Chapter 155: A friend to lonliness

Sheharzaad had determined not to lose that ring ever again. That ring seemed like an

assurance to her that he was not upset with her. Or she wasn't bound to get punished. And

that he was still firm on his decision of marrying her and she wouldn't be his mistress.

That was why she would check her finger continuously throughout the day to confirm that

the ring was there. The paranoia would hit her round the clock. Severely.

And there would be no friend or no close acquaintance of hers to whom she could express

her mind, keeping it all within her. Yet she had developed an understanding with the

inhabitants of the haveli.

Zahra—whom Sheharzaad met at the dinner that night; rather the night which turned her

life upside down—was a sweet, jolly girl. Twenty-two years of age and pregnant. Pursuing

to become a pharmacist. She was happily married to Irtaza, who was Shehryaar's elder

brother. The tension Sheharzaad had felt between them both and the vibes of intense fear

that came off Zahra when she first met her, were not there anymore.

They both had a separate mansion where they lived, though the elders were persistent

about coming and shifting to the haveli, and they could have as much privacy as they

wanted because the haveli was enormously big. The haveli had wings. Eastern wing,

western wing; it was more like an estate.

Apart from the couple who were now living in a separate mansion, Shehryaar's

grandparents and his father lived, along with his cousins, uncles, and his sister, Dua.

He had no mother. And all she was told was that his mother had died in his childhood.

Nobody told her the reason, and she didn't ponder over it much. But she could feel that the

family was keeping something about his mother within them. Especially his uncle, Haroon,

who was also Haseeb's father. She noticed Haroon was very much partial to Jaha Ara,

Shehryaar's mother. While the family was very much averse to her. They wouldn't talk

about her much, and some also considered her a black spot on the family's reputation, but

they wouldn't talk such stuff in front of Irtaza or Shehryaar.

Meanwhile, Shehryaar's father, Haider, was a quiet, lonely old man. Who would just remain

in his bubble. He would wake up early in the morning, go to the mosque for prayers, and

then do gardening. She once noticed him plucking out fresh roses that he had grown in the

vast lawn of the haveli. The roses, which had the darkest shades of red. And once done, he

made a bouquet of them before heading out somewhere. When he came back home, he

asked Sheharzaad for a glass of water, which she fetched for him. And she noticed dried

tears around his old eyes. Carefully, she asked him the reason, hoping it wouldn't upset him

as he was Shehryaar's father. And if he got upset, then that would mean Shehryaar would be

upset. And she couldn't afford that.

Her thinking process was maneuvered to this level that the center of her thoughts was just,

Shehryaar.

Haider's response to her subtle, nervous question was a polite gesture of a smile as he

patted her head, replying, "I went to meet my lover. My dear wife."

He also told her that he would take her to meet his wife so she could meet her daughter-in-

law as well. But Shehryaar told him that she might not have the permission for it. Once she

had it, he could take her to her grave.

She saw sadness looming over his eyes as he smiled back and left.

He seemed to her the fatherly figure. His warmth was so generous and gentle that whenever

she would feel the memories of the cell haunting her, she would go to his room and sit

beside him. He would tell her different stories and riddles and sometimes about his late

wife, Jaha Ara as well.

Haider would either be praying or reading books or doing work. Upon inquiring about his

work once, he told her that he would look after the business of both his sons so they

wouldn't make a mistake. Or if they did, he would be aware and there to correct them. She

would also see him going out and visiting the properties the family had in the village area.

This was his father. A total opposite to Shehryaar.

Sheharzaad realized the hold his grandfather had on the haveli. His word was the final say.

He was the main man, the main pillar of the family. To her, he seemed a true mafia don in all

senses. Even Shehryaar regarded his words. If his decision would go against his

grandfather's, then he would retreat and accept his grandfather's word instead of forcing

his, though he had the power. Shehryaar was more like his grandfather than his father. He

was rather closer to him than his father. Business, mafia, politics—everything would be

discussed between the three. And just the three of them. Shehryaar, Irtaza, and their

grandfather. The trio would together make the decision first before revealing it to the

world.

So Shehryaar preferred to stay away from him as much as she could, yet she liked

Shehryaar's father's company.

Dua seemed changed to Sheharzaad as compared to the last time she met her. She had

begun to be awfully quiet. Lost in her thoughts. Sometimes caressing her stomach lovingly

when tears would fill her eyes.

Something was lost within her.

Maybe the life she once had in those orbs was not there anymore.

Just like her.

Sheharzaad didn't make an attempt to talk to her or anyone in this haveli. Even Haseeb, who

helped her once at Shehryaar's office. Sheharzaad had begun to get afraid of interacting

with people, thinking that person might be working for Shehryaar too. So she was utterly

cautious, scared to mingle and advance towards people. That was why she would prefer not

leaving her room, or even if she did, it would either be to his father's room or at night when

everyone was sound asleep.

She had developed a friendship with her loneliness.

Rather, she wanted to run away from people as far as she could because whenever she was

among a crowd, she could find her breath hitching in her throat, thinking every pair of eyes

was there to keep an eye on her and report her to him. But running away from the haveli

was not in her hands. Shehryaar had kept her there as his fiancée in that house, and she had

to live there as his fiancée. There was no room for arguments.