Rabiya

The wooden wagon buckled against the uneven, bumpy roads, winding through the darkness and a sleet of dewdrops, splashing from the wheel, rickety and old. Her body swayed with the rhythm of the wagon, a rickshaw led by a thin, emaciated man who's skin wrinkled to the test of time.

Dark brown skin muddy with ashes and mud, a symbol of his class among the elite military generals. He was only a slave to his masters, a liability of war. Under the fragile, torn skin laid a man with an identity lost to even him, laid an empty, hallow soul who knew nothing but what was told.

Rabiya felt pity for the toll of war everyone had to pay, a life tax that drowned in the blood and tears of others.

A bunch of rowdy, stoic soldiers accompanied them in surrounding rickshaws. Adar and Rabiya shared one with the general and his right-hand man, an uncomfortable silence stretching between them. The general narrowed his eyes at Adar, dark with suspicion and fueled by his instinct to manipulate Adar into a pawn.

Rabiya knew that look well. She remembered it stark against Aunt Tania's visage.

The general suspected foul play between the two, and he was determined to break through their shields and armors to shatter their resolve to pieces until they would be nothing but another game for the tactics of war. A cold, taunting breeze kneaded down her back, a warning.

She shivered, cradling her arms around herself as the rickshaw crossed a trail of highs and lows. A small yelp escaped her lip when the wooden wagon of the rickshaw jolted in the air, her body sliding in pure terror. The tendrils of fear slithered around her shaking form until warm hands gripped her waist, pushing her against a hardened chest, the familiar scent of wood touching her senses.

Adar caught her.

The general's cracked, thin lips quirked into a smirk. "I see you focus all your attention on this girl," he commented, cocking his head to the side. "What is an unmarried man like you doing with a humble, pretty girl like this?"

Perhaps it was the tone in which he spoke, but the general's tone hid underlying threats, a sheer message of who he'd attack first if they betrayed his trust, more specifically the plans the general had for their village if Adar and Rabiya turned out to be crooks. In their country, men and women had only one function in life, and it was to continue their legacies.

There was no reason for Adar's closeness if he was not betrothed to her. Shame burned her, but the trembling horror of the powerful aura of the man before them frightened her more. The general wanted something from Rabiya, whether to dominate or humiliate her she was not sure.

Adar's grip tightened on her waist, pulling her towards his side. "I have my reasons," he stated, simply, removing his hands. "Reasons that only stay between us."

A spark entered glowing coal eyes like a beast hidden in the mysterious woods. "Oh?" he feigned surprise. "An overprotective aura as well? Could this village drama be intertwined with your relationship with this girl?"

She felt his body tense behind her, the straining of his muscles and tightened knot in his jaw, eyes blazing with a fire hot enough to burn the general's position to shreds, yet Adar's restraint was like a crown to his head, regal and contained, lips shielding the retort that his tongue begged him to release.

Rabiya could read the anger across his expression. His eyes briefly met hers, softening at the nervous twitch of her body, her shaking hands, and her self-conscious lip bite. Looking through his warm eyes of brown, the soothing color of maple saps, she saw through the window of his soul, saw the need he felt to protect her from his writings, from his ambitious path.

His next words shocked everyone on the rickshaw.

"She's my fiancée."

Rabiya's head spun towards Adar, eyes wide with wonder and shock. How can he say something so casually? His stoic expression didn't waver when he faced the men, eyes hard and lips thinned. He was challenging them, pushing them to test his limits.

She glanced between the general and Adar, feeling the tension coil around her frame and slither across her skin until the hairs crawled up her arms and neck. The atmosphere was thick, heavy and clouded by their masculinity, by their silent threats. Unspoken words rested beyond both their eyes, and Rabiya could only move closer to Adar's side of the rickshaw.

After a prolonged moment, the general smiled, but it was sickly sweet. "Fiancée, huh? Arranged?"

Although the movement was subtle, she noticed his frigid posture, the hand that protectively stayed at her waist as if to add emphasis on their relationship. If Rabiya told the truth, those men would have ulterior motives. Her silence spoke louder than bells.

"I do not believe that is any of your concern," Adar sharply interjected. "I only ask for her protection out of respect."

The general threw his head back in a throaty chuckle. "Did you think we would touch a soon-to-be married woman? We are not like the Pakistanis."

Rabiya could not hold her tongue back any longer. "War crimes come from both sides, not just one."

He raised a brow. "Oh? Are you doubting your nation's loyalty and decorum?"

She lifted her eyes to meet his, strong and unwavering, a flare to the fire burning inside her. Her lips parted, a response preparing an onslaught of words, a river of her thoughts ready to be poured from her tongue, yet a familiar, husky voice hushed her.

Adar's lips were near her hijab. "Careful, love," he whispered so only her ears could hear. To others, it seemed like a loving gesture, but Rabiya heard the fear in his voice.

She nodded, averting her gaze.

"Well?" the general pressed. "You spoke in aggression. Where did that fire go?"

"I... apologize."

"For what?"

For not being able to tell you how much of an incapable, immoral leader you are.

Rabiya could not say what her heart desired her to speak. In times of war and violence, the outspoken were targeted first. Suspicion hung over their heads like the trail of bullets and gunpowder around them. She had her family to protect, her grandfather's legacy to carry on. Being rash and abrasive would not help her case.

Instead of responding, she chose her silence, her pride a thin string between them just like her patience. The general sat back, satisfied by her inability to retort. Little did he know an inner opposition was brewing in both Adar and Rabiya's hearts, seed of resistance sprouting from the ashes of all that their people lost.

* * * *

Arriving at the scene of the riot, the soldier's eyes widened in disbelief at the flaring heat of torches, the angry flames of burned livestock, and the mass destruction that marred the village in blood and tears. Their eyes drank the horror of greed, observed the terror in her grandmother's frail form and the bruised and bleeding men of her family.

Rabiya gasped, losing her balance at the insanity of the situation before her.

Adar blocked her view, standing in front of her. "Don't look," he murmured. "It will only bring you more pain."

"My family..." she trailed off, tears welling in her eyes. "Where are my cousins, my brother, my father, where did they take them?"

From a distant, Tahmid shakily grabbed onto their cousin Shakeel, both limping their way to Rabiya and Adar. Shakeel's skin was grieved by gashes, slits of different severity. Crimson blood slid down his cheeks like red tears, a slow, misguided trail of village cruelty.

Tahmid was in even worse shape. Purple marks covered his arms and face, one eye swollen from hard punches in his efforts to protect his loved ones. One leg caused him more severe pain than the other, dark liquid seeping through the fabric of his clothes, his shirt partly ripped.

His weary eyes squinted at her, expression softening at the relief of her safety. Tahmid's body slumped against Shakeel.

"Stay strong," encouraged their cousin.

"Rabiya," her brother managed to breathe our, eyes closing. "I... I..."

"Bhaiyah (brother)!" she screamed, attempting to run to him. Adar's arm wrapped around her waist. "Let me go. Please, my brother is hurt. My brother needs me. Adar, let me go," Rabiya sobbed, small fists weakly punching his arms.

She had no idea where the rest of her family went, had no idea whether they were safe, had no idea whether her immediate relatives lost their lives to greed or not. Rabiya didn't care that Adar's strong arms held her away. She didn't care that the general and his men stared at her in pity.

She was numb, immune to the heartache, cold from the torture. Her mind buzzed, tears freely splashing its grievances against her. With shaking breaths, she stilled, heart hardening as snickers escaped the twisted lips of villagers. Their bodies bathed in sin, and the stench of blood was so thick that to immoral people, the wounded were a drug to their pride.

They felt proud of what they had done.

Adar slowly released his grip, sensing the rage that fueled her existence. Rabiya could no longer tolerate the disrespect.

She was not hurt.

She was not weak.

She was livid. Her breaths of fury heated the night sky, extinguished the angry torches with a different light.

Rabiya turned on her heel, glaring at the men behind her, the soliders and the villagers, visage demanding retribution for their crimes.

When she spoke, her voice cut like knives through the tension. "This is what you soldiers turn a blind eye to? This is what you would rather have me suffer for? Is this the Bangladesh you want, the independence you strive for?"

The general's gaze hardened. "Watch your tongue. This has nothing to do with the war."

Tahmid raised a hand towards his sister. "Rabiya... don't," he struggled as Shakeel clutched onto him.

She ignored him. "These are your people!" yelled Rabiya. "Will you sit and watch them burn my grandfather's estate to the ground?"

"Enough."

"No," she fiercely argued. "This will never be enough. I brought you here to see my family's suffering. If you cannot stop this type of rebellion, then you cannot stop Pakistan."

That was when the slap echoed through the forest, a splintering sound rumbling through the leaves. Flocks of birds flew into the distance, their squawks a symbol of their instinct to flee.

Her cheeks stung, shock resonating through her body. The villagers held their breaths with the soldiers. Rabiya's body went stiff.

"I said enough," he spoke through clenched teeth.

This time, Adar glared at the men, his fists clenched at his sides. "You would hit a woman who speaks the truth?" he taunted, standing beside Rabiya. "What type of man harms those he is sworn to protect?"

The general's nostrils flared. "Must I teach manners into you as well?"

Adar straightened, dark as night eyes challenging the predator of their nation. "I did not ask for a lesson in mannerisms," he spoke lowly. "I asked for assistance to save this village before even Pakistan used their vulnerabilities as a shield of war. Abusing a woman with only justice on her mind only severs your righteous cause, does it not?"

For a moment, there was a slight hesitation within the general. His eyes lost their feral threat, and in the reflection of a beast, there was the strategical calculations of their real priority. The freedom fighters had a war to win.

Although her cheek continued a stabbing sensation of bites from the impact of the strike, she refused to show submission. She knew Adar wanted nothing more than to call the men on all their contradictions and lies, but politics did not always follow the heart.

They still had to save her grandfather's estate, to save her bleeding family even if it cost them their lives.

At times, a life was the price of justice.

----

*crickets* Wow, it's been awhile.

My eyes are barely open right now, but I knew I had to get a chapter out here.

Gotta keep the story alive :D

What do you think the general will do? Where do you think the rest of Rabiya's family is?

The story's about to pick up the pace, so be ready. Don't forget to vote, comment, and follow!