08-06-2026, 03:10 AM
(This post was last modified: 08-06-2026, 03:11 AM by HotLove339. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Part 2: The Shattered Facade and The Knock of Doom
The Evening Return
That Friday evening, the sun dipped below the Hyderabad skyline, casting long, golden shadows across the apartment. Shazia had spent the late afternoon with her newfound sexual confidence that still hummed warmly in her veins. She had touched up her makeup, applied a fresh coat of red lipstick, and wore a deep maroon salwar kameez that hugged her heavy breasts and flared nicely over her wide hips. She felt like a blooming, cherished woman.
Iqbal returned to the apartment looking like a walking ghost. The crushing weight of the passed 5 PM deadline hung over him. He collapsed onto the edge of the mattress, burying his face in his trembling hands, and finally broke down. Shazia saw her husband, Iqbal, in an emotionally broken state. She feared what may have gone wrong in her family.
"Arey, kya hua? Sab theek toh hai na?" (Oh, what happened? Is everything alright?), She walked up to him.
Iqbal didn't look at her. His face was ashen, his shoulders slumped under the crushing, invisible weight of a two-crore deadline that had passed an hour ago.
"Hato yahan se," (Move from here,) he muttered instinctively, brushing past her with his usual, old, dismissive behavior.
Shazia froze. The sudden, harsh rejection stung, instantly flashing her back to the miserable five years of their past. But she wasn't the timid mouse anymore.
"Iqbal, kya baat hai?" (Iqbal, what is the matter?) she asked, her voice in a firm, demanding tone. She sat down next to him on the bed, placing her hand on his shaking back. "Aap aise mujhe ignore nahi kar sakte. Mujhe bataiye kya hua hai." (You cannot ignore me like this. Tell me what has happened.)
The Crushing Confession
Iqbal felt her soft hand on his back. The immense, suffocating guilt of what he had done to this beautiful woman finally broke him. He couldn't keep the toxic secret anymore. The dam shattered. He let out a loud, ragged sob, his shoulders heaving violently.
"Mujhe maaf kar do, Shazia... mujhe maaf kar do," (Forgive me, Shazia... forgive me,) he cried, completely shattering his arrogant male facade. He looked up at her, his eyes red and brimming with terrified tears.
Shazia’s heart skipped a beat. "Kis liye maafi? Hua kya hai?" (Forgiveness for what? What has happened?)
Iqbal took a deep, shuddering breath, the filthy, cowardly truth finally spilling from his trembling lips. "Maine chori ki hai, Shazia. Company ke account se... do crore rupaye. Singhania Sir ne mujhe pakad liya tha." (I have stolen, Shazia. From the company's account... two crore rupees. Singhania Sir had caught me.)
Shazia’s eyes widened in absolute shock. Two Crores. It was an unfathomable amount of money. But the financial shock was instantly overshadowed by the horrifying puzzle pieces rapidly clicking together in her mind.
"Uss raat..." (That night...) she whispered, the blood draining from her flushed cheeks. "Hotel mein... Verma ji ke paas..." (In the hotel... with Verma ji...)
Iqbal squeezed his eyes shut, unable to look at his wife's face. "Haan," (Yes,) he sobbed, his voice cracking with utter humiliation. "Singhania ne mujhe blackmail kiya tha. Usne kaha agar main Verma ko khush kar doon... agar Verma uss tender par sign kar de, toh wo mujhe security officer ke paas nahi bhejega." (Singhania had blackmailed me. He said if I make Verma happy... if Verma signs that tender, then he won't send me to the security officer.)
Shazia felt the room violently spin around her. The air was suddenly sucked out of her lungs. "Aapko pata tha?" (You knew?) she asked, her voice dropping to a dangerously quiet, venomous whisper. "Isiliye uss din aapne jaan buchke woh black saree pehnne ko kaha... jab aapne mujhe uss kamre mein chhod kar nikle gaye the... aapko pata tha ki wo mere jism ke saath kya karega?!" (You intentionally made me wear that black saree that day... when you left me in that room and closed the door... you knew what he would do with my body?!)
Iqbal broke down completely, burying his face in her lap, wetting her salwar with his tears. "Haan! Mujhe sab pata tha! Singhania ne mujhe bola tha ki tum modern aur sexy dikhni chahiye... mujhe pata tha Verma tumhare saath kya karega! Main darr gaya tha, Shazia... mujhe jail nahi jaana tha!" (Yes! I knew everything! Singhania had told me that you should look modern and sexy... I knew what Verma would do with you! I was scared, Shazia... I didn't want to go to jail!)
The Rage of the Betrayed Siren
The revelation hit Shazia like a physical, brutal slap across the face. The illusion of their “love" violently shattered into a million jagged pieces.
He didn't love me, her mind screamed. He pimped me out to his boss's client to save his own pathetic skin, and then he fucked me all week out of pure, cuckolded guilt!
She didn't feel like a wife anymore. She felt like a piece of heavily used, transactional meat. While she had secretly, dirtily enjoyed the massive stretching of Verma's thick cock and the intense sexual awakening it brought, the betrayal of her husband robbed her of her agency. He had literally sold her body to clear his own debt.
She violently shoved his head off her lap and stood up, her chest heaving with absolute, unfiltered rage.
"Aapne mujhe bech diya?!" (You sold me?!) Shazia screamed, her voice echoing off the bedroom walls. "Apni chori chhupane ke liye aapne apni biwi ko ek anjaan mard ke bistar par phenk diya? Kaisa mard hain aap? Ab mujhe sab bath samaj agayi. Aap apne khatir mujhe kisi aur mard ke saath dekh sakthe ho, par agar main khud Rohan jaise kisi mard ko pasand karun tho mujhpe ghussa dikhaenge!" (To hide your theft you threw your wife onto a stranger man's bed?! What kind of a man are you? I now understand everything. For your own sake, you are ready to see me with another man, but if I by myself choose a man like Rohan, then you show anger on me!)
Iqbal scrambled to his knees on the floor, reaching for her hands. "Shazia, meri baat suno... aaj Singhania ne mujhe phir bulaya tha." (Shazia, listen to me... today Singhania called me again.)
Shazia froze, her eyes blazing with a mix of fury and fear. "Kyun? Ab kya chahiye uss shaitaan ko?" (Why? Now what does that devil want?)
Iqbal swallowed hard. "Wo iss weekend farmhouse jaa raha hai. Usne mujhe order diya ki main tumhe wahan bhej doon... uske paas.." (He is going to farmhouse this weekend. He ordered me to send you there....)
Shazia physically recoiled. The thought of Singhania—the man who had silently listened to her being brutally pounded by Verma on the phone—now demanding her body for himself made her stomach churn with a terrifying, filthy thrill mixed with intense dread.
"Par maine mana kar diya, Shazia!" (But I refused, Shazia!) Iqbal cried out, desperately trying to play the protective hero. "Maine uske muh par mana kar diya! Maine kaha main apni biwi ko nahi bhejunga! Usne mujhe aaj shaam 5 baje tak 2 crore jama karne ko kaha tha, warna wo security officer ko bula lega. Main sab khatam kar dunga, par tumhe wahan nahi bhejunga. Main aage se tumhe aisi problem mein nahi daalunga, mera vishwas karo!" (I refused to his face! I said I will not send my wife! He told me to deposit 2 crores by 5 PM this evening, otherwise he will call the security officer. I will finish everything, but I won't send you there. I won't put you in such a problem again, trust me!)
The Tears of the Kitchen
Shazia stared at the pathetic, kneeling man in absolute disgust. He expected her to be grateful, to see him as a brave protector. But Rohan's lessons echoed clearly in her mind. Iqbal's sudden rebellion wasn't bravery; it was the hollow, suicidal ego of a weak man trying to pretend he was an Alpha. He had already ruined her modesty, destroyed her marital vows, and turned her into a high-class whore for his company. Now, his sudden, hypocritical "protection" was going to send them all to ruin.
She violently yanked her hands out of his grip. She couldn't control her anger and the overwhelming sense of betrayal.
"Aapne mujhse ye sab chhupaya!" (You hid all this from me!) she yelled, hot tears of sheer frustration rolling down her flushed cheeks.
She turned her back on him and stormed out of the bedroom, aggressively marching into the kitchen. She slammed the pots and pans, her vision entirely blurred by angry tears. She was crying for the death of her innocence, crying for the absolute cowardice of her husband, and crying because deep, deep down in her newly awakened, slutty core, the thought of being called by Singhania to a farmhouse for sex made her pussy throb with a dark, forbidden wetness.
The Desperate Midnight Counsel
Dinner was a completely silent, suffocating affair. Iqbal couldn't eat; Shazia only picked at her food. The heavy axe of the security officer threat hung visibly over their dining table.
After putting the children to sleep, they sat on the extreme opposite edges of the marital bed. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Despite her intense hatred for what he had done, Shazia was still a mother. She couldn't let her children's father rot in a jail cell. She wiped her dry eyes and forced herself to think logically.
"Kuch toh karna padega, Iqbal," (Something will have to be done, Iqbal,) she said, her voice exhausted and flat. "Aise chup baithne se security officer nahi rukegi. Hum gaon chalte hain... kuch din wahan rahenge jab tak..." (The security officer won't stop by sitting quietly like this. Let's go to the village... we will stay there for a few days until...)
"Nahi!" (No!) Iqbal instantly, bluntly refused, his male ego violently flaring up despite his ruined state. "Main bhagoda banke gaon nahi jaunga. Wahan sabko pata chal jayega!" (I won't go to the village as a fugitive. Everyone there will find out!)
Shazia glared at him. "Toh maa-baap se baat toh kar sakte hain... wo kuch intezaam kar denge. Koi zameen bech denge..." (Then we can at least talk to the parents... they will arrange something. They will sell some land...)
"Pagal ho gayi ho tum?!" (Have you gone mad?!) Iqbal snapped, his toxic pride entirely blinding his logic. "Do crore rupaye hain! Khandaan mein meri kya izzat reh jayegi? Sab mujhe chor kahenge! Meri social prestige, meri izzat mitti mein mil jayegi!" (It's two crore rupees! What respect will I have left in the family? Everyone will call me a thief! My social prestige, my respect will mix in the dirt!)
Shazia let out a dark, utterly bitter laugh. "Izzat? Apni izzat bachane ke liye aapne apni biwi ki izzat ek hotel ke bistar par nilam kar di, aur ab aapko khandaan ki izzat ki fikar ho rahi hai?" (Respect? To save your respect you auctioned your wife's respect on a hotel bed, and now you are worried about the family's respect?)
Iqbal flinched, completely destroyed by the undeniable truth of her words. He looked down at his hands. "Tum chinta mat karo, Shazia," (You don't worry, Shazia,) he finally muttered, offering a pathetic, empty consolation. "Main kuch karunga. Main koi raasta nikal lunga." (I will do something. I will find a way.)
With no other options left, and her husband stubbornly clinging to his false pride and heroism, Shazia turned her back to him, pulling the blanket up to her chin. They went to sleep separated by an ocean of lies, betrayal, and impending doom.
The Knock of Doom
Saturday morning broke with a heavy, oppressive gloom. The vibrant, confident energy Shazia had displayed the previous day was completely gone, replaced by a tense, jittery dread. They went through the motions of their morning routine like mindless robots. Singhania reached his farmhouse that morning itself. Being well aware of Iqbal’s weak position, he was confident that Iqbal would soon call him with his readiness to bring Shazia to the farmhouse. He recalled the sexy appearance of Shazia in room 508 with Verma. He remembered listening to her slutty moans while she climaxed with Verma that night. He was eager to experience the same or even more that Verma experienced of her. While he wandered around the farmhouse giving instructions to workers, the time ticked, and his desperation to fuck Shazia’s cunt was now turning into anger from the delay. By the end of the day, Singhania’s anger towards Iqbal had peaked. It wasn’t delay, but was a bold rejection of Singhania’s demand by Iqbal.
Sunday morning, Iqbal thought of taking the family out as usual. Just after breakfast, around 9:00 AM, the silence of the apartment was violently shattered by the ringing of Iqbal’s mobile phone on the dining table.
Iqbal stared at the screen. It was an unknown number. His heart plummeted into his stomach. His hands trembled violently as he picked it up and swiped the green icon, bringing the phone to his ear.
"Hello?" Iqbal managed to croak out, his throat completely dry.
A firm, incredibly cold, authoritative voice boomed from the opposite side. "Iqbal Khan?"
Iqbal swallowed hard, shooting a terrified glance at Shazia, who was standing frozen in the kitchen doorway. "Haan ji," (Yes sir.)
The voice on the other end didn't waste time with pleasantries. "Main Inspector Suresh Reddy baat kar raha hoon, *** Hills security officer Station se. Kidhar ho aap?" (I am Inspector Suresh Reddy speaking, from Jubilee Hills security officer Station. Where are you?)
The word 'security officer' echoed in Iqbal’s brain like a death sentence. Singhania hadn't bluffed. The boss had pulled the trigger. Iqbal's voice violently trembled. "Ji Sir... ghar mein hoon." (Yes Sir... I am at home.)
"Aapke upar ek case aaya hai, fraud aur chori ka. Singhania Sahab ke office se," (A case has come upon you, for fraud and theft. From Singhania Sir's office,) Inspector Suresh Reddy stated mechanically. "Aap turant security officer station aa jao..." (You come to the security officer station immediately...)
Panic entirely consumed Iqbal. "Ji Sir... par ye kuch galat fehmi hogi... main... main ek baar Singhania Sir se baat karunga..." (Yes Sir... but this must be some misunderstanding... I... I will talk to Singhania Sir once...)
The Inspector’s voice hardened into a brutal threat. "Wo aap wahan jaake baat kar lo. Par humein apna kaam karna hai. Agar aap chup-chaap abhi yahan nahi aayenge, toh humein apni gaadi leke aapke ghar aana padega. Society mein sabke saamne hathkadi laga ke le jayenge. Faisla aapka hai." (You go and talk about that there. But we have to do our job. If you don't come here quietly right now, then we will have to bring our vehicle to your house. We will take you in handcuffs in front of everyone in the society. The decision is yours.)
The terrifying, highly public image of a security officer jeep arriving at their apartment complex, with all the neighbors watching him being dragged out in handcuffs, completely shattered Iqbal's remaining resistance. His false pride crumbled instantly.
Iqbal was silenced for a long, agonizing moment, his entire world violently collapsing around him.
"Ji nahi..." (No sir...) Iqbal finally whispered, his voice completely broken, tears welling in his eyes as he looked at his wife, who had just realized that her body was the only thing that could save him now. "Main aa jaunga..." (I will come...)
The Evening Return
That Friday evening, the sun dipped below the Hyderabad skyline, casting long, golden shadows across the apartment. Shazia had spent the late afternoon with her newfound sexual confidence that still hummed warmly in her veins. She had touched up her makeup, applied a fresh coat of red lipstick, and wore a deep maroon salwar kameez that hugged her heavy breasts and flared nicely over her wide hips. She felt like a blooming, cherished woman.
Iqbal returned to the apartment looking like a walking ghost. The crushing weight of the passed 5 PM deadline hung over him. He collapsed onto the edge of the mattress, burying his face in his trembling hands, and finally broke down. Shazia saw her husband, Iqbal, in an emotionally broken state. She feared what may have gone wrong in her family.
"Arey, kya hua? Sab theek toh hai na?" (Oh, what happened? Is everything alright?), She walked up to him.
Iqbal didn't look at her. His face was ashen, his shoulders slumped under the crushing, invisible weight of a two-crore deadline that had passed an hour ago.
"Hato yahan se," (Move from here,) he muttered instinctively, brushing past her with his usual, old, dismissive behavior.
Shazia froze. The sudden, harsh rejection stung, instantly flashing her back to the miserable five years of their past. But she wasn't the timid mouse anymore.
"Iqbal, kya baat hai?" (Iqbal, what is the matter?) she asked, her voice in a firm, demanding tone. She sat down next to him on the bed, placing her hand on his shaking back. "Aap aise mujhe ignore nahi kar sakte. Mujhe bataiye kya hua hai." (You cannot ignore me like this. Tell me what has happened.)
The Crushing Confession
Iqbal felt her soft hand on his back. The immense, suffocating guilt of what he had done to this beautiful woman finally broke him. He couldn't keep the toxic secret anymore. The dam shattered. He let out a loud, ragged sob, his shoulders heaving violently.
"Mujhe maaf kar do, Shazia... mujhe maaf kar do," (Forgive me, Shazia... forgive me,) he cried, completely shattering his arrogant male facade. He looked up at her, his eyes red and brimming with terrified tears.
Shazia’s heart skipped a beat. "Kis liye maafi? Hua kya hai?" (Forgiveness for what? What has happened?)
Iqbal took a deep, shuddering breath, the filthy, cowardly truth finally spilling from his trembling lips. "Maine chori ki hai, Shazia. Company ke account se... do crore rupaye. Singhania Sir ne mujhe pakad liya tha." (I have stolen, Shazia. From the company's account... two crore rupees. Singhania Sir had caught me.)
Shazia’s eyes widened in absolute shock. Two Crores. It was an unfathomable amount of money. But the financial shock was instantly overshadowed by the horrifying puzzle pieces rapidly clicking together in her mind.
"Uss raat..." (That night...) she whispered, the blood draining from her flushed cheeks. "Hotel mein... Verma ji ke paas..." (In the hotel... with Verma ji...)
Iqbal squeezed his eyes shut, unable to look at his wife's face. "Haan," (Yes,) he sobbed, his voice cracking with utter humiliation. "Singhania ne mujhe blackmail kiya tha. Usne kaha agar main Verma ko khush kar doon... agar Verma uss tender par sign kar de, toh wo mujhe security officer ke paas nahi bhejega." (Singhania had blackmailed me. He said if I make Verma happy... if Verma signs that tender, then he won't send me to the security officer.)
Shazia felt the room violently spin around her. The air was suddenly sucked out of her lungs. "Aapko pata tha?" (You knew?) she asked, her voice dropping to a dangerously quiet, venomous whisper. "Isiliye uss din aapne jaan buchke woh black saree pehnne ko kaha... jab aapne mujhe uss kamre mein chhod kar nikle gaye the... aapko pata tha ki wo mere jism ke saath kya karega?!" (You intentionally made me wear that black saree that day... when you left me in that room and closed the door... you knew what he would do with my body?!)
Iqbal broke down completely, burying his face in her lap, wetting her salwar with his tears. "Haan! Mujhe sab pata tha! Singhania ne mujhe bola tha ki tum modern aur sexy dikhni chahiye... mujhe pata tha Verma tumhare saath kya karega! Main darr gaya tha, Shazia... mujhe jail nahi jaana tha!" (Yes! I knew everything! Singhania had told me that you should look modern and sexy... I knew what Verma would do with you! I was scared, Shazia... I didn't want to go to jail!)
The Rage of the Betrayed Siren
The revelation hit Shazia like a physical, brutal slap across the face. The illusion of their “love" violently shattered into a million jagged pieces.
He didn't love me, her mind screamed. He pimped me out to his boss's client to save his own pathetic skin, and then he fucked me all week out of pure, cuckolded guilt!
She didn't feel like a wife anymore. She felt like a piece of heavily used, transactional meat. While she had secretly, dirtily enjoyed the massive stretching of Verma's thick cock and the intense sexual awakening it brought, the betrayal of her husband robbed her of her agency. He had literally sold her body to clear his own debt.
She violently shoved his head off her lap and stood up, her chest heaving with absolute, unfiltered rage.
"Aapne mujhe bech diya?!" (You sold me?!) Shazia screamed, her voice echoing off the bedroom walls. "Apni chori chhupane ke liye aapne apni biwi ko ek anjaan mard ke bistar par phenk diya? Kaisa mard hain aap? Ab mujhe sab bath samaj agayi. Aap apne khatir mujhe kisi aur mard ke saath dekh sakthe ho, par agar main khud Rohan jaise kisi mard ko pasand karun tho mujhpe ghussa dikhaenge!" (To hide your theft you threw your wife onto a stranger man's bed?! What kind of a man are you? I now understand everything. For your own sake, you are ready to see me with another man, but if I by myself choose a man like Rohan, then you show anger on me!)
Iqbal scrambled to his knees on the floor, reaching for her hands. "Shazia, meri baat suno... aaj Singhania ne mujhe phir bulaya tha." (Shazia, listen to me... today Singhania called me again.)
Shazia froze, her eyes blazing with a mix of fury and fear. "Kyun? Ab kya chahiye uss shaitaan ko?" (Why? Now what does that devil want?)
Iqbal swallowed hard. "Wo iss weekend farmhouse jaa raha hai. Usne mujhe order diya ki main tumhe wahan bhej doon... uske paas.." (He is going to farmhouse this weekend. He ordered me to send you there....)
Shazia physically recoiled. The thought of Singhania—the man who had silently listened to her being brutally pounded by Verma on the phone—now demanding her body for himself made her stomach churn with a terrifying, filthy thrill mixed with intense dread.
"Par maine mana kar diya, Shazia!" (But I refused, Shazia!) Iqbal cried out, desperately trying to play the protective hero. "Maine uske muh par mana kar diya! Maine kaha main apni biwi ko nahi bhejunga! Usne mujhe aaj shaam 5 baje tak 2 crore jama karne ko kaha tha, warna wo security officer ko bula lega. Main sab khatam kar dunga, par tumhe wahan nahi bhejunga. Main aage se tumhe aisi problem mein nahi daalunga, mera vishwas karo!" (I refused to his face! I said I will not send my wife! He told me to deposit 2 crores by 5 PM this evening, otherwise he will call the security officer. I will finish everything, but I won't send you there. I won't put you in such a problem again, trust me!)
The Tears of the Kitchen
Shazia stared at the pathetic, kneeling man in absolute disgust. He expected her to be grateful, to see him as a brave protector. But Rohan's lessons echoed clearly in her mind. Iqbal's sudden rebellion wasn't bravery; it was the hollow, suicidal ego of a weak man trying to pretend he was an Alpha. He had already ruined her modesty, destroyed her marital vows, and turned her into a high-class whore for his company. Now, his sudden, hypocritical "protection" was going to send them all to ruin.
She violently yanked her hands out of his grip. She couldn't control her anger and the overwhelming sense of betrayal.
"Aapne mujhse ye sab chhupaya!" (You hid all this from me!) she yelled, hot tears of sheer frustration rolling down her flushed cheeks.
She turned her back on him and stormed out of the bedroom, aggressively marching into the kitchen. She slammed the pots and pans, her vision entirely blurred by angry tears. She was crying for the death of her innocence, crying for the absolute cowardice of her husband, and crying because deep, deep down in her newly awakened, slutty core, the thought of being called by Singhania to a farmhouse for sex made her pussy throb with a dark, forbidden wetness.
The Desperate Midnight Counsel
Dinner was a completely silent, suffocating affair. Iqbal couldn't eat; Shazia only picked at her food. The heavy axe of the security officer threat hung visibly over their dining table.
After putting the children to sleep, they sat on the extreme opposite edges of the marital bed. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Despite her intense hatred for what he had done, Shazia was still a mother. She couldn't let her children's father rot in a jail cell. She wiped her dry eyes and forced herself to think logically.
"Kuch toh karna padega, Iqbal," (Something will have to be done, Iqbal,) she said, her voice exhausted and flat. "Aise chup baithne se security officer nahi rukegi. Hum gaon chalte hain... kuch din wahan rahenge jab tak..." (The security officer won't stop by sitting quietly like this. Let's go to the village... we will stay there for a few days until...)
"Nahi!" (No!) Iqbal instantly, bluntly refused, his male ego violently flaring up despite his ruined state. "Main bhagoda banke gaon nahi jaunga. Wahan sabko pata chal jayega!" (I won't go to the village as a fugitive. Everyone there will find out!)
Shazia glared at him. "Toh maa-baap se baat toh kar sakte hain... wo kuch intezaam kar denge. Koi zameen bech denge..." (Then we can at least talk to the parents... they will arrange something. They will sell some land...)
"Pagal ho gayi ho tum?!" (Have you gone mad?!) Iqbal snapped, his toxic pride entirely blinding his logic. "Do crore rupaye hain! Khandaan mein meri kya izzat reh jayegi? Sab mujhe chor kahenge! Meri social prestige, meri izzat mitti mein mil jayegi!" (It's two crore rupees! What respect will I have left in the family? Everyone will call me a thief! My social prestige, my respect will mix in the dirt!)
Shazia let out a dark, utterly bitter laugh. "Izzat? Apni izzat bachane ke liye aapne apni biwi ki izzat ek hotel ke bistar par nilam kar di, aur ab aapko khandaan ki izzat ki fikar ho rahi hai?" (Respect? To save your respect you auctioned your wife's respect on a hotel bed, and now you are worried about the family's respect?)
Iqbal flinched, completely destroyed by the undeniable truth of her words. He looked down at his hands. "Tum chinta mat karo, Shazia," (You don't worry, Shazia,) he finally muttered, offering a pathetic, empty consolation. "Main kuch karunga. Main koi raasta nikal lunga." (I will do something. I will find a way.)
With no other options left, and her husband stubbornly clinging to his false pride and heroism, Shazia turned her back to him, pulling the blanket up to her chin. They went to sleep separated by an ocean of lies, betrayal, and impending doom.
The Knock of Doom
Saturday morning broke with a heavy, oppressive gloom. The vibrant, confident energy Shazia had displayed the previous day was completely gone, replaced by a tense, jittery dread. They went through the motions of their morning routine like mindless robots. Singhania reached his farmhouse that morning itself. Being well aware of Iqbal’s weak position, he was confident that Iqbal would soon call him with his readiness to bring Shazia to the farmhouse. He recalled the sexy appearance of Shazia in room 508 with Verma. He remembered listening to her slutty moans while she climaxed with Verma that night. He was eager to experience the same or even more that Verma experienced of her. While he wandered around the farmhouse giving instructions to workers, the time ticked, and his desperation to fuck Shazia’s cunt was now turning into anger from the delay. By the end of the day, Singhania’s anger towards Iqbal had peaked. It wasn’t delay, but was a bold rejection of Singhania’s demand by Iqbal.
Sunday morning, Iqbal thought of taking the family out as usual. Just after breakfast, around 9:00 AM, the silence of the apartment was violently shattered by the ringing of Iqbal’s mobile phone on the dining table.
Iqbal stared at the screen. It was an unknown number. His heart plummeted into his stomach. His hands trembled violently as he picked it up and swiped the green icon, bringing the phone to his ear.
"Hello?" Iqbal managed to croak out, his throat completely dry.
A firm, incredibly cold, authoritative voice boomed from the opposite side. "Iqbal Khan?"
Iqbal swallowed hard, shooting a terrified glance at Shazia, who was standing frozen in the kitchen doorway. "Haan ji," (Yes sir.)
The voice on the other end didn't waste time with pleasantries. "Main Inspector Suresh Reddy baat kar raha hoon, *** Hills security officer Station se. Kidhar ho aap?" (I am Inspector Suresh Reddy speaking, from Jubilee Hills security officer Station. Where are you?)
The word 'security officer' echoed in Iqbal’s brain like a death sentence. Singhania hadn't bluffed. The boss had pulled the trigger. Iqbal's voice violently trembled. "Ji Sir... ghar mein hoon." (Yes Sir... I am at home.)
"Aapke upar ek case aaya hai, fraud aur chori ka. Singhania Sahab ke office se," (A case has come upon you, for fraud and theft. From Singhania Sir's office,) Inspector Suresh Reddy stated mechanically. "Aap turant security officer station aa jao..." (You come to the security officer station immediately...)
Panic entirely consumed Iqbal. "Ji Sir... par ye kuch galat fehmi hogi... main... main ek baar Singhania Sir se baat karunga..." (Yes Sir... but this must be some misunderstanding... I... I will talk to Singhania Sir once...)
The Inspector’s voice hardened into a brutal threat. "Wo aap wahan jaake baat kar lo. Par humein apna kaam karna hai. Agar aap chup-chaap abhi yahan nahi aayenge, toh humein apni gaadi leke aapke ghar aana padega. Society mein sabke saamne hathkadi laga ke le jayenge. Faisla aapka hai." (You go and talk about that there. But we have to do our job. If you don't come here quietly right now, then we will have to bring our vehicle to your house. We will take you in handcuffs in front of everyone in the society. The decision is yours.)
The terrifying, highly public image of a security officer jeep arriving at their apartment complex, with all the neighbors watching him being dragged out in handcuffs, completely shattered Iqbal's remaining resistance. His false pride crumbled instantly.
Iqbal was silenced for a long, agonizing moment, his entire world violently collapsing around him.
"Ji nahi..." (No sir...) Iqbal finally whispered, his voice completely broken, tears welling in his eyes as he looked at his wife, who had just realized that her body was the only thing that could save him now. "Main aa jaunga..." (I will come...)
Disclaimer:
All photos, GIFs, and videos are either own or derived from the internet. PM for complaint/removal of any posted content.
All photos, GIFs, and videos are either own or derived from the internet. PM for complaint/removal of any posted content.
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