People say eyes are the way to one's soul. Eyes reveal one's true feelings.
His eyes were filled with lust as he saw her lying naked on the black silk sheets of his bed.
She was lying on his bed, her breasts were heaving up and down with her sharp...
Chandni held her breath when the heel of his palm touched her cheek.
Her eyes shut on their own and her lips whispered,"Sabiq."
"Mehzabeen." Her name in his language.
Sometimes it was full of love, sometimes it was full of belongingness. Was she hearing it right or creating an assumption… did he actually feel this word as he whispers it.
"Don't go. Stay," she again said with eyes still closed. His palm was still touching her in the lightest of ways.
Some lines formed on her forehead finding a silence in reply instead of yes or no.
She opened her eyes and gasped. His eyes were a pool of emotions. Deep, scarful and dark.
"Sabiq." She said in a louder voice. Coming out of her trance and pulling him out with her.
"Yes." Sabiq blinked, multiple times. Not knowing what exactly happened in those few seconds.
The voices around him again became alive and he realized he was not alone with her.
Both, the man and the young girl failed to realize the first knock of love or affection perhaps.
To hide his sudden absence from the materialistic world Sabiq walked away from there in hurry.
"Sabiq."
He didn't even stop when she called him.
Chandni looked at his broad shoulders as he entered his study room without giving her another glance.
…
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I turned my eyes away from him as I saw him going away without giving me a glance. His lack of response was not making me feel bad as I know he was not angry at me.
The deepness of this thought made me frown. Would I feel bad if he becomes angry at me ?
I certainly will.
I can't lie to myself. I did feel bad when he closed the door on my face.
I was crying because he was angry at me. I don't know why his emotions were affecting me. Why was I getting so sentimental? I guess it's because my red days are approaching me.
Sighing, I turned my eyes to the crowd of children in front of me. I took a deep breath and held my Mahnoor closer to me as I descended the stairs, carefully.
My eyes were getting more teary looking at all those kids. I can recognize some of them.
That boy in a red t-shirt, looking all so thin and introvert, sitting at one of the plastic chairs and munching on the snacks. He was the same kid who was bound to the wall with iron chains when I entered that human traffickers den.
That girl with curly hair,the one who was looking at Mahnoor's birthday cake with dreamy eyes. She was locked in the cage that night.
The boy who had lost his one leg and became a cripple at the mere age of six or seven thanks to the cruel world was coming towards me with the same girl supporting him.
