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Rehman POV

I blinked, fluttering my gaze between her face and her hand.

A part of me was mad at myself. Why the hell did I not stop her strictly?

Why the hell did I let her go?

I could have pulled her closer to me, could have distracted her with something, could have done something.

She got her hand burnt over a stupid joke.

And, the irony was it was aching my heart with a pain that I had never felt in my whole life.

Her tears made me feel as if I was standing in a rain of blades, each one piercing my soul.

The last time I had seen her crying was in the brothel, and ever since that day, I had promised myself to take the best care of her.

How the hell did I forget?

"Are you going to cut the burnt skin out of my hand?" She asked in the middle of the cries as I pulled the blade out of the sheath.

I shook my head slowly, gently shifting closer to her, and looked into her swollen, red eyes.

"I am sorry," I could not stop myself from saying, and she sobbed even more.

"Why are you saying sorry?" She asked in a crying voice, and I shook my head slowly.

"I should have stopped you," I spoke in a low voice while lowering my gaze to her hand.

Her beautiful, small hand was now burnt and covered with the green medicinal paste.

Her fingers were shaking even when he had her hand in my palm.

And, a part of me knew this was not the only affected part of her body.

So, holding my breath and lifting the knife, I shifted my hold from her wrist to her forearm. And the moment I placed the tip of the knife on her skin, just half an inch under her full-sleeved top, she shivered with fear.

"Calm down, Bache," I spoke in a low voice, and I slowly ran the knife upwards against her skin, ripping the fabric into two, letting it fall off her hand and reveal the beautiful fair skin of hers.

But, as soon as my sight fell on the few marks left by the droplets on her arm, I felt another ache in my heart.

It had just been two days of hers in the Sultanate, and she had gotten a nightmare as a memory.

She broke into cries, noticing it, and I looked up at her crying face.

"It will heal, Rehana," I said in low voice, trying to convince her but she shook her head and rubbed her watery nose off with the other hand.

"I am not beautiful for you now," she closed her eyes, sobbing into the cries, and I immediately shut my eyes closed with disbelief.

"Who said that?" I asked, opening my eyes after a few moments. She gulped and sobbed while staring at the few marks on her hand.

One was on forearm, the other one was on her bicep. I could not stop myself from sliding my hand from her forearm to her bicep. It felt so small for my hand.

Only an inch remained between my longest finger and the thumb while my hand was curled around her girth.

Her sobbing had stopped, and the way I found her staring at my hand around hers, I could not help but uplift her mood.

So, lowering my gaze to her beautiful, lovely, and small hand, I leaned in and gently kissed her arm. Near, I had held her firmly with all the caution to not hurt her.

Her chest heaved up with the heavy breath, and she blinked, looking into my eyes.

A pair of tears silently glistened down her red eyes, and I closed my eyes, deepening the kiss.

"You are beautiful. The most beautiful woman in the World," I whispered slowly, and suddenly she sobbed again.

"Calm down, Rehana. If will heal and the marks will go away," I said, trying to convince her, though I was not sure they would ever go permanently, but still I could understand what she must be feeling now.

"What if they do not?" She asked, and I pulled my face away and shook my head.

"So, what? Is anyone else going to see them except me?" I asked, collecting the paste from the bowl and gently covering all the burnt areas. They were tiny splashes' marks.

"No, but still. I am not beautiful now. I am...burnt. And...what will people think about me?" She asked between her cries, and I looked up at her face.

"How about you get some rest now?" I asked, and she lowered her gaze, sobbing even more.

Kissing her hand again, I asked for her other hand, and she did not even lift her gaze to look at me while handing it to me.

Bringing the knife closer to the hem, I gently placed the sharp side against the sleeve's opening and ran it through the fabric to pull it apart.

"I know it's hurting a lot. I should have stopped you," I said, trying to divert her attention from the pain.

She shook her head.

"No, it's better now," her voice came out slow while I gently held her hand. The way it glowed under the filtered light of day and candlelight, I could not help but rub my thumb against her skin.

It felt so soft, so soft that it was ruining all the comforts of life for me: the bed, the flowery embraces, the dances of the finest of dancers, and even the idea of heaven.

Thankfully, there was no burn mark there.

I blinked rapidly, amused by her sudden calmness and the heartbeats in her chest, almost reaching my ear.

"Aapne andar kuch pehna hai?"

"Have you worn anything inside?" I asked in a low and calm voice, trying not to make her uncomfortable.

She looked up at me and nodded, fluttering her gaze.

"Turn around," I said, noticing her chest dropping with my words.

She immediately lowered her gaze with timidity and turned around slowly.

All her jewelry tingled in a melodic symphony with her subtle and slow movement.

Her mild fragrance filled my nose as I took my hand closer to take the dupatta off her head. I lowered it down her shoulder before keeping it aside.

She shrunk in with the timidity and kept crying silently as I gently pushed her braid aside and brought the knife closer to her nape—the starting point of her top.

But, as soon as the metallic tip made contact with her skin, she straightened her back. I could even notice the baby hairs rising on her skin.

"Are you scared?" I could not stop myself from asking, and she looked back for a moment to nod.

The tears were still there. She had her eyes swollen with nonstop crying, and it made my heart bleed.

Putting the knife, I brought my hand closer to the hem of her kurti, and with one Swift pull, I ripped it off to her spine's base.

She shivered visibly.

"Jaan-e-Jahan," her voice came out as a mere breath.

My gaze fell on her translucent red-colored cottony inner, which was sticking loosely to her skin. The sudden rip visibly scared her.

I needed to rip it at the shoulders as well and to do that; I brought the knife up again. She shrunk timidly as the top fell off her shoulder.

The necklace was still on her neck and chest. I slowly took it off, and she looked into my eyes confusedly over her shoulder.

I raised my brows and immediately leaned in to kiss the side of her forehead.

"What happened?" I asked in a low voice and gently pulled her closer to make her lean back against my chest.

She shook her head, and I whispered against the side of her head.

"Show me,"

Lowering her gaze, she used her one hand to let the orange top press against her bosom as she let me look at her chest. Not at the treasure yet.

I gulped unknowingly, noticing the outline of her cleavage. The firm puff of her breast. They seemed small.

And the moment I noticed the deep red, small burnt mark near her chest, I kissed her head again, trying to distract her from the pain and sadness.

"You will always be my wife, Rehana, no matter what. Do you understand?" I said, and she angled a little and pressed her face into my chest, letting the silent tears soak into my kurta.

Wrapping my other arm around her midriff, taking it through her underarms, I gently pulled the pile of clothes a little off her bosom while applying the paste to cover it there.

She sobbed in cries and pulled her knees closer to her chest, shrinking in like a cocoon.

"Bass Bache bass, itna thodi rote hai, thik ho jaega,"

"Calm down, Bache. Calm down. Do not cry this much. It will heal," I tried to say and gently caressed her midriff.

"That's okay, Rehana. Things happen in life," I said, and she shook her head.

"Why me?" she asked, looking up at me. I could not stop from bringing my hand closer to her jaw and gently caressing her cheek.

"That's okay, even if it's you. Allah only tests his beloved children," I said, and she closed her eyes.

"Rehana," I called out slowly, caressing her and kissing her head.

"Ji," she asked, and I moved my other hand from her midriff to her knees.

"Let me see your legs as well," I said, and she shook her head.

The way she broke into even more cries, I understood what it meant, so I closed my eyes for a moment.

"That's okay. Trust me, this will not change anything between us in a bad way," I tried to convince her. When she still did not stop crying, I gently shifted her slightly aside so that she had her face in my right side chest and my left hand could easily reach her feet. She was sitting between my parted legs, and one of my knees supported her back.

"Rehana, how do you take it off?" I asked, wondering how I could get rid of her lower, and she immediately shook her head.

"I will not," she said. Her voice ruffled, and I immediately lowered my gaze to her side, finding any knot on her waist.

"Why?" I asked, raking my fingers on her belly and found it.

"You should not see my Ugly," she said in a sobbing voice, and I immediately caressed her midriff with my other hand and kissed her forehead while pulling the knot open slowly.

"You will never be ugly for me, even if you are covered in the dung of the horses," I said, and she immediately cried out louder.

"Aeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee," her voice made me smile, and I immediately took my hand from her midriff to her cheek.

"Okay, okay, I am not making fun," I said and gently caressed her chin to angle her face to meet her gaze.

Her swollen, teary, red eyes looked into mine, and I asked.

"Can I see it?"

She kept staring at my face, my eyes, my eyes for a few moments before nodding.

I smiled and leaned to kiss her forehead deeply.

"Biwi hai aap hamari, humse kesi sharam?"

"You are my wife; why feel ashamed in front of me?" I asked in a low voice, and she hiccuped.

"Ese thodi chahte the hum,"

"I did not want like this," she said, and I kept staring into her eyes while hooking my fingers into the band of her lower and gently pushing it down.

She lowered her gaze and lifted herself a little up to help me.

"Acha? To fir kese chahti thi aap?"

"Really? Then how did you want it?" I asked, pushing it down her knees. Finally, I rolled it through her legs, pulling it off of her. I tried to keep her distracted with the talks.

She turned timid, and I immediately leaned in to kiss her forehead.

"Jaan hai aap hamari... Jaan,"

"Jaan...You are my Jaan," I could not stop myself from saying in a low voice, and she inhaled deeply, calming down a little.

Sensing her discomfort, I fetched her dupatta, and she immediately placed it over her thighs.

"Ab dekh le?"

"Can I see now?" I asked, and she nodded after a small pause of silence.

And the moment I turned my gaze to her legs. She had folded them to the sidewards a little. I had to lean over for better judgment.

Thankfully, the harm was minimal due to the heavy flare in her lower, but still, there were a few marks on her calves and two, inches-wide on her right foot.

"You are not allowed to enter the Kitchen now," I said, taking the paste in my hand and gently bringing it closer to her feet. She rolled her red-inked feet in pain and asked in a low voice.

"Fir aapke liye Sheer Khurma kon banaega?"

"Then who will cook Sheer Khurma for you?" she asked as I applied the paste to her calf as well.

She was beautiful. Her legs had slight baby hair and I just could not stop myself from leaning in and kissing her rolled toes.

She shrunk in timidly.

"Nahi khana Hume Sheer Khurma,"

"I do not want to eat Sheer Khurma," I clarified, straightening up and placing the bowl on the bed's side table.

After finishing it, I noticed her top still stuck around her waist.

Shifting her a little aside, I held the ends and tore the remaining to throw it away.

"Jaan-e-Jahan, hamari pasand ka rang hai,"

"Jaan-e-Jahan, it's one of my favorite colors," she cried out, staring at it flowing to the other side of the bed before looking into my eyes. I wrapped my hand around her and held her burnt hand in my other one.

"Hume nahi pasand aaya,"

"I did not like it,"

She looked at the comforter for a moment, and I asked.

"Sharam aa rahi hai?"

"Are you feeling shy?" I asked, and she nodded slowly.

"Acha? Aapko sharam bhi aati hai?"

"Really? You feel shy, too?" I asked with a teasing smile, and she just hid her face in my chest.

Leaning forward, I pulled the comforter up and she pushed her one leg inside and kept other outside. Bringing the hem closer to her chest, she leaned backwards comfortably against my chest and I caressed her head.

"It's hurting a lot?" I asked in a caring voice, and she shook her head.

"No, not now," she said, and I looked over at the table to notice a medicinal drink that would help her numb the pain and fall asleep.

"Rehana," I called out slowly and leaned forward to grab it.

"Ji," she asked, opening her eyes. I looked at her swollen, red, and beautiful face.

"Bache, you should drink this," I said and took it closer to her lips.

She had it silently, even though it would have tasted awful. The smell was enough to tell.

"You should try falling asleep now," I said, leaning back against the pile of pillows. Her after-crying hiccups followed as she leaned against my chest, pressing her unharmed arm into me.

Pulling the comforter up, I covered her and placed her burnt hand comfortably on the comforter.

She closed her eyes as I kept caressing her hand and gently moved my fingertips across her naked arm.

Just by seeing her this vulnerable in my arms, I could not stop myself from leaning my face closer to her and kissing her head gently.

She was so small, so young, and way too innocent for the bad things.

Suddenly, she inhaled deeply and cried out in pain while shifting a little. She placed her chest on mine, her cheek against my shoulder, and a smile appeared on my face.

She was still a baby.

But, before her hand rubbed against the comforter with the movement, I held it gently and placed it over my chest, letting the palm face up.

I did not want her to get hurt. Even if by mistake.

The deep red colored, thin, and silky inner of hers was catching my attention. I did not know why. It glowed differently on her skin. It was sleeveless, and the neck was round and deep, letting me notice the thick, black mole on her back, absolutely in the middle, and bringing my attention back to it.

She was insanely beautiful.

But, suddenly, I noticed her jeweled and braided hair. She must be feeling uncomfortable with it. And the thought was enough for me to take my hands closer to the end of it and begin unbraiding her hair slowly and gently.

I untied the securer of her braid and moved my fingers in the complicated design, pulling out the roses tied in it and the chain of beads and gold braided along in it.

One by one, with utmost care, I pulled it apart and kept it aside.

Her hair fell open. And, noticing how long they were, my breath hitched.

She had her face on my chest, and the hair was falling all across her back, reaching beyond her hips, and scattered like the deep brown flowers on the bed.

I was mesmerized.

Beautiful.

The brown hair, the thin red cloth she was wearing, the sleep, the pain, the swollen, flushed face, the silence, and the fairness of her skin got my breath hitched.

I just could not stop myself from moving my fingers in her hair, gently pulling them aside off her back to stare at the mole.

I kissed her head, closing my eyes and inhaling a deep breath. What was she doing to me?

What the hell was I doing? I should not touch her while she was asleep.

I immediately arched my head back and groaned with frustration.

"Ahhh," suddenly, she cried out in pain in the sleep, and I immediately looked at her.

A lone tear rolled down her cheek, and I quickly took my hand closer to her cheek.

"Hey, what happened?" I tried to ask, but she seemed to be under the influence of the medicine, finding it hard to speak.

"Oh!" I whispered, noticing the huge earrings she was wearing.

"Okay, let me help," I whispered gently. I took my fingers to her ear and pulled the earring out. Caressing her stretched earlobe, I kissed her head.

But the other one was beneath her face. So, I gently lifted her face and turned her face to the other side.

She moaned with pain, and I caressed her cheek.

The moment I found the mark of her earring stamped on her cheek, I gently caressed it while taking it and caressing her red ear.

The hair near her ear was curled, and I did not know why; I just felt like unrolling the curl with my finger. It came out as a four-inch-long hair strand.

It was cute.

And, the moment I left it, it got curled back again.

A tiny smile appeared on my face.

"Sultan," suddenly, a knock on the door caught my attention, and I immediately looked up from her.

Who the hell was he?

"Yes," I asked, trying to keep my voice low but loud enough to reach behind the door.

"The preparations are done," he informed, and I looked down at my wife and replied.

"Alright, go away,"

Holding her hand and wrapping my other hand around her, I gently shifted her on the bed. And, suddenly, my gaze fell on her tiny nipples poking through the inner.

I immediately looked away and brought the comforter away.

She inhaled deeply in the pain, and I gently caressed her head.

"That's okay," I whispered before gently pulling myself away from her and stepping down the bed.

Drawing the curtains closed, I looked at her for one more time before calling her attendees.

"Take care of her, and let me know when she wakes up," I ordered her, and she nodded before I walked out of her chamber.

I needed to look after the preparations and a few things.

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