Chapter 95: Basement

"Dua. My Dua," the whispery voice said from the other side of the phone, making her cheeks

turn red. She was happy—happier than she had ever been in her entire life.

She was gifted by nature. Nature sent him as a gift to her. She couldn't be more thankful.

"Congratulations on our marriage," the voice said again, and she drew her lashes to the

floor, feeling shy.

"How many more times would you say that?" Her voice, too, wasn't above a whisper as she

bit her lips. "I think you're a little too happy."

"Words can't describe the happiness my heart holds. Congratulations to us again."

Dua laughed out. She knew he was teasing her now. He just wanted to assure her—and

himself—that they were wedded now. They were husband and wife.

"How many more times, Mister?" Dua asked. "How many more times would you be

congratulating me?"

"Until I get a new topic to congratulate us," he responded and then paused before saying,

"Until the little creature we created is out in the world."

Her hand crawled to her stomach as she protectively placed it there. She felt her child's

heartbeat through her hands. A life was inside her.

"My life. Mama and Baba love you," she caressed her belly.

"But Baba loves you much more, life," he said from the other side of the phone.

"No, Mama does."

"Baba."

"Mama."

"Baba."

"Mama."

"Oh, so you want to fight? Let's fight," she said and was about to start her bickering when

something shifted behind her. She turned around, only to widen her eyes.

"Haya," Dua whispered.

...

One step.

Another step.

And then another step. She kept walking, holding his hand tightly as her vision was blocked

by the black eye patch.

Then she heard the creaking of a door, and they both entered the room. The first thing that

hit her nostrils was the smell of blood, sweat, and urine. Then her ears caught the sound of

metal clanking.

Her heart stopped.

What was that?

Chains?

And without realizing it, her grip on his hand had tightened. Then the black cloth was

removed from her eyes. Her eyes tried to adjust to the light, but it was already dark around.

Her eyes broadened as she saw the scene unfolding in front of her.

There was a girl.

Almost half-dead.

Her feet tangled in chains. Her hair intertwined till the roots. Her back rested against the

cold wall. Sheharzaad could figure out she was just bones and skin. Both her hands were

free as she half-lay on the mattress.

Her condition was so horrible that Sheharzaad was shaking. Her feet stood frozen there. She

was still, life escaping her body.

She remembered once going to a horse-riding competition with her father when she was a

child. It was all hue and cries. The sound of people screaming, cheering, gasping was loud, as

if she had entered a fair. But when the race began, all sounds subsided, and all keen eyes

were on the ground. Then came the horse. Their hooves collided with the ground as they

galloped. The sound was instilled in her ears. Fast horses, galloping through the ground,

vibrating the whole earth.

And years later, she heard the same sound in her ears again.

But it wasn't the horses' hooves striking the ground.

It was her heart banging against her chest.

The woman turned her face slightly towards Sheharzaad, and in her soulless eyes, for a brief

moment, she saw herself. She saw herself sitting, locked, and shackled instead of that

woman.

And this was her undoing.

Jolting into reality, her eyes couldn't bear the torture anymore and turned around, her face

coming across his chest. He wrapped his arm around her, pressing her body to him. Her

puzzled mind couldn't decipher anything, and she began to cry.

"You know who she is," he began.

"Please no."

"She was a woman who tried to deceive me."

"Please, please no!" She didn't want him to continue.

"She played with me, Sheharzaad," her face was pushed against his chest, and she didn't

realize that her tears were already wetting his shirt.

"You know who she was?" This time around, he grasped her chin and pulled her away from

him, probing his gaze into hers.

"A spy, Sheharzaad. She was hired to make me fall in love with her, and she did her job quite

well."

"Please stop. Please, I request!" The plea in her voice increased tenfold.

"I don't let a woman go on whom I set my eyes, Sheharzaad," their gazes struck against each

other.

"This is..." She gulped. "Is this...is this what you do to the women who get your attention?"

she croaked.

He subtly shook his head.

"No, Zaad. This is what I do to the ones who play with my feelings."

"You're not normal!" she said emphatically, tears flowing down her eyes. "Look at her. What

you've done! How can you—you do that to someone?"

He placed his palms on her shoulders and turned her around so she could face that woman

again.

"Look at her. Look well. She was the one who was once close to the title of being my fiancée.

She played me bad. And she landed herself here," he neared her ears. "Now, if you don't

want to be in a similar or worse situation, then you know there is no way out but to obey

me, Zaad. Obey me. Submit to me. Be mine," these words were whispered near her ear.

Obey me.

Submit to me.

Be mine.

And they played like a tape in her head while her eyes witnessed the caged woman.

He was playing with her mind. Goosebumps surfaced on her body. Her eyes cursorily landed

on an ant that crawled from the dusty basement floor all the way up to her mattress and

then to the chain, circled around her ankle.

"How can you treat a woman like that?" The whisper escaped through her lips, catching his

ear.

"You don't know me," he muttered.