My Tyrant Beloved

Episode 2 – A Storm of Emotions

"Alisha, terrified, quickly moved towards Maheen—but he raised his hand to stop her."

“Get lost from here or else…”

His eyes were red with rage. Alisha felt like if she didn’t leave immediately, he would really hit her. So she ran away without looking back.


---

“Really? You’re married too?”
Taqdees nearly jumped with excitement.
“You used to tease me so much—now it’s my turn!”

She burst out laughing.

“Listen, if you’re so happy about your friend’s wedding, then I’m thinking… why not complete your joy with your own rukhsati?”

He had been standing there for who knows how long, listening.

Taqdees turned toward him, turning off her phone.

“Why are you always following me around? Don’t you have anything else to do?”

She glared at him.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t be following my own wife. Sorry, from tomorrow I’ll follow the neighbor girls instead. Would that be okay with you?”

He grinned mischievously.

“There’s no point in talking to you.”
She snapped and turned to leave.

He quickly grabbed her wrist.

“Answer my question first.”

Taqdees looked at her wrist held in his hand, then faced him with determination.

“What answer do you want?”

She raised her brow.

“Uh… um… about the rukhsati…”

He stammered, putting on an innocent expression. Despite herself, Taqdees chuckled.

He stared at her, mesmerized.

“You’re such a clown. With you around, we’ll never need to visit a circus.”

She said, smiling.

“Ma’am, I’d lay down my life for you.”

He bent slightly in mock reverence.

“I have to die anyway… might as well die for you.”

He got even more romantic, taking advantage of her smile.

But before he could go further, Taqdees returned to a serious face and gave him a stern look.

Before she could say anything, he spoke first.

“I know, you’re just thinking of finding a way to get rid of me again. So I’ll leave on my own.”

He turned to go but then stopped.

“Keep smiling… you look beautiful when you do.”

“Idiot,”
Taqdees muttered with a smile, watching his back.


---

Dressed like a bride, Muntasha was crying bitterly. Her stepmother had dolled her up and locked her in the guest room. But when she got there—he wasn’t there. Now standing in front of the full-length mirror, she was weeping quietly.

“Is this what a wedding is supposed to be?”

Maybe her fate was cursed. She cursed her destiny with all her heart.

Was she like other ordinary girls whose only purpose in life is marriage?

No! She wasn't.

She had dreams… goals…
But now she had been made just like any other girl.

That thought broke her further, and she cried harder.

She was so lost in her tears that she didn’t even realize someone had entered the room.

She only turned when someone placed a hand on her shoulder.
He stood there—surprised.

“Why are you crying?”

He asked gently.

Hearing that, Muntasha’s grief turned into rage. After destroying her life, he dared ask why she was crying?

“Did you ask that question before the wedding? You ruined my life! Shattered my dreams! And now you want to know why I’m crying?”

She exploded.

He gave a strange little smile… and stepped closer.

“Don’t come near me!”

She growled.

But he kept approaching her. She backed away until she hit the wall. He placed his hand on the wall beside her, slightly leaning closer.

“I didn’t know I was standing in the way of your dreams. I didn’t mean to. If I did, I’m sorry.”

His voice softened.

“I promise I won’t ever stand in your way again.”

Muntasha turned her eyes away from his.

But his last sentence made her look back.

“Would you come with me to Muslimabad?”

He asked softly, looking into her eyes.

Muntasha felt like she was caught in a spell.
Before she knew it, she nodded.


---

She was restless. Maheen’s burned hand and the marks on his shirt haunted her thoughts.

Should she apologize?

But if she did, she knew he’d be furious. That fear kept her from moving forward.

But enough was enough—whatever happens, happens.

Muttering "Jal tu jalal tu, aai bala ko taal tu" under her breath for courage, she entered the study room.

She expected Maheen to be there. He usually was.

But he wasn’t.

She walked over to the desk and noticed freshly opened files.

“Maybe he was just here.”

“What are you doing here?”

His harsh voice startled her. She turned around in a panic—her hand knocked over a glass of water, soaking the papers.

Maheen, now furious, rushed to rescue the documents.

“Don’t you dare touch anything!”

He stopped her from helping.

“You’ve always caused damage in my life. What do you want from me?”

His voice was full of venom.

“I can’t stand girls like you. Manners-less. Foolish. You’re poison to me. Get out of my sight!”

His words hit her like knives.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said get lost!”

He grabbed her arm and dragged her out.

“And don’t you dare show me your face again.”

He slammed the door shut.


---

“What’s wrong, my little doll?”

Her father asked warmly when she entered the living room.

She smiled to reassure him.

But everyone noticed her puffy face and eyes.

“Nothing, Baba. Just sleepy.”

Maheen noticed too, but remained indifferent and returned to eating.

Taqdees pulled out a chair and sat opposite Awaimer.

His eyes lit up.

He touched her foot under the table playfully—and succeeded.

Startled, Taqdees jerked her foot back and glared at him.

He winked.

“Stupid,”

She muttered and stepped on his foot.

“Ow!”

He yelped.

“What happened?”

Everyone turned to him.

“Nothing—just too much chili in the food!”

He grabbed a glass of water.

Everyone was about to leave the table when—

“Wait a moment!”

Junaid Baig stopped them.

“What happened, Baba?”
Taqdees asked.

Smiling, he said,
“Javed, we think it’s time our daughter Alisha gets married.”

“But we have one condition,” Javed Baig replied, holding Alisha close.

“No rukhsati yet.”

“Fine with us. What about you, Maheen? Any objection?”

They turned to him.

“No, Baba.”

His tone was emotionless.

Alisha looked at him in pain.
He hated her—called her poison.

And now he had no objection?

Did he have two faces?

“I object, Uncle.”

Awaimer raised his hand like he was in a classroom.

“What’s your objection?”

Javed Baig asked, smiling.

Looking at Taqdees, Awaimer grinned mischievously.
Taqdees glared at him.

“Uncle, how long has it been since my nikah? When will my rukhsati happen?”

“Awaimer!”

Taqdees gritted her teeth.

“Even Taqdees wants that—don’t you, sweetheart?”

Everyone laughed.

Taqdees stood up in anger.

“Forget it, Uncle. I don’t need a rukhsati ever.”

She acted dramatically as if scared.

Everyone burst out laughing.

And Awaimer walked toward the fuming Taqdees.


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To be continued...


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