© All copyrights belong to StarsAndMoon1447 on Wattpad

*

Anabia

I wish I could say that we met in the galley between economy class and business class.

I wish I could say that Rehan Tariq gave me his autograph on a napkin.

But this isn't a rom-com. This is my life.

Because he was in business class, by the time we disembarked from the aircraft, I did not see him again.

And now, I stood in the home of a distant relative, staring down at the crowded street of Lahore, with rickshaws zooming past in a mad race, and motorcycles weaving through the pedestrians. I wrinkled my nose at the smell of the fumes rising up from the road, yet there was something almost mesmerising about the view below.

A loud crunching noise made me turn and I saw my cousin Zubair standing next to me, eating crisps with his mouth open. He was two years older than me, twenty-seven, and was a few inches taller, with scruffy shoulder-length hair. He turned his head to look at him as I looked at him. I could smell Salt & Vinegar crisps on him. "You look good." He told me.

I discreetly took a step away from him, gazing out of the window again.

"Man kyun nahin jaati?" He asked.

*"Why don't you agree?" 

I narrowed my eyes at him, but pursed my lips to stop responding to him. 

"Pasand karta hoon tumhain. Burai kya hai mujh main?" He continued.

*"I like you. What's the problem with me?" 

"Your problem is that you don't understand the word 'no'." I told him firmly, unable to help myself. "I don't want to marry you, Zubair!"

"Why not? There must be a good explanation!" 

"You are twenty-seven and you haven't worked a day in your life. All you do is smoke and ride your motorcycle all day." 

"I don't need to work. My father owns a shop, and I will inherit it. We are sorted for life!" 

I took a deep breath. "I believe that my mother has already refused. Don't push this any further." I turned and walked away from him.

Zubair was the son of my paternal uncle, my Mamu.  But upon Mama's refusal, my Mamu's wife, Mumani Mumtaz started acting a little coldly towards us, even claiming that her Zubair was going to have plenty of 'better' options.

"Anabia, let's go!" Mama called out. "We have a lot of things to do." 

We were staying at my maternal grandmother's house. Although Nano lived alone, she had a caretaker lady who stayed over with her during the night. This woman had been with her for over two decades, and was very loyal and trustworthy. She cooked all meals for Nano, before going home. 

We headed downstairs, where one of my cousins had hailed a taxi for us. 

Saim's wedding was a huge deal in our family. He was beloved to all. We may be the twins, but for some reason, Saim had the ability to charm everyone, elderly and kids alike. He was funny, sweet and caring, but also mischievous. I was a little reserved, but in contrast, my brother was social and got along with everyone. Ma Sha Allah.

My phone buzzed just as I sat in the back seat. I glanced at the notification on the lock screen, and both my eyebrows lifted up in surprise.

**Ray_1234: No more fanfiction?**

I hadn't had a chance to write more fanfiction recently because I had been so busy in Pakistan/wedding preparations. My mother's lecture on becoming more responsible had finally made me realise that I really should help out more.

But still I bit my lip to hide a smile.

**Ana_B: I'm taking a break.**

**Ray_1234: You know, you have completely changed the genre of Rehan's books.**

**Ana_B: I didn't change anything. His books are perfect as they are. I'm just writing how I picture the characters' lives to be behind the scenes, away from the main plot of the book.**

"Anabia?" Mama poked a finger against my upper arm. 

I looked at her and she nodded her head towards my brother, who had clearly called me. "What, Saim?" 

"What are you smiling at?" He asked.

"I'm not smiling!" I replied, too quickly.

"You are!"

"Am not!" I saw him roll his eyes through the rear-view mirror. "Don't roll your eyes at me!"

"I saw you smile as well, Anabia." Mama was looking at me, suspiciously.

"Why is smiling at your phone screen such a huge crime?" I shook my head. "I was just looking at a funny meme!"

Saim chuckled.

"Saim, just wait until Laila comes. I will tell her all your embarrassing stories!" I warned my brother.

"You wouldn't dare!" He glared at me over his shoulder from the front passenger seat.

"Do not challenge me!" I glanced down at my phone as it buzzed again.

**Ray_1234: Interesting way of describing fanfiction.**

**Ana_B: I always give full due credit to the author before I publish a new chapter of fanfiction.**

**Ray_1234: I still suggest that you write your own.**

**Ana_B: I don't think I have the guts.**

It was weird to admit this to someone. I usually kept my insecurities and/or fears to myself. I didn't even talk to Mama about it. Saim is the only one who knew them without me even telling him anything, so he didn't count.

I shoved my phone deep into the bottom of the shoulder bag that I had used during the flight. I didn't want to read the answer of this mysterious stranger. I didn't want reassuring words that lured me back into the world of fiction. I needed to focus on my reality right now.

****

Rehan

Reality hit hard when you were used to immersing yourself in a world of fiction. It was bitter, distasteful, almost like having a disgusting medicine after a delicious slice of chocolate cake.

I had a nice, long nap after the sleepless flight and woke up in my airconditioned hotel suite bedroom, refreshed. 

Now I sat by the large floor-to-ceiling window in the bedroom, having my lunch which I had ordered from room service.

The doorbell rang and I wondered how it could be. Using the wet wipes provided to clean my hands, I headed out of the bedroom to the living area, and opened the door. I had expected a member of staff offering me fresh towels, or something.

But it wasn't.

It was Nina Tariq, my mother. 

"Assalam Alaikum." I grumbled under my breath, bowing my head.

"Walaikum Assalam." She said, softly placing a hand on my upper arm. "I'm glad you're here."

"I'm here for work." I turned away and walked back into the suite.

I heard her sigh and close the doors. The sound of her heels clacking on the marble floor alerted me that she hadn't left.

"Rehan, how long will you remain angry?" 

"I'm not angry." 

"Yasin misses you." 

Yasin, my younger brother was twenty. He was sweet, caring and kind...but he was naïve in a way that anyone could manipulate him. This was why he had ended up transferring most of his savings from his bank account to a 'friend in need', who had disappeared out of his life, never to be heard from again. My father had been furious, and had pulled some strings, where it was declared that Yasin was no longer capable of controlling his own finances, and so, my parents had taken control of it for him.

I'd fought with them for him; I'd told them to let him come with me and stay in my apartment, but they had refused. And they had somehow convinced my brother to remain with them as well.

"You should see Yasin's paintings. He is incredibly talented, Ma Sha Allah." Mum said. 

I didn't reply. I just stared silently out of the window.

"Please quit clashing with your father, Rehan. He wants what's best for you both. For all of us."

"I'm worried about Yasin. You two don't even allow him to earn for himself. What kind of future do you both want for him?" 

"We are his parents, Rehan. Nobody wants better for him than us." 

I turned to face her and placed my hands on her shoulders. "Let him come with me then. I'll help him start a career around his paintings. I'll help him open his own gallery."

Dressed in an elegant black sari, with her hair up in a stylish up-do, my mother was still insistent on keeping up images. My father was an editor for one of the biggest newspapers in the UK, while my mother was a journalist who specialised in the subject of arts & culture. We were a family of creative-minded people. Generally, we were quit close, but the main subject of argument amongst us was the way Yasin was treated. I was naturally overprotective of him, and Mum and Dad tended to show their protectiveness in a different way. I knew that they cared for him, but I didn't agree with their methods.

"We want Yasin to succeed as well, Rehan." She almost whispered. "But we don't think that he will be able to do so independently." 

"Mum..."

"The world is a cruel place, my dear, and it will eat him up. We just want him to be safe." She patted my cheek and turned to walk out. "We will be expecting you at dinner tonight, Rehan. Please be there." She opened the door, her gold bracelets clanging in her wrists. She turned to look at me over her shoulder and I saw her eyes shine with unshed tears. 

After she left, I went back into the bedroom and sat on the chair by the window, where my lunch was laid out on the table, already cold. I stared blankly at the white china plates, and the stainless silver cutlery.

Reality was hard. That's why some of us chose to stay in a world of fantasy and fiction.

*

"I got my letter from Hogwarts!" Ten-years-old Yasin told me excitedly, as he held up a piece of paper with a hand-written letter written by him.

Tired of the bullying, of the harsh criticism, Yasin spent his afternoons pretending that he was a wizard, ready to be taught at the most well-known fictional school in the world.

Although he drew countless Harry Potter fan art, he also had his own collection of art, where he seemed to be telling a story through his drawings.

A lonely boy sat curled up in pouring rain, as people stood around him holding umbrellas, with their backs turned towards him. In other drawings, the boy had a happy smile on his face as he sat on a bean bag, surrounded by piles of books. In other one, he drew himself drawing a self-portrait.

Yasin was brilliantly talented. It was unfortunate that Rehan seemed to be the only who recognised it.

*

Anabia

That evening,  I sat on the charpai on the roof of Nano's home. The walls had been built up high to give privacy, and the bulb at the landing was casting some light onto the area where I sat.

I sat cross-legged, staring down at the blank page on my phone. I was trying to think of something to write, but my mind was a jumbled mess.

Meow.

I looked down and saw a black and white cat wandering around, ready to head down the stairs to look for something to eat.

And that's when I got the inspiration.

'Her catlike eyes stared at him, full of puzzled surprise. What was he doing here?  He had vowed never to step into her neighbourhood again, let alone to arrive at her threshold. 

The bouquet of red roses in his hand were drenched by the monsoon rain, his shoulders hunched as it that posture would prevent his clothes from being soaked.

"You came." She breathed out, unable to believe if this was reality or a dream.

"Where else would I go?" '

And I wrote, and wrote about the monsoon night. I wrote about the Nikah performed under the starry sky, surrounded by candlelight. The s*xy grin of the detective as he eyed his bride. The sparkle of her diamond ring as she placed her hand in his. The intricate mehndi designs on her hand. 

I lay back on the charpai after I published it. My mind was swirling with various scenarios and I closed my eyes, living them all in my head.

But the image of Rehan Tariq at the airport pushed away all plotlines cooking up in my mind.

"Anabia, dinner!" Saim's voice from downstairs made me sigh and sit up.

"Coming!" I shouted back, before sitting up and swinging my feet off the charpai. Sliding on my slippers, I headed down the stairs. 

"...don't rush. Don't force her into anything." Nano's voice was calm and gentle as always.

"I just want Anabia to also be settled in her life. Saim will be done soon, In Sha Allah, but it's Anabia that I'm worried about." Mama was saying.

"Why are you worried about her? She's a beautiful, intelligent girl, Ma Sha Allah!" 

"She's in her mid-twenties and she's still refusing to even see anyone." 

"Let her be, Khadija. When the time is right, things will work out for her, In Sha Allah. Everything has it's timing, and only Allah knows what is the right timing for each and every thing. We just need to show patience and wait." Nano finished saying as I entered the room. 

"Zubair mera bhatija hai laikin maine uske liye inkaar kardiya hai." Mama told her mother. "Laikin mujhe darr laga rehta hai, jaise jaise waqt ghuzarta jaata hai."

*"Zubair is my nephew, but I have refused his proposal for her."
"But I'm getting more and more scared as the time goes by."

"Just because you're scared doesn't mean you can just marry her off to someone like Zubair, Mama!" Saim spoke up. "Look, just get my wedding over and done with for now, and let Anabia enjoy as well." 

I did not speak as I ate. I could understand my mother's concerns, but I didn't like being made to feel bad about my marital status. 

*

 'She wore a turquoise maxi dress, with a silver border that sparkled in the surrounding lights. Her long dark brown locks curtained her face, cascading all the way down to her waist, curled at the bottom. Her fringe almost brushed her eyes that were adorned by Smokey-eyed make-up. Silver jhumka earrings brushed against her cheeks as she looked around and the petal pink lipstick on her lips was barely visible as she pursed her mouth in anxiety.

He should be here by now, but there was no sign of him. Maybe he was stuck in one of his cases?'

I had written the female lead's description exactly the way I was dressed tonight for my our family dinner with Laila's family. This was the final occasion where we would all be together before the wedding, and there was a palpable feeling of excitement in the air.

Mama, Saim and I took the taxi to the five star hotel. The restaurant of this hotel was where the dinner was organised. Papa was coming there with his wife and daughters as well.

**Ray_1234: Why do I get the feeling that something big is about to happen?**

I looked at the latest comment posted by 'Ray' on my latest fanfiction. I bit the inside of my cheek, wondering how to reply.

**Ray_1234: It feels like a climatic event.**

I looked around. I was basically describing my current situation, and nothing about this situation felt like a climax. Nor did it feel like anything extraordinary. Yes, it was a special event, but it was all normal.

"Anabia!" Laila walked over and gave me a hug. "You look beautiful, Ma Sha Allah! So nice to see you!" Wearing a tan coloured hijab with sparkling pins, and a long gold coloured floor-length with full sleeve, Laila looked stunning. And the fact that Saim could barely stop sneakily looking at her, was just one proof of that.

"You look beautiful as well, Ma Sha Allah!" I hugged her back. "But aren't the bride and groom meant to avoid each other in the days before the wedding?" 

"My Mayun starts in two days. That's in after that." She smiled.

*Mayun: where the bride-to-be is secluded from everything and is not supposed to do any chores or errands around the house. The bride is beautified with oil and 'uptan', a yellow paste made of natural ingredients. The bride and groom are not meant to see each other after the Mayun until the wedding day.

Papa arrived with his family then, and the parents greeted each other. It was a cheerful atmosphere, and I felt genuine happiness for my twin brother. Alhumdulillah.

*

"Pass me a kebab." Saim whispered to me.

I reached over and used a tong to lift up the kebab from the platter, and placed it onto his plate.

Saim nodded at me, before turning his gaze back to the other side of the table, where Papa was having a conversation with Mr Siddique.

"Come." Laila nodded at me. "I want to see that." She glanced towards the end of the restaurant where a stage had been set. 

A flutist was playing a flute, and the sweet melody was reflection Pakistani tradition in a calming and soothing manner. A man was playing the tablas, small hand drums which are played using the heels of the hand. The sound was low, and it seemed to fit in perfectly with the classy atmosphere of the restaurant.

I followed my sister-in-law-to-be to the stage and we stood there just listening to the soft music. I closed my eyes, and pictured myself in the mountains of Pakistan while breathing in its fresh air. It reminded me of tourist advertisements for Pakistan, displaying its natural beauty.

Culture is often looked at negatively, especially when it defies religious norms. But cultural was beautiful in many ways. The attire, the behaviour, the language, the music, the art- it was all a part of the culture that defined a country. This beautiful music was a part of this culture. It caused goosebumps on my arms.

"Sweet, isn't it?" Laila asked me, bringing me back to earth.

"It's incredible." 

"I had a teacher who always used to say that if you want to experience a country and its culture, go there and experience it. Do not believe the media. Live amongst the people, and you will see the true beauty of a country."

"The teacher sounds very wise." 

"She spent a decade of her life travelling the world, before she became a teacher. She knew what she was talking about." 

"I was born in the UK, I grew up there. I never really got a chance to experience the Pakistani culture first-hand, because my parents were also born there. But I'm loving this." Laila's eyes were wide as she saw the cultural art decorating the walls behind the stage.

The two of us began to make our way back to the table where our families were sitting.

I had been raised embracing my culture, so I was quite familiar with it, despite being British-born. But actually being in Pakistan, and experiencing something as simple as its traditional music was making me fall in love with my culture all over again.

And as we awaited dessert, I picked up my phone again.

'She closed her eyes and travelled to another place along with the sound of the flute. She pictured herself stepping onto the dewy mountain grass in her bare feet, with a silver anklet brushing her skin. She pictured herself gazing down at the valley below, watching the lambs grazing the grass. She saw the sparkling water of the lake glimmering under the sunlight.

The music was taking her to a peaceful place, making her feel as if she was lying back in the clouds, the gentle breeze caressing her hair...'

I published the fanfiction again. I couldn't stop writing. I wanted the love story based in my fanfiction to be real. Everything was inspiring me, making me want to write more and more.

And I was going to let this place act as a muse for me. I was going to let all those ideas flow out. 

*

Rehan

The sound of the flute? Coincidence?

I glanced over the left, where a flutist was playing a sweet melody, alongside with a man playing tablas. 

"Rehan, can you please put the phone down?" My father's firm voice made me look at him. 

I set my phone aside, my jaw clenching.

"Yasin!" My father snapped at my younger brother.

I looked over and saw Yasin playing on his handheld game. He almost dropped it, hearing my father's voice, and then set it aside like I had set my phone aside.

"You missed dinner last night, and now you are barely present here with us." Dad directed his angry glare at me.

"I had an important meeting that I had to attend." I replied.

Mum sighed, pressing her fingers over her forehead. She was sick and tired of this excuse of mine, obviously. "Rehan, you have some responsibilities towards us as well, in case you are forgetting."

"Like you two have a responsibility towards Yasin." I pointed out.

"And what exactly do you think we are doing?" Dad's voice rose a little, and Mum placed a hand on his forearm to calm him down.

"You are taking away even the most basic of control from him, like him handling his own bank account." I argued.

"You want us to let him have control over his bank so he can give the rest of his savings away as well?" Dad raised a thick eyebrow at me.

"Don't fight!" Yasin shook his head. "Bhai, I'm fine. I am happy. Don't worry about me."

"Yasin is vulnerable. We are protecting him, Rehan."

"You are fighting his battles for him, which would make life much harder for him in the future."

"Stop it!" Yasin slammed a fist on the table. "I don't want you fighting my battle for me either, Bhai. I am happy the way I am." 

Dad smirked almost triumphantly at me as he sat back in his seat.

I stood up.

"Rehan." Mum's voice was almost pleading.

"Relax. I'm not walking out." I told her. "I just need a minute to cool my head." I walked off before any of them could stop me.

On the face of it, my family was a normal family. A loving couple, with their beloved sons. But it wasn't as simple as that. While I wanted to try and help my brother become more independent, my parents wanted to protect him and shield him; to do everything for him. I felt like they were making him more vulnerable by sheltering him too much.

I headed towards the glass doors that led out of the restaurant and to a courtyard. The courtyard itself branched out towards the lobby of the hotel on one side, and the lifts to the rooms on the other. I took a seat on the bench, overlooking the beautiful fountain in the centre.

I had come to Lahore for a work meeting, but meeting the family was unavoidable. I respected my parents unconditionally, but somehow it always ended up in clashes and disagreements, which resulted in pounding headaches for me.

"Why do you do this?" Yasin came and flopped down on the bench beside me. "I am fine the way I am, Bhai. Don't clash with Dad for my sake."

"I wanted you to be independent, to live the way you would want to live." 

"Maybe this is the best solution for me, Bhai. But I am not complaining. I lost a lot because I am unable to read people and their intentions." He gave me a small smile. "Our parents want the best for me, you know? You can't doubt that." 

I looked at him. He had a boyish face, including the way his hair flopped onto his forehead. He even had Harry Potter style glasses, he was such a huge fan. Yasin may be twenty, but he was not outspoken or confident like others his age. He was innocent in a way that made him extremely vulnerable.

But maybe it was about time my parents and I stopped fighting over how to protect him. 

"What do you want, Yas?" I asked.

"I'm grateful to have overprotective parents, Bhai. I am blessed. Alhumdulillah. Don't worry about me."

I patted his back, nodding.

****

I was heading up to my suite in the lift. The glass lift looked straight down into the courtyard, which was a stunning view. I leaned against the wall with a yawn, ready to hit the bed.

But then something caught my eye down in the lobby below- a flash of turquoise. I leaned closer to the glass, narrowing my eyes to see clearer.

It was a girl. I couldn't properly see her facial features from here, but what I saw was enough. 

Turquoise maxi dress with a bold silver border.

Long brown locks of hair with a fringe.

Silver earrings.

With almost shaking hands, I took my phone out and tapped the ImagineFans app. I went to the latest fanfiction by the user Ana_B. The description matched perfectly.

 'She wore a turquoise maxi dress, with a silver border that sparkled in the surrounding lights. Her long dark brown locks curtained her face, cascading all the way down to her waist, curled at the bottom. Her fringe almost brushed her eyes that were adorned by Smokey-eyed make-up. Silver jhumka earrings brushed against her cheeks as she looked around and the petal pink lipstick on her lips was barely visible as she pursed her mouth in anxiety.

Not to mention the sound of flute that she had mentioned in a later published extract. The same sound of flute I had heard in the restaurant earlier.

The coincidence was too much.

I hurriedly tapped the ground floor button, but the lift was already moving up. I'd have to get to my floor first before returning back down. But I could see the girl already making her way towards the lobby with her group.

I am being ridiculous.

But the moment the door opened on my floor, I slammed my fist against the 'close door' button, and waited impatiently until the lift descended and the doors opened on the ground floor. I sped out of there, feeling like a complete fool.

I was chasing after an illogical theory. What were the odds? What were the chances? 

By the time I reached the lobby, there was no sign of her anywhere. Could it be that I was just hallucinating her based on the fanfiction that I had read?

I sighed, shaking my head. Lack of proper sleep can be harmful to the body, both physically and mentally. 

I should go to sleep without any further delay.

*

00:09

**Ray_1234: Have you ever been to Lahore?**

00:11

**Ana_B: Yes...**

00:13

**Ray_1234: What do you think of the city?**

00:15

**Ana_B: Well... today I realised what it meant to fall in love with your own culture. 😍**

I smiled at the chat conversation.

**Ana_B: I never asked... what is your favourite book by Rehan Tariq?**

**Ray_1234: I can't choose. Each one has its own value.**

**Ana_B: I love The Heirloom as well. I loved the haunting history. Plus the mystery is very intriguing.**

A mystery.

Like the girl in turquoise who I saw earlier. The one who matched the exact description of the female lead in the fanfiction.

Like how Ana_B had mentioned the flute music in her story, exactly what I had heard in the restaurant.

I walked over to the desk and sat down, turning my laptop on. Opening a fresh Microsoft Word, I started typing. A brand new story, a brand new protagonist.

A girl in turquoise who happened to be leaving behind hints to the deadliest crime in the town's history. But nobody knew who she was, and nobody caught her.

The sound of the Fajr Adhan made me realise that I had been writing all night. I rubbed my tired eyes and turned the laptop on.

Another night of no sleep. 

Maybe I'll imagine her again today. I chuckled humourlessly as I trudged towards the bathroom to perform ablution, wudhu, for the Fajr prayer.

****

Anabia

It was Laila's bridal shower, and it was held at the same hotel that we had dined in last night. Apparently, the Siddique family was very impressed by the hotel, and had picked it as the venue for all the wedding functions that they were hosting.

It was a girls' only function, and Laila had sent me a special invitation.

It was held in the hotel ballroom, and outside was a gorgeous sign saying, 'Laila's Miss to Mrs Party!' White and gold balloons flanked the sign. One of the hotel staff opened the door for me and I stepped inside. 

Directly opposite the entrance, a huge poster on the wall read in gold cursive letters 'Miss to Mrs'. There were gold, pale orange, pink and white balloons decorating all the walls. Underneath the 'Miss to Mrs' sign was a long white table, with a large journal opened for the guests to sign. Laila had a lot of female cousins, Ma Sha Allah, and they had gone out of their way to arrange it all for her. It was beautiful. There were chairs and tables set up, because there would be lunch served, and a beautiful cake was set in the middle.

But what I loved the most was that before the bridal shower was commenced, we all heard on audio the dua-e-khair performed by the Imam in another room, with Mr Siddique and all his male relatives present in that room. It was too pray for the blissful life of the bride and groom. I have to admit I got a little emotional, considering that one half of the couple that they were praying for was my twin brother.

*Dua-e-khair: a prayer/supplication made before a wedding, to pray for the blissful marital life of the new couple.

Laila was beaming, Ma Sha Allah. Wearing a pale blue floor-length gown with full-length lace sleeves, her hair was covered by a lighter shade of blue hijab. She wore one of those customary sashes that read 'Bride-To-Be' in gold letters.

There were gifts set up on a long table, and a few games had been set up.

I sat at one of the tables, wearing my floor-length pink dress. The bodice was adorned with pink and green floral patterns, including on sheer sleeves. While the original outfit was a bit more revealing from the shoulders, my mother had altered the previous strapless undershirt to cover my shoulders and neck more. In my opinion, it did not ruin the look of the dress. 

"Anabia, why are you sitting here on your own?" Laila looked concerned as she approached me.

"I guess I still have jet lag. I'm a little tired." I admitted sheepishly. The truth was that I didn't know anyone here but Laila, and so I felt a little awkward.

"Would you like a drink or anything?" 

"It's okay. I'll help myself to one if I need it. You enjoy. This is your special day." I gave her a warm smile. 

She looked uncertain, but she nodded at me and returned to join her cousins. 

****

The party had ended and everyone was starting to leave. 

Mama was coming to collect me, but she wasn't here, so I decided to wait in the courtyard. It looked like something out of a fairy-tale, and my dress made me feel even more so. It almost felt like a white rabbit was going to run past me holding a golden watch, or as if some mice were going to transform into beautiful white horses right in front of my eyes.

I had pinned back my hair today, and had curled it again, so it rested over my back. As I waited, I took my phone out.

I frowned as I saw a new tweet by Rehan Tariq, simply the word 'Turquoise'. "What does that mean?" Does he like the colour turquoise? Is this an accidental or unfinished tweet? What in the sweet planet does this mean?

I sighed, shaking my head at my obsession, and I got up to walk over to the fountain. I loved taking photo of water, for some odd reason. 

'The water fountain created a sense of serenity within her. The sound soothed the confusion within her mind and she sat in the courtyard that seemed to have been created in a fairy tale world. 

The entire architecture surrounding was part Greek, part Italian. The courtyard was held together by the pillars. Artificial vines wrapped around these, as if a scenery from a Shakespearean play. Whoever believed that romance was dead should come and step inside the courtyard. She had no doubt that the most sceptical of people would stand corrected.'

Publish. I tapped the publish button and sat back.

And as I looked around the hotel, my gaze drifted towards the glass lifts. It was a beautiful hotel, and I would have loved to have stayed here. I would have spent most of the time in this courtyard here.

Maybe one day...

*

Rehan

I'd barely stepped out of the shower when Faisal, my twat agent had called me, reminding me my agenda of the day.

I changed into blue jeans and was just buttoning up my black shirt when I saw a notification pop up on my phone. I picked it up from the bed and saw that Ana_B had published another fanfiction extract.

The words that I read, the courtyard...

I ran out of my room, grabbing my key card just in time. 

This seemed like something out of a fairy-tale, too good to be true. But the description in her words made me think of the courtyard below, and I just had to see if that was true or not.

I didn't even have to wait till I got downstairs, because I saw her from the glass lift.

She looked like a fairy between the beautiful courtyard, as she walked around the fountain in her pink dress, with her dark hair tumbling down her back. 

She was the girl in turquoise.

And if my instincts were right, she was Ana_B.

I dashed out of the lift as if I was racing a marathon, and within seconds, I stood at the edge of the courtyard. A part of me was afraid that she would have gone by the time I reached her, like last night. "Ana B?" My throat felt dry.

She froze, her back towards me. She turned around, a look of confusion on her face.

Her eyes widened and she gasped. "You?" 

"You?" I was stunned. Airport girl?

*

I know that this story seems a little fairy-tale type, but it's meant to be. I'm sort of exhausted by realistic drama, so I wanted to write something different. 

The imagery in my head as I was writing this scene was unbelievable, something truly out of a fairy tale.

So, Rehan and Anabia have finally come directly across each other?

What next?

Do leave your comments, as I really enjoy reading them, and don't forget to vote!