نئ دنیا کے ہنگاموں میں ناصر دبی جاتی ہیں آوازیں پرانی
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MDSanother conversation with no destination... another battle never won.
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Studio. 18:33 pm.
Manha had her head bent over the head of the chair as she felt surrounded all around.
She could feel the softness of the brush on her eyelid, her hair tugging as someone curled them, her nails being colored by someone else.
It was her life. It was what she had been going through for a long time now but she could never get habitual. She could never not get anxious about everyone so close to her.
She feels trapped and the urge for a moment to breathe fresh air after every few minutes get intense. It had irritated a lot of stylists when they would be working on her face or hair.
"Excuse me," she sighed sitting up again and gulped in some much needed oxygen.
"Nails are done," the girl at her nails stood up walking away as Manha took a few deep breaths calming her heart before she put her head back, the makeup artist resuming her work.
"Your phone has been ringing for a while," Sadia appeared making Manha glance at her.
"Who is it?"
"Your father," she clicked her tongue.
"I don't want to talk, text him I am busy,"
"Okay," Sadia turned around as Manha shut her eyes again.
All the taunts and scoldings were due to her for not attending the award function last night and she didn't want to talk to her father because she knew he'd be bursting by now.
First, the proposal and now this event escape but she could not find it in her to face him or this drama right now.
She had a whole day bridal shoot and she had been on the set for more than eighteen hours already.
"Sadia, have you confirmed from Irsa?"
"Yes, we have to reach there by nine," Manha nodded pressing her lips to even out the lipstick as she sat up finding herself almost ready.
From soft bronze eyelids and nude pink lips, kohl ridden eyes, and highlighted cheekbones, hair was pulled in a messy bun, the curls framing the sides of her face, she looked the epitome of grace.
