A Way to Heal

He was assaulted by the saline stench of semen. His eyes roamed over to the still form of a girl. The 10-year-old who had been missing for the past month was now found. Found too late.

Senior Superintendent Jamshed's heart dipped in a mellow dance of sadness. Lately, he was always one step behind. Failed case upon failed case. The public was already filled to the brim with hatred for the Police. He sometimes deeply wished he was the law. Then let’s see those fucking bastards escape.

The red tape and police politics had eroded his bones. He almost felt useless in the plight of others. And now he would need to issue a public statement. Appear before blinding camera lights and be the subject of the reporters’ vitriol and anger.

Perhaps he deserved it.

It was showtime.

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A deep ache had settled into his soul ever since he had let her go almost a year ago. His Aisha. Sharp-tongued, accusatory, quick to anger but yet he missed her dearly. He should have been more patient. More honest. Just more.

After 10 years of a childless marriage, perhaps both of them had reached the end of their rope. Resentments grew and festered between them like a diseased vine. Everything he did ticked her off, and he felt likewise.

Failed IVF attempts, and hoards of money in Lahore’s most prominent fertility clinic had left them both exhausted, with little room for anything else. Until they merely became a physical presence in each other's lives.

His nights at work had became long, with raids, crimes, and a plethora of things he failed to remember. She became more agitated with his schedule, and his unavailability. Every weekend he would be regaled with how he was never available to attend family weddings and events. She always went alone, decked beautifully in the finest designer wear, but always without a plus one. Until the final straw was when she accused him of being unfaithful.

Hot anger had ripped through his veins. Perhaps not at her offhand comment but the building emptiness of the past years of pain. Of lost cases. Of callous remarks. Of the dying hope of becoming a father. Of public angst and hatred. Of his unhappy mother. Of the tasteless tea. Of his aging body. Of wordless feelings which threatened to break his veneer. And of Aisha, finally plunging in the last nail and breaking his already latticed heart.

So he did what he always did. He lied. He agreed he was having an affair. With a prominent political figure. One who was already defamed for sleeping her way up the ladder, so why couldn’t he get his two bits as well? She was hot, slick, and horny. She kept her mouth shut and her legs open. She was practiced in the art of lovemaking, and open to trying anything. Her experience made her enticing. Her pussy demanding, wanting, dripping. She would spew honeyed words for the public by day and by night that mouth would suck on his cock.

Aisha had sat there, an expression of horrored anguish rippled across her face as she listened to him spew his venom. Her face broke like one whose heart had shattered and its sharpened figments embedded themselves slicing her insides.

Seeing her like such gave him a second of deep satisfaction. Hurting her back caused an instance of dark glee inside of him. Like he had finally won.

Then she was gone.

And that was when he did what he never did in front of anyone. He broke down and cried.

Present Day

He was tired of the damn politicians and their grand parties. This time it was a masquerade-themed ball.

Somewhere ahead of God-forsaken Raiwind road, the farmhouse was a testament to the illicit wealth being circulated in the echelons of society.

The lush lawns were decked with twinkling fairy lights, trees adorned with fantastical lanterns and the smell of fresh BBQed meat wafted through the air. The bar was of course open and guests chittered with their filled glasses and empty souls.

Jamshed actually felt grateful for the adorned black eye mask he wore. Sitting at a solitary table he eyed the people with disinterest.

Sometime later the music had been turned up and people already half drunk ventured to the dance area. The Indian version of Disco Dewany thrummed in the air, the beat deafening.

Jamshed stood up with the intent of venturing to the BBQ stall now that it was empty. It was finally time to eat.

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She knew he would come. She had been informed beforehand by friends and well-wishers that he was one of the invitees to one of Lahore’s most sought-after parties. And like the good patron he was, he showed up.

A black glittered mask covered most of the upper part of his face, but mask or no mask, she would know him anywhere.

The past year had been trying. She had known the instant the vile words left his mouth that he had been lying to her. That didn't offend her. It was the realization that he had meant to hurt her, to crush her so viscerally. His need to inflict pain on her left her deeply broken. So she had left.

Admittedly the space gave her perspective, gave her time to heal from her losses, and room to reidentify herself. But it had also made her realize that she missed him. Missed him in every way possible.

And now she felt, that perhaps it was time to test these waters, with her newfound wisdom.

She sauntered casually towards him, with the hopes that he wouldn't recognize her. She had lost weight in the past year. Exercise was a good distraction when the demons in one’s mind were too comfortable there. And her appetite had also nearly disappeared. What would give her away was her voice.

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He eyed the BBQ ribs, spitting over the glowing coals. His stomach rumbled in urgency. He recalled he hadn't had breakfast, lunch or anything other than a few sips of water.

He was about to ask the chef for four ribs, but before he could, a lady clad in a shimmering golden dress appeared next to him and held out her plate to the chef. A silver curly wig fell to her bare shoulders, and an intricately golden filigreed mask adorned her slim face. She gestured “two” to the chef and he neatly placed two steaming ribs on her outstretched plate. He felt her move closer to him, almost touching him. He grew uncomfortable at her proximity and politely stepped sideways, pretending to examine the display of salads.

Again he found her reaching across from him, pouring herself the hideous-looking bean salad. This time he felt her body brush his.

Should he be flattered by the attention, he thought?

He made a turn a walked in the other direction, away from the refreshments. Was it someone he knew? He couldn't be too sure, why wouldn't she say anything to him then?

He went back to his lonesome table, with an empty dinner plate.

He was scrolling through his phone when a plate of steaming ribs, mutton chops, and chicken tikka and naan were placed before him. Deeply grateful, he looked up to thank the server, only to see it was the golden lady from before.

“ Oh..surely you didn’t have to…but thank you. Thank you so much.” he stammered.

She held her own plate with the odious salad and gestured towards the empty chair next to him questioningly.

“ Of course, please, have a seat.”

Why wouldn’t she speak? Perhaps she was mute, he deliberated.

She sat next to him, flashing him a small smile as she delicately started with the salad. Jamshed abruptly looked away, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. But her smooth movements felt achingly familiar.

Like two prisoners entrapped in their own thoughts, they ate in silence. Jamshed grew sure that she was mute. He stole a glance or two to see her ribs remained untouched, and she toyed with the bean salad.

Upon finishing his meal, he thanked her once more for being kind.

She nodded, and a soft smile played on her lips. She then stood up and reached out her hand to him, while using the other to point to the dance floor.

Jamshed’s eyes grew wide. Damn it, how could he deny a mute woman who fetched him food, a dance. He bristled inwardly, trying to think of a believable excuse.

The golden woman cocked her head as if trying to pry into his haphazard musings. With a tight smile, Jamshed nodded in ascent and took her hand.

She lead him to the dance area where the lights had dimmed and soft music rolled in through the air. Jamshed groaned inwardly upon noticing the couples swaying, like reeds in a gentle breeze.

They stepped on the floor and the golden woman turned around, placing his arm on the small of her back, drawing closer to him as she placed her hand on his shoulder. Jamshed stood awkwardly like a mannequin and slowly began to move with this mysterious woman.

He couldn't shake off the deep sense of familiarity. It almost felt like his body reacted to something long known. He tried to look into her eyes, but her gaze was trained on his breast pocket.

A few moments passed and she drew closer to him, almost embracing him. The fit of her body to his struck his muscle memory. Dead neural pathways in his brain reignited at her feel. His hand trembled at her back. His chest constricted. His heart quickened. It couldn’t be…could it? Was he losing his mind?

Perhaps she felt his heart drum or his from grow rigid. She finally looked up into his eyes. Dark, wet orbs pierced his insides.

“Aisha” he croaked.

It wasn't a question. It was a wonder. A dream. A hope one hides from. An illusion undeserved. A faint glow in the gloom of darkness.

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Before he knew it, she was leading him off the dance floor. His head spun. His chest heaved. They passed the BBQ area. Someone said something. To them or not. He couldn’t tell. His filthy words echoed back to him, stabbing him through his heart. They kept walking. Far from the event. Her white curled wig was incandescent in the dark. The lights dimmed. They kept walking. The look of pain and brokenness on her face. Long nights of unshed tears. They were going towards the banana trees. He had kept discreet tabs on her, to know that she was well. The trees got dense. The only light was of the moon.

The golden lady turned around. Her chest was heaving. On her cheek glistened wetness. She ripped off the eye mask and wig. And there she stood facing him. A riveting sight of shimmering gold in the silver moonlight. His beautiful Aisha.

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He couldn't take his eyes off of her. She had changed and she hadn't. Her essence, her presence her aura were the same. Tears glistened on her cheek, like liquid crystal.

Jamshed wanted to crush her to himself and fall and grovel at her feet. His body was alert, yearning, begging, thirsty.

“ Aisha…” he managed through a vise of a throat, threatening to choke him to his end. His hands fisted at his sides, lest he lose himself.

His words to her reverberated in his head, blinding him with white pain. It was as if a knife was lodged in the middle of his skull, twisting wickedly.

The vision in front of him remained still, and then, something he was least expecting…she opened her arms.

A guttural cry tore from his throat and he was there, holding her, sobbing all the unshed tears into her. Her feel in his arms was like a balm to his self-inflicted wounds. She cried with him, her from juddering in his arms. Their tears rolled, as they crushed themselves to each other, ensuring not a wisp of a gap existed. His remorse rolled out of his eyes, but he didn't let go. She was here in his arms.

Through his broken sobs and heavy breaths, he let drop the faintest of words but with the depth of knell on a quiet day.

“I’m sorry”

She stilled at his utterance, as they stood there frozen for a moment collecting their thoughts and tears.

“Don't you ever do that to me, to us again!”

It wasn't a harsh admonishment, but a defeated statement, which dripped off the remnants of a broken heart and the hope for mending.

His throat burned. He couldn’t speak. Her voice, that husky voice. The anchor to his lost ship. The lighthouse in the abyss of an ocean.

She looked up at him and ripped away his mask. He couldn't look at her, but the temptation was too great, and their moistened eyes locked, communicating a thousand words and yet nothing at all.

Her small hands encircled his neck as her thumbs caressed his collarbone. And her hands slipped down and she began to unbutton his shirt. He remained stationary. Their eyes locked. Another kind of intensity stirred in their gaze.

The shirt came off. Then the belt. He slipped off his shoes. The pants. The briefs.

And he stood before her, naked in all ways possible.

His cock jutted out hard and alert.

“Undress me Jamshed” her voice cracked. Her gaze lingered on him.

He stepped closer and unzipped the dress. It fell like a pool of gold at the feet of his goddess.

His breathing quickened, and his heart beat with a new intensity. His breath came out in pants.

Her rounded breasts rose and fell erratically. Enticing. Inviting. Flashes of his mouth on them came back to him. He had tasted this treasure. Every inch of her. But now he remained at her command.

She stepped closer to him. Their toes touching. Her breasts merely inches away from him.

Jamshed took a deep breath to control himself lest he devours her. An almost feral sort of desire coiled up inside of him, threatening his existence.

Her eyes dripped desire. He could feel it, he could sense it. He clenched his jaw, and ground his teeth. He. will. Not. do. Anything. Till she commands him.

“ Jamshed. I want you inside me.”

------

It was as if a beast had broken out of his chains. In an instant, her back was on the ground and he loomed on top of her, like a predator before conquering his prey.

It almost frightened her but also exhilarated her. His hands roamed over her like they were treading a known path. Oh, how she had missed him. His touch made her come alive. Her insides burned for him, throbbed for him. Her womanhood was slick with desire. Waiting, wanting. Her heart thrummed, erratic, ecstatic. Her Jamshed. Broken. Alone. Just like she was.

She gasped as he slid into her, fitting like he was her extension. Her core throbbed around him, swallowing him. He started thrusting. Leaves crunched under her. Each thrust deeper. Longer. Her body sang, joined to his. His smell. His grunts. All fit into the aura of emptiness.

Deep. And long. Oh, he knew her. He knew she wasn't one for foreplay. Not now.

Her body ached with every thrust, touching small pints of pleasure inside her. He grunted. She gasped and whimpered. Thrust after thrust, he reached her core.

“Oh Jamshed faster”

Her wish was his command. His thrusts grew frantic. The leaves crunched louder. A small rock drove into her back. She met his thrust. Her panting was loud. They grunted in unison, and he drove into her again and again. The spark inside her grew and uncoiled.

Anyone could come upon them. She didn't care. She needed him. Her heart. Her body. Needed him.

“Jamshed…” she panted.

His grunts grew into large gasps. “ Aisha my love” the words came out desperate. He panted. He drove. The spark glowed inside her. “ Jamshed, Jamshed…” she panted until everything froze for a millisecond and her insides exploded, juddering her to the bones.

She screamed his name into the night and heard a guttural roar tear from his throat upon his release.

The day after.

His tongue languorously encircled her erect nipple. He loved doing this. His hand cupped her other breast while his tongue worked with this one. He playfully flicked it with his tongue eliciting a gasp from her. He smiled smugly, nuzzling her breasts. He kissed their rounded sides softly.

“ I missed this” she spoke, as her fingers ran distractedly through his hair.

Jamshed rested his head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat, enjoying the feel of her fingers in his hair.

They lay in their bed after a healing love-making session. As always, the foreplay came afterward, in slow waves of languid strokes, kisses, and sighs. Jamshed lay partially on top of her, exploring her body, re-familiarizing himself with her newer shape. Although he missed the soft curves, this too was a new facet.

A little giggle shook her bosom. He responded with a soft peck on the lower curve of her breast. “ What amuses you”

“How they thought there was a wild animal in the trees and made everyone at the party rush inside for safety.”

Her husky voice rolled over him. He recalled the night before. After their union, they had gone back to an empty dance floor and BBQ station, only to be hurriedly ushered indoors by armed guards as a wild boar may be on the loose. They didn’t go indoors though, they got into Jamshed’s care, and came home.

He nipped her playfully, and her soft sigh filled him to the brim. They had spent the rest of last night, talking, crying, and mending their brokenness. They were both at fault and finally understood and addressed that there were challenges and individual strifes to consider. But the distance apart, unpleasant as it was, showed them what a beautiful thing they had together. They needed more honesty and openness to move forward.

Jamshed deeply inhaled the scent of her soft skin, taking it in as a balm to his wounded heart. There was healing and learning to be done here. But now he felt they had direction.

She tugged at his hair, drawing him to her lips. Her tongue mingled with his, and every coherent thought slipped his mind.