Notebook

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She brushed her right hand on the white bed sheet while her left hand rested on her bare waist, that the red wedding lehenga had left for someone else to touch.

 

Her heart was beating too slow, as if it was tired of running so fast, and was yearning to stop and fall on her intestines.

 

Soon, the moment she never wanted to come, arrived.

 

He, whose thoughts made her anxious, was lying next to her.

 

Minutes later, the hand that lied on her bare waist, wasn’t hers. And, the hand that she had rested on her bed sheet before, lied unwillingly beneath his palm.

 

And before his lips could rest on her neck, she pushed him away and ran towards the door.

 

“What’s wrong with you Layba?”

 

“Amaan, I.. I am sorry. B..But I wa..want some time,” she replied as she gasped for her breath.

 

“Time? What do you need time for?”

 

” I am not ready for this, why can’t you understand?”

 

“If you were not ready, why did you even marry?”

 

“Because, marriage for me didn’t mean sleeping with a stranger on the very first night, Amaan.”

 

“I don’t care what marriage means for you. The fact is, you’re my wife. And, if I just throw you out of my house on your wedding day itself..

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I don’t think I need to say more.”

 

“P..Please A..A..Aman,” she sobbed, and pleaded. But later, she was lying on the very same side of bed as before, with her hands beneath his palm, and his lips resting on her neck.

 

She woke up next morning and picked up her expensive lehenga from the ground, the jhumkas and jewellery that were lying on the other side of bed, and her cellphone that fell from the table, when he had turned off the lamp last night.

 

She dressed up, and just as she was about to leave her husband’s room, she stopped herself and stood behind the curtains.

 

“Laws for marital rape? Idiots,” her father-in-law said as he tapped his fingers on his phone.

 

“What does this mean Daadu?” a little kid in the house asked.

 

“Nothing son. It’s like the headmaster of your school is punishing you for doing your own homework.”

 

And someone standing behind those curtains wondered, if she was a notebook meant for doing homework.

 


Image Courtesy: www.pixabay.com


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