Let me Hate you by Anjaani (the reading list .TXT) 📗

First Gift

She was now facing her husband Amaan Hashim, once the most humble and charismatic man and now nothing but cold-blooded and ruthless with no emotions. A person once she wished never existed in the world, and yet destiny had played its game. Now, she has to see him daily and be his legally wedded wife, a relation he would never acknowledge.

 

He was standing, holding her wrist like a beast ready to tear its enemy. Suddenly the air surrounding them seemed to freeze; Asmaira felt as if she would be suffocated due to the coldness emerging from him. She was already trembling with fear as she had anticipated, but now all she wanted to do was dig a hole and bury herself.

 

The more his force on her wrist increased, the more Asmaira was trembling, unsure what she was supposed to do; talk to him, crying out of pain, or taking her hand away; however, she can't afford to offend him for now. While she was still dazed, he let go of her hand with only disgust in his eyes, making her glasses slide down her nose with the sudden action. Wiping his hands away as if she was trash and her filth had spoiled his hand. He desperately wanted to ask her why she agreed to the marriage, knowing very well how much both of them hated each other. 'She is just like any other bitch who acts to be innocent, but deep down, when the moment comes, they won't hesitate to bring down the very people who care about them.' He felt disgusted and didn't even want to breathe the same air as she was. He still remembers the day when he was confident that Asmaira would reject his marriage proposal. Yet, he got to know the shocking news that she indeed agreed to the marriage. Why? Of course, she always was jealous of 'her' and wanted to take her place. If possible, he would have strangled Asmaira to death hadn't she been a part of 'her' life. That woman! 

 

The moment he let go of her, Asmaira moved to the farthest corner of the room, making herself as invisible as possible. Her heart was throbbing so fast she felt it would just come out of her throat any moment. She thought she was brave enough to face her destiny, and yet here she was, trying to make herself invisible. 

 

On the other hand, so many emotions and thoughts were running in Amaan's mind. He was in a rage; it was an understatement to describe what he was going through when he saw Asmaira touching her picture, the same Asmaira who wished her death when 'she' needed her the most. She dared to marry him and try to take 'her' place in his home and life, which he will never let her accomplish. He will make sure she will live a life worse than hell. He promised himself while signing the marriage certificate, and Amaan Hashmi was always known to keep his promises. 

 

Asmaira was ignorant of all these and was standing quietly in the corner. Amaan moved to the closet room to divert himself from not hitting her or, worse, killing her. As soon as he opened his closet, he noticed it was filled with Asmaira's belongings. That was 'she' place, where she used to keep her clothing. Her expensive collection of handbags and watch, which she was so passionate about, was all removed and changed to accommodate his new wife's things. This was the last thing he would tolerate; first, she married him, occupied 'her' place in his room, and now this. He lost all his self-control and started throwing Asmaira's things like a madman. One after the other, all her belongings shattered on the floor, yet she didn't budge a bit. 

 

However, when Amaan was about to touch her diary, all the color from her face drained. If he opens her diary, he will get to know everything, everything she wanted to hide, everything for which she agreed to marry him, knowing very well how much he hated her. Unknowingly she ran towards and tried to grab his arm, which was holding the diary. On the other hand, Amaan was in a rage and just threw things, not knowing what he was having. The moment Asmaira held his hand, which was holding her diary, he stopped for a second; within that second, Asmaira could swear she saw pure hatred and disgust for her, her breathing stopped. Her heart was about to explode the moment she realized that she touched him. Before she could react and leave his hand, she was pushed into the closet so hard that her ribs would have cracked. As he raised his hand out of his reflex, she closed her eyes, not to see the slap coming on her way. 

 

She anticipated that he would definitely hit her. Much to her shock, a punch landed on the wall beside her. She didn't dare to open her eyes or to breathe at that moment, thinking he might again lose his temper and this time would not miss punching her. Out of habit, she started hiccuping; it was known that whenever she was petrified, she would begin to hiccup.

 

"Isn't it cute that all Asmara does is hiccuped when she is scared?"Amaan remembered 'her' telling him while they were on their date while 'she' was laughing, and he couldn't do anything except roll his eyes.

 

As the flash of 'her' memory came, he stepped away from Asmara and turned his back, closing his eyes. It was enough to make her shiver with fear, and she ran out, not knowing where she was going but was going. When she realized it was safe, she turned around to see that she came to a terrace-like balcony attached to the room. She sighs, thinking it could be regarded as her safe place since she can stay or sleep there away from him without explaining to others about not staying in her husband's room. She hid herself the entire night. She smiled bitterly with uncontrollable tears falling, thinking this was her first gift from her husband.

 

She closed her eyes and could picture her savior. "Please help me. I need you now more than ever." She can't help but cry out in between her sobs.

 

Asmaira, in her fear and nervousness, didn't see that Amaan had already thrown her diary, and it went straight below the dresser out of anybody's sight.

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