Chapter 6.

"Sir there is someone here to meet you!" Zaryab knocked on the door, announcing his arrival with sharp words.

"Does this person have a name?" Aliyaar narrowed his eyes, he was not expecting anyone over for lunch.

"Yes sir. She asks to be addressed as Ms.Saleem. Insists that you know her." He explained.

"Oh!" Aliyaar bit back the smile that threatened to follow his words, "send her up, and cancel my meetings for the rest of the day."

"But—"

"No but's please. Do as you are asked."

"Of course sir!" Zaryab nodded, almost saluting at his authoritarian tone.

Aliyaar's fingers rubbed the top his forehead, massaging away the creases that deepened into frowns ninety percent of the way through his upper dermis. He stared out of the windows that overlooked the frayed roads covered in heavy traffic. Apart from the blue skies and the boiling heat that came at the end of May — merciless and without rain, not a single atom moved. The air was heavy with crackling dryness and burdening expectations. It was, like an open oven attached to them ; despite the anticipated showers of rain. Aliyaar was held captive behind the wide edges of his work desk — by his thoughts and the turns he did not take. The realizations that he could have done everything, better. Yet he had not.

Aliyaar fixed the lapels of his pinstriped suit. The white on navy was handpicked by his mother for him and the starchy blue shirt underneath a gift from his sister. Rough buttons sewn on top pinched his skin as he fixed them in place. His hand slid into the pockets of his trousers, his body moving towards the rack behind him. Wordlessly, his thoughts an avid companion of their own Aliyaar opened the glass cabinets and popped the deep roasted coffee pod into the machine. It's silent humming the only sound as he retrieved the box of Godiva chocolates. As if he worked only in monosyllabic manners, he did each chore with full attention. The numbers on his desktop screen crunched into points, red and green — back and forth as the stocks continued to shift around in circles. Heavy confusion regarding their budgeting for the season. Sugar cane production was at an all time low owing to the rain — their mills had less to burn and more to feed. Making sound decisions had been a job forced to him ; a right of birth. An honor most claimed.

What honor was there in your father's legacy writing your suicide note?

Sounds of the coffee steaming into the glass kettle were his savior. They kept the thoughts of her, and of the disaster he was from taking over. The lacquer shaded drink was hot, it's temperature fogged the inside of the container. Billions of minuscule droplets maximized around the top layer of the kettle, he could see his face clear on the fogged bottom. Aliyaar's eyes matched the drink at that moment, the golden from the sun that fell in at noon, painting both of them iridescent. Vaporizing into one large well he saw the tiny droplets. Himself in them. Secular identities, much like his. The tiniest drop left behind as the rest gravitated to the centre.

"Ahem!"

Barekhna coughed, staring at his back that filled out the suit, hoping he would turn. Seconds passed as she stepped inside, her leather handbag dropped on top of the table as she walked to him. She was surprised herself, that the sound of her thin heels and the throat choking scent of her Pear perfume did not win over his attention. Usually he was more than alert when she was around, to have found him lost in thought, with his face free of any signs — it was a delight.

"Aliyaar?" Barekhna whispered in his ear, resting her hand on top of his shoulder.

"Huh—oh!" He turned, smiling sheepishly. "I'm sorry I — I didn't hear you come in."

"That's alright. What were you thinking of saint?"

"Nothing. Everything." He smiled softly, a saturated red blush crept up his face as he stared into her eyes.

They were matching he noticed. She looked a hundred timed better than him in the pinstripe suit. The small diamond pin shaped like a teardrop above her breast bone was cause of jealousy. To be so near — to touch her warm skin all day without worry. Without being called callous. To be above her beating heart, what an honor. Barekhna's hair tied up into a ponytail ; her elfin ears covered in three piercings, earrings of different sizes hanging from them. He watched with interest as she placed her hands over the shelf, pressing her back into the counter.

"Would you share them with me saint?" Barekhna spoke.

"I don't think they'd be something that'd pique your interest." He replied.

"Try me."

"How about—" Aliyaar stilled, biting his tongue as he gathered the tethers of his courage, "how about we talk about my thoughts and other things over coffee?"

"Ap mujhe lunch time par coffee pilana chahte hain? Didn't take you for a stingy man saint!"
[You want to give me a cup of coffee during lunch time?]

"I— fuck! I'm so sorry I didn't realize! I've just — I've just been all over the place!" Aliyaar stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"It's alright. I had a late breakfast, so I think I could do with a cup of coffee."

Nodding, he poured the black coffee — with sugar and a heaping dollop of cream he served it into two porcelain cups. The gold streaked edges in between the white cup reminded him of the marble used to make the exterior of his office. Steam rose from the cups as he carried them over to his work desk. It was followed over by a plate of dark chocolates he had purchased only recently. Fiddling with the files and papers he piled them into a large stack, dragging a chair out for her as he took his swivel one.

Aliyaar pushed the plate in front of her, observing her with bated breath as he sipped his drink. Using a calculated attempt to even out things, he watched as her eyes filled up with the spark of life. Foaming gold glitters like tiny stars — bloomed as if they were roses made of chocolates. The centre of them a pale gold like pollen that had yet to float free over into thin air. Splinters of wood — it seemed formed the strength of her eyes — hardened with a wiseness experience had provided her with. Licking the bottom of her full lip she downed the drink. His throat softened as drank softly, he gulped his spit, glad that his fast beating heart was not imprinted over his suit.

"Will you keep staring at me or tell me what goes on inside your head?" She rested her cheek against her palm, looking at him with something of a seriousness.

"What do you want to know?" He spoke.

Peeling open the gold wrapper, undoing the crease one at a time he served her the dark chocolate filled with almonds.

"Do you want me to fall sick? You need to stop sending me so many chocolates Aliyaar, there's no way I can ever finish them!" Barekhna sighed.

"Do you not like them?"

"Of course I do! However, it isn't going down well with my family that there's a delivery of roses filled with chocolates arriving at our doorstep every day."

"Oh!" He nodded.

Aliyaar reprimanded himself for not having thought over that detail. He had known that her family was not as easy going as his. She had to put up with a load of taunts and trivial questions for just breathing. How could he have overlooked this tiny detail? Had his rage to pursue blinded his senses? Why was he floating in the air, lost in a castle of dreams. She was not related to him — yet ; in fact there was no guarantee she ever would be.

"I'm seriously sorry Barekhna that you had to go through all of that because of my foolishness."

"That's — alright. I don't mind. It's fun," she shrugged.

"I doubt that."

"Really? Do you know me that much? To doubt my claims?" She challenged, grinning with each word.

"I do." Aliyaar nodded.

From the dusty windows behind her a streak of orange light fell into the office. The spacious emptiness that would have otherwise haunted him, seemed lovely with the scent of Freesia. The edges of the Persian carpet underneath the glass coffee table stretched out, almost running to grip the bottom of her heels. To keep her in place. Sunlight curved around her hair like a halo, her skin turned translucent under it's brightness. It looked as if she had come out from the deepest of depths of the oceans a few moments ago. Her deep brunette hair glittered as if hundreds of water droplets clung to them, still. The fair ire of her skin was sharp and the pale blue veins next to her skin not indifferent to the gold hues.

Her red lips curved around the edge of the cup as she took another long sip. They stained the sides, her perfectly manicured fingers crept up to another chocolate. Tearing in, without so much as a single care in the world she bit into the nugget sized ball, the centre made of coconuts. It's bitterness could have been felt in the air, the taut tension between their eyes zapping all other essences. With a stoic look on her contoured cheeks she chewed, his though moulded into one of hatred as the sweetness from his favorite caramel candy was instantly washed out. Aliyaar's eyes ran a glance over the numbers. The stocks falling from a hundred and ninety four to a hundred and eighty nine rupees. In just one day their shares had dropped five points.

Ignoring the crumbling mess that was his business at the moment, he snapped the lid of his laptop shut. His time was hers for now — through the next hour and forty minutes he was completely hers. Brushing aside the ball of lint on the edge of his cuff, Aliyaar sipped his cup of coffee. Something about his motions was heartbreaking. In a blistered force of action ; Aliyaar could see himself drowning. He wanted with all his might to make sure — she be the light at the end of his tunnel.

"Listen Aliyaar I came here for an important reason." She spoke.

Aliyaar's stomach fell to the pit of his stomach with dread. His heart ached all of a sudden. From the business that he threatened to loose — to the realization that this might be their last meeting, Aliyaar felt his nerves melt into ball of one large one. Stuttering with a frozen jaw, he shook his head. All of a sudden he felt nauseous. Aliyaar was ready once more ; for a heartbreak that was destined.

"Aliyaar I'm not interested in marriage right now. I can't tie myself up right now, not when I'm on the way to make a name for myself." Barekhna spoke rapidly, not giving him a chance to continue, "you're amazing and all the good adjectives in this world. All I can offer you right now is my company as your friend. Nothing more."

Friend. He laughed with tears of blood inside his heart. He had been reduced to a friend after having adored her with an immortalizing affection. The strength in his being, the power inside his legs it left him with a strength. Unlike any other. Aliyaar's brow filled up with sweat, his fingers brushed them straight. He bounced his leg up and down, a cramp built up in his upper thigh as he thought for a time longer than he could calculate.

"Say something Aliyaar!" Barekhna shook his hand.

He snapped out of his reverie. From the broken home of his dreams he was suddenly stolen, and Aliyaar had nothing but a watery smile to offer. His cheeks stretched until they began to cause an ache under his ear, his fingers massaging the sore region. Was that all he would amount to? Yet, at least she would be in his life this way, he thought.

Crushing his own heart, until each breath felt like a painful squeeze, like poison, he spoke "Of course Barekhna. Friends!" He forwarded his palms.

She shook his hand with a strength, "I'm sorry Aliyaar."

"It's—okay. No problem Barekhna." He shook his head.

"I know you have feelings for me and—"

"Let's not." He shook his head, "my feelings are what I have, let me live with them Barekhna. Don't take away that right from me. Please, it's my only asset — don't ask me to throw it away."

"I wish I could reciprocate your emotions Aliyaar."

"I won't force my love on to you. It's far more precious than that." He smiled softly.

"You will give up without trying?"

"I'll die trying. However, you won't ever see me force you to give in."

Aliyaar could hear the cracks. The splinters of glass that pushed into his heart, blood spurted out of it with force. He could see everything inside of him sprayed red with his own blood as he buried his love. In muted silence in front of the woman he love, Aliyaar celebrated the funeral of his affections.

"You're too good for this world saint."

"You're the only good I want siren."

"I'm sorry." She shook her head.

"It's alright. No hard feelings." He choked, "friends remember?"

➖➖➖➖➖

On heavy feet ; a head lighter than air, Aliyaar found himself in the centre of his private parlor. With deft fingers that felt heavier than a ton of iron, he held the piano keys down. A sorrowful exchanged occurred between the two. The master and the subordinate. Striking with proportions far beyond his calculations, he dumped his weight over the seat, playing a soft tune. He had memorized it a long time back, when he was young and had insisted his parents put him into classes for learning the keyboard. Dropping the crux of his long fingers over and under the flats and the sharps, pressure increasing with time. Aliyaar forced himself to play, to hold his feet in place. His knuckles struck the hardwood ; it's softness shattered his soul.

The tunes changed from the effervescence of a soft one to a painful subdued music. Hard and hefty — it fell on his slumped shoulders. His gelled back hair lay across the top of his head in a mess — strangling his soul. The tips of his nails dug into the keys, as if forcing to become one with them. In a melancholic yonder he strayed away from the realms of the living. Somewhere in between he found himself stuck. It appeared as if the world had turned within the hour — grey and abandoned. A weight threatened to crush his chest and the sobs that shot through his veins and heart collapsed on the edge of his biceps.

Aliyaar was in mourning, and his music was the only rhyme. Crushing his hands harder and faster against the expansive mass he could feel blood rush to them. The sensitive flesh breaking out. A strain in his wrists capitulated to the wholly deviant spirits. Tears, hot like a mass of flesh just cut open fell down his pale cheeks. The luster in his eyes was lost and an ever present lack of confidence took over. Aliyaar's hands shook with unease as he continued to play on. Drowning himself, and everyone nearby in the sounds of a broken heart. His broken heart.

The picture painted was one that shook the soul to the very core. The jacket of a pin striped suit lay carelessly on the floors and the tan curtains were drawn shut — almost. A sliver of the setting sun's rays escaped through the barred windows and covered the creme room in it's deep orange. Shadows — longer than the tallest of trees cast a darkness in the room that was horrific. In the centre against the grand piano a man with a broad back hunched over. Tunes bubbled out of the room and brought the spectators in to listen. To marvel.

The sight of him broken ; found the heart and tore it into two. Orange sunlight mixed with the dirt of the shadows and painted his navy blue shirt a color one could not name. Only that it was the perfect image of a heart pierced on a sharp splinter. Heavy smells of a metallic abandonment ranged out far, even the dog usually alert lay limp against her master's leg. Movement had seized. Even air was afraid of breaking the tempo. Dribbling in between the shadows that covered his face and painted a lonesome image, and the sun that was the sight of life — Aliyaar was gold rejected.

All the glory of his name and background had no weight at the rejection of his lover's words. All the gold and jewels could not win her over. Perhaps — his heart dared to whisper, she'd give us a chance. Aliyaar's mind shook and swelled with pain, he could feel his skin turn colder by the second. Fatigue threatened to take over his life. He was tired. Oh so tired. Resting his head on top of the piano, his fingers still playing along to a tune of heartbreak, Aliyaar let his tears wash the expensive wood. Darkness was oh so near, he could almost touch the centre of the light of the shining sun outside. He would not dare to. Not again — Aliyaar's mind resonated.

A man like him, what right did he have to dream?

"Ali-yaar what is with this — Aliyaar?" Lyana ran to her son's side in shock, holding his tear stained face between her hands.

"Aliyaar why are you crying like this? What happened? Kisi nai kuch kaha hai? Aisay kyun roye ja rahay ho? Kuch batao beta!" She whimpered, staring into his cloudy eyes.
[Did someone say something? Why are you crying like this? Tell me something son!]

"Ma—" he drifted off.

Tiredly, Aliyaar slumped his forehead against his mother's shoulder. His hands stopped for once, dragging down in between his legs as he cried. The room instantly fell silent — save for the cries that shattered his mother's heart. Nothing more remained save for a truckload of heartache. It was his destiny it seemed — to always be left behind.

"Aliyaar." She whispered, running a hand through his hair. "Kia huwa hai beta? Mujhe batao."
[What happened son? Tell me.]

"Too much — too much I—" Aliyaar spoke.

"Did you eat something? Why are you so pale? Yaar don't be afraid to tell me what happened."

"She — she came into my office today. I — I was so elated to see her," he whispered, biting the top of his knuckles to keep his emotions in place as he continued, "then — then she politely rejected me. I'm glad she did though, a woman like her deserves a man that can stand tall and speak with the prowess of an eloquent king. Not me. Not Aliyaar— the plain guy who can't even see without his glasses or lenses. Never me."

"Aliyaar why would you think like that? Did Barekhna reject your proposal?" Lyana frowned in confusion.

"She did. Looked like an angel as she did so." He smiled with his eyes closed shut.

"Aliyaar why is her rejection affecting you like this? Do you have feelings for her?"

Looking into his mother's eyes Aliyaar stroked her cheek with affection, staring at her as he chose the correct words. His heartbeat ravaged into his eardrums — all other sounds fell into a realm of unheard. Licking his lips, he tasted the saltiness of his tears, wiping them off with the back of his hand. Under the touch of his palms his skin felt like it was burning — it probably was, he imagined.

"I've loved her for five years," he whispered with emptiness, "I've loved her since the day she walked into our university. Her in her third year and me just beginning my masters. Barekhna — she was, she is everything to me. Even if she rejected me mama, I can't ever think of letting her out of my heart." He chuckled humorlessly.

"Oh Aliyaar!" Lyana said.

"It's alright mama," he kissed the back of her hand, "when has your Aliyaar gotten the best anyways? He's a man, the living representation of compromises. What's a bit more?"

"Don't Aliyaar! I don't know why you feel like this when you're the apple of your parents eyes. The joy in your sibling's lives. You're worth much more than what destiny has in store for you!" She kissed his swollen eyes.

"I'll wait for her for eternity if I have to. I know the strength of my love. If not today then someday, maybe when I'm dead, I know she'll love me." A smile bloomed on his face as he thought of that day, "and I'll be the luckiest man when it happens."

"Barekhna is the lucky one. That a man with a heart as good as yours loves her."

"I don't think so," he frowned — offended on her behalf, "when it's her and I, I'll always be the one that got the better end of the deal."

Happy weekend my ladies & gents or whatever you be (i see you the green gnome reading this.)

TOMORROW IS THE LAST DAY OF MY FIRST SEMESTER AND IM SO ABSOLUTELY ECSTATIC LIKE I CAN NOT EXPLAIN.

CANT WAIT TO WRITE AGAIN <333

Pray for my finals tho...

Fingers crossed you liked this chapter