RAHIM – The Weeks That Followed

Over the next two weeks, something inside me shifted.

The guilt didn't disappear — it simply learned to share the same room as love, duty, and a hunger I could no longer deny. I stopped fighting the arrangement and started managing it like any other construction project: careful planning, clear boundaries, and the quiet terror that if I followed the schedule perfectly, the whole broken structure might actually hold.

Mornings I was still the same man. I guided Nadia's cane to the table, described the food so she could map it with her fingers, kissed Sana's forehead before I left for the site. I asked Sana how her scars felt that morning. I asked Nadia if she had slept well. I poured tea exactly the way each of them liked it — two sugars for Sana, less for Nadia, stirred counterclockwise for both.

But the nights became divided. Deliberate. Almost scheduled.

Three nights with Sana. Three nights with Nadia. One night alone in the small study so I could remember how to breathe.

I told myself it was fair. Practical. Necessary.

With Sana I became the man I used to be — the one who had fallen in love with her seven years ago. I would enter her room after Nadia had gone to bed, close the door softly, and slide into bed behind her. My arm wrapped around her waist, hand resting lightly over the raised lightning scars on her lower belly. I kissed the nape of her neck, slow and full of remembered love, breathing her in like I could erase twenty months of pain with my mouth.

"I'm here," I whispered against her skin. "Only you tonight."

She rarely spoke at first. I ran my palm over her hip, down her thigh, then back up in long, soothing strokes, trying to coax her body to relax against mine. When she finally turned toward me, I kissed her deeply — not rushed, but heavy with love and memory. My hands explored her the way they used to: cupping her breasts, thumb brushing her nipples until they tightened, sliding between her legs to find her warm and wet despite everything. I entered her slowly, face buried in her neck, moving in deep, deliberate thrusts that made the bed creak softly. I wanted her to feel claimed again. I wanted her to moan my name the way she once did.

Afterward I held her tight, her head on my chest, my fingers tracing the lightning scars while I murmured the same promises: "You are still my first. My only love. Nothing changes that."

But her body stayed tense. Her orgasms, when they came, were quiet and almost reluctant, like she was giving in rather than letting go. I could feel the distance in every breath she took. And every time I left her bed, the guilt returned — sharper because I still loved her so much it hurt.

With Nadia I became someone else entirely — bolder, hungrier, driven by the desperate hope of a child.

On the nights I chose her, I no longer entered gently. The door would shut and suddenly my hands were on her — rough, sure, pulling her up, stripping her, claiming her like I was starving. She mapped me frantically with her fingers, but I took control. When I tied her wrists to the headboard with the soft silk dupatta from our wedding night, she gasped sharply, her unseeing eyes fluttering as she tested the restraints. The helplessness made everything sharper for both of us.

I dropped to my knees between her spread thighs and devoured her without mercy, tongue licking long, broad strokes up her slick, dripping pussy before latching onto her swollen clit and sucking hard while two thick fingers plunged deep inside her, curling relentlessly against that sensitive spot that made her hips buck wildly and her thighs shake around my head.

She came hard, crying out loudly, juices flooding my mouth and chin. I didn't stop. I flipped her onto her stomach, yanked her hips up so she was on her knees with her chest pressed flat against the mattress and her ass raised high for me. I delivered several sharp, stinging spanks to her round cheeks, leaving faint red handprints that made her moan even louder, then slammed into her tight, soaking pussy in one brutal thrust, burying myself balls-deep.

I fucked her with raw, animalistic force from behind, hips snapping powerfully, the wet slap of skin against skin filling the room as one hand fisted in her long black hair and the other wrapped around her throat from behind, squeezing just enough to make her gasp and clench tighter around me.

"Take every inch," I growled through gritted teeth, pounding harder and deeper until Nadia screamed into the pillow with her second orgasm, her walls pulsing and milking me relentlessly. Sweat slicked both our bodies. The bed creaked violently under us. I emptied load after thick load of hot cum deep inside her womb, holding myself buried to the hilt while my cock twitched and pulsed.

Even after I finished I stayed inside her, slowly grinding, starting a second round almost immediately, determined to fill her again before the night was over. She was sore, trembling, leaking my seed down her thighs, yet she still whispered breathlessly into the dark, "More... please..."

By the end of the second week the schedule felt almost normal. I moved between their beds like a man walking a tightrope — tender and full of love with Sana, hungry and desperate with Nadia. The guilt was still there, but it had company now: raw desire, exhausted routine, and the quiet terror that one day soon we would know if Nadia was pregnant.

And if she was... everything would change again.

Rahim's mother had already started calling every evening. "Any news, beta? The family is waiting."

I looked at the two closed doors at night and wondered how long this fragile balance could last before one of them finally broke.

Author's Note If this chapter left you feeling conflicted, guilty, angry, or heartbroken... welcome to the club.

Tell me in the comments:

How do you feel about Rahim's "schedule"? 

Are you angrier at Rahim now, or do you understand his desperation? 

What do you think Sana is feeling in the next room every night? 

Are you scared for Nadia or starting to feel something else?

Vote if this chapter emotionally wrecked you. 

Comment your thoughts — I read every single one. Next chapter tomorrow at 8:30 PM BDT.

Thank you for staying with this messy, painful, addictive journey 🖤