AU- An old school infatuation is what occurs when Meerab and Murtasim coincidentally share the same night train from Islamabad to Karachi. Just a couple sentences and caring guestures are enough to change their route forever.
Any mature scene will...
'Kamalena, par abhi kay liye,' he spoke whilst taking a couple more notes out from his pocket for the train ride to Karachi. 'Ticket kay liye kaafi hai,' he explained, his gaze failing to meet hers. ( You can earn it, but for now... This is enough for the ticket.)
'Murtasim,' she warned, his incessant need to give had spoilt her. An exagerated exhale left her whilst she began to cave.
'Please,' he hissed, as a final plea. He placed the money in her hand so she wouldnt have to pawn off any jewellery- the idea had always irked him as much as he knew gold jewellery was currency, he hoped the nobet would never come.
She reluctantly accepted, the bile of embarressment rising in her throat. The cool of the marble floor was entirely grounding, the slightest bit uncomfortable which thankfully kept her on edge.
The crisp white of his shirt shone like the clean of his heart, his lack of judgement gave rise to a deep sense of belonging. The glint of care in his eyes was evidence of the need to care for her, his upper body instinctively leaning towards her with a magnetic pull.
There was a pause, as though life was giving him a chance, neither of their parting ways just yet. The perfume of burning incense sticks mingled with rose petals, creating a luscious smell that she could only associated with such a place.
When she had no obligation, absolutely no duress or urge her to succumb to him, he thought it right to offer something which had been on the tip of his tounge for almost the entire jouney. 'Tum mera ghar aajau,' he suggesting with a tone that was an equal mix of apprehension and tenderness, not wanting to be rejected or be too forthright.( Come to my house.)
Her gaze lifted off the off the swirls of the marble floor, her facial features contorted in confusion, eyebrows slanting at the idea, slightly quivering. She didnt understand. 'Kya, kaisay?' She scoffed lowly at the obserdity of the suggestion. ( What, how?)
'Humara ghar yaha Hyderabad mei hai. Tum mehfooz rahougey,' he explained in an unusally light voice, carrying an undeniably hopeful undertone. ( Our house is just here in Hyderabad. You'll be safe.)
The short wall provided a little rest and she leaned her body weight backwards on it and Murtasim stood at an angle, looking inwards at her. The path behind him was desolate, the world had provided them an ounce of privacy amidst the bustle.
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I'm just adding this picture because I like it. We just need to pretend that the above picture is in the day time, according to the story! Still not over how we were robbed of that scene💔 OK now continue..... ————————————————————————
She shook her head fainlty, gaze lowering, mentally detached from the idea. 'Kisi ghair mard ka ghar mei gusna aur rehana- mera zameer mujhay ijaazat nahi deta,' she explained, highlighting the lack of amy formal relationship. ( I cannot enter a strangers house and live there. My conscience doesn't allow it.)
