The events in this chapter take place before the story of Burq and Leyla begins, when Leyla is Brekhna and still committed to Asfandyar. This is just an extra part I wanted to write and doesn't affect the story of Hearts Of Gold in any way.

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In my beloved's lovely eyes,
A universe of beauty lies;

— Ghani Khan

Wadi-e-Kaghan, KP, Pakistan

She has wondered often what greater beauty can exist beyond the beauty human eye can come across on earth, the splendor of which sometimes are impossible for the mind to contain. She has tried imagining the heaven often, well aware that the heaven is something human mind cannot imagine— a beauty beyond any eye has seen. Such glory her Lord holds, the skies and the earth bear witness to it, yet there is a promise of more. His promise is the hope without which life would've lost its colors— the promise that gives meaning to her life.

Standing at the shore of lake Saif-ul-Maluk, Brekhna stares in awe at the view before her. The lake that is like a magical mirror, its pale blue water reflecting the sky above and the green mountains surrounding the valley, and white specks from their snow covered peaks and the sailing clouds. It steals away her breath; it leaves her stunned. Such exquisite beauty, the magnificence of it brings fairytales to life.

The sun is feeble and the breeze cool. She keeps her hands under her shawl to keep them warm. At such early hour of the day, there isn't a crowd around and she's grateful for it.

Someone joins her by the lakeside. There's a considerable distance between them, but his presence in her vicinity is heavy over everything else. He demands her attention to shift to him, and suddenly all her thoughts begin to circle him. Brekhna glances at him.

"Do you like it?" he asks with his own eyes fixated upon the lake.

Hands tied behind his back, his shawl rest upon his broad shoulders and comes down unwrapped at his front. He's wearing black shalwar kameez with an off-white shawl only, and she wonders if he doesn't feel cold. Covered in her own shawl and sweater, she can still feel her fingers growing numb from the chill in the air.

"Who wouldn't like it?" she replies. "It's beyond beautiful."

They stand in silence together, enjoying the view. Behind them, she can hear their families chattering as they set out a table to eat.

"Have you been here before?" she inquires.

"Yes, a few times." He finally turns to her. "It's your first time here, isn't it?"

She nods. "I've never had a chance before."

He gazes at her. His gray eyes are a shade darker than the gray lining of the clouds, but they certainly are much colder than the weather. Brekhna quickly looks away, unable to hold his gaze.

"Have you heard the story of this lake, Asfand?" she asks him.

"The story of a human prince who fell in love with a fairy princess?"

"Yes."

"I only know this lake is named after the prince, but I never had the pleasure of knowing details of the story." He takes a step closer to her. "Do you know of it?"

Again, she can only nod.

"Would you narrate it to me?"

"You've been here before but you don't know the story of it?" she states in surprise.

"I don't believe in myths and legends."

"Yet you're asking me to entertain you with it."

This brings a small smile on his lips. "If you're the storyteller, maybe I'll start believing in tales I've considered a lie before."

She has to bite down her own smile as she steals another glimpse of him. Turning away from him, she starts walking along the side of lake and he quietly follows after her, maintaining enough distance between them which is respectful but where he can hear her speaking to him.

"The lake is named after an Egyptian prince Saif-ul-Maluk, the sword of the kings, who lived long ago," she begins to tell him the story. "It is said that he was one of the most handsome men, born in riches, and the best of fighters. Then one day he had a dream. In his dream he saw fairies bathing in this lake, one of them with a face like a full moon and her beauty like no other— the queen among them, Badi-ul-Jamal or Badri Jamala. She bewitched him right away. And when Saif woke up from his dream, he set out on a journey to find her."

"He fell in love with a woman he saw in a dream?" Asfandyar interrupts. "That's why I don't believe in folklore."

"Not everything is to be believed. Some things are to learn from," Brekhna responds.

"What does one learn from myths, janaan (beloved)?"

She throws him a glare over her shoulder, partly for interrupting the story and partly for the informal endearment. Sometimes, he flusters her in ways that sends her into a panic and confusion more than just sounding lovely to her.

"Don't call me that," she forbids sternly.

"Why not?"

"We're not married yet. Be a little more modest."

"We don't have to be married to be beloved to each other."

She hugs her shawl closer to her, feeling her cheeks heating up. "Do you want to hear the story or not?"

"Please, continue."

"So the prince roamed for six years in search of the fairy and the emerald lake surrounded by tall, white mountains, asking everyone in the streets of Egypt about it until one day he comes across a saint. The saint gave him a magic cap, Sulaimani cap, that could take him to the lake. But he warned him of the trials and tribulations that may come in the way to achieve his love, and to pray so he may succeed since she was a fairy and a human eye could not see her. They say this lake is a place of fairies and demons."

"Never heard of a single soul who has seen a fairy or demon here," Asfandyar interjects.

"Why, do you want to see one?" Brekhna looks back at him again, smiling. "It is also said they come out on the night of full moon every lunar month, bright lights dancing above the lake and disappearing among the rocks."

"If lights in the atmosphere can be called fairies and demons."

"Still, I would like to see the lake at night." She sighs dreamily, continuing with her story, "Anyways, with the help of the magic cap, Saif finally found the lake. He was overjoyed and now hoped to find the fairy too. So he prayed for forty consecutive days, and became weak with thirst, hunger and sleeplessness. And then one night when the moon was full, he finally saw the fairy coming to the lake— and they finally met. He told her about his dream, and she told him he wasn't the only one who dreamt it— that she thought he wasn't even real until then. But there was a problem."

"Brekhna!" She hears Spogmay call to her.

Brekhna stops walking and looks in the direction, finding her sister coming towards them.

"Brekhna, Asfandyar lala, the table is ready. Everyone is waiting for you both," she informs them.

"We'll join in a while," Asfandyar says dismissively, and Spogmay shakes her head.

"Uncle said to bring you with me."

He heaves a sigh, his breath misting in the air before him. Brekhna is already walking to where their families are, and she can hear Asfandyar's reluctant footsteps behind her.

"Your sister was telling me a love story, wawa," Asfandyar says to Spogmay, making Brekhna blush. "Your interruption was very untimely."

Brekhna gives him a look of disapproval as Spogmay lifts a teasing eyebrow at her, but Asfandyar remains stoic and unbothered.

"Then I suppose the love story has to wait, lala, until you both have a moment alone," Spogmay replies.

"Spogmay," Brekhna shushes her.

"Do I have to wait for it until I make her my wife?"

"Asfandyar." Brekhna looks at him pleadingly. "What is with you two?"

Spogmay hastens her steps and walks ahead of them. When they near the table, Asfandyar comes closer and whispers quietly to her, "I'll wait for you outside the resort this evening."

Before she could ask him what for, he has already moved away.

When evening falls on Kaghan valley and the sun is disappearing behind the mountains to sleep, she looks for a chance to escape her room. But it isn't as easy, especially with Zarbakhta and Spogmay with her. Brekhna keeps checking her phone, both for the time and for a message from him.

"Is something the matter?" Zarbakhta inquires when Spogmay excuses herself to get them a blanket and order tea.

A faint drizzle is falling and the heater is burning to keep the room warm. She wants to sit with the girls and have tea with them, but her heart cannot rest knowing Asfandyar might be waiting for her.

"Your brother told me to meet him outside," Brekhna tells her quietly.

Zarbakhta smiles knowingly. "Then go meet him. But hurry back because I won't be able to lie if someone asks for you."

She doesn't need anymore prompting as she slips away and finds her way outside. In the cold and the gentle rain, she finds a few people sitting in the lawn, bathed in the glow of a hundred golden lights and surrounded by pleasant scents of the flowers. Her eyes begin to look from the man she's here for.

After searching around, she finally finds him sitting alone in the veranda overlooking the riverside. But when she approaches him, she notices his eyes closed, head slightly tilted forward and his shawl having slipped off from one side of his body. There is a tray with two cups of tea on the table, but there's no steam rising and she assumes the tea has gone cold. He has fallen asleep waiting for her. She might have made him wait for long. Brekhna suddenly feels guilty.

"Asfand?" she calls him softly but he doesn't respond.

Like before, he's not wearing any coat or sweater to keep himself warm. Hesitantly, she goes near him to adjust his shawl. Brekhna bends down and holds its lower edge. She wraps it around his chest, careful not to wake him up, and brings it to his opposite shoulder. But then he cranes his neck, and his wide awake eyes collide with her own.

She freezes, for a fraction of a second too stunned to react. But then realizing their proximity, his face so close to her own, she quickly pulls away and stumbles back. Their noses could've to touched if she had moved an inch more. When did she get so close? She can hear the beating of her heart in her ears as it wildly hammers against her breastbone, unable to meet Asfandyar's eyes. Brekhna touches her cheeks, mortified, hoping her face has not turned scarlet for the nth time today around him.

"I thought you're asleep. It's cold and your shawl had slipped off," she explains, feeling the need to do so for some reason.

"I dozed off," he simply replies. "Sit down."

She does so, gaze flicking everywhere but to him, until he says her name and she's forced to meet those eyes again— eyes that can draw soul from one's body. Otherworldly. Eyes she can get lost into without a desire to be found.

"Brekhna?"

Brekhna looks at him. He gives her a small smile.

"Why did you want to meet me?" she asks.

"So you could finish your story to me," he answers, gesturing towards the tea. "I thought it would be better over tea. But it has gone cold. I'll order more."

He does so before she could refuse, knowing well she cannot stay with him for long. The temperature has only dropped more, and though it's beautiful outside but the chill has already started to bite into her skin. She didn't wear anything warm over her clothes and herself too is only wrapped into a shawl.

"You aren't even interested in such stories," Brekhna reminds him.

"True, but I'm very interested in you."

"Asfand," she scolds, but only to become more flustered as he stares at her with his intense eyes.

"Jee, da Asfand janaan (yes, Asfand's beloved)?"

She feels her breath hitch into her throat at his words, flabbergasted for a minute before she regains her senses.

"Don't speak to me like that, and don't look at me like that either."

"How else should I do then?" He leans back in his chair. "Grana ye rata. Zra bebasa di or starge sta deedar ghwari. (You're dear to me. The heart is helpless and the eyes long for your sight)."

"The story," she changes the subject, somehow pulling herself together after drowning in shame. "Where did I leave it?"

A waiter leaves them their tea. She takes the cup in her hands, seeking some warmth from the hot tea. Asfandyar lifts his cup to his lips as well.

"They finally met, but there was a problem," he recalls.

"You were actually listening." Brekhna smiles. "Badri Jamala told the prince that she was actually held captive by Deo Safed (the white giant) who lived in a castle in koh-e-qaf (mountains of qaf), and that she must return to him before he found her missing. But Saif-ul-Maluk refused to part with his lover after such a long quest, and they decided to face together whatever was to come. So they fled and took refuge in a cave."

"Are you cold?" Asfandyar questions midway between the story. When Brekhna gives him a confused look, he adds, "I can see you shivering."

"I'm fine," she assures, but he has already taken his shawl off. "Asfand, don't."

He holds it out to her. "Here, take it."

"I said I'm fine," she insists.

"Don't make me get up and come to wrap it around you myself."

Brekhna narrows her eyes at him, but takes the shawl from him. "Wouldn't you be cold? You aren't wearing a sweater or coat yourself," she voices her concern.

"I'm good, don't worry."

She puts his shawl around herself and the warmth of it engulfs her. It smells like him, of strength and dominance, and it makes her pulse jump. She feels as if it's not a shawl but his arms around her. Embarrassed once more, she pushes the thought away.

"Don't interrupt me again, or I'll not finish this story," she warns him, and he places a hand over his heart to show his sincerity.

"I won't."

"When Badri Jamala didn't return to the white giant, he was enraged. She was his favorite and he couldn't live without her. So he set out to find her. And when he reached the lake, he stomped at its side with such great force that it brought a flood in Kaghan valley. But he couldn't find her. Meanwhile far in the cave the fairy held onto her prince, praying for all of it to pass so she could be free to be with her lover. She didn't want to return to the giant and be enslaved in his castle again. And the giant, he was heartbroken. He had loved Badr and now thinking her to be dead or gone forever, he didn't want to live anymore."

She pauses, taking a sip of her tea. Asfandyar patiently waits for her to continue.

"The white giant made his way towards Deosai (the land of the giants), weeping all the way there, and a large teardrop fell and formed into a lake— ansoo jheel (the teardrop lake). And in Deosai he died, while the struggle was finally over for Saif and Badr— the quest was completed and the lovers had united." Brekhna puts her cup down and straightens. "So this is the story of lake Saif-ul-Maluk."

Asfandyar doesn't comment on it. They finish their tea in silence and watch the rain falling, listening to the sound of laughter from the people gathered in the lawn and to the rustling of the leaves as the breeze plays with them. He looks at her.

"Do you want to take a walk in the rain?"

"No," she turns him down instantly. "You'll get sick. Zarbakhta told me how easily you catch a cold."

He smirks smugly. "You asked Zari about me?"

Brekhna quickly gets to her feet, taking off his shawl. "I should leave now."

"Stay a moment longer," he requests.

"It's getting late."

He stands up too. "Then I'll walk you to your room."

"It's not like I've to walk faraway. Don't bother yourself."

"Don't be stubborn, Brekhna." He moves nearer, reaching out for his shawl but not taking it from her hands. "Meena kom darsara, parwa ba de na kom? (I love you, shouldn't I care for you?)"

She once more feels her cheeks to be aflame. Unknowingly she fists his shawl.

"You can keep it if you want," he says, a hint of mischief lacing his voice. Brekhna quickly let go of the shawl.

She hurries towards her room, and he follows behind her.

"It suits you," he tells her, referring to the shawl. "I wouldn't have minded you keeping it."

"It's a men's shawl."

"It's my shawl."

"Then you should keep it."

He escorts her to her room. She turns to him once there.

"Don't go out in the rain," she forbids.

He only smiles and nods. "I liked your story, Brekhna."

She smiles back.

Amidst this world full of people with beauty and hearts of all kind, if there's someone whom her eyes have always sought and who makes her heart go spinning, it has been him. So drawn and out of reach for others, but with her he has been affectionate— a man of power always tender to her. His eyes full of ice thawing for her. Brekhna feels her thoughts tangled around him. All these emotions of her youth which she's often capable of restraining and putting in order, they make her feel a little dizzy when she's near him.

She blames his grounding eyes and charming looks. She blames their betrothal and the dreams promised to her of their future together. She doesn't want to blame her heart for what it feels— she cannot.

As he turns to leave, she calls him.

"Asfandyar?"

He stops and looks at her again.

"It suits you better."

It takes him a second to realize she's referring to his shawl. A smile once more graces his handsome face, allowing her to steal only a single glimpse before he leaves.

"Khumari starge (drunken eyes)," she mumbles to herself, "they have me drunken on them."

She gets inside her room and closes the door.

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About three years ago when I finished this book, I didn't intend on adding anymore parts to it. But I got an inspiration for this one and decided to write it. It may remain or may be deleted later on.

The photo attached above is an excerpt from the story of Saif-ul-Maluk and Badi-ul-Jamal. The photo used for the banner is of lake Saif-ul-Maluk taken from Google.