"Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same"
A tale where lies are woven, traps are laid and history awaits to be ignited again.
Dive into the world of the Khans, Ahmeds, and Sikander's as they rove in the dark swamps of greed, power...
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The battering sound of the beater was flowing through the kitchen. The usual spike and spam kitchen tops were placed with flour, food colorings, raisins, chocolate, vanilla, and the list go on and on.
With a spatula in her hand, Rabail artfully joined the white flour with the wet ingredients. Her stiff form slowly relaxed as her arms were moving in a rhythmic motion. Baking helped to make her mind go on an override tonight. Soft teasing caramel highlighted strands escaped from her tight chignon bun, kissing her dusky cheek occasionally. Her eyes were strained on the mixture as the chocolate texture slowly coloured the white dough.
“This batch smells heavenly,” Afra hummed while putting the piping hot tray filled with cupcakes. This might be their fourth or fifth chocolate batch. But who was counting?
Smiling a little to herself, Rabail continued her work at hand while the kitchen filled with wafts of chocolate, vanilla, strawberry and lime. The aisles were lined one tray after another- cupcakes, muffins, croissants and breads filled with dried fruits. They were on a rampage tonight to just not think whatever is trying to swirl in their consciousness.
“Vanilla or strawberry?” Putting the two frosting cones up in the air, Afra asked.
“Both,” Rabail answered without a beat of instinct. A second passed as her words clicked in her head, she stopped her work. It had been their thing, their unspoken rule to make a frosting of vanilla and strawberry topped on the chocolate base. Just like the way he liked it.
“It’s alright,” Afra began as the silence slowly creeped along. “It’s alright to be-" Rabail took a sharp intake as her palms slowly stretched out on the counter top. Afra's words were blurred out as she tried to focus on the more important thing of keeping her front.
They say you are truly over something when you can mention it- Rabail was far away from overcoming it. She shut those off who tried to make it easy for her, but oh lord, was it hard. Hard to let go of the ones who defined her life. Her eyes saw too much, her heart crumpled with the weight of her feelings and her back hunched with the stabs- yet, here she was still controlling her internal demons.
“Aapi, you need to let it ou-”
“I need nothing of that sort,” Rabail groaned as she pressed her finger tips on top of her sodden cheeks.
She will grief, one day. But, now, it wasn't on her plate. Not now.
At the back of her head, she knew her words were spoken to the wrong person, but God did they push her buttons. All did when they went about moving on. Hell, why were they all so damn right? Let her live her way. Grief in her way. If she didn’t cry out, then why try to make her? If she didn’t speak about what breaks her, then why make her? If she shuts her feelings off, then why just bloody try to pull her back to feel it all? She felt it once and that was a catastrophic situation for her to function. She couldn’t- no, no, no, shouldn’t- feel like going about her way.
