Mine
*★*
The night was quite dark, filled with secrets and lies, in contrast with the bright light glowing on the streets and roads. The dark sky has a missing piece of light, it’s moon, and was tring to spread clouds all over to cover it’s agony. The wind blew heavily, swaying away the dried leaves and flowers.
In between the city’s road, a car took a sharp turn, following the routes to reach its home, The Thakur Mansion. A man was seated inside, on the driving seat, drinking the car beyond the speed limit. The window of his side was rolled down allowing the smoke coming out of his mouth to go out. His right hand, resting on the rolled window, held a half burned cigarette from which he was occasionally taking a puff.
His left hand was gripping the steering wheel tightly, showcasing his vein on his arms. His black shirt, a contract on his slightly tan skin, was tugged loosely on his waist while a few of the button were undone, revealing his hard chest, all sweaty and hot. His eyes were red, burning in anger and betrayal.
Soon after reaching his destination, the man got out of his car and shut the door sharply and walked off to the main door of his mansion. He pressed the bell and waited for a few seconds after which the door was opened revealing a lady who was wearing a royal blue colour saree while small wrinkles were present on her face, indicating her age. She bowed her head and welcome the man inside.
The man sat on the couch and let out a tired sigh. He leaned his head back, resting on the couch. After a few minutes he heard a sweet ting voice, coming from his left side. He recognised that sweet noise of payal, which soon stopped just beside him. He opened his eyes and saw the women who held out of glass of water in tray. Her face was hidden behind the veil of her saree which was draped around her gracefully.
He took the glass, drank it half empty in one go and kept it on the table. He again looked at the women who was now standing beside him with her head hung low. He let out a sigh full of anger and gritted his teeth.
“Go back to our room” He ordered the women who visibly flinch at the tone. The women being none other than the man’s wife, Mrs Mohini Ajeet Singh Thakur. Mohini quickly walked away from there, quiet known to that tone and anger of her husband. Ajeet ran his fingers through his hair and stood up from the couch.
“All the workers.. leave!” He said and soon within five minutes the mansion was empty. Silence was the only noise echoing in the whole area. He closed his eyes and his mind again led him back to the meeting room.
"Mr. Sharma.. this contract is given to your company” An elderly man said and shook his hand with Giri Sharma, the CEO of SP company. Ajeet sat there, his eyes fixed on the cunning face of Giri who threw a smirk ,full of mock and arrogance, towards him. Ajeet gritted his teeth at his loss and stood up from his chair. He threw a last glance towards his rival and walked out of the room.
He stood near a big glass from where whole city was visible. “Tsk..tsk..tsk..” He turned his head slightly to see Giri standing with his hands inside his pockets. Giri came towards him with a mocking smile on his face and said. “Congratulations Thakur.. on your loss” Giri laughed mockingly and patted his back. Ajeet gritted his teeth at his act but didn’t say anything. “Now.. just wait and see how I’ll snatch your everything .. every little thing from you.. first your company.. your name.. fame.. money and then..” Giri let out an evil laugh.
“Then... Your sexy little slu-” Before he could complete his words, a harsh punch landed on his not so handsome face which made him stumble and fall on the floor. “I dare you to complete that you fucker!” Ajeet let out in a harsh tone and grabbed his collar. “She. Is. Mine... Mine to keep.. mine to see.. mine to touch.. and mine to cage” He again threw a punch on his face and left his collar when he heard his assistant calling in nervousness..
“B-boss..!!” Ajeet gritted his teeth and walked away from there, his mind again and again screaming at him to show his anger towards someone who is innocent yet shattered, someone who is his pain yet cure, someone who is his toy and his wife. His wife, Mohini.
