A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely recover.

— Charles Bukowski

The chiming of the countless wind-chimes fill the air as her fingers graze them delicately, following the movement with her eyes and scanning each piece fleetingly. They are all too beautiful, but she needs a perfect one. Something that would suit someone like him.

Something bold but something subtle.

Something with both light and dark shades in it.

A glint of gold catches her attention. She reaches out to unhook the wind-chime and holds it up in her hand. It's golden, like his eyes, and black, like hers. It's like both of them. She smiles.

"I'll take it," she tells the shopkeeper.

"Okay, miss. I'll pack it for you."

"Thank you."

Leyla finishes her shopping and puts her things in the car. She drives to the library and goes inside. The smell of books and serene atmosphere welcome her. She instantly feels at peace.

She looks up for the books she needs and issues them, then chooses a computer and goes to check her mails.

Time is precious. And it's flying. She needs to unfold her wings too.

She notices an email sent to her about a month ago. She probably had missed it back then due to the drama going on in her life and the mishaps between her and Burq.

She opens it to read it.

My beloved,

My heart still seeks you every day. Wherever you are, I hope we can be together again soon.

There's no name of the sender mentioned, neither does the email give away anything about them. But Leyla doesn't need a name to know who it is.

Her hands tremble and she blames it on the cold weather to calm her frenzied nerves, even though it's warm inside the library. Her heart goes wild like an animal unleashed. Subconsciously she presses her palm to her chest.

How did he find her email?

If he can find her email, he can certainly find more, including her whereabouts. The thought only rises chaos within her.

Her phone rings in her bag and she jumps, startled, quickly reaching inside to silence it before reading the caller ID.

Spogmay.

Leyla logs out of her account on the computer, gathers her things and leaves. Once outside, she calls her sister back who receives on the second ring, seemingly waiting for her.

"Salam," Spogmay greets.

"Salam," Leyla greets back.

"I've been calling you for a while but you wouldn't answer. I got worried," her sister speaks hurriedly.

"I'm sorry, I was at the library. Needed some books to pick."

"You're preparing for your exam next year?"

"Yeah." Leyla clears her throat, her brain failing to move on from what it has read moments ago.

"Is something the matter? You sound bothered."

"I'm fine," Leyla answers whilst getting into the car, "just cold."

"Are you worried about your exam?"

"Kind of."

"You'll do great. I've faith in you."

Leyla manages to chuckle. "Thank you. But it's still months ahead."

"Yes, but I want to let you know that you're never alone, Brekhna," Spogmay adds firmly. "Either you're here, or when you go back to Pakistan and decide to stay there. I'll be with you whenever, wherever you need me."

Leyla absorbs her words; they give her warmth and some of her earlier anxiety dissipates. "I know. Thank you."

"This is what sisters are for."

She smiles and starts the ignition. "I know," she repeats and drives off.

When she reaches Burq's house, she's late. She takes the shopping bags in her hands and rushes to the front door, ringing the doorbell.

Waleed receives her like usual after a few moments, and like usual her first question is about her husband.

"Where is Burq?"

"In his study, my lady."

"I ran late so I've brought lunch with myself. Did he eat already?"

"No, my lady. His lordship said he didn't have an appetite."

Leyla puts the bags in her hand on the coffee table in the living room. She rummages through them and hands some boxes to Waleed. "These are some things I've bought for him. Leave them here. Take this lunch and serve it. I'll bring Burq to eat."

Waleed nods and leaves while Leyla makes her way to his study. She knocks on the door before entering, and finds Burq in front of a shelf trying to reach for a file from his wheelchair. He winces and Leyla quickly moves to his side.

"What do you think you're doing?"

He looks at her. "I didn't grant you permission to enter, did I?"

She narrows her eyes at him. He looks in a sour mood. "Should I leave then?"

She knows that's a low blow. Burq will never ask her to leave, not because he's fond of her but because he's not fond of being alone. He would always be on his feet when he was well, doing one thing or another just to keep himself busy, but rarely gave himself moments of solitude. She uses the knowledge to her advantage.

He huffs, looking away up to the file he needs. Leyla picks it up for him and hands it to him. "You could've hurt yourself, Burq. You should call Waleed if you need something, or me if I'm here."

He scowls. "And feel more pathetic for not being able to do something as simple as pick up a file from a shelf?"

"More importantly, to save us all the trouble of hurting yourself more at the hands of your ego," Leyla mocks.

Burq glares up at her. "Where do you get these nasty comebacks from?"

"I was born with a sharp tongue," she jokes lightheartedly and he scoffs.

"All women are," he retorts.

Leyla kneels in front of him and he's forced to look into her eyes. His golden orbs are brilliant, but she can see the dull ache in there, like a faded outline of a gray cloud— barely noticeable, but there.

"What troubles you?" she asks straightforwardly.

He refuses to reply, staying stubbornly quiet.

"Burq?" She reaches for his hands and holds them in hers. "I'm here for you, so please don't ignore me."

The hard lines of his face ease at her words as he meets her gaze. She smiles at him encouragingly.

"I'm tired of sitting in this wheelchair all the time," he complains, almost childishly. "I can't go out and walk. My own home has started to haunt me. I stare at these walls all day long. How much can I sit in my study and work to distract myself? To feel normal?" He runs his fingers through his hair and Leyla can see his frustration through his jittery movements. "I don't want to feel like a handicap. I don't want to depend on Waleed for my needs, or you." He desperately searches her eyes. "I feel so indebted to you, Leyla."

She squeezes his hands. "Then imagine this debt already paid."

Burq blinks in confusion. But before he can question her anymore, she stands up.

"Waleed told me you didn't eat," she says. "I've brought us lunch."

"You were late. I thought you aren't coming."

"Were you waiting for me?" she teases.

He frowns. "My stomach doesn't take well to the restaurant spices. And then the only other thing Waleed gets me is bland soup, to make me feel more sick than I already am."

"So you decided to starve yourself?"

"I decided to bear with my luck."

"Well," Leyla starts to push his wheelchair out of the study room, "if you eat now, I'll give you a gift."

He lets out an amused chuckle at this. "I'm not a kid, habibi. You can't bribe me with candies."

"I'm not bribing you. I've actually got something for you."

He looks up at her over her shoulder. "You have?" he asks, surprised.

She nods and grins, suddenly feeling excited to know his reaction.

"What is it?" he inquires.

"Uh huh. Let's have lunch together before I show you."

"That's one way to convince me, by perking up my curiosity," he comments, smiling faintly. Leyla cannot keep her own smile. She likes him happy like this. She likes it when she's the reason.

They sit in the living room together after lunch. The feeble sun rays shine in through the glass wall and ease on his face, amplifying both his features and his skin tone. And whenever he tilts his face and his eyes catch the light, Leyla has to rein her own desires not to lose herself into them. The sunshine is only an embellishment to his bewitching orbs.

He looks at her and she smiles, reaching for the shopping bags and handing them to him before sitting on the couch close by. She gestures for him to open his gifts.

He tries to mask it but the childlike excitement in his expression is evident. His agile fingers expertly tug off the gift wrapper, pulling out the box. He opens it to reveal the wind-chime Leyla has bought him, lifting it up in his hand.

"A wind-chime?" Burq says in puzzlement.

Leyla grins at him. "Yes. Now open the other box."

He carefully places the wind-chime on the coffee table and opens the other box too, this time revealing a crescent shaped lamp. He holds it in his hands, staring at it.

"Your lamp broke so I thought to buy you a new one," Leyla tells him.

"I already had it replaced," he glances at her, "but thank you for being thoughtful."

"Do you like it?" she asks.

"I do." He puts the lamp on the table and picks up the wind-chime again. "But why do you gift me these?"

"As I said, the lamp to replace your old one. You don't like the dark, so this moon will brighten it for you. And the wind-chime," Leyla reaches out to tap it and it jiggles, making sound. "You can hang it outside your bedroom window and it'll fill the silence for you. That way the darkness and silence of the night won't be so haunting for you, and you won't dislike the nights so much."

Burq quietly stares at her and she questioningly leans towards him, resting her forearms on her thighs and returning his gaze boldly. When seconds elapse and none of them speak, she raises an eyebrow and Burq grins.

"What are you thinking?" she asks him.

"I wonder if it's merely about the nights, or about a certain someone with the same name and aura?"

Leyla hums and tips her head. "Maybe it's a little of both."

"Your concern for me bemuses me, habibi." He put the wind-chime back on the table and fixes her eyes. She doesn't shy away and finds a gladdened glint in his irises. "Careful, Leyla, for I might mistake this concern for something more."

Her heart jumps at his warning but she remains fearless in front of him, giving him a half smile. "Your assumptions will only trouble you, my lord."

He laughs, easily like a breeze, and time stills for her. It's like being pushed into a portal and reliving past again, those indelible days with him together where he was just Burq without his title— where he would look at her with tender smiles. He never laughed a lot back then either, but when he did, it was the same as it is now— a melody in the air to which her heart flutters.

His eyes crinkle at the corner and a faint dip appears in his left cheek. The soft curls of his hair fall over his forehead, grazing his lashes, and he brushes them back. He's handsome to her. Always was. Burq is the art she always dreamt of, yet the same art shattered her dreams.

A man both the hero and villain of her story.

My darling wife, you're a beautiful woman, but your charms are wasted on me.

"Thank you, Leyla," he speaks, drawing back her attention to him from old memories.

She meets his eyes and he smiles. She smiles back at him, for this one moment trying to catch a glimpse of the man in him she had once fallen for.

Later that night at her home, she checks her mail again, hoping to get some updates on the exam she plans to give. But instead, another unexpected email burns down her peace to ashes, this time with the name of the person who has been plaguing her all this while— the reason for her unwanted chase.

My beloved Brekhna,

It has been so long you're gone. I miss you dearly and wishes to be with you again. My love for you never ceased.

Last night I landed in Auckland. My heart tells me I'm somewhere near you. Wait for me, my bride, I'll find you soon.

Forever yours,
Asfandyar.

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Brewing suspense and drama.

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