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0 4 : s t a r r y n i g h t s
does it ever drive you crazy, just how fast the night changes.
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𝐴𝑧𝑎𝑎𝑛
HER gaze was hot like the gusts from a bonfire, but it was the unmissable softness in those cherubic lambert eyes that drew me in. There was a warm chaos that burnt in her stormy orbs. The fire in her eyes told me a story her lips never would. By the way she eyed her world, it wasn't hard to tell, she was strong, yet broken and too goddamn stubborn to admit it.
It had been a week since I met her. A week since I had been thinking of her. Every evening, lying on the grass, watching the graveyard of stars twinkle above me, I'd be reminded of her. Of the dark billowing locks of midnight black hair falling over her sun-kissed shoulders, the beguiling black eyes that trapped within them a hundred untold secrets and the gorgeous smile that haunted my memory during sleepless nights.
I wasn't sure if it was the light of the moon or darkness of the sky, but as the night descended to the sound of the chirping crickets squeaking at the white orb suspended in the midnight sky, my thoughts would squander back to the woman who had a piece of the demon in her angel-like eyes.
Shaking my thoughts off, I straightened back up, my white gardening gloves all covered with dirt and mud. Despite the dry weather, my flowers bloomed in profusion, their sweet scent perfuming the air. The bougainvillea vines drooped with orange and watermelon coloured flowers and the roses blossomed on the neatly pruned bushes. Shoving the pruners and hand spades in the gardening bag, I took one proud look at my garden. This place was my heaven, my escape, my sanctuary. The more time I spent sifting the dirt through my fingers, inspecting the buds, pulling out the weeds and inhaling the fresh scent of my labour, the more alive I felt.
Watching a tiny seed nurture life and bloom into existence was a fascinating fest. It was truly breathtaking, whimsical and stirring, just like the girl who had caught my eye that night, immaculately dressed in her shadows and black silk.
Dark long hair cascaded down her back, those thick tendrils contouring her face. Throughout the night, she had walked around with a smile on her face, but her expressions had remained schooled, cold even. She was gorgeous, with dainty feminine features; long lusty lashes and lips that were reminiscent of sweet intoxication. The sound of her heels against the wooden flooring was enough to silence a storm and quieten a dragon, but there was a subtle vulnerability to her. She might have worn her strengths and darknesses on her sleeve, but she sure as hell was damned with the heart she kept locked in a gilded cage.
I could not shake off her moonlight magic that seemed to have besieged her aura. I knew nothing about her, and yet the mystery soaking her bones intrigued me. I wanted to unravel the darkest secrets and sins that lay underneath that milky skin.
Our conversation had been brief, yet convoluted with an endless game we both knew we were playing. We hadn't laid down the rules. There was no right or wrong. Yet the maddening need to win, drove us both to the edge. She was a perplexing little puzzle and I'd be damned if I didn't piece her together bit by bit. The first time we met, she was unprepared, obviously a little surprised, but I was sure she had sworn under her breath, the next time we met, she'd be the one dictating the rules.
Walking back inside, I dusted my hands off. She reminded me of whiskey. Neat and strong, with an unforgettable punch. Just like the golden liquid, I wanted her to stir my soul and burn my tongue. I groaned heavily. God knew how badly I needed a drink right now.
Ever since I left rehab, almost four years ago, I had stayed somber. An accomplishment I was very proud of. And apart from the occasional insistences when my dysfunctional family had driven me to the edge and left me to free fall, I never really had the urge to revert back to alcohol to drown my reality.
But the fact that I knew nothing about the girl who had etched herself on my memory was enough to drive me insane. Heck, she hadn't even given me her name. Figuring that I might as well do something about it then sulk in my room, I called Nia, who unsurprisingly picked up on the second ring. "Azaan! You still haven't slept?"
"Hello to you too, sister."
"What got you to call at this hour of the night?"
My eyes shifted to the antique clock hanging on the wall. It once belonged to my grandfather, but was now one of my prized possessions. "It's just a little past midnight. I thought you'd be awake."
"I was just about to sleep." Nia replied suspiciously. "But you rarely ever call at night Azaan."
"Just wanted to check how Zohra is doing. Mom mentioned she was down with a fever."
I could feel Nia relax, but I wasn't sure if she had bought my excuse, and momentarily a fleeting feeling of guilt sliced through me. "She is better now. Still a little under the weather but better. How are you?"
"I'm good. We just wrapped up the case against Intertex. The company was involved in some really shady business."
Nia didn't sound surprised, "I know the owners. They were a pair of slimy bastards. And I'm glad you made sure they were able to see their end through."
"They had a clear case of fraud going against them. I'm surprised they got a free hand for as long as they did."
"They are well connected. Pretty close to Jalaluddin Malik too." Nia and her information about the society ran deep. If she knew you, there were good chances she knew your friends and your enemies.
Jalaluddin Malik, the ex Prime Minister of Pakistan. That explained a lot of things about the case. The man had influenced the country and its politics for the better half a century. But right now I was thankful for his mention for reasons other than helping me understand my previous case. Carefully steering the conversation towards last week's party, I asked, "Isn't he Aliyaar's father in law?"
"Grandfather in law." Nia corrected quickly. "He is Shanzae's grandfather. He had a heart attack the night of their party last weekend."
"I've heard the news, but I haven't really been following it. The traffic has been a nuisance ever since the news got out." I grunted. "The party was pretty spectacular though."
"You're incorrigible, Azaan." Nia let out a soft laugh.
"What?" I shrugged, "It's the truth. And I like to make sure the truth prevails."
At this Nia snorted, "You're a lawyer Azaan, not a judge. Although I'm pretty damn sure why you must have found the party 'pretty spectacular'." There was a knowing edge to her voice and I could imagine her smiling behind the phone.
"You do?"
"Drop it Azaan. I saw you talking to Shanzae's sister."
"Shanzae's sister?" I couldn't hide the surprise in my voice. "Who are you referring to, I spoke to sever—
"We both know who we're talking about. And whatever is going on in that devilish mind of yours, I like it." She teased.
"But—"
"Now go back to sleep! Sweet dreams."
With that she abruptly disconnected the phone, sending my thoughts scattering like a flock of birds. Was Nia actually talking about the same girl? She seemed pretty certain, but that was who Zeenia was. Shrewdly intelligent and dangerously discerning. There was not a shadow of doubt in my mind, she had purposely refrained from giving me the rest of the information. She knew how my mind worked and had left me breadcrumbs.
The Malik heiress.
I could work with that.
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The turn of dawn woke the world to the news of Jalaluddin Malik's rapidly deteriorating health. My mother, who had been vacationing in Europe, called and suggested a get well soon bouquet be sent from the Mughals to show our support for the family.
Normally I wouldn't have given it much thought but the possibility of seeing her again stirred something deep inside me, quenching the unending thirst of my parched lips. I could feel the intoxicating rush of my blood through my body, but the scenes outside the Lal Mahal, the official residence of the Malik family, were something I wasn't prepared for.
Men in armed uniforms patrolled the gates and lined the entrances of the red bricked haveli. Every person walking through those towering metal gates ornate with spears was being checked, searched and interrogated before being let into the long driveway lined with sculpted trees alongside the laviously landscaped gardens. Suddenly the thought of walking through those doors seemed daunting.
And yet here I fucking was.
When I finally drove towards the entrance, a wave of activity and commotion stirred the air awake. The guards began running and everything seemed to be alerted. And then Aliyaar, the current Chief Minister of Punjab, walked out of executive wing of the house, accompanied by an army of men and security personnels. Surprisingly, despite the crowd his eyes caught mine and he smiled warmly. "Azaan. What a surprise!"
"I saw the news. I thought I'd visit."
His face turned solemn, "He remains critical. But we hope he'll recover. Taimoor called this morning as well."
I pressed my lips together, hiding my surprise with a curt nod. "It seems you're leaving. I will not hold you. Is Abdullah Sahab inside? Mother sent flowers."
A flicker of hesitation burnt on his face. He almost seemed reluctant to let me in. "I'm going to the residential wing of the house. Why don't you join us for dinner? Abdullah uncle would be with us momentarily."
"I should take my leave then. I'm sure you all are busy."
"I insist." He spoke with an air of finality. "Shanzae would be delighted to meet you."
A generous sprinkling of stars coated the cloudless silent sky. The dying flapping of the returning birds broke through the stillness of the crisp air that soared upwards and I found myself standing outside the opulent palace-like structure.
Would she be here? The thought flickered my mind.
"Aliyaar you're here!" A soft voice resonated through the hall, followed by the soft clicking of heels against the marbled flooring. The massive door of the hall flung open and I saw Shanzae appear. Draping a thin shawl over her slender shoulder and holding a little girl by her hand, she walked inside, her expressions tired. "The phone calls will drive me insane."
I had known Aliyaar as Taimoor Bhai's friend, but it felt odd watching the intimate domestic scene unfold between the family, reminding me very much of my own siblings and their children.
The girl, who seemed to be Zohra's age, jumped into Aliyaar's arms just when Shanzae's eyes caught mine. She stiffened momentarily with surprise, but then quickly smiled warmly, "Oh, I didn't realise you had company. Please come inside."
"I don't think you've met."
"Of course, I have! I know Azaan. I've heard so much about you from Zeenia and Daania." She beamed at their mention.
"I hope it's all good."
"Oh you have nothing to worry about. Please make yourself comfortable." She guided me towards the seating area, while Aliyaar excused himself to freshen up.
Before taking my seat, I handed the flowers to her. "My mother sent these. We hope Jalal Sahab will make a quick recovery."
"Inshallah." She sighed and then smiled ruefully at the flowers. "These are beautiful. Give my regards to your mother. It's very thoughtful of her. And you too."
"Pleasure. Wish we had met under better circumstances though."
She gave me a dismissive shrug, "This life, but I'm glad you're joining us for dinner. I hope you like seafood. Mom had it made for my sister, she loves it."
"Of course. I love seafood."
"Perfect." She gave me a cheery smile.
God knew just how much I fucking hated seafood.
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Dinner was promptly served. It was a feast of prawn and shellfish and fish, along with generous servings of salads and soup and a humble bowl of daal that lay forgotten on the other end of the table. The nauseating smell of seafood wafted through the air and made my stomach churn with unease.
Abdullah Sahab and his wife joined us for dinner and Shanzae was quick to offer introductions. Much like the rest of the family, they too seemed delighted at my presence. Apart from the horrendous smell, dinner was a pleasant affair. Conversation was easy and the moods light, but my eyes kept straying to the door. The strangled whispers between Shanzae and her mother however offered little hope. "She can't keep herself locked up in the room like this. All her favourite things and she isn't even here."
"Give her time. I'm sure she'll come down for dinner."
I sat my fork down, the pudding lying untouched on my plate. The family had been excellent company, Shanzae a particularly hospitable hostess, but all I could think of was the girl who had possessed all of my darkest thoughts.
And then suddenly, the door creaked open and she walked in. Impeccably dressed, in a sleeveless black dress that faithfully molded itself around her curves and heels that could shake the devil up with their click, she looked gorgeous and mysterious, yet still vibrating with an air of authority few possessed.
Her hair was carefully pulled back into a ponytail to reveal her delicate features, frosty eyes and intoxicating lips. Plump, stunning and pink, they reminded me of roses, beautiful yet deceptively dangerous.
Her eyes caught mine and she froze in momentary surprise, before she quickly reigned in her expressions and smiled hesitantly. I smiled back enjoying the ice and temporary thaw of her personality. She came and sat right across me, her gaze catching mine for a fleeting second. And I couldn't help but notice, something was royally off about her tonight. Tonight she was scrupulously polite, undeniably beautiful and unfathomably distant.
Closed and lost.
Her mother was delighted to see her at the table, but for the most part she remained quiet, chipping in a few clipped replies to questions directed at her. Throughout dinner, my eyes kept wandering, stealing forbidden glances, basking in her presence. There were moments when I caught her staring back. And in those moments, our eyes toyed with slow seduction, slowing the seconds and drowning the voices around us. I could feel our breaths deepen, but all that mattered were her eyes peering into mine, pulling us into a spell that was ours. Only ours.
We could have played this game forever, but dinner came to an abrupt end when the news of Jalal Sahab regaining consciousness came through. After a hurried good-bye, the family rushed for the hospital, but Layla stayed back with her niece, Aly.
"Lee-lee can we read the new books we got?"
"Not tonight Aly. It's already past your bedtime. Since mommy is away you can sleep in my room."
"But Lee-lee you promised."
"Aly," she spoke in a firmer tone, her shoulders half drunk with exhaustion. "Please."
The girl's face plopped into an scowling pout, but she waddled towards the door, her arms folded across her chest in a comical manner. Layla watched her, before turning towards me, her brows still knitted together in a frown.
"I should leave—"
"No. Stay."
The words were unexpected and hurried. And I watched her lips part in surprise, almost like she hadn't expected herself to say those words. A flicker of hesitation cut through her iced expressions and she rolled her lips between her teeth in an agonous manner. Her mind sank with a thousand thoughts; posed questions and lost answers drowning her in regret. "I mean— you can go. I don't know what I was thinking."
"Do you want me to stay?"
She looked up, her long lashes flickering as her eyes fell onto mine. There was so much that was spinning around in those dark midnight orbs, so many thoughts, so many emotions. My eyes searched hers, peering into the darkness, trying to catch the last wisp of her fading thoughts. I could sense the words forming in her head, her mind working a response from the kaleidoscope of conflicting thoughts. And then she spoke, a little too hesitantly.
"Will you stay?"
"I will. If you want me to."
"Then stay."
"Feel like a walk?"
A quiet smile flitted across her face and she pointed towards the back door. "The door opens to our back gardens. Wait for me. I'll put Aly to bed and be there in fifteen minutes."
And then she hurried away, her posture tense and expressions closed, leaving me to the nipping air of the night and my wandering thoughts. She seemed off tonight, peculiarly quiet and oddly vulnerable, a shadow of the woman I had met a week ago.
It was one of those ordinary starry nights, yet nothing about it felt so. The air buzzed with energy, the stars twinkled with light and the clouds sailed gaily. Fifteen minutes later, she appeared in the gardens, her face scrubbed clean and her hair tied up in a messy bun, wearing a black t-shirt and a cropped pyjama that ended a little below her knees.
Under the simmering moonlight, standing there without any pretenses and facades to hide behind the haze of her persona, was a girl, hauntingly beautiful and wonderfully lost.
A fading hint of her perfume spilled over the silent night, rising up and intoxicating the air. For a breathless moment, I watched as she edged near, her naked beauty crumbling the veneer of her cold icy personality. The fragile innocence and whispering vulnerability in her eyes spoke more than her lips ever would.
"Your gardens are beautiful. The plants are stunning." I whispered into the night.
She gave me a bored expression, "Thank you. We pay good money to our gardeners to maintain them."
I almost laughed at her apparent lack of interest in the place. "You don't seem particularly interested in gardening."
She shrugged and started walking, beckoning me to follow. "I bought a plant once. The damn thing died three days later."
"Ouch."
"Yeah. Ouch! Since then I have vowed to stay away from taking care of any living thing."
"You're pretty close to your niece though."
We strolled through the gardens, watching the swaying trees being caressed by the gently blowing breeze. She looked up and flashed me a smile, "She is my sunshine. Aly is what lights up this house."
"Guess we both have a special Aly in our lives." She stopped suddenly, the stirring darkness of her eyes returning with a roaring intensity. "She is my star. The most beautiful girl in the world."
I carefully watched her expressions change, something swirling in those dark orbs. I knew she was misconstruing my words, yet I stood there watching her drown in her thoughts. The burden of her sinking feelings dragged her into a dark abyss. I should have told her, but a sadistic part of me revelled in the fact that what I saw in her eyes was something akin to jealousy. Would she actually care if there was someone else in my life?
The thought was sudden, almost primitive and visceral.
Blood swerved through my veins, pumping with maddening need, drawing into the darkest of my thoughts. The more I admired her, the more I obsessed with her thoughts . She was hauntingly beautiful, yet achingly aloof, closed off within the walls she had erected around herself. She remained untouchable and forbidden.
"I shouldn't have stopped you." Her words melted into the darkness of the night. The scent of her regret and something that almost felt like sadness warmed the air. "It's late."
Guilt stabbed through me.
"And the weather is perfect."
"This is a bad idea."
"But it can make for a good time." She watched me for a moment, her perfectly plump lips twisting into a small smile. "Now shall we?" I gestured towards the path and she walked ahead.
"Let me show you the lake." She finally offered. A few moments later as the trees began to clear out, the faint lap of the water began to dampen the air. I stilled, taking in the picturesque scene ahead of me. It was small, but stunning with the shimmering moon swimming in the still waters of the rippling lake. We walked the edge, treading carefully over the slippery soil.
"I come here sometimes." She mumbled softly, her eyes fixed upon the roses with their sharp thorn. She sighed softly, and I couldn't help but notice the gentle rise and fall of her chest and the weathering look on face which gave away every trace of the emptiness she so terribly wanted to conceal.
"To hide?"
She looked up, her eyes harrowingly empty. "To disappear. Sometimes that's easier."
"Why do you want to disappear tonight?"
"You really think I'm going to give you my secrets?" She chuckled mischievously, and then hopped over to an old, creaky wooden bench. "What's your secret Mr. Mughal?" She eyed me with a glint of mischief and then patted the space next to her.
"If I tell you a Mughal secret, I'm afraid I'll have to kill you." I straightened besides her, keeping my hand on the bench. I felt her relax, carefully lowering her armor. Her smiles became easier and her eyes lightened.
"How many skeletons do you have in your closet?"
"Too many I'm afraid."
"Of course." She smiled languidly and her shoulder brushed against my arm in a withering touch. Heat zapped through me. "But you're a lawyer. Even if someone found them, I'm sure you'll figure a way out."
"I'm a lawyer, not a magician."
"You lived in New York right? I lived there too when I was studying at Columbia."
"Yeah. I moved to New York after I graduated from Harvard Law School. Sat my Bar while working as an associate at a law firm. I was about to be promoted as a partner."
She turned to me with a renewed interest, under the moonlight her eyes shone brightly, "Why?"
"Why?" My brows furrowed with confusion, "because I was good?"
"No. Why'd you come back? I had to look after our business, but you're not working for Mughal & Co. then why'd you return?" She looked at me with genuine curiosity, almost like she couldn't believe my words. "And don't give me the patriotic crap. I can tell you're not one of those."
"What do you mean?" For a moment, my entire face hardened with fury at her petty judgement. Who did she think she was? A small knowing smile curled upon the corner of her lip. She noticed the change in my expressions, but knowingly let them slide unnoticed, her eyes still hinging on to mine, fishing for answers. "Your bigotry is unwarranted. But you're right. I came back for my family." I paused instinctively, unsure if I wanted to share something so personal. "My mother. She needed me."
"A mama's boy. I see."
"Is that such a bad thing?"
"No. It's cute." She then turned towards the lake. Plucking a blade of the straw, she flung the pieces into the air. "I am my mother's favourite child. Growing up Shanzae was so difficult and Zayan so troublesome."
"It seems like we have more in common than I originally thought."
"You're also your mother's favourite?"
"Maybe. But do you see this connection?"
She nodded "We're both babies of two extraordinarily powerful and well-established families. Our legacies are greater than our inheritances." Her lips twitched with amusement over her joke, but her words weighed down with ominous truth.
"Did you just purposefully called us babies?"
She nodded, "The youngest one is always the baby of the family. No matter what we do, what we become, heck we could be grandparents, and they'd still see us as babies."
"Does it bother you?"
"No. I've come to terms with my reality. Unlike my sister, I do not like to live in a convoluted bubble of dreams. I'd rather own my legacy and life than waste away time lamenting what I do not have."
"It bothered me at times and that's why perhaps I never felt more at home than when I was in New York, or Boston for that matter. I could be myself there. Not a Mughal. Not my parent's son. Or my siblings' baby brother. I was just— me. Azaan. Do you get it?"
"I do. I like it too. To be free. To walk around without people knowing who you are. No expectations. No burdens. Or caring about who your parents are. Who my siblings are. But this is our world. This is who we are. No matter where we go, this is what will continue to define us and our future generations."
After a very long time in my life, I felt like someone truly understood what it was like to grow up under the shadows of accomplished families, while trying to create a niche for yourself; to carve a place for yourself in this world. I knew she understood the struggles, and in that moment we both could relate to what we felt.
Silence dropped over us like a warm blanket, and apart from the rustle of the leaves and the persistent lap of the water there was a stillness in the air that vibrated through my bones.
She lowered her hands on to the bench beside her, their tips brushing against the side of my hand. Something buzzed through me. And the way her body froze and her eyes rose to catch mine, I could have sworn she felt the same echo in her ears as her blood turned to flames. She closed her eyes, her lashes a sweep of darkness. When she looked again, her lips parted and without thought my gaze followed their movement.
There was something between us. Something pure. Something primal. Something I could not explain. Yet something so electric, quite magical and weirdly hypnotic, that all I could feel in that moment was the throbbing pulse in my chest and the roaring blood in veins.
Her eyes were like endless galaxies. A whole universe dwelled within them. Black enough to scare you and yet magnetic enough to pull you in. And that is what I liked about her. She didn't play innocent. She wore her darkness like a crown. Her demons drove me wild. Her secrets intrigued me. And her languorously mysterious smile lit my blood on fire.
Then suddenly she blinked and pulled back. Taking away the warmth and breaking the trace that had surrounded us. The next moment, her walls were higher than the fucking Eiffel Tower and her face fiercely guarded with a chilly composure. But she was scared. Scared that I had seen her. Like the moon flower she has bloomed at night yet kept her moonlight hidden in the dark.
"You should leave."
Her frosty tone didn't offend me. It did concern me, though. But I had no right to probe further. I could not figure her out, and perhaps that confused me. The feeling was new. Almost novel.
"Perhaps I should."
An awkward pause fell across the gardens, both of us dabbling with our straying thoughts. We both had an undeniable connection. A spark. But she extinguished it before we even fully felt it. I got up to leave, when I heard her whisper into the harrowing silence of the night. "Thank you. Thank you for staying with me tonight. God knows how much I needed someone."
The emptiness in her eyes weighed heavy on her shoulders. But her words were sincere, each pieced together with careful precision.
"Pleasure." I paused and she looked at me expectantly, "I wanted to tell you something. Alyana. I call her Lya." Her face hardened, but she nodded at the seemingly random piece of information I had just given her.
"I'm sure she is wonderful. I'd love to meet her."
"You should. Although I think she'd prefer Aly's company more than yours." Her eyes frowned with confusion. "Alyana is my three year old niece."
Suddenly like when a bubble bursts, a bizarre mix of emotions washed over her, pure and undiluted. I couldn't tell what she felt but it seemed like she was filled with relief and joy. Was it preposterous of me to think that she was perhaps a little jealous. The thought felt hot and wonderful. And for the first time tonight, she laughed. Her laugh lilted into the sky.
"I'd love to meet her then." This time she genuinely meant her words. And I couldn't help but smile.
"What are you doing this Sunday?"
She frowned slightly, "Probably flying to Karachi."
"I would have flown you, but I've plans."
"You can fly a plane?"
"Yes. Impressed?" My lips twisted into a cocky smirk.
She rolled her eyes at me and I laughed, "Do you want me to be impressed?"
"Maybe."
She waved her hands into the air dismissively. "I'm not. Can you ride a horse?"
"Cancel your trip."
"Excuse me?" She crossed her arms across her and raised her brows in offence. I chuckled in response and straightened, jamming my hands inside my pockets.
"Excused. Lahore Polo Club, Sunday, 12 PM sharp."
A genuine flicker of surprise crossed her face. This wasn't the answer she had expected, "Polo Club? You play polo?"
"You'd find out on Sunday."
"What makes you think I'll come?" Her brows rose in challenge and her spine steeled in defiance.
The girl loved playing games.
"You will. I just know." I walked backwards, my eyes never leaving the small smile playing upon her lips.
"Good night Azaan."
"Good night, Lee lee." I stopped in my tracks and leaned closer to whisper above the shell of her ear, "You have an infectious smile, you should use it more often."
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Thoughts? 🥀
Layla and Azaan are such self aware and emotionally sensitive individuals and it's soo fulfilling to see them grow and blossom into their own skin. Especially after having seen how they were in Bekhudi & MAV.
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Until next time, keep me in your prayers.