Love breaks my bones and I laugh
—Charles Bukowski

—'☆

SHE STANDS beside the car's trunk, watching the work being done by her crush, Eliab.

Folding her arms on her chest, she beholds him do his work. He is busy with the task, his attention is all set on it as he arranges her suitcases one by one. There are two. As he bends a little, moving his neck, his dark locks fall over his forehead to kiss his eyebrows.

She blinks, unable to resist his charms when he stands straight and looks at her, smiling. "Done."

She nods her head. "Thank you," she gestures through her hands, the sleek surface of her Iranian shawl hanging through her arms, catching the attention of the admirers. Her chocolate eyes hold a different kind of warmth.

He smiles, shaking his head. "It's okay. Now, come." He walks about the car, opening the door.

She follows behind, grabbing her seat and fastening the seatbelt. He begins driving while she keeps her eyes focused on the road, not wanting them to keep fluctuating. He may see and realize that she likes him!

"By the way, you could've stayed with us. Mama loves you. She says you're lovely. You're my sister's friend, you could use her room till you're in India."

As told earlier, she came to attend her friend's wedding. Flying from America, she was invited straight to her friend's house where she insisted on her to stay with her.

Now, being her childhood friend, her mother didn't mind keeping her for some more time. Juliette was a lovely girl and Mikayla's family admired her a lot. What was wrong with doing some hospitality? Punjabis are known for it.

But Juliette couldn't accept the favor. It was too much.

She smiles to herself. Mikayla's family is very kind. However, she doesn't answer him.

Eliab, her friend's younger brother, yet around her age, is her secret crush. She likes him and she can't hide it. How can she make her heart understand when he is around?

He also can understand her sign language. However, she doesn't disturb him whilst driving. Why would she? But Raphael takes this risk, always eager to know her views and heart her out.

The rest of the driving is silent. They don't speak to each other. As he reaches the apartment where she decided to stay before Mikayla's family invited her from the bottom of their hearts, they get out of the car.

It is then she takes her chance to answer him, "You are really kind but I'm okay with it. I hope you understand."

"I do." He blinks assuredly, a smile coming on his lips.

She looks at him, unable to say a word afterward. He moves to take out her suitcases while she watches him.

As he brings one out, she reaches to hold the handle when he beats her into it.

"It's okay," he says another time in a soft tone. "You don't worry about anything. I'm your friend's brother!" He chuckles, "You can take my help."

She sighs. He is a kind man. So lovely. How can she not like him? She was so young when she met him through Mikayla, her friend, and she couldn't stop her heart from taking the route to his thoughts.

He takes out another when she beats him into it this time, grabbing the handle. "I can take this one," she insists, winning over him.

He shrugs. "Okay," he says and starts walking ahead.

She follows him to the main floor. Eliab walking ahead, doesn't miss to look around the luxury apartment. It looks awesome, able to make anyone admire the architecture and the wonderfulness of it. He can be one of them.

Juliette follows him to her floor and brings out the key to unlock the door. He follows her to the living room and puts aside the suitcase.

"Now I should leave," he says, fishing out his phone to check something. Probably time.

She looks at him, her heart sinking inside her chest. She thought he could stay here for a while.

"You just came. At least, have something," she proposes, glancing at the phone in his grip.

He stares at her gestures before smiling sweetly. "It's fine. I have something to do," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. The look on his face is apologetic. "Thank you for asking though."

She doesn't protest and simply nods her head.

"Will see you again. Take care," he says, waving his hand. "Goodbye!"

She also waves her hand, watching him leave. Once the door is closed, she lets a pout come on her lips as she plops upon a couch behind her.

She wanted him to stay.

She doesn't understand why Eliab is so like this with her. She is not set to seduce him. She just likes him and wonders if he feels the same thing about her. However, it doesn't seem so.

She knows he is an artist and is passionate about his art. He is always busy there. She wonders if he even thinks of loving someone or being loved by anyone. What does he want?

Her phone vibrates under her palm and she looks at the screen, finding a message from her manager.

She huffs, not wanting to look at it. She doesn't even open the chat and swipes away the notification with her manager's icon. As she swipes away another unnecessary notification, she finds Raphael's display picture above it and clicks on the bar, leading to the chatbox.

Her eyes focus on the message sent by him. She reads it in her mind; Can we talk?

Juliette doesn't have to think twice before making a decision. Why would she say no to her childhood friend? He is very dear to her. However, she wonders why not her crush is like this. Or more interested in her?

But she stays unaware of their feelings towards her. A mist occupies the field in front of her, keeping her eyes from looking at the truth.

The man she likes has someone else in his heart while the one whom she considers not more than a friend seems to feel more than a friend should feel in his heart for her.

Can't she see?

—'☆

"Tabitha, assist our lovely Akhsah to her room and see if she needs anything," Akhsah's mother-in-law says, patting Akhsah's coral-dusted cheek as she stands in front of her.

"Sure, Ma!" Tabitha, Akhsah's sister-in-law answers, emerging from behind.

Akhsah looks at the young woman, finding it to be beautiful, just like her mother-in-law and younger sister-in-law. The new family she has received is lovely, she can see it, but she never asked for a change to happen.

Tabitha steps forward, gesturing through her hand. "Come," she answers softly, getting Akhsah's quick yet silent response.

Her mother-in-law watches as Tabitha takes her upstairs. To her new room, which she is going to share with her replaced husband. What a drastic change came in her life!

The door is opened by Tabitha as they enter it. The very light scent of musk and roses dominates the room. The same scent lingers around Eliab, along with a faint touch of cardamom. He is the mornings of Bharat, no doubt.

Akhsah steps ahead while Tabitha closes the door behind her. She turns to look at the new family member as she busies herself checking the room.

His room is very simple, just like him. Right before her lay a large bed that can hold ten people sleeping on it. Just like the walls, it has a texture of cream and royal blue. She stands on a matching Persian rug that spreads about the room. There's a changing area right in front of the bed, to her right. A wooden lattice room divider stands in between, having tiny pretty flower patterns. Behind the bed, there is a terrace. Through the glass doors enter sun rays that touch the cream-colored lattice, giving it a pleasant view. And on her left side, there's a door that leads to the bathroom.

The rest of the area of his room lies unused, open to do anything.

Way too simple. But what does she have to do with it? First of all, she never knew this room would even belong to her.

"Eliab has a different choice. Hope his taste isn't too odd," says Tabitha, walking about the room to slide down the royal blue curtains. "He lives away, by the way. Don't know what he plans for you two," she reveals further, coming back to her.

Akhsah only nods her head, having no wish to hear more about him.

"Now tell me, how can I help you?" she offers, moving forward to hold her hand. She leads her to the dressing mirror behind the lattice, making her sit on a stool.

Akhsah stares at her reflection in the mirror, realizing how different she looks when she doesn't smile.

Having a family that took care of her so lovingly and brought her up like a princess, she cried very little. She lived a happy life. But now. It all seems like a punishment to her.

"I just... I want to shed this gown," she says, her voice low and heavy.

"Of course," the other woman smiles, beginning to help her with her heavy apparel.

She carefully removes the pins from her hair, grabbing the chance to speak, "Akhsah, I can understand your situation. Having been betrayed by your betrothed and then marrying someone you never knew can be a challenge."

Akhsah doesn't say anything. She just stares at the wedding band on her ring finger, given by him. What she wore before there was taken down.

"I know it is hard," her sister-in-law adds, putting down the pins. "But I can say you haven't married a wrong man either." Now her words gain Akhsah's quick attention.

She looks at her through the mirror.

Tabitha shrugs, removing the last pin which lets the veil slide down her dark hair. Akhsah holds it quickly, taking it down in her lap to fold it. She remains mum.

"You only know what Drishal and you had in between but now as you're Eliab's wife, I must say he'll be a good husband to you and will take care of you. He will love you," she says with a smile, beginning to undo her hair.

Akhsah wonders if this will happen. She knows he agreed to this marriage only because their fathers are childhood friends. This may be like an arranged marriage to her or anyone but she can't forget it was a compromise, too, an agreement void of emotions to save her family's reputation. He agreed because he is kind, not because he loves her.

Well, nor does she.

"Just say a word and he'll do it for you. I know him."

Dark and heavy locks escape the clutch of pins, cascading down her back like a waterfall. The curled tendrils frame her face after being released from the twist of rose stems. Those smooth and wavy threads cover her back, ending upon the surface of the stool.

She's received this quality of hair from her grandmother. Anybody can fall into the web of admiration for her hair. So does Tabitha, being silent about it. Akhsah doesn't mind it.

"Do you need help in something else, too?" Tabitha asks, putting aside the roses used in her hairstyle.

"Uh... no, I'll do the rest," Akhsah dismisses politely, getting up from the stool.

Tabitha smiles. "I should leave then. Get ready and come downstairs," she says, moving to leave. But something strikes her memory and she turns around to add, "By the way, do you have a favorite flower?"

It confuses Akhsah as to why would she want to know about her favorite flower. However, she mumbles a reply, "I like tulips. But why?"

"Oh, don't mind me." She chuckles. "Decorating this room is on my head, so I asked."

Akhsah can't help but blush, pursing her lips in embarrassment. She shouldn't have asked for it. Tabitha is a straightforward woman, as she's seen.

She nods her head and her sister-in-law leaves. Once she's gone, she moves out of the changing area and finds her bags placed by the wall. She unzips one to get a set of clothes and moves into the bathroom quickly to change into it. However, she ends up struggling to unhook the gown from behind after undoing three hooks.

She huffs, letting her arms drop. She should've taken Tabitha's help here, too, but she thought she could do it. Well, she can't.

As she raises her arms to try once again, the door behind her clicks open and she startles, finding Eliab to be there. She turns around to face him.

He looks the same way, eyes wide in surprise, and lips apart. His heart skips a few beats. He forgot he was married now!

"I'm sorry! I-I thought you were with Ma," he reasons, immediately turning around to leave after answering. "You can take your time."

He then moves to leave when she calls, "Rukiye!"

(Please, stop.)

He does, not turning though. "Kuch kehna tha?" he asks.

(Wanted to say something?)

"Ji, vo... vo a-aapki madad chahiye thi," she somehow releases the words from the knot of her tongue, the message stumbling.

(Yes, actually, I needed y-your help.)

"Kaisi mdad?" he asks, trying to ignore the warmth that spreads about his chest when she talks to her, using the words of respect for him, like she does every time. They had talked barely in the last, but he loved each moment.

(Help, as in?)

Releasing her bottom lip from the clutch of her teeth, she puts the matter before him, eventually telling him that he could look at her.

He agrees, turning to look at her. It is then he learns she was all dressed. For a moment he thought she was about to shed her gown.

He walks over to her, standing at a distance. She blinks, somewhere lost in the intimidation of his tall and muscular body posture. He stands quite tall in front of her. She realizes he's even taller than Drishal. Maybe a few inches.

She doesn't move, still wondering when he says, "Uh... turn around."

Though he only requests, his tone and words betray the softness of his nature. He is soft but those around him are also aware of a different side that he possesses.

Her trance is broken. She obeys him, gathering her hair above her shoulder. He notices the length of it, getting bewitched. Through the spaces, a whiff of earthy scent escaping her hair meets his senses.

Raising his arms, he begins undoing the hooks. One by one. The cloth above her shoulders loses, making her sigh faintly. She puts a hand on her chest, occasionally feeling the touch of his fingers and thumb.

As his skin begins becoming real to her, she closes her eyes in embarrassment. She doesn't want him to look at her naked back and the lace straps underneath her gown but she feels her tongue to be too heavy to say a word about it.

However, he is busy looking at her face through the mirror. That face. Her blushes are too visible now. Even the tip of her ears is red, as he sees.

He knows she's taking his help even though she doesn't even want to. So, he respects the words that never leave her mouth.

Once done, he hums and steps back. "I'm in the room," he says, leaving the bathroom, "in case you need something." The door closes then.

—'☆

Unlike every time, she doesn't tell the house she's home. She hurriedly walks upstairs and enters her room. Closing the door behind, she leans against it and cries silently.

Her palpitating heart releases the agony of being betrayed through the tears that leave her eyes. She clutches her mouth and steps ahead, her legs shaking.

The sadness within unleashes, the bars of sanity broken, and the pain of being hit to the point of shattering chokes her insides.

She clutches her top above her chest desperately, feeling the pain too real. Too real and too bad to be handled so easily. As her knees give up, she falls to the floor and cries her heart out.

The walls of her room shake from within, keeping the noise from scarping. The air around turns warmer as if to hug her. She stays like that, crying. Her hand stays on her chest, feeling the madness of it until it sighs in stillness.

She regrets everything now.

Even after crying until her eyes are empty of tears, the ache remains on the ground of it, holding steadfastly to the roots of grievances and guilt.

She composes herself and gathers her belongings from the floor—her scarf and her bag. But the shattered pieces inside her can't be gathered. Even by her.

A slight knock on the door is heard before a voice comes from outside, "Jaan, are you there?"

Mother.

She clears her throat before answering, "Yes, Mama." She walks over to the door, keeping a hand on it.

"Ah, you didn't even say it. Can I come inside?"

"Actually, I'm changing, Mama!" she replies hurriedly, putting a hand on her crazily beating heart. She's barely lied to her parents.

"Oh, okay," her mother replies with a sigh.

"I'll come and see you downstairs."

"Of course, take your time, bacche." And her mother leaves. She exhales loudly, the ache replying instantly to the relief she feels for a second.

Going back, she takes a shower and changes into something comfortable. She keeps her hair tied up in a bun, not bothering to keep it neat. It stays messy, and so does her state.

However, to represent herself before her family, she takes care of herself.

She changes into a simple white kurta, picking up a matching pair of plazo to wear under it. She comes out and looks at her reflection. A girl with red and swollen eyes meets her. Her cheeks are red like always and she has to hide it all.

Though the question of escaping the situation perfectly comes to her mind, she dismisses it and walks downstairs.

Her mother is seen to be on the couch of the living room, cutting vegetables while humming a song to herself.

At the same moment, the main door opens and her brother walks inside, carrying a sports bag. He is all bathed in his sweat, yet he jumps to his mother and kisses her cheek, uttering, "I'm home!"

Her mother groans, glaring up at her son. There he grins at her, dropping his bag onto the floor.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Omar, that wash hands as you come home!?" she scolds him with a glare, putting her focus back on the vegetables.

He chuckles. "Mama, I haven't kissed you with hands, have I?" he walks about the couch, turning the air conditioner on. He sits beside his mother.

Their mother rolls her eyes. "You can catch a cold. Get up right now and go into your room, am I clear?"

He groans, dropping his head back. Mahira watches them from the bottom of the stairs.

"Just a few minutes, Mama!" he whines, closing his eyes. "I haven't yet breathed peacefully!"

His mother blinks her eyes, too shocked after hearing her son. A smile appears on Mahira's face. She approaches them with silent steps, saying, "Let him have some rest, Mama. I'll bring him water."

"Aww, my lovely sister. Thank you so much!"

"Don't pamper him, Mahira. He's grown up and can do it on his own."

"Mama, please!"

Mahira leaves them bantering and fills the glass of water in the kitchen. She hands the glass to her brother and joins them to have a little conversation to forget what happened a few hours ago.

But she can't pull it from the roots.

A week passes and Mahira learns not to cry over and over again about the same matter.

It was hard in the beginning but as she saw how Ibzan reacted, being in the same college as her, she also learned not to show her sadness and make him glad over it.

He remained unfazed, living like nothing happened while she was dying every day.

The first day after the confrontation, she saw him in the corridor. There he was, talking to his girlfriend, Mikayla.

He also saw her in the corridor but rolled back his eyes to Mikayla, ignoring Mahira like she was never there.

She was angry and hurt at the same time. Leaving her on her own, there he was, dreaming of marrying Mikayla someday and spending his life with her.

She couldn't believe she secretly admired such a disgusting person.

He may look sweet and innocent to every person in their first meeting but deep inside, he was someone who cared about nothing and could watch people die. He was emotionless. Almost.

He only knew anger to control his nerves.

She also began avoiding even looking at him but she couldn't hide the ache and burn in her chest whenever she saw him with Mikayla.

When he talked to her, she found real affection and admiration in his eyes for Mikayla. Maybe he loved her truly. She couldn't believe he could even feel something but maybe those feelings came alive when he was with his girlfriend. She craved the same thing, knowing very well he would never give her it.

He caught her many times looking at him but he waved it off as if he didn't even see her.

This carelessness of Ibzan was eating her up.

She tried a lot to make her heart understand and kept confessing to herself that she felt nothing for him; that she never even loved him; and that she never felt jealous of Mikayla, but all this helped to her with nothing.

The more she confessed, the more she found herself to be thinking about him.

Wish he could accept the baby and her. But even then, she knew, he'd have hated her beyond imagination. Either way, she wasn't going to live peacefully.

Also about the baby, each night she was worried. She didn't know, nor could she imagine the way of taking care of the baby.

Most importantly, she wondered about her parent's reaction.

Her parents are loving, and so is her brother. She is their princess, as they have pampered her, but still, what parents can hide their disappointment in their child if they do something like this?

She knew she was going to hurt her parents if they got to know about it, but she couldn't even hide it from them. Someday, it was going to be revealed.

She entered her house with the same dull ache in her chest and a desire to have vanished in the air.

"I'm home," she mumbles to herself, removing her shoes. She walks towards the staircase.

However, all her sadness is replaced by shock and shame when her mother emerges from her room, looking angry.

"Mahira!" she utters, hurriedly coming downstairs with some papers in her hand. Behind her comes her father, a solemn expression on his face.

Her heart thuds inside her chest as she looks at the papers in her hand. Are they the reports? She wonders, clutching her shirt above her heart.

"What are these, ha?!" she thunders, throwing the papers down at Mahira's feet.

As she looks at them, her eyes recognise the hospital's label and she knows they have found her pregnancy reports which she took to confirm her doubts and hid them in her closet. But now, they are out.

Tears blur her vision and he puts her hand on her mouth.

"You're pregnant!" 

—'☆

Let me explain the timing here;

In Raphael and Juliette's story, Eliab is there because Raphael and Juliette met each other when Barak and Mikayla (Love Me, Mikayla)'s character were getting married. At that time, Eliab was unmarried.

Now in Eliab and Akhsah's story, it's Barak and Mikayla's future—when their story ends. Means, to Raphael and Juliette's part, Eliab and Akhsah's story is in the future.

Lastly in Ibzan and Mahira's story, you find Mikayla to be a college student because it's their (Barak and Mikayla)'s past.

Got it? If still you're confused, you need to read my another story Love Me, Mikayla. You can confirm your doubts from there.

Thank you for paying attention.

Stay happy, stay beautiful.
Jesus loves you <3