Nobody lied when they said the world functioned in unfathomable ways. Nobody lied when they said the universe had more keys to the past than to the future. Nobody lied when they said people would look for those from the past instead of walking with the ones who wanted to walk beside them. Nobody lied when they said fate had its way to get back at you and that love had its way to get back to you. All of which she had heard throughout her life was now coming alive before her eyes whilst her eyes took in the sight of him playing the instrument she loved more than most of what her life contained.
Dressed in the deepest shade of the forest, sat Fayd Malik as he held the attention of everyone at the banquet. Who could ever tell that this was the same man that dug people's lives for a living? Who could ever tell that criminals back in her country wanted him to look into the dirty matters of others? Who could ever tell that this man held others' secret in his fingertips? And who could ever tell that the banquet hall was the last place she thought to find him?
"How do you know Fayd?" Huzaifa was quick to slide next to her, holding his little princess' hand firmly in his hands. She smiled down at Hoorain before she averted her focus back on Hoorain's father.
"We worked together for a while. How do you know him?"
"Salaar and Fayd went to school together before he was homeschooled." He said as a matter of fact. A smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, watching Fayd play his heart out. Fayd and Salaar happened to hang out together at an early age because of Huzaifa's friendship with Fayd's older brother, eventually becoming the best of friends.
"He was homeschooled?" Normally that would be anyone's reaction to know he was homeschooled while she tried to connect dots with the cut scar on his left arm.
"All his life. He was bullied." Although it was not his place to discuss someone's life with his cousin, his heart went out for Fayd and all that he went through as a student.
"Oh?" Was all she could muster as the heaviness of the information settled on her heart. Her gaze rolling towards the man that had become the center attraction. He had his eyes closed and body steeled against the seat.
Ayat wouldn't be so lying if she said she felt for him. Bullying, in every way, was fatal and nobody deserved to go through it no matter the race, the religion, the skin color. Her insides lurched when images formed in her mind– her heart shivered just by it. He talked about so many things to her back in Pakistan– he talked about his family, his sister, his grandparents but never for once did he mention about his school. She had tried asking about the scar once but the answer he gave her wasn't satisfying.
"Huzaifa?"
"Hmm?" He shot up to her direction with the little playful smile that his daughter gave him.
"What really happened?" Uncertainty. Uncertainty was what she felt at that moment. She wanted to pull back from this pit she was slowly falling into even so the pit was luring her in. A desperation was birthing into the bargain. A wave of mixed feelings weighed her down. That was the man that underwent so many things in his life even before she did.
"Nobody really knows, he was found unconscious by the trails. He wouldn't tell anyone." As things unraveled in front of her, she was told that a month after his incident they found out about the school bullies and how they lit up a fire in the garage but nobody really knew how he ended up with a cut that could have severed his veins.
Huzaifa grew up with Ahsan– Fayd's older brother as they maneuvered new things in life. And having grown up with Ahsan, Huzaifa got accustomed to having his younger brother around. The warm boy who used to show up at the doorway with a bar of chocolate or two was then gone. Huzaifa would mostly be over at his place but he rarely ever got to see him. That little boy had curled into a shell to protect himself from further humiliation and sufferings. And for the first time he saw Fayd after two years, a cut the length of his hand had crawled onto his skin. His heart shuddered– his fifteen years old heart broke. And it wasn't because of love a teenager broke his heart for, it was because of the transition he had witnessed. An thirteen years old boy giving up good things in life and being locked away in his room for two years.
And then came the time when Fayd's parents sent him out for university– to attend a med school but it didn't last a year and he returned home leaving Salaar alone to rot in there. He fought with his parents. He went against everyone to allow him to go to Pakistan. Huzaifa remembered the day– the visions of that day were so vivid that he would never forget. He saw him angry and livid for the first time. He saw him fuming in fury. He shattered glasses and ceramics to vent his anger and that was when he realized that the day his anger surfaced, the world would already have been reduced to ashes. That there was always a monster laying low under the calm facade.
"Ah!" The silent shriek had Ayat jump in her place, making her turn to her left and find Sayrah standing with an excited smile.
"What are you doing here?"
Sayrah waited for a while to come up with a well versed answer so she wouldn't be interrogated for not telling about Fayd's disappearance to her before. They all knew and they all lied, "We found out Fayd sir came back to America." Sayrah replied, ducking her head down and pretending to crease her dress out. Nonetheless, Ayat saw through her excuses but chose to say nothing.
"Hoorain beta, aap dadi ke paas jaayein, baba abhi aaya." The little girl nodded and pulled herself out of her father's hold and ran straight to her grandmother who stood only a foot away from them– her eyes admiring the man she adored so much as a little boy.
"You know of Fayd?" Huzaifa turned to her and at the mention of Fayd, her ears tinted pink giving out all the reasons in the world to think about it.
"We worked together." She managed to mumble out, her eyes still on Fayd and Ayat flinched only when the realization came crashing down on her– that she wasn't the only one who watched him play it.
"How many more of his colleagues are spread out in the banquet? I want to meet all of them." Sarcasm dripped from his tone, cracking a laugh from the tender woman there.
"Can I have a moment to talk to my cousin?" He mused, quite immediately excusing them and pulling her towards a corner before Sayrah could have a word to say to him. A nervous gasp broke out of her as she watched the love of his life play an instrument as though he played it all his life- he did, only they didn't know much about his likes and preferences.
And even though Ayat stood at a good distance from Sayrah and Fayd, her eyes were etched on them while a palpable sense of doubt floated in them. She lied to her. She lied to her when she said she had no idea of his whereabouts. Sayrah saw her go crazy, looking for him and for answers. And all they did was, hang up on her.
"What's going on with you all?" Huzaifa went dead flat. He didn't want anyone to make a scene out of anything when they were only minutes away from nikah. Ayat took a minute to calculate him before she opened her mouth to speak, she could say he was worried about what they could possibly do in front of a hundred people and truthfully, making a scene was the last thing she wanted at that moment.
"Nothing. I'll just need to have a few words with Yazdan, I'll have my way by the time the event ends." Putting him in the crutches of uncertainty, Ayat walked away to where Sayrah stood and spoke to her.
Ayat could bet on the destruction of the universe that he would not show up if he knew she was here and was involved. She could swear on everyone's life that he had something on her that he, so desperately, was, trying to take to his grave. Sayrah stared at her aghast the moment Ayat opened her mouth and told her about the web of lies they weaved for her. Sayrah looked to the man who was oblivious to the storm he stirred up. A storm that might end up swallowing each of them whole.
"I'm not going to do it." Sayrah declared, taking a step back.
But a woman who grew up without having parents to back her up knew strategies of the world– one of which was manipulation. People like her mastered that art and just by a smile or a drop of tear could they change a person's mind entirely. People like her held that power, she wouldn't have climbed up to the heights on her own otherwise.
"I'm sure investigators like you have a way with words. You use that knack to trap your target so why not using it on your own people?"
Sayrah looked at her helplessly. He betrayed his love and ran away. And now his love was asking her to betray her love; the world really did go in circles, "I can't. He'll know it's me the second he sees it." She gulped.
"I'm not telling you to do it yourself, have Isaa do it, have someone you know here do it."
"You're threatening me with your power." Sayrah choked because this was the power the rich had on people like her and everyone else.
"It's so simple, sweetheart. I'm threatening you with your love-" But before she could complete her sentence, her phone vibrated in her hands.
Come home soon, jaana!
Restricted number
That text felt like the sky crashing down on her head as she took in a bereaved breath; the strings of her heart clenched and her eyes refused to move away from the screen. The message felt real. The sender of the message felt too real to believe. Swallowing the lodging lump down her throat, Ayat shot up to find Sayrah staring at her amusedly. She hoped that she hadn't seen the nerving look cross her face. She hoped that Sayrah hadn't the seen the drop of tear that formed in her parched tears. She hoped none of this was true because if it was, she lived her life in a lie.
Unsure of what else to do to escape Ayat, Sayrah accepted it given the last thing she wanted was to be rejected by the only man she loved for the last few years. What was the use in trying when she had seen the love for Ayat in his eyes. All that she did to make him notice her in that way was in vain. And now she was helping someone else– someone– a woman who her love loved so dearly.
As he hit his final key to bring the recital to an end, he lifted his gaze to directly meet with the groom who stood taller and prominent with a proud smile on his face. Everything about this event was for Salaar and there was, wearing his heart on his sleeves not because he feared Fayd would mess up but because this was the first time he put Fayd in a place to play it in front of a hundred people. Fayd wasn't unconfident but he wasn't so outgoing either so he kept most of his skills to himself.
"Thank you, mere bhai." Salaar walked up, pulling him in a bone crushing hug, "Welcome back home." For the first time since his return, Fayd smile a real one. One that he could proclaim.
"Nikah Mubarak." Fayd wished him.
"So will I get to return your congratulations soon enough?" He smirked, walking Fayd away from the piano. His hand flung around Fayd's shoulder.
"No. I'm not planning to get married just yet." For he had many other things to take care of. However, this manage to pull Salaar's smile down and had him gawk at Fayd for almost half a minute.
"Today is not about me. Celebrate your big day, Salaar." Fayd pushed himself away from his hold and walked back to where he was before the recital.
He was not meaning to be rude but getting married and marriage were the last thing he could think about. He sure had ran away from Pakistan but he could never hold onto the information he gathered without letting her know. She had the rights, it was her life after all. A waiter stopped in front of him so he picked a glass from the tray only to make himself look busy. His fingers hurt from an hour long recital and for it was his first recital in years. The last time he remembered playing was in the orientation in their med school.
"Fayd bhai!" Farhan popped out of nowhere, looking ever confused as he pointed to him to a note he held between his fingers.
"Someone told me to give this to you."
"Who?"
"I don't know he said you'd know when you open it." With that Farhan walked away to his youngest sister. Fayd set his vision around, searching for the one that sent it.
The note, however, read;
You're here, I'm here and Ibrahim Wajdani's heiress is here too. It is all I will need to dig out the secrets you've worked so hard to bury.
Meet me outside in five.
"Ayat is here?" Intuitively, Fayd took off in search of her, to see her from a distance, to make sure she was fine but never to fall in the horizon of her vision. He would stay away to protect her from everything he was offering. He would have to stay away so she wouldn't break. And to not break her, he would have to find the one that sent the letter.
He pushed through the guests, making a clear way to where he was told to come. With his heart in his throat, he could only think of what the man could do to Ayat. He, for a moment, thought that the sender was Abbas– the one who used to send threats on Khalid and Nazeem sahb's order but then a person like him could never travel across the globe to threaten him mostly because he wouldn't care, he got paid to threaten her after all.
The moment he came outside, he was embraced by the shrill coldness after enjoying a couple of hours of warmth the heater had offered. The evenings were unnervingly cold that he wanted to burn his skin and wear it again. He wheezed as it abused the set of lungs while he ran around looking for the person. Fayd, in fact, was late; he arrived late on purpose to see who it was. The note had curled and cramped inside his fist as he rested his hands over his knees, fetching air then walking closer to the fountain.
The fountain was enormous and impeccably real and perfect– the fairy lights draped around the statue lit the place so vibrantly. And just as he stood to take in the beauty of it, a pad of a finger traced the length of his scar. Taken aback and thrown off into a pit, his hand went around his back and he pivoted on his feet to find the face he dreaded– he pivoted on his feet to find the face he loved. He took a step back and his fist crushed the letter even more so much that the paper turned into a ball, the rough edges of it hurting the insides of his palm as he stood quietly as though his lips were seamed together. A terrifying look crossed his face before he went stony again.
"What are you doing here?" He grogged.
"You must know why I'm here, you seem to know more about my life than I ever will." Ayat spat, looking at his spasmed hand, his hand still showing the violent scar the cut left behind even when he had his hand around his back.
"Of course." He scoffed, it was as though they went back to square one– to the time they had first met where there was no place for friendship or any advanced blooming feelings. The angst stirred inside him.
"Why are you really here, Ayat?" His mind raked her wrist to find the bracelet and surprisingly, it was there. Surprisingly, she still wore the burden he left on her in the name of an adornment.
"Likewise."
"Like I told you, I returned home." He shrugged, taking one more step back and looking for a dustbin to discard the balled paper.
"You had things to deal with-"
"I dealt with them and I returned home, none of this is a great deal."
"-with me, Fayd, you had things to deal with me." His jaw ticked at the mention of his own name.
"What are you on about?" He quizzed. He pretended to not know about it because that was the only thing he could do save herself from it. He was willingly sacrificing all that he held to keep her sanity intact.
"I know helping me was just a cover to get access to my life, how many more secrets have you kept from me, Yazdan?"
▪︎
❝Ek shor hai mujhme
Joh bhot khamosh hai.❞
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Thoughts?