Chapter 88: A Flicker Of Hope

She looked towards her left and proceeded to add water to the glass when he held her hand,

making jolts of electricity travel down her spine, and she snatched back her hand with

instant and immediate effect. She was sweating profusely out of fear. She was shivering. His

one touch and all her dread would resurface. He was a man of words, fulfilling his promise.

She tried to escape, and he made her life hell by breaking her bones. She had now given up

any hope of escaping him. He would find her eventually, and worse, punish her worse than

expected.

"Don't touch me!" Before she could control herself, the words were out of her mouth.

He didn't reply and poured the water for her before passing her the glass.

Suspicion.

Suspicion was with what she looked at him. He acted as if he was a gentleman. Like he didn't

throw her off the cliff. Acting like a doting husband. Or just a pretense. Or something

brewing inside his cunning head. Only he himself would know. As if he wasn't the cause of

her sitting on this hospital bed now with bones fractured. He gives the pain, and later he

brings the cure.

Her eyes stared with disdain at the glass he was forwarding towards her. Her chin wobbled,

and her eyes unlatched from the glass to him, and before she knew it, she had already

thrown the glass away on the floor, crashing it into pieces.

"I d-don't need anything from you," Her voice was as if she was on the verge of hiccuping.

How much worse could it get?

How much?

A few more bones would break, but she wouldn't stop holding back now. What else could he

do? Tie her up and beat her? He would not let her go, nor kill her. What option was she left

with now? She can't kill herself. That too has come under the supremacy of the so-called His

Highness.

Looking at the tiled floor, the pieces of glass and water spilled around, he looked back at

her. His eyes were still calm. Her actions didn't move him a bit. No anger flashed in his eyes.

They were as calm and calculated as before.

Like pearls, tears rolled down her eyes. "Will you n-never let me free?" Her voice a low

whisper.

At this, an emotion flashed through his eyes, and if possible, the dark doors to his blackened

soul darkened. Further.

"I didn't swear on my dead mother for nothing, Sheharzaad," Came his low rumble as he

fixed her with a glare. He had promised to her and to himself, that no matter what happens,

she will always be his, till eternity.

The message sank in, deep in her brain. She was losing her hope of freedom. She had no

desire to live now. Living as his slave, she wished to kill herself and end her misery once and

for all. But that too seemed impossible now, seeing that Shehryaar was controlling her

breaths too.

The hope her mind was still entertaining was now agitating her. She hated being too

positive and too hopeful now. Despite trying, despite being in this situation, she couldn't

throw herself into the abyss of darkness, she couldn't let that flash of hope diminish. All the

doors were closed, but her heart still skipped a beat at the thought—her whole life won't

look like this. All the strings in his palms and her just as a puppet. She needed to kill herself

in order to entirely submit to him, or she would end up again on a hospital bed just like

now.

Soon, her chin was seized firmly between his thumb and forefinger, angling her head up.

"Why do I see a flicker of hope in these eyes?"

She felt her heart thumping in her chest. "There's nothing like that," she managed to

whisper, so her ulterior motives could be masked. She earnestly hoped he would believe

her.

He acknowledged his statement with a simple nod and left her. She was halfway releasing

her struck breath when he moved forward, and next, his hand threaded in her locks at the

back of her head so he could hold her head. He'd have gone for the nape of her neck if the

neck-brace wasn't there. The hold was just firm, it didn't pain her. Nearing his lips near her

ear, he spoke, "I repeat, Sheharzaad. I didn't swear on my dead mother for nothing. Only

escape from me is," he let the sentence hang for her to finish.

"Death," She whispered.

"And I know you don't want to die, neither do you want me to kill you. Isn't it?"

The scene of her throwing punches at his chest, demanding him to kill her, flashed in her

mind, followed by the memory when she was begging him not to throw her off.

"Yes," Now, she croaked out.

He released her hair and straightened up.

She found his eyes on her. "I un-understand you,"

"That's good," Still, his eyes were on her and he wasn't getting up from the chair beside her.

She scrunched her nose at him and looked away.

Moments passed, Sheharzaad could feel an austere gaze on her, making goosebumps arise

on her skin under his examination. She stole a glance at him and found his eyes keen and

interested, carefully observing her. It has been so long, still, her constant gaze would make

her uncomfortable.

Out of nowhere, she found his fingers moving and pinching the bridge of her nose. At that

point, he found it irresistible and pinched her nose. She was like a cute kitten, his kitten. She

scowled, rubbing her nose when he left her and glared at him. This was one thing that

agitated her, when someone pinched her nose. She always took it personally. Since

childhood, she felt irritated whenever anyone pinched her nose. Some would even go

further and pinch her chubby cheeks.

Tracing the annoyance in her eyes, he gave out a chuckle. "What?"