a white ankle-length dress, she looked no less than an angel. Her hair tied up in a

messy bun with a few tendrils falling out of it. Her makeup was kept minimal, yet it felt

heavy. Her smooth and dainty neck was adorned with a pendant.

She was all dolled up.

For him.

As they were now taking her to his chamber, every step she took shook her soul.

She wanted to stop, but they were not letting her stop.

She kept on walking, and walking to the room where she was about to get ruined again. And

this time, he could ask for as many times as he could. Whenever, wherever, and she had to

be at his service.

She had been bought.

Now she was a slave.

A mistress.

And she had signed up for that herself.

There were shrill screams piercing her heart apart, yet she appeared rather numb.

The maids escorting her suddenly stopped, and she too halted, her reverie breaking as she

realized they were standing in front of a door.

"Ma'am, we have reached," one of them said as she opened the doors for her.

Life slowly evaporated from her limbs as she stared into the room.

"You may enter."

Sheharzaad didn't know who was saying it, but slowly she took a step inside.

Someone told her to wait for him, but she was too lost in her plight to consider anyone's

words.

Her breath hitched when the door closed, and she was left alone in the room. The room

smelled of lilies and azaleas. The fragrance was everywhere.

She shut all her emotions inside and sat on the nearby couch, her eyes fixed on the door.

Any moment he would be here.

It could be any moment...

The next second, minute, or the next hour, but that moment was bound to occur.

Her fate chained.

And tomorrow at this time of night, she might be in her bed, reminiscing about this night or

maybe getting dressed up for him again.

She looked at her dress and then at the floor, aware that soon enough this "adornment" of

hers would be lying on the floor.

"You look beautiful without any adornment."

His words ran through her mind.

She was now able to understand the meaning behind his words.

She wasn't aware of how much time elapsed, but her eyes were on the door.

Suddenly, her heart stopped beating when she heard footsteps approaching the room, and

she stood up.

Horror etched on her face.

It was about to happen anytime soon.

The moment that was so surreal, so impossible to imagine, was now happening as the door

opened and he entered, leaving her shaken to the core.

Was she going to be ruined again?

Would she have a repeat of that night?

She now understood;

That one-night stand was the start of his obsession with her.

The beginning of her devastation.