Bint of Gilgit ~ Pakistani Love Story ~ ONGOING ~

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Author's Note: Hints of abuse - please read with caution.

Shahrazad giggled dreamily while staring at the small ancient box of a TV that Shireen owned. Even the village held a newer piece, but Shahrazad was little to complain when such a dreamy scene was unfolding before her eyes. A drama film called Ruposh had already aired a few times in the last month, but each time Shahrazad had insisted on watching it. Luckily for her, neither Nazli nor Shireen nor her family invested their time too much in entertainment and that left Shahrazad with more than enough time to indulge. 

"Aww - this is so nice!" She hummed, smiling from ear to ear. Beside her Nazli sat on the table, her golden head bowed over a book and her mouth moving slowly to voice out the words. "Look Nazli! Isn't Salaar Shah just dreamy?" 

Her cousin glanced up at perhaps the worst time in the film. Salaar Shah was doing . . . roguish things and the way her cousin's eyes darkened, she knew that the memory of that man had yet to leave her. Asadullah was nothing like Salaar Shah if Shahrazad had to be honest. No, he was thousand times more sadistic and serious in his ambitions. Next to Asadullah, the mafia man, Salaar Shah seemed like a kitten with a feisty temper. 

"T-turn it off." Nazli finally muttered, patting the seat next to her. "Fin-ish your home...work." 

The younger girl blew a raspberry in annoyance before agreeing to her cousin's request. "I wonder if guys like Salaar Shah exist." Then, she picked up a pencil and began to doodle. Although her cousin said nothing to her comment, she could tell Nazli did not appreciate men like Salaar Shah. Men like him hit too close to home for her cousin. But still, for Shahrazad, a man with an intense love like Salaar Shah's was the best kind of romance a girl could ever imagine. 

Rude, but good at heart. Rich, but not a hoarder. Hot-tempered, but gentle to the weak. Smart, with a clever sense of humor. Where on Earth could such a man exist? But as her thoughts trailed on and on, soon the image of Salaar Shah's neck-length hair began to grow shorter into black hair that was gelled back. Soon, Salaar Shah morphed into a man significantly taller, and his broken smile turned into a cruel smirk. Shahrazad gasped at the man who stood before her in her mind. Fahad. 

"NO!" She yelled, shaking her head with urgency and great anger upon herself. How could she have thought of him as a potential . . . love interest?

"Wha-what?" Her cousin asked frantically, her eyes shooting to the door and the windows. "What's wrong!"

Shahrazad's blue eyes narrowed. "Like hell would I ever consider that creep to be a potential love interest!"

When she finally met Nazli's eyes, the confusion and fear in the green orbs had turned into a solid emerald green of fury. For once, Shahrazad was lost for words, but in the last few months, her cousin's temper had emerged. Nazli - once a quiet, mellow girl had become paranoid and quick to annoy. And Shahrazad was about to get another one of those talks.

"When will you stop!" She stood up, brushing back her golden strands that clung to her face in the mid-spring heat. "Isn't my incident enough to deter you, Shahrazad!" 

The only time her cousin spoke without a stammer, but unfortunately, the words were always despondent. "I am sorry, Nazli! I didn't mean-!"

"Stop it, already, Shahrazad! This whole thing about independence and being free - it's nothing, but a lie! We are sitting here and that man can walk in any day and wreak havoc in our lives again!"

At this Shahrazad's own temper flew. "And what! You want us to go back to the village? The same village where Hamza will marry you forcefully - not even caring about the fact that you are married? And-and Baba? He tried to sell you, for god's sake!"