THE VELVET HOURS
857 Words
VELVET HOURS
CHAPTER 5: THE VELVET HOURS
“Some ghosts don’t haunt you. They undress you.”
> “You know I never liked sharing what was mine. So let’s not pretend we don’t remember how good it was… ReTaaj.”
His voice poured into her bedroom like venom dressed in silk.
ReTaaj dropped her phone.
It hit the marble like a confession.
She backed away as though Zarar’s voice could crawl from the screen and wrap around her throat. Her heart pounded—not fast like panic, but slow and deep like a warning drum in the jungle.
She stared at her reflection again.
Same glossed lips.
Same diamond choker.
Same girl.
But tonight, the skin didn’t fit right.
---
Flashback – Age 16
“You’re so mature for your age,” Zarar had murmured once, brushing her inner thigh while she sat half-dressed in his lap, trembling.
She had blushed, pride swelling where discomfort should have lived.
She thought being with him made her powerful.
But that’s the trick of predators.
They hand you the leash and tell you it’s a crown.
The second she told him she wanted to stop—
That she didn’t feel safe—
He pulled her closer and whispered:
> “Don’t act like you didn’t ask for this.”
---
Present
Now, he stood in her doorway.
Uninvited. Unapologetic.
With that same smirk.
“Still hiding behind perfumes and photographers,” he said, stepping into her apartment. “But I can still smell the girl you were.”
She didn’t scream.
She didn’t shake.
She froze.
“What do you want?” she asked, her voice colder than her champagne.
Zarar tilted his head. “I think you already know.”
His eyes dragged over her. Not with desire—with ownership.
ReTaaj forced herself to laugh. “You can’t extort me, Zarar. I have money. Lawyers. You’ll lose.”
He stepped closer. Close enough that she could feel the heat of old sins.
“I don’t want your money,” he whispered. “I want your mouth back. Your skin. Your silence.”
She slapped him.
Hard.
He barely blinked.
“Careful, ReTaaj,” he said softly, brushing a thumb over his cheek. “If Jibraan ever finds out you let me in that young—he’ll burn you alive.”
---
Later That Night – Jibraan’s Penthouse
Jibraan poured wine without looking up. “You seem… off tonight.”
ReTaaj smiled, perfect as ever. “Do I?”
“You’ve got that look. The one you wear when you’re hiding knives behind lipstick.”
She kissed his jaw. “Maybe I’m just tired of pretending to be good.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Good girls don’t last long in this city anyway.”
But she wasn’t listening.
She was staring at the edge of the glass.
Wondering how fast a lie could drown in merlot.
---
Flashback – Age 17
She tried once to tell someone.
A therapist. Paid. Quiet. Safe.
“I think I was groomed,” she whispered, twisting her fingers into the hem of her dress.
The therapist blinked. “Do you want to press charges?”
ReTaaj laughed. Hollow. Bitter.
“He said I wanted it. I said yes. That makes it my fault, right?”
The therapist didn’t answer. Just wrote something down.
That was the last session.
---
Present – The Velvet Hours
The clock blinked 3:14 a.m.
ReTaaj sat in her walk-in closet, surrounded by gowns that had seen too many lies.
She held her knees to her chest. Her eyes wide open.
Because if she closed them, he’d be there again.
Not Jibraan.
Zarar.
Pressing his body against hers in that too-dark room. Telling her she liked it. Telling her this was what women were for.
And worse—
Some small, silent part of her still believed him.
---
Morning – Jibraan’s Penthouse
The sound of birds. Coffee brewing. A rare quiet.
She walked out onto the balcony where Jibraan stood, shirtless, reading.
He glanced at her. “Couldn’t sleep?”
She shook her head. Wrapped her arms around herself.
“Do you think I’m... dirty?” she asked suddenly, eyes fixed on the skyline.
He turned to her, alarm in his face. “What?”
“If someone did something to you—and you let them—does that mean you wanted it?”
His jaw clenched. “Who said that?”
“No one,” she whispered. “Just... wondering.”
Jibraan walked over. Took her hands. Looked into her.
“You are not dirty. You are not broken. You are not what he did to you.”
She blinked.
He didn’t know who she was talking about.
But he knew.
Somehow, Jibraan always knew what to say to the pieces she never showed anyone.
And that terrified her even more.
Because when the truth came out—
When he discovered who Zarar really was in her story—
She might not survive the fallout.
Not with her body.
Not with her reputation.
Not with her heart.
---
END OF CHAPTER 5
THE VELVET HOURS
- Writer
