Marrying Mr. Arrogant

CHAPTER EIGHT

ROHAAN

I wait for Ayra, wondering where she goes two times a day. The only possibility whirling around my head is something I don’t even want to address.

After what seems like years, she enters the room, a smile plastered across her face. Fury pumps through my veins like ice, freezing everything inside me.

Seeing me, the smile falls right off of her face. Oh, I have had enough!

Hoisting myself off of the bed, I walk in Ayra’s direction. I catch the bob of her adam’s apple as she swallows and backs off.

I continue walking, one step at a time; a predator sizing up his prey. She continues to step back.

“Where were you?” The eerie calmness of my voice is enough to have her scared. I am never calm. Never.

“I-I was at my parent’s hou-” Ayra shrieks as her foot catches a shard of glass, the sound low and painful.

I hurry to where she has stooped on the floor. Instead of her foot, she clutches her stomach.

Since she is wearing shoes thank God nothing has happened. But, then what is the problem?

“Ayra, what’s wrong?” I say, trying to pry her hand away from where it’s tightly clutching her stomach.

Her eyes fall shut and she winces, face contorting in pain. “Rohaan, don’t. It’s nothing. Please leave me alone.”

Who is she trying to fool with the ‘I’m fine’ speech? We all know what that means.

“Stop it.” I hiss, hoping my normal way of talking will somehow make this better. It doesn’t. She clutches her hands around tighter, now hugging herself.

A stray tear descends from one of her eyes. That does it for me. I firmly grip her wrists and pry her hands away, pinning them to the side with one of mine.

Then, I bunch up the hem of her shirt in a fist and-

A gasp erupts out of my lips. It’s as if all the air is knocked out of my lungs. I stagger backwards, letting go of her shirt.

Ayra looks at me in a panic.

After what seems like years, I find my voice. “What-what is that?” I look her right in the eye. “What are those scars?”

Ayra wets her lips, cramming herself further into the space between the wall and the dressing table. “I-”

Horror slams into me with a force so great, I feel like my heart has stopped beating.

“Ayra?” I say, my voice hollow, shoulders hunching. “It was you that called me around a year ago,” I stare at her when her whole body quivers with sobs, everything inside me seems to have stilled. “Wasn’t it?”

She doesn’t say anything but I don’t even need confirmation. The stitches across her stomach are a clear evidence.

Shame claws up my throat.

I am such a bastard. I am so goddamn-

I raise my head up from where it was propped against my knees.

“I have a son?” Even my voice shakes, sounding broken, as if someone has plunged a dagger straight through my heart.

Ayra shakes her head, more tears making their way down her face.

Why are my hands so clammy?

“A daughter?” I choke on the word.

Ayra bobs her head, silently observing me, maybe for my reaction.

But I don’t I feel anything. It’s as if someone has taken all of my emotions away, leaving me with nothing but the breaths that I have to remember to take.

My voice is barely a whisper when I speak again.

“I want to see her.”