Naina tere kajrare hai,
Naino pe hum dil haare hai
—uwuhobi | pinterest

—'☆

SHE CLOSES her eyes briefly, letting Mikayla, her friend's embrace envelope her body. She hugs her back, smiling.

The girl moves back, tears brimming her eyes. Juliette gently touches her cheeks, wiping the teardrops that roll down her flushed skin.

"Wish you a happy married life," says Juliette, earning herself a nod from her friend.

She didn't look happy after getting married. Surely, the man, her husband, wasn't the one she loved and even wanted to marry but destiny had its plans for them.

She moves to get into the car after meeting everyone and receiving blessings to start a new relationship with her husband.

Juliette looks at her friend, the way her face saddens when she gets into the car. She sighs, learning how hard it can be for a girl to leave her family to build someone else's house.

But she knows her husband will take care of her. He is a good man.

Not even realizing, a tear rolls down her left eye. She is as old as her friend, Mikayla, now. Is she also going to leave her people like this?

She doesn't let the thought bother her mind. She blinks her eyes, watching the car move away. It is then, a hand comes before her eyes, holding a white handkerchief.

She blinks those sparkle-dusted eyelids, weighed down by the tears hanging on the lashes. She looks at the person holding the handkerchief and no doubt, it is her childhood friend, Raphael.

"Take it, you look horrible," he says, signaling at her face through his dark eyes.

She presses her lips in discontent at what he said. She takes the handkerchief nonetheless and wipes away her tears. She feels glad that she didn't wear any mascara but only enhanced her eyelashes.

But still, how beautiful she looks, he can't help but muse, watching her tap the handkerchief lightly upon her smooth and delicate skin.

She then taps the handkerchief around her lips and looks at it, finding no traces of smudged lipstick. He watches her carefully as she puts the handkerchief to herself.

"I'll give it back to you after washing it," she replies, raising her eyes to look at him.

Dove eyes, he sighs, feeling as if an arrow was shot through his heart. He nods his head, stepping beside her.

"By the way, would you like to go out with me?" he asks, waving an arm to the car that moves away, having the couple inside.

He feels happy for his friend, Barak, that he got to marry the girl he likes. Is he also going to marry the girl he likes? He wishes it to happen very soon.

Juliette turns to look at him, raising a brow. What does he mean? "What have you planned?" she rather asks, moving her hands to him.

As her bangles jingle, they snatch his attention and he seems to lose himself in them, loving the gentle sound of them.

"A long drive," he shrugs. From the corner of his eye, he notices people moving to leave the place. Some begin to enter back the church.

He puts a hand on her back, above her hair to move themselves aside, leaving the way for the people.

Juliette notices it, wondering why her heart races whenever he touches her so innocently and decently. She knows he is a playboy and have broken many hearts. Still, he is different around her.

"Nice idea," she answers.

"I hope your manager doesn't have a problem with it," he says, not minding how close they stand now. However, he likes it.

"Oh, no!" She chuckles. "I have come to India for my friends and she knows I won't like her interruption."

He smiles. "That's good." She nods her head. "So. . . shall we?" he drags the last word as well, gesturing to his car that stands at a distance.

She nods her head and moves ahead, shouldering her purse. He follows after, keeping in his heart how much he likes it. She agreed.

As they get into the car, she asks him, "Do you have any destination planned?"

He stares at her gestures for a moment, wondering this time if he's caught the words right. However, he murmurs, "I didn't understand."

She hurriedly brings out her digital notepad and a pen. She writes on it, showing it to him.

He blinks, understanding now. "Well, you can wait and watch," he answers, keeping her the bay.

She shrugs and sits calmly. He drives ahead, leaving the sight of the church. She doesn't talk in the middle, knowing that he'll have to look at the notepad every time and she doesn't want any risk.

While he drives, she looks out through the window. Soon, the tall green trees start coming often and she learns he's taking her away from the city noise.

She blinks, turning to look at him. As if understanding what she wants to say, he answers, "You'll like the place, I promise."

She nods her head, smiling. He turns to a road where there are fewer vehicles and it is then, that the roof above their heads begins rolling off.

The soft and warm breeze of leaving winter caresses her skin, bringing a smile to her eyes. They twinkle in content and she hurriedly puts aside her purse.

She quickly taps his shoulder, earning his quick attention. He slows down the speed, looking at the gestures she makes.

"I want to stand up and spread my arms."

He chuckles. "Sure, you can," he allows, going back to driving at normal speed.

She notices that the buildings are gone and only the trees and grass stand by their sides.

He drives on the main road and she does what she wishes to do. She stands up, getting his attention.

Keeping his hand on the steering wheel, he uses his other arm to keep it behind her back, not touching her. "Dhyaan se," he says, stealing the look of a smile on her face.

(Carefully.)

How happy she looks. He smiles to himself. She, on the other hand, spreads her arm and feels the warmth of the countryside that is so different.

The pink dupatta on her shoulders sways back by the air, passing through her body. The sun is high in the sky but still, it is not so hot. This is what she finds pleasant about the countryside in spring and autumn.

She spends and enjoys her moment like that, not wanting to sit afterward. He looks at her, unable to refrain. She is pretty and lovely.

He doesn't say anything and keeps driving ahead. The sky is bright and beautiful. He knows no rain is coming to disturb them. He wishes to take more of her time.

He drives more into the place and she begins noticing women passing by, with earthen pots over their heads or bundles of straw for their cattle.

The smell of greenery also becomes real to her. She finds herself closing her eyes occasionally and inhales deeply. But she can't also resist looking at the women passing by.

She is visiting India after a lot of years.

"Want to stop by some shop and have some tea?" he asks, grabbing her attention.

Gently, she looks down at him, nodding her head instantly. Chai. She will never say no to it.

"There's a place I know," he adds, watching her take the seat back. She collects her dupatta in her lap, letting her purse stay aside. "I knew you wouldn't say no to it, though you should."

She writes on the notepad something and waits for him to look at it. He does, reading it in his head, which says, "I know I should. My manager never allows me to have milk tea but she isn't here." She giggles when he smiles after reading it.

"She seems very conscious."

She huffs, her shoulders dropping. He has no idea. She finds the woman annoying. She stops her from doing many things. Sometimes, she is fed up and locks herself inside her room to avoid her manager to make her realize how annoying she is.

"She doesn't want me to gain fat," she shrugs. "And she says many more things."

He steals a glance at her face. She doesn't look happy while saying it. He can understand even if he is not the same ballerina.

"Being a ballerina is hard," he comments, finding they are near to the small shop. Juliette doesn't notice it. She only looks at him.

"It is," she agrees. "But it is my passion."

He hums, stopping the car. She looks around and finds a shop behind the road. Two people stand there, talking to each other. An old man handles the shop, a turban on his head.

For a moment, she's surprised to know he took her here. Not like she found it cheap but it tickled her heart to realize he seemed to have the same taste as hers.

"Come," he says, leaving his car.

She follows after. Taking the keys, he walks ahead. She follows after him, staying close to him. He stops in front of the shop owner and asks for two cups of tea and some snacks.

She stays behind him, observing everything.

The old man smiles and begins making the tea. Juliette watches it silently. Raphael turns and gestures to her to follow him. She does. He sits on a wooden bench, which moves a little as he sits upon it. But it is safe. She sits beside him.

While she is busy noticing the people around, he busies himself with her. She doesn't know maybe but she looks like an angel under the bright glow of the sun above.

"Chai ke sath kya logi?" he asks, wincing after he realizes what a dumb question it was to ask to begin a conversation.

(What would you have with tea?)

She looks back at him, smiling. He is being weird. "Matthi?" she suggests, "It's been years since I have had it."

"Okay, I'll ask for that," he trails off. "How's life in America, by the way?"

"Everything is well. I can say, that after years of pain and struggles, I have received this life. I call it a huge blessing and the favor of my Lord."

After years of pain and struggles—no doubt what she says is right. Everybody has seen but only she knows how hard it was to live with an abusive father who used to drink too much. Her mother was sick always and she had not only to take care of herself but also her little brother.

But now life has changed. How can she ignore the hand of her God who moved in her life and gave her everything? She didn't even ask so much. She only asked for her father to change but all that she received—wealth, fame, and honor—was more than that and she's thankful to her God.

He smiles, nodding his head in understanding. "And how's Eden doing?" he mentions her little brother. "How's he after growing up?"

"He's doing fine. He follows what Barak taught him when he stayed in America with me."

He cocks a brow. "A godly boy?"

She grins, nodding her head. It relieves her heart. She is glad to have a friend like Barak who also stayed by her side like a brother and took care of everything until she was able.

The old man comes in between, holding two earthen cups filled with tea for the couple.

Raphael quickly gets up, grabbing the cups. "You should've called me, sir," he says with a smile, holding the cups.

The old man waves it off, and leaves the couple, smiling.

Juliette watches them slightly, admiring her friend's character.

He might be a playboy which people call him, but he is kind. Very much. He has always been humble even after being a famous businessman. Servants work under him as much as he likes but still, he respects them.

He hands her the cup. "Wait a moment. I'm bringing some matthi," he moves away and comes back with two thick and fresh matthis.

He gives one to her and sits back, munching on his matthi and taking a sip of his tea.

"And how was it for you in India?" she asks the next, keeping the cup in her lap. "You didn't even come to see me when I was departing."

Her question halts him.

—'☆

The most awaited couple arrives.

Everybody looks at the father and daughter duo, admiring how beautiful they look. However, Akhsah can't come to rejoice at the moment like she was supposed to do.

She keeps her gaze down, not wanting to look at Drishal, who stands at the altar.

A smug look is on his face. He knows the family will agree to his and his family's absurd demands. He is happy to receive what Akhsah will bring with her.

But he is not aware of what is going to happen next.

Adam, her father, brings her to the small staircase that leads to the altar. He stands there, looking down at his daughter.

Though she is as beautiful as a gem, the sadness on her face hurts him. He never wanted to see his daughter like that. Akhsah is the apple of his eye.

Drishal waits for Akhsah to come and stand in front of him but a frown slaps his smug face when a man steps ahead and comes to Akhsah.

Barak, her brother, watches it happen. Even he was the one who encouraged the man to go ahead to hold his sister's hand.

Drishal looks at the man. He is tall and handsome, dressed in a black tailored suit. He stands at a safe distance from Akhsah and like a gentleman, he puts his hand before her eyes to accept it. He never did it.

Who he is, he doesn't have to think twice when two men come from behind and grab his arms to drag him away. One of them is his own uncle.

"What's wrong?" he mutters, glaring at his uncle.

"We've been insulted beyond words can describe, Drishal! The Dawoods have broken the engagement and have chosen someone else for their daughter," his uncle mutters, jaw clenched. He grabs his nephew's hand and shoves the wedding band on his palm which he gave to Akhsah.

The fire burns inside him. How dare she?

After acting well for months, he thought they would never break the engagement and give him whatever he desired. If not, he knew he was going to insult the Dawoods wholeheartedly but he never knew someone else would even agree to marry her.

"Who's he?" Drishal asks his uncle, jaw clenched.

"Eliab, the son of her father's friend." That's why he agreed so easily!

He admits she's beautiful and wealthy but which man accepts a woman whose fiance left her?

But he didn't know about Eliab, at all.

Akhsah looks at her father. He silently assures her and she accepts Eliab's hand. She never wanted to.

He smiles and kisses the back of her palm. She steals her gaze and follows after him when he walks over to the altar. The priest welcomes them.

Akhsah stands silently, keeping her eyes down and shedding silent tears. More than this marriage of convenience, she grieves for the betrayal that broke her heart. She loved him as he loved her wealth.

She blinks the tears from her eyes, keeping them behind the veil. However, Eliab knows about them.

He knows she doesn't love him. He wonders if she even will do it. But he does. He doesn't want to hide and never even tries to hide that he likes her. Already.

Her eldest brother, Barak, had been his friend since they were kids. They played together and he met Akhsah through him, only to admire her in a different way.

He was head over heels after her. She was his secret crush but his eyes used to be obvious. Everybody in his family knows he likes her, and that's why his father didn't say no when Akhsah's father put the proposal before them.

He likes her.

"I do," he says, catching her attention.

She blinks her eyes up to him and their eyes collide. She inhales deeply and looks away immediately but Eliab seems not to like it.

He wants it to happen again.

As the priest recites the same words to her, she feels reluctant to say, "I do." However, she does, after a long pause. It makes him realize she agreed to marry only for her family's reputation though her father always put her wish before anything.

She was just a good daughter.

"Young man, you may kiss the bride now," says the priest, smiling down at Eliab.

He smiles back and nods his head. She swallows, her eyes stealing glances at him. One after the other. He can't help but notice it. So nervous.

Keeping his emotions at bay, and the way his heart saddens to see her being so reluctant in everything in their marriage, he holds the laced edge of her veil.

However, he doesn't reveal her face. He knew she was crying. He doesn't want to reveal it to everyone. So, he steps closer and keeps the edge of the veil in his grip. He tilts his head, giving her a reason to hold her breath. He brings himself close to her and kisses the corner of her mouth.

The touch of his soft lips disappears the moment it comes, making her heart leap inside her chest. He moves back, leaving the edge of her veil and her heart, surprised.

At least, he respects her.

The priest wishes them, declaring them to be husband and wife to each other.

—'☆

Mahira knocks on the door impatiently. Over and over again. However, she waits for him to open the door as well.

A few minutes pass when he opens the door, looking pissed off. It can be seen on his face, the way he glares at her. She knows she disturbed him but she had no other way.

He stares at her blankly, learning about her bloodshot eyes and pink nose. However, he doesn't pity her. A few teardrops leave her eyes and her face is already pink. What's new?

"Why did you come here?" he mutters, pulling down his specs to fold the sticks. He keeps his olive green and earthy eyes trained on her though.

She sniffles, answering, "I wanted to talk to you."

He frowns. Her fingers choke the strap of her purse, seeing the bitterness on his face. He scares her sometimes. He is not a good boy. He never was. He just looks beautiful but he is lethal. He is a weapon. She knows him yet she is here.

"About what?" he asks annoyedly, tilting his head. But they are disturbed eventually when a crowd of boys comes into the corridor.

Mahira steals a glance at them, finding it to be their basketball team. They walk around, making noise and talking about things that make no sense to her.

Ibzan loses himself and steps aside. "Come inside," he says, not even wanting to call her inside. But he has to.

She nods her head and moves inside. Ibzan closes the door behind himself. He doesn't have to send his roommates out. They are gone. He was alone until now.

She doesn't bother to take a seat and stands by his study desk where only he studies. He looks at her from behind, her presence unsettling him.

"I know you're pregnant and came to talk about it," he says, grabbing her quick attention.

She turns around after putting her purse on his bed. He notices it and says nothing.

"But I gave you the solution already. Then why are you here?" he mutters rather harshly now, stepping closer.

Her soul trembles when he says that. Being the only daughter of Shah, she has never been scolded this badly. Everybody pampered her but her mother also disciplined her well, keeping her within the boundaries every time.

Nobody can blame her for her timid nature. She thinks before talking but for Ibzan, her heart sighs, she doesn't think she can explain it.

"I can't," she answers after a pause, shaking her head. "I can't do it."

"Why can't you? You just found it out. It won't be as painful as you think it would."

"It's not about pain, Ibzan." She raises her eyes to look into his but his hazel eyes scare her a lot when he is angry. Her stomach coils yet she gives an answer, "I just can't abort the baby."

He scoffs. "What baby? It's just a fist of tissues tangled into nothingness," he growls, surprising her with his mentality. "Don't show your motherly affection here. You'll ruin lives."

She swallows, tears sliding down her cheeks freely. He huffs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Stop crying now, crybaby!"

She hiccups, wiping away her tears. "How can you say that? It's your child, too, isn't it?" she dares to ask him, wondering if he even thinks so.

"So what?" He shakes his head, correcting himself, "Look Mahira, I already warned you not to involve me in such things, didn't I?"

"Ibzan, we were drunk that night. I don't know how but now, you can't avoid it."

"I'm not even avoiding it, Mahira! I gave you the solution! Use it and come out of the situation!"

"Your suggestion is cruel!" She gasps, "How could you say something like that?"

"Because I think from here," he replies, putting his finger on his forehead. "Not here," he then drags that finger to his heart, ending with, "Like you."

She watches the gestures silently, chewing her bottom lip. She should have thought times before coming to him. How could she forget he doesn't know what love is? He can't even understand her.

"I can't kill a life, knowing that I have everything to raise it," she mumbles the reply timidly, not sure that he'd even listen but he does.

He wasn't wrong when he said she thinks from her heart. The thing he considers a fist of tissues is a life to her. Why so sensitive? Do not call her that. She is very much of a sinner but she is well aware of what life is.

Being raised in a family where morals and values are considered higher than wealth and looks, she knows about it very well.

What he considers a fist of tissues is alive to her. Hasn't she read in the scriptures how beautifully the Lord designs a baby and every time, He keeps His eyes set on the baby?

The Word says, your face is etched on the palm of His hand. When you were being created in the darkness of your mother's womb, He saw you.

When a woman is pregnant, it is the Lord's will. The mother can think of society and kill the baby, the Lord will understand her situation and forgive her if she's sorry from her heart. He is merciful but only if she knows how the Lord made it possible, she would know every baby in the world has come for a purpose set by the Lord.

Some find this purpose and complete it but some can't, and curse Him.

Every baby has a purpose. No baby is a mistake.

That's what Mahira knows.

"Then raise it by yourself. Why did you even come to me?" He shrugs, walking past her to put down his specs.

She swallows. Finally, he showed it he doesn't care. Not even a bit.

He stops beside her and turns to face her. The proximity takes her by surprise. She stumbles back to create a safe distance when he grabs her arm, muttering, "But think of an excuse that you're going to use when they ask you about the father of this baby."

She purses her lips, her heart beating crazily inside her chest. So, he finally said it.

A moment of silence passes and he doesn't look away from her. Their eyes sink into each other's and he sees how her honey eyes accuse him secretly.

She looks surprised too. But wasn't she expecting him to be this horrible to her? She should've known he'd walk away silently. He doesn't care.

"Hope you're satisfied with our conversation now," he answers calmly, yet there's a storm brewing inside his heart.

He lets go of her arm and steps back. It is her signal to leave.

Hurt, she also steps back and takes her purse. She was a fool to come here and try to make him understand. She shoulders her purse and walks out of his dorm.

He watches her leave, not satisfied when she leaves the room. He follows her to the door and finds her in the corridor, fumbling with the zip of her bag and walking away with steady strides.

She takes out a scarf and puts it over her head. To hide her eyes, she uses the glares.

He watches her disappear and wonders how sensitive she is. How could she expect him to be like her? Did she not know his heart was of stone?

—'☆

The first chapter is out. Share your reviews, please. Well, share your reviews in each chapter, if possible.

Thanks for reading.
Stay happy, stay beautiful.
Jesus loves you :)