His Permission

His Permission
"Yes Sh-sherry?" she managed to say
At this, he opened his eyes, pulled away from her, and probed his eyes into hers. His eyes
slightly narrowed, and her hands, which were resting on the bed, rolled into fists. His stare
was becoming intense, making her feel colder with every passing second. Instead of
matching his gaze, she looked down, her chest heaving up and down.
She kept staring down, and when she briefly flashed her eyes up, his gaze was still fixed on
her.
"Little lady," he finally uttered. "You were pretending to sleep?"
She quickly shook her head.
"I love to kiss you when you lie," his voice subtly darkened.
"I'm-s-s-sorry..." she stammered.
"Hmm. Why were you pretending to sleep?" He questioned, playing with her tresses as she
looked down at the comforter.
"I'm... sorry," she whispered.
His thumb slid to her chin, gently tilting her head to make her look at him. Her eyes
connected with his, and he saw the tears in her eyes.
He had observed that she had become more sensitive after her release from the cell, and it
was evident given how she had been treated there.
"Little lady. Tell me something you recently did," he continued.
Her eyes widened. She gulped, the effects of the sleeping pills lingering in her mind.
"That may upset me," he added. She jolted, visibly shaken, and her first instinct was to move
away from him.
She shook her head, forming tight fists with her hands. Shock and terror were evident on
her face. She looked like a deer caught in headlights, desperate to flee.
"Hmm? Answer," he urged.
"Nothing," she whispered, shaking her head left and right.
"Nothing?" he repeated softly. "Alright. Let's trust you on this. I hope you're not lying."
At that point, she felt like fainting. Lying to him had become increasingly difficult.
"I'm-I'm-I'm not."
"I know, little lady." He bent forward, pecking her lips, but didn’t pull back. Instead, he
placed his lips near her ear, caressing her hair. "I so want to feel you, Sheharzaad. More than
just a ravishing kiss," he whispered hotly in her ear. She gulped.
Sheharzaad felt her blood pressure drop. Knots twisted in her stomach.
"I... I... I..." she stammered, suddenly pushing back. "Going... shall... I... go?" Her sentence
made little sense, but the meaning was clear. She didn’t wait for him to respond, avoiding
his gaze as she quickly got up from the bed and rushed to the washroom, her heart racing.
She stayed in the restroom for more than thirty minutes, stalling because she wanted him to
leave. She feared that if she came out and he was still there, he might act on his words, and
she wasn’t ready for that. His one kiss had already made her anxiety levels soar. She
couldn’t imagine what would happen if he actually did what he suggested.
The small encounter in the car had unlocked her trauma, and these were the aftershocks.
One thing was clear: she wasn’t mentally ready for this. Another thing was even clearer—
she was too scared to admit that in front of him.
\---
It was noon. Shehryaar hadn’t gone to the office today, so she had been on her best
behavior. He was in his study, attending an online meeting. She didn’t engage in any activity
that could potentially upset him. She didn’t even step out into the lawn, as she wanted to
avoid any uncertainty about where she was allowed to go. She didn't have the courage to
disturb him during his meeting just to ask if she could go outside. On other days, when he
wasn’t around, she took walks in the lawn, but today, she was extra vigilant. She didn’t want
to make any mistakes that could put her in a difficult situation, especially after the morning
incident.
If he ever found out that she had been taking sleeping pills behind his back, he would surely
strangle her, suffocating her with his fingers, and she’d be at the brink of death. Sleeping
pills were also a major reason she was avoiding him. Her nervousness would give her away,
and he’d sense something was wrong.
Her gaze shifted to everyone sitting in the lounge, planning an outing, and then to the door
of Shehryaar’s office. They were about to leave, but she couldn’t just go with them without
asking Shehryaar’s permission.
Haseeb had been pestering her to take permission from Shehryaar, but realizing that
Sheharzaad was too scared to do so, he shifted to an encouraging tone.
"Come on, Sheharzaad. It’s not that difficult," Haya, Haseeb’s sister, said. "He’s not that evil,
like you’re making him out to be."
But Haya didn’t know the dark side of Shehryaar that Sheharzaad knew all too well.
"I think Dua should go and ask permission for Sheharzaad," Saif, Haseeb’s brother,
suggested, and Haseeb seemed to agree.
"Go, Dua! Take permission, and we’re ready to go! Don’t delay it anymore," Haseeb
announced loudly.
All eyes turned to Dua, and succumbing to the pressure from her cousins, she stood up and
went to Shehryaar’s office.
They all waited for her return.
Sheharzaad was caught in a dilemma, unsure whether she was doing something that might
upset Shehryaar.
Her eyes remained fixed on the door to his office, wondering what he must have said to Dua.
A few moments later, Dua stepped out of his office and walked toward them.
"What did he say?" Haseeb asked.
"He’s calling Sheharzaad to his office."
Sheharzaad’s face paled. She feared she might have upset him.
As soon as Dua’s words sank in, Sheharzaad blurted, "Please... I don’t want to go. I’ll join you
some other day."
"Regardless of that, Sheharzaad, my brother is still calling for you. You have to go to his
office. He won’t like it if you don’t follow his command."
"Yes, Dua is right. Now you have to go, Sheharzaad," Haya said.
Scared, Sheharzaad slowly approached his office door, every sense on high alert. She moved
her trembling hand up, formed a fist, and knocked.
"Enter," Shehryaar’s voice called from inside.
Sheharzaad, too frightened to enter, had no choice. She turned the handle, entered, and left
the door open on purpose.
She saw him sitting on the sofa, an ashtray and a freshly lit cigarette resting on the glass
table in front of him. His expectant eyes were already on her, as if he had been waiting. His
MacBook and files were on the main desk of the office. The atmosphere in the room felt
dark, just like him.
His eyes locked onto hers before shifting back to the door she had left open. He got up, the
cigarette still between his fingers, releasing a puff of smoke into the air. The sight of it
brought back memories—the day he burned her tongue, and the time in the cell when he
forced her to smoke until she passed out from the lack of oxygen.
The cigarette alone terrified her.
He walked past her, closing the door she had left ajar.
As soon as the door was shut, Sheharzaad’s knees weakened, and she bowed her head,
looking at the floor, too scared to look up.
The smell of smoke flooded her senses, taking her back to the days in the cell. It reminded
her that she wasn’t supposed to look at him. The nostalgia hit her hard.
"Did you want to say something to me?" He asked. His voice came from behind her.
She tilted her head slightly, using her peripheral vision to see him leaning against the door,
smoking.
Suddenly, she felt fear rising. She was alone with him, and the thought terrified her.
She took a step back, then another, before running out of his office.
She didn’t join the family for the outing that day. Shehryaar didn’t look for her—he knew his
presence terrified her. Later, due to an urgent meeting, he left the mansion, much to
Sheharzaad’s relief.
\---
The following evening, he returned and joined everyone for dinner. As soon as he sat next to
her, Sheharzaad felt a shift in her unease. Her grip on the fork tightened as she struggled to
push the food down her dry throat. She intentionally dragged her meal out, watching as
everyone left one by one, including Shehryaar.
Afterwards, she went to her father-in-law Haider’s room, pretending to check his medicines.
They sat together, sharing childhood stories, and as expected, he became engrossed in the
conversation.
They were talking when a maid knocked and entered, greeting Haider first before turning
her attention to Sheharzaad.
"Ma’am, sir is looking for you."
Her heart lurched into her throat as she glanced at the time—10 p.m.
"Well, I will continue my story tomorrow," Haider said. "He must be looking for you. It’s
getting late."
She swallowed nervously.
"Can I sit here for a little longer?" she asked.
Haider frowned. "What’s wrong, daughter?"
"Nothing," she just shook her head, "But can I be here for half an hour more?" Her voice held
a plead.