𝐁𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐑

5 | silent whispers

I desire your love
~ even if it is torture
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The darkness engulfed the silent atmosphere in itself, leaving just the drain of misery.

In the dimly lit room, nestled in the corner, a young lady with sorrowful dark eyes sat, her tears mirroring the heavy rain that drummed relentlessly against the windowpane. Her long, ebony hair cascaded down her shoulders in disarray, its lustrous strands catching glimpses of the melancholy light. The air seemed to hold a sense of isolation, as her sobs intertwined with the rain's pitter-patter, creating a mournful symphony.

Her delicate features, usually radiant, were now etched with distress. Tear tracks painted her pale cheeks, glistening as they caught the faint light filtering through the rain-soaked glass. Her lips quivered, revealing the depth of her anguish as her breath hitched in irregular intervals.

Dressed in a once-elegant lehenga, it now clung to her form, dampened by both her tears and the rain that found its way through the worn window seals. Clutched tightly against her chest was a letter, its paper crinkled and ink smeared, a poignant symbol of the source of her pain. Her fingers traced the words as if seeking solace from the inked phrases that had brought her to this emotional precipice.

Dark eyes, normally pools of warmth and vitality, now held a tempest of emotions. As lightning streaked across the sky, the room momentarily illuminated her tear-streaked visage, casting shadows that danced along the contours of her face. Her gaze remained fixated on some distant point, her thoughts likely lost in a labyrinth of memories and regrets.

Amidst the tempest outside, her inner turmoil was palpable, evoking a sense of empathy even from a distance. The convergence of nature's fury and her own heartache painted a haunting scene of vulnerability and raw emotion, a snapshot frozen in time that would linger in the memory of anyone who bore witness to the young lady's silent suffering.

Benazir's eyes closed on their own accord as she let her head rest beside the wall. The agonising moment replaying in her mind.

She smiled softly at the girls who looked at her with a shimmer of pride and adoration. Her head held high as she made her way down the stairs trying to be as careful as she could. She didn't wanted to trip on her own lehenga once again like she had on the stage, in front of the man with sapphire eyes.

The hunk possessed a pair of captivating blue eyes that seemed to hold the essence of boundless skies within their depths. His eyes were a shade of blue so vivid and striking that they could rival the azure heavens on a clear summer day. Like the tranquil expanse of the open sky, his gaze exuded an aura of calm confidence and a hint of the adventure that lay beyond.

Framed by lashes as dark as the midnight horizon, his eyes were windows to a world of mystery and possibility. With every glance, they seemed to draw you in, inviting you to explore the uncharted territories of his thoughts. His eyes bore the mark of a man who had seen both the wonders and challenges of flight, a testament to the journeys he had undertaken in the cockpit of an aircraft.

In moments of contemplation, his blue eyes took on an introspective quality-a mirror to the intricate tapestry of his mind. They held the power to convey a multitude of emotions without the need for words.

The blue eyes of Zaviyar Azlan were more than just physical features; they were a symbol of his essence-the adventurer, the aviator, and the enigma that lay beneath the surface. They held stories of skies explored, horizons chased, and dreams pursued. In their cerulean depths, one could catch glimpses of the passion that fueled his endeavors and the spirit that soared in the realm of the boundless blue.