Must Read: The Silent Lover - Season 1 - Episode 45

7 years ago

Must Read: The Silent Lover - Season 1 - Episode 45

A week later, Aariz heard that his parents were arranging a ‘Meelad’ in their home. It was a suprise for him, as he hadn’t seen them arranging a Meelad in years. For sure, someone was behind this initiative.

Hundreds of people were invited to attend the wonderful religious gathering but what shocked him the most was his mother’s outfit, as he saw her on the Meelad day.

He just couldn’t believe it. His mother, who never misses a single fashion cloth, was now wearing a sky blue, full-sleeved blouse and Saarhi with a matching scarf, which covered her hair completely, giving her a sober and modest touch.

Zeest actively took part in all the proceesings and celebrations of the religious gathering and won every heart in the end by reciting a wonderful famous peom in her equally wonderful voice.

“Such a sweet voice she has.” Shaheryaar had commented, his eyes gleaming with appreciation for her.

“But it doesn’t make her acceptable for me.” Aariz replied, ignoring his comment as they both sat down on easy chairs in his lawn, after the Meelad was finished.

“She’s not so innocent as you think.” Came Aariz’s sarcastic remainder.
“And just what the hell do you think you’re?” His friend yelled, expiring all his breath. “Do you think you’re the only victim in this whole thing, huh?”
“No.” Shaheryaar answered his own question before Aariz could. “She is equally innocent. It was not her wish to marry you either. She just obeyed her father.”
“So if you look at her with open eyes, you’d see that she’s suffered more than you.” Shaheryaar pointed out.

For a long moment, Aariz remained stunned and totally immobile.
“If she’s a victim, then why doesn’t she protest?” He asked icily, as he stirred cream into his coffee before answering. “I don’t just understand which kind of soil she is made up of. She never protests, never complains and never shouts. Believe me Shaheryaar, she’s frigid, she’s ice.”
“Yes, and ice is cool.” Shaheryaar smiled sadly. “It’s just her patience, my dear. If she doesn’t react in the same way as you, it only means she doesn’t want to put herself on the same level with you. She doesn’t want to degrade herself.”
“Whatever.” His strong fingers closed around the delicate coffee cup until Shaheryaar thought he might crush it.

It was true, Aariz knew. Everytime he cursed or disgraced her, her silence used to make him more uncomfortable, even embrassed.
She had never raised her voice in front of him and her clamness; her tolerance was something, which never gave him any chance to make any solid ground for accusing or blaming her. Sometimes, he really wondered if a woman could be so patient like she was.

‘Aariz.”
On this sudden call, both of them turned their heads back and found a man in his late fifties walking toward them with slow, short steps.

Aariz’s breath suddenly hitched in his lungs and his eyes widened as he saw his boss Mr. Nehal coming with a smile on his face.

“My boss is here.” He muttered, a mouthful of coffee scaled up his throat as he swallowed it too rapidly.

He got smoothly on his feet to greet him.
“Aariz, I was hoping to catch up with you here.” He told him, smiling. “Seems like you’re shocked.”
“Suprise, would be the more appropraite word, sir.” He replied, returning the smile.

“Excuse me Aariz, I must go now. Sarah would be waiting for me.” Shaheryaar reasoned pleasantly and left.

“Well, it’s the first time that I saw your house.” Mr. Nehal exclaimed, looking impressesd. “Looks pretty big for your family.”
“I agree sir.” Aariz managed to say gently.

“Hey, I have never met your wife. Is she home?” Mr. Nehal was curious.
“Yes sir. Let me call her.” Cursing him inwardly, Aariz rose and called Zeest.

As she approached them, Aariz could see his boss’s eyes narrowing over the way she dressed. He knew his boss was a womanizer and to him, Zeest with her figure and hair, all wrapped and hidden in a coat and scarf, held no charm and attraction.

“This is Zeest.” Aariz made introductions.
“Your wife?” Mr. Nehal’s gaze rested on her for a few seconds as he murmured. “Pleased to meet you.” Extending his hand toward her.

But neither him nor Aariz was prepared for what happened next. As she didn’t extend her hand in response, keeping it by her side.

Mr. Nehal’s hand remained in the air for few seconds then dropped with sheer embrassment.

“I’m sorry sir.” Zeest excused gently. “My Allah says, it’s forbidden for a muslim woman to shake hands with a man she’s not closely related to. I hope you don’t mind and won’t take such formalities too seriously.”
Then without waiting for his answer, she turned back.

Open-mouthed, Mr. Nehal stood at his place.
“I’m….. I’m so sorry sir.” Aariz came forward, apologising on his wife’s behalf. “She is a very conservative and backward woman. Being a rural girl, she is not familiar with the manners of high modern society.”
Mr. Nehal didn’t stay long after that. From his expression, Aariz could see very well that his mood had turned off.

As soon as he left, Aariz almost ran behind her.

By the time he reached his bedroom, his anger was at fever pitch. He wanted to lash out at her, end this damn relation and kict her out of his house and life.

He opened the door with a burst.
Inside, he found Zeest sitting in front of the dressing table, combing her hair.

As he reached near her, his expression became thunderous
“You didn’t shake hands with Mr. Nehal?” His eyes hardened. “What the hell do you think you were up to?”
“Yes, I didn’t.”
“WHY?” unfortunately his weakness was in front of him. Thick, long, straight, shiny and silky hair that belonged to a very charming woman.

Hating himself for liking the sight, he turned his back to her and yelled. “I’m asking you something.”
“I…. I just couldn’t.” She managed to say with great effort.

“Do you know it’s consequences? He is my boss. You’ve probably made him angry.
I could even lose my job.”
Asked about the consequences, she replied, “I was not thinking about his anger.
I was thinking what if I made my Allah angry? Allah forbids me from shaking hands with strange men.”
As she spoke, Aariz orderd himself not too be impresses by her religious knowledge and divine confidence but he was…….damn it.

He struggled to keep his anger and panic in check; he gritted his teeth, clamped his jaws.

“While you live under my roof, you will take orders from me, not the other way round.”
Sadness welled up inside her on his remarks.

She felt as if a hand had clucthed her heart. She couldn’t breathe.
“And stop trying to act in front of others.” He added without mercy. “You only pose yourself. You’re an actress, a poser.”
“I am not a poser.”
“That is pecisely what you are, Miss. Wife, a poser, a selfish creature. I knew it from the moment you la!d your eyes on me. It was perfectly apparent.” His anger was crossing its final limits today.

Zeest hadn’t expected him to be so blunt, and she felt her eyes sting with moisture.

“You’re a dumb, illiterate person, who knows nothing about the manners and customs of city life.” He added in the same horrible tone.

“I’m not an illiterate person…..” She didn’t speak but her eyes did. “If you treat me like one, then I have no option but to be one. I don’t want to be treated like an animal anymore. I just want to be the woman I am.” But the respect she had for her husband didn’t allow her to open her mouth in front of him.

Yet she didn’t keep silent when he raised an objection against her religious principles. “You’re supposed to be my husband, my protector and defender. I’m your respect….your ego…..your pride….” As she spoke, she didn’t raise her eyes. “You should be happy that I didn’t put my hand in another man’s hand.”
“Shut up!” With unexpected voilence, Aariz flung back and strode aggresively to the door of his bathroom.

“Don’t try my patience any further or I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
He then b@nged the door shut, leaving Zeeat staring at him, nervous of the anger she had provoked.

She blushed fiercely. How could he be so cold, so indifferent? Fearful that her torment and yearning lay bare in her eyes, Zeest knew she must get away. If she didn’t go this instant, she’d be weeping in front of him, making more of a fool of herself than she already had.

She left the room quietly in order to clean the kicthen. About twenty minutes later, when she returned to her bedroom, another incident or to be more exact, accident was waiting for her.

She was lost in her worried, when she opened the bedroom door and walked straight into Aariz.
“Oh!” It was a soft sound of delayed shock as she found her arms resting against the solid wall of his chest. She swayed backwards unsteadily, trembling from the unexpected contact with his warm flesh.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” His drawling voice lowered his pitch to a cold level.

She quickly sidestepped him and made her way inside the bedroom.
“Next time it happens, I’m going to throw you out of my room forever.” His voice trailed after her.
“Damn the woman!” He didn’t think he had a particular quick temper, but she could light his fuse faster than any female ever had.

She didn’t think that remark was worthy of response, so she closed the door on him. Yet, in the quiteness of her bedroom, the encounter outside the door started her thinking about how many things they shared besides a bedroom and bathroom. They ate at the same table, slept under the same roof, and drank from the same glasses. She had spent more time with Aariz under a variety of circumtances than she has with anyone except her father.
It was an unsettling discovery to realize how much he had become a part of her life in these few months.