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Rehman POV

"I want to read some books," her words confused me.

"Books?" I asked, wondering why she suddenly wanted to read books. Her face could tell she was upset over something I could not figure out.

"Yes. I want to read something. Is there any library or study here?" she asked, and the way she put her words together, I felt as if she was up to something.

What changed?

She seemed herself last night.

Did her father try to contact her again?

Or, maybe I was just overthinking and pulling her unnecessarily into all these.

"Books," I repeated, inhaling a deep breath.

She would not do anything. She was harmless. She hardly knew anything about me and this place.

"Come with me," I said, gently making her walk along with me.

I wanted to spend time with her. And, since I was free for at least a while now, I thought of knowing what kind of books she preferred reading.

Walking out of the chamber, I led her to the extended parts of the chamber. There was a gallery attached diverting from the entrance door.

I found her gaze interrogative.

"Are you upset over something? Rehana," I asked as she had not even looked at me for more than a few seconds. I found that heart-wrenching. She would not do that to me.

"No. Have you done something to make me upset?" she asked in response, and I inhaled deeply.

Not yet.

But I might do it.

I wanted to kill Aadil Khan as soon as possible and before he could reach her if he had not.

And I wanted to keep it discreet until the end of my life.

I would be better dead than giving her a reason to cry.

"By the way, who do you love the most?" I asked as we turned to the right, almost approaching the door of the library.

"Me?" she asked, lifting her gaze.

The place was meant only for the royals. The soldiers were available here, but the attendees used to come only when the area was meant to be cleaned.

"Yes," I replied, pushing the door open for her.

Her eyes were attentive and careful. And it ached my heart. So, before she could walk away from me, I grabbed her hand carefully and pulled her closer to me. Closing the door, I pinned her to it and cupped her cheek to make her look into my eyes.

"Tell me," I demanded. My voice was slow, but my patience was hanging thin.

"What?" she asked, placing her hands on my chest and pushing me away.

"Aap kya soch rahi hai, Rehana? Kya hua hai? Humse naraaz hai? kal raat ke liye? Ya kal subah ke liye?"

"What are you thinking, Rehana? What happened? Are you angry with me? For last night? For yesterday morning?" I asked, and she just stared blankly into my eyes while shaking her head.

"You never do anything. Why are you worried?" she asked, pushing me and walking away. I immediately pulled her back in the place.

"I am still talking," I clarified and noticed the heaviness in her breathing.

Her back pressed against the thick iron door as I stepped closer. She looked away from me, and I gently placed the tip of my finger on her chin to angle her face back to me.

"Please, tell me, baby," I requested, and she blinked silently. The tint of anger was glowing on her skin in the morning sunlight peeking through the windows.

"Have you ever lied to me?" she asked all of a sudden, and my brows knit in confusion.

"What?" I asked.

"Have you ever lied to me?" she asked again, giving clarity and depth to each word.

Maybe.

I did not remember.

But why was she asking such a question?

"Is this about someone else being in my life?" I asked, wondering if she was feeling insecure again. I knew she wanted to tease me last night, but I just wanted her to rest. She did not need to do stupid things to get my attention.

And, suddenly, she chuckled, shaking her head.

"Never mind," she replied and inhaled deeply.

"I am not angry. I have just... figured out that we are not sailing the same boat," her replies were dry, making me feel as if something was there.

Was someone filling her ears against me?

Did she meet her father? For real?

And, for that, there was only one way to know.

"What happened? Rehana. Are you upset with me over something?" I asked again, and she shook her head.

"No," she replied again, walking past me and looking at the bookshelves.

"Are you upset about last night?" I asked against following her.

"No. There was nothing to be upset about," she replied without even looking at me. Her gaze intensified, scanning the titles of the book. The distance was peeling my calm off. I wanted her to talk to me if there was anything concerning her.

I was there to answer her question.

But she had to ask.

"I want to be alone and read," she said after a few moments of silence. Were my boots making the sound?

This seemed distant. This did not make sense.

"No, I am not leaving you alone, or you will end up hurting or falling one or two shelves over you," I said, and she glared at me.

"I am not a child," she said.

"Yes, you are," I immediately replied, and with the way her jaw clenched, I could confirm that something was wrong.

My Rehana would have melted and folded by now.

"Leave me alone," she requested in a low voice, maintaining her calm while pulling a book out of the shelf.

And I immediately held her hand and pressed her against one of the shelves.

"That is not happening," I clarified, looking into her eyes.

She was caught off guard by the move. Her eyes widened with shock. The book fell from her hand.

"What are you doing?" she asked, almost shaky with her words amid her uneven breathing.

"What are You doing? Bache," I asked calmly and gently, wrapping my arm around her and cupping her cheek.

"Tell me what I did to upset you?" I asked, longing for an answer.

I wanted to know what it was.

It was not just the effect of her father.

"Nothing," she replied, and I felt myself losing my calm. Inhaling a deep breath, I pressed my forehead against her, leading the back of her head to press against the books' spines.

"I am sorry. I am so sorry," I said, and she just stayed silent. Nothing came out of her mouth—no expressions, no words, nothing at all.

Instead, she just tried to push me away.

Maybe she was upset about me suggesting she go to the Darmiyan Sultanate or me, killing those dacoits.

"It was just to protect you," I tried to explain if this was concerning her.

The force in her hands melted against my chest, and she looked into my eyes.

"I just... wanted to keep you safe. There could be war soon. I did not want to tell you, but it seems like some of my words or suggestions or something have hurt you unintentionally,"

"A war?" she asked with the hidden fear beneath her voice.

I immediately regretted telling her this.

Shaking my head slowly, I tried to cover up.

"There might be chances, you know," I tried to say, and suddenly she asked.

"Why a war?" her words tightened my chest.

"The culprit should pay off the debts. They kidnapped you on someone's words, and the speaker must hang by my sword," I clarified how it was to be done.

She gulped frightenedly and stared at me silently.

"Oh," she only said.

I found it unusual. She would always have a lot to say.

"Okay," she added, looking away from me.

"So, you wanted to send me to Darmiyan Sultanate because there might be a war?" she asked, and I nodded confusedly.

She understood very easily.

"Okay," she said, and my brows knit in confusion.

"Let me know whenever I have to leave," she replied, turning her down to pick up the book.

What was wrong?

She was adamant about not going there, and suddenly, she was okay with it.

Honestly, I just wanted to ask if she had met her father or if he had said anything bad about me. But the mere possibility of none of them happening and her growing impatience about meeting him after I talked about him kept me silent.

I had to find him out soon.

And, kill him.

Maybe I was overthinking all of these, and she was genuinely craving for a book.

Considering that, I collected her in a hug and kissed her head.

"Never cry again, Rehana. It breaks something in me," I said in a low voice, and she smiled.

"Really?" her wicked smile made me sigh deeply.

Leaving her there, I went out to finish my meetings.

There would be a war within a week, so I had to make a plan and train the soldiers.

I spent the rest of the day figuring those things out.

Meanwhile, I asked the attendees to keep me informed about Rehana. I wanted to meet her, but considering she was craving me time, as she should have, I stayed away from her.

Once I was done with the meetings with the warlord and sent the war invite to Tabriz Khan, I returned to our chamber.

I regretted that it took time. It was almost midnight, and I was hungry because I wanted to eat alone with her.

But, to my surprise, as soon as I stepped inside our chamber, I found it dimly lit. The curtains of the bed were drawn closed. There was silence everywhere, and I silently closed the door behind me.

I did not try to make any sound in case she was asleep.

Honestly, my heart ached just by finding everything so calm around me.

Taking my steps closer to the bed, I looked around to notice that it was extra clean today.

There were no scattered clothes on the couches, no half-parted curtains, no empty glasses on the table, and no chaos at all.

Was she really that mad at me?

Pulling the curtains aside, I noticed her sleepy face, bringing a smile to my face. She was facing the bed's edgy side, and the way she had her knees closer to her chest and the comforter thrown aside, I could tell she was feeling cold.

My gaze lowered down to her beautiful feet. I could not stop myself from sitting beside them.

The heavy anklets hung on her ankles, earning my gaze at the marks her skin was having due to the metal.

I could not help but realize that my baby was in the chains. She should be free.

But, strangely, she did not understand the meaning of being free. For her, life only meant living for others.

Initially, it was just to seek validation from her stupid father and then afterward from her husband.

She had to understand that she did not need anyone's validation. If she saw herself in the mirror and found her beautiful, she was beautiful. If she found her intelligent, she was intelligent or anything in life.

Because when you use someone else's lens to see you, it is not how you look but how they look at you.

And, for me, she was the purest person inside and out.

I knew she loved her father, but he was standing on the wrong side. But I would never blame her for doing that.

Because I knew what she had been craving for all these years.

I knew it the moment I laid my eyes on her.

And it was just love.

She needed love, care, and attention.

But fueling her needs directly would make her dependent on others for happiness. And, the only reason I kept her away from me in all these was for her to find her true self.

But she did not.

Instead, she created an imaginative Jaan-e-Jahan in her mind with my face.

It was cute, but it was scary as well.

The day that image would break before me would be the day my heart would bleed the most.

Because, amid all of this, I just wanted her to be happy and live her life.

I knew she was my responsibility.

But, she was not just my responsibility.

Seeing her asleep while she had been staying awake for me since she had arrived tightened my chest.

Turning around, I stared at the table again. There was not a single glass there. I wondered if she had eaten anything or not.

She looked terribly upset, and I could not stop myself from touching her feet. The back of my fingers gently glided down the curve of her foot, and the moment she rolled her toes, I could not help but smile.

She was truly my Jaan. I did not know how to explain what I felt for her all this while.

I knew I never shared it with anyone because no one would ever understand its depth.

But she was always present with me, even when she was away.

Her thoughts were always there.

After our marriage, something changed in me. I felt so different.

As an unmarried man, I loved combats and fencing. I would practice it the whole day. I would go for the hunt, I would go to find the culprits, and I would not leave a chance to find fun in all these. I would not hesitate with the blades, even if they would lead closer to my neck.

It was all fun.

But, the night I got married, I returned as a different man in the Sultanate.

I still remember that day very clearly. I did not tell anyone for a week. I was shocked and skeptical about that decision. I did not know how Ammijaan and Abbujaan would react to it.

But, at that moment, all I could see were her helpless tears, screaming for an escape. And the way she looked at me, her eyelids heavy with hope, I could not stop myself from proposing to her for a marriage.

There was not a greater and more secure escape for her than for me.

I entered this chamber and realized that one day, she would be sleeping in this bed. I used to sleep in the middle, but after our wedding, I always slept on the left side and kept the right one untouched for her.

My fingers kept brushing on her tiny, little feet.

I did not tell anyone about her for many days. I was nineteen when we got married, and I still did not know who my enemy was and who my friend was. Something happening to her was the last thing I could live with.

But, just today I realised that it was not just something happening to her that would make me insane. Even her silence, sadness, and upsettedness would make me go crazy.

And it was making me insane.

So, I just could not help but lean in closer to kiss her feet to apologize for whatever I did to make her feel low.

I wanted to cheer her up again, laughing, giggling, calling me by that stupid name, and doing things for my attention.

Suddenly, she rolled her toes tightly and inhaled deeply. I immediately pulled my hand away from her feet and looked up at her face.

She was asleep.

Looking away, I collected myself and finished my before-sleep business. I went to take a bath and changed into my night clothes.

Sliding into the bed, I pulled the thick comforters up and covered her.

Grabbing the book in my hand, I tried to concentrate. But the words began flowing only after a few moments, and I took my thoughts only to her. I was deeply engrossed in knowing what was going on in her mind.

What the hell was she thinking?

I did not want her to talk to any wrong people, especially her father.

Closing the book, I kept it aside and looked in her direction.

I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to listen to her voice. I was dying already.

But she was asleep. I should not wake her up.

Screw it.

Lying down, I shifted closer to her and immediately stopped. I should not touch her. It was wrong.

But my hand was aching for her softness, warmth, and smell.

What was she doing to me?

Closing my eyes, I tried to keep myself glued there. There was only a foot distance between us. My fingers aching to be around her.

Oh, My Goodness.

I looked away.

This was not right. There should be a line that I should never cross. Her comfort was my prime responsibility.

But she should talk to me. She did not say anything to me today.

I wanted to listen to her talk.

Looking back at her again, I could not stop shifting a little closer. My heart was beating in my mouth. If she would wake up and ask what I was doing, I would not have anything to say in my defense.

Really? What was I doing?

Sighing deeply, I looked at the mirror on the ceiling. The distance between us screamed way too loud. Angling my face back to her, I shook my head and immediately wrapped my hand around her and pressed my chest against her back.

She shivered all of a sudden and sat up, pulling the comforter up to her chest.

"This is me," I immediately said, noticing her panting hard with fear. She palmed her face.

"What happened?" I asked, gently pulling her closer to me. She laid back and shook her head.

"Rehana," I called out, noticing the tears in her closed eyes. The tiny droplets sparkled under the filtering candle lights.

"Nightmare?" I asked in a low voice, gently pulling her closer to my chest.

She did not object and pressed her face into the hook of my neck, inhaling breathily and deeply.

"Do not go to war, please," she whispered, almost breaking into the cries.

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