Chapter 30.
Epilogue.
➖➖➖➖➖
Twenty Years Later.
• Arash Aliyaar
— meaning Hero in Persian
— twenty years old.
• Abbas Aliyaar
— meaning Lion in Arabic
— eighteen years old.
• Azur Aliyaar
— meaning Blue in Persian
— eighteen years old.
• Larmina Aliyaar
— meaning Blue sky in Persian
— five years old.

Buzzing capillaries, filled with a gushing flow of adrenaline and sanguine abundance of warmth, danced beneath the visions. Their vicarious inhibitions, experienced through the drumming sunlight that cast it's fair share of shadows over the tall building, where not to be underplayed. Strokes of crème matched the underlinings of the carnelian red of the Sun. Raging and soothing at the same time. A paradox. A placebo — a dream that was in it's entirety not as it seemed to be. The meshed up colours married in the opaque shadows of the moon — resting above the coats of the round sun. Purple streaks and light beige melted into a dampening aura. Stunning in it's own right.

Amounting to an absolute nothing, the carcasses of the vague cars outside cruised into serenity. In darkness, over the limbless mounds they projected their motions and hid. Sleek, the caravans of people moved past the home made with glass on one side. Either side made to perfection with thick gorilla glass that was one way, and the metal bars made of a matte black, that were to contrast the crème front of the home. Thick covers of trees — palms brought in straight from the deserts of Baluchistan, papaya and rose ones — lingered with their profusely thick foliage. Lights blinked through the south facing windows, even as the eclipse took place right before it. Thick velveteen curtains drawn shut in the evening. To keep it at bay.

Luxurious vehicles lined the curving driveway of the home. Built a handful of years ago inside a gated community, the home was an essence of modern luxe. With it's glass chandeliers and modern fixtures that ran in symmetry and the landscaped front — with it's statues of lions and deers. The home was a mixture of dried twigs and the wetness of anticipation. It's cobblestone — as well as limestone lined pathway lead up to a door. Made of thick wood, and a cylindrical handle that ran the length of it. A rectangular glass embedded in it to give peak of the streams of water that ran under and around the house — tiny koi fish swimming within it's clear abyss.

The home smelt of vanilla and praline — an undertone of musk from the pines swirled with power. Made of the finest marbles the stair case curled into the foyer and led into a columnar hallway, opening directly into the family lounge. Where portraits of the family hung — them and their four children. Wearing the finest of tailor made dresses and painted up with demure smiles. The parents still young as ever and their children a symbol of effervescent beauty. Through the closed caramel shaded curtains, no light trickled through and instead the lights embedded into the intricate patterns lit up the room. In their warm yellows — a fire place burning to keep the home warm.

Life was budding into the home as the neatly dressed house help worked it's way through the ground floors and basement. The first and second floor off limits until the family had left their warm enclosures. Dedicated to the couple and their youngest born, the first floor held three bedrooms, and two offices. With a lounging space in the centre that was covered with a grand piano and a taupe shaded teddy bear. It's life sized figure, flopped against the tab shelving units, covered with thin books. Fairytales and comic books, trinkets of toys and souvenirs he brought back from all his trips. Their wedding portrait hanging on the largest wall, marking the unknown land with traces of their ownership. The second floor — the topmost floor of the house had been built in an almost labyrinth. Three bedrooms and a large living space that functioned as a makeshift cinema. In corners, curving and spiralling, the rooms were disjoint and walls made thick for a case of privacy.

Cruising across the wooden floors, her weight resting languidly over her front toes and heels mid air, she swirled into the vastness. With arms pulled wide, marching through the chilly air and locks of her deep caramel hair flew in a carless tango around her face. Placing her slender palms over her flushed cheeks, her arms wrapped around the wide shoulders of her husband who sat on their bed still in awe. Humming a careless tune, her head lowered against his warm forehead, the weight of her knee sinking into the mattress as she placed her lips on to his. Moving them against his with a languid passion. Fisting the collar of his shirt loosely, her palms sweating in their grip.

The strokes of her minty breath buzzed over his humid skin. Lined with a sleek wave of her ebony liner, the shade of honey, her eyes followed his swollen lips. Dabbing at the bottom of them with her thumb, she pressed her derrière into his upper thigh. Gently she placed her head over his shoulder, offering him a greeting of strokes. With the passions of a devout wife she stroked his wispy locks, loving the way they curled around her fingers demurely. A sigh of relief escaped her lips, a shudder almost traced the length of her spine as his fingers brushed up her thigh. Sinking her teeth between her lips, as her husbands traced over her bare skin with open mouthed kisses, all she wanted to do was to have him.

Gremlin strobes in the ceilings painted their flush faces and called them out. Their figures entangled between the arms of each other, with hands that wandered.
To feel.
To touch.
To enliven.
Throbs that lasted in waves rapid like the ones that crushed the ends of a otherwise calm beach, laced their mouths and hands. Their trembling twists were irreversible, the gushes of their hearts in a carmine attempt to loosen, or to defy was unknown. Even to them. Strokes of light brushed the slopes of their peachy cheeks and pale faces, casting lilts of shadows over their necks, that nuzzled between one another. Hidden from plain sight.

"Keep trying to feel my body Aliyaar and I swear to God we'll miss out on your son's high school graduation!" Barekhna hissed into his ear.

Like the graze of the ocean air, gentle like a zephyr yet laced with the crisp mumbles of salt, her voice was drowned. Mixed into a honeyed affair of lust and responsibility—washing over his wounds to have her, reminding him of why he could not. Drumming his aristocratic hands into her thighs he drummed the warm flesh there, placing a short kiss over her throbbing pulse in admiration. Sinking his nose into the flesh behind her ears, calming the frantic bout of his nerves that built up. A habit that had not passed — yet. Staring into her eyes with his own soil shades, humbly pressing a kiss to each of her fingers Aliyaar passed her a devout nod.

"Still a saint —eh?" She chuckled as he withdrew his hands, rubbing her chin instead.

"Twenty years is not long enough to wholly corrupt an upright man, siren." He offered in reply.

Barekhna's laughter filled the room. It was like the gentlest of wind chimes, gentle in it's water struck motions. Her eyes harboured no animosity, nor the insecurities that had first found home. Swimming in the emptiness of her eyes. Twenty years it was a long time. Enough to rebuild her somewhat. The tips of her fingers painted a shade of red—deeper with their undertones than the colour of blood, they rested over his heart. That was to this day beating for her — the feelings mutual. Staring at him, she felt her eyes widen, stringent muscles between her cheeks stretching into an unwavering grin.

"All that I am, I owe to a saint," she murmured, taking a step out of his hold, "what a change."

I am lucky — the voice of reason. It in a desperate whimper reminded her of how far she ; they had come. What had started off as an attempt to get back at the stabs of her family had very soon turned into something scarier. At first, her heart had trembled over the thought, of surrendering with all her walls. To pull them down, striking her palms against what she had taken years to build.
I was a fool — her heart knew, and the voice knew too. She had been one. Almost giving up Aliyaar. It ached — like a fire laced wound infested with termites, the pain crippled her. Staring at his reflection from the wood lined mirror on her vanity, she sighed in relief. Life without him was unimaginable. Barekhna could only imagine where she would have been had it not been for the love of her husband. That had saved her — maimed her. More than once.

"Aliyaar," she spoke with her voice cracking as she took his name.

The devotion of a saint flowing between the syllables. The streaks of her perfected British accent peaking through, his name a crooked essence on the bud of her tongue. Just as he preferred it. It gave him hope — that she was not entirely perfect, making him somewhat worthy of her.

"Barekhna."

Pushing his weight off of the king sized bed, he tucked the starchy button down shirt between his black formal trousers. Buttoning until the pallor of his skin disappeared. Wrapping the hilt of his palm over the large dial of his wristwatch, fixing it's strap he stepped closer. Dropping a kiss on the shell of her smooth ears that were covered in heart shaped diamonds, he ran his hands over her shoulders. Fixing the pleats of her fitted dress, he zipped her dress. Laying a short kiss over the back of her neck. Short breaths of relief brushed his fingers as he brushed through her curled hair, sinking to his feet beside her as he stared at her.

Twenty years.
Two hundred and forty months.
One thousand and forty three weeks.
Seventy three hundred days.
One hundred, seventy five thousand and two hundred hours.
An uncountable amount of minutes.
Time spent with her.
In joys and in pain.
The most worth it part of his life — a life he would not trade for anything.

"I love you so much. I'm so glad you never stopped sending those roses filled with chocolates." She spoke through whimpers, her hands wrapping around his cheeks in adoration.

"I will always love you enough to follow you to the ends of the world Barekhna," he replied, "I'm glad you didn't sue me for violating your personal space."

"Okay!" She giggled, wiping the stray tear that fell from his bottom lashes.

"Okay!" He hummed, removing a piece out of her face, placing his lips on the bottom of her jaw.

Tiny scratching sounds over their plywood bedroom door erupted. Echoing into the silent room, unwavering in their nimble strength as they continued to rap for more than a minute or so. Soft whimpers escaped through, slipping from underneath the space between the door and floor, the voices blurred into the room. The air — cold and complacent twisted with fury and pushed against the walls. Light in the dim corridor was not entirely enough to keep the dwarf frame from being illuminated. Shrouded in the shadows, fisting her palms the child in an attempt to show it's strength, blubbered. Pressing her cherub-y cheeks against the cold wooden door, sucking on to the honey gum drop her brother had graciously offered her.

Sucking on to the sweet candy, her tiny hands slammed against the door. Her tiny gasps erupted, coughing with a strengthening rage. Fury painted her pale cheeks red. Turning them an unfurling vermilion, a contrast against the flowing white silk dress she wore. The tiny bracelet on her wrists, filled with charms and gems courtesy of her brothers and father, made sounds of ringing too. Sliding around her palm's, a sight far too delicate for their household. A wide grin eased it's way on to her peachy mouth, her feet covered in white smacked over the horizon as they carried her on weight into the room. Between the arms of her mother. Resting in her grip only after she had placed a slobbery kissed against both her parents faces.

"You look like a princess Larmina!" Barekhna gasped in delight.

Dressed in a silk frock made in a shade of white to match her own, with a v slipping down her back, Larmina played the part of being their heiress with success. The double hemmed dress ended above her nimble knees that were wrapped in a thin woollen stocking. Her round eyes the shade of hazel that her grandfather possessed, framed with lashes that curled and ran for days, stared with an expressive vigour between her parents. She offered them a low thanks, stuttering over her words as the gum drop stuck to the top of her teeth. Waving a hand in the air, she slipped out of her mother's grip, twirling like the gusts of October, to show off the bow that wrapped around her ebony hair.

"Who dressed you?" Aliyaar questioned, alert as he sunk to his daughter's height, staring into her eyes that reminded him of home.

"Ash bhai." She hummed, stabbing her palms against her father's stubble, licking the prickles that tickled her hand.

Ash bhai — nickname for their eldest born who had just turned twenty was their daughter's best friend. Who in her eyes could never do any wrong. The two could with ease pass off as twins, sharing the same physical features. Expressive eyes and gentle smiles that were like the sun's first rays. Arash Aliyaar at twenty was a makeshift father, treating her like a man would his daughter. Larmina despite being born when he was fifteen, an age where teenagers offended one another with their jokes, had taken to care for her like a parent. Allowing his to catch up with sleep whenever they wanted to.

"Where is your Ash bhai?" Barekhna inquired, wondering why he hadn't stepped into their bedroom too.

"He got a call, left me alone!" She huffed, her cheeks turning redder than a bright cherry.

"Oh how dare he?" Barekhna played along, kissing her warm cheek.

"I won't talk to him—not at all."

Although, everyone knew it was a lie. The first sight of his eyes and Larmina would melt like ice in the sweltering heat of June.

Lit up in the after glow of yellows that matched the neutral palette in which the house had been made up, the dinning table was the life of the grand room. Surrounded by glass walls, that rolled into the back yard — peacocks with their wide wings roaming. Strutting from behind the bushes, even in the linger of a fog. Early beginnings of November. Start of the winter season in the Metropolitan city. In groups of three the round lights that hung over the thick wood dining table — it's curving disarrayed edges sanded and covered in a thick coat of polish, portrayed a cozy atmosphere. The tweed chairs and accents of gold that glided through added all that was needed.

Beige table mats, on them resting were round porcelain plates that matched the shade of their walls. A housewarming gift from Lilah — made by her skilful hands. Sharp butter knives with ridged edges and inscriptions of their wedding date etched into the handle, rested beside the forks and spoons. Crystal glasses accompanying them, offering a lingering support. Steaming dishes hovered in the centre, with silver trenches almost gayly laden, to the brim.
Spinach and cheese omelettes for the youngest son, Azur, fresh slices of sourdough toasted with butter.
Sunny side up eggs for Arash, the eldest son, served with freshly baked baguettes.
Pancakes covered in bouts of butter and honey for Larmina and Abbas — who had inherited their mother's fondness for sweet foods.

Warm chatter amongst the brother's rang through the room, the head chair and two on it's side remaining empty as they waited on the rest of their family. The twins sat on either side of their brother, the mixture of their husky voices rambling on over stocks and policies drained out the life from the stuffed teddy that sat on their sister's chair. Numbers and mumbled — entirely at their disposition. Politicians and their crooked manoeuvres all that could slip through Abbas's tongue, the ruby on his little finger dangling into the air. All three of them were full of valour. An image of their parents and everyone related to them.

Sounds of genteel giggles that ran through the corridor prepared them for the presence. Standing in accordance, the three fixed their collars, making way to the arched entrance. Arash passed half a smile to his sister, who instantly looked away and nuzzled her peachy mouth between her father's neck. Pissed an understatement. At twenty, he was taller than his mother, shorter still than his father. His lean frame passed the sharp reservoirs of air, wrapping a warm hand around his sister's back, pinching her cheek. A muffled huff. Pudgy push at his hand were in clear defiance.

"Mina?" He cooed, his thick brows slouching over his almond shaped eyes as he watched the other five enjoy his grovelling, "sorry baby, won't you forgive your brother?"

"Nah-uh." She blubbered, staring into her father's eyes.

"Then I guess I should go back to London now rather than after your birthday."

Arash stifled the chuckled that threatened to escape his full mouth, wrapping a hand around her short neck as she turned to stare at him. With lightning speed. The windows of her soul were laced with fresh dew drops, her rosy lips mushed into a frown, the thicket of her palm gripping his collar as he jumped into his hold, sinking her barely there nails into his neck.

"I'm sorry." She sniffled.

"No Mina I'm sorry. I should not have left you alone."

"How about you hand our princess over to her favourite brother!" Abbas butted in, wrapping his hands around her ribs, he held her to his chest, placing a kiss on the side of her head.

"How are you ma?" Azur ignored his siblings, hugging her sideways.

"I'm full of joy," Barekhna hummed, kissing his hair, "super proud of you guys."

"Ma Abbas barely managed to graduate." Azur scoffed, winking at his non-identical twin whose icy blue eyes glared at him.

"He graduated nevertheless," Aliyaar rose to his defence, "that is a feat in it's own mister valedictorian."

"Ash bhai," Larmina whispered, "I'm star'ing."

"Starring?" He frowned.

"Yuh! Star'ing. Will eat myself — too hun'ry."

"Let's get you fed then!"

➖➖➖➖➖

Dwelling underneath the wide moon, the iridescent blue of the revolving skies was in itself a manifestation of the lore. Ones that were repeated by the night, whispered into the ears of another hour after hour, every lingering minute bringing closer. Twinkling beneath the deep forest green branches, extended beyond the edges until they cut through the sharp steely fences, the flowers moulded into a sweet crescent. Smelling of freshness. Their shades far too light to match the graveness of the evening. Irreversibly catastrophic—the collision of the stars above.

Leaving behind a starry trail that matched the yolky dust of pollen in an early Spring evening, the dying star bled. It coursed through. Slipping by the moment. Through the edges of the circular windows, barred with thick wood and metal. It hid. Finding refuge in the ebony blanket of the disdained evening. It's wintry traces frosted over the glazed grounds. The soil peppered with spruces of grass, only a handful breathing still, it melted with the dew of the nearing midnight. Coursed like the smoke. In the effervescent of the settling fog, in it's thicket. Absolutely defenceless.

Cropped white lights that curled into the side of the home illuminated the glass of the expensive telescope. Running wide on either side and painted a reflective white, it twinkled like one of the stars above that were in observation. Curious warm eyes sewed next to it. In strength. Hands suspiciously warm tugged at the ends of it, twisting the curve of the thick glass to aid their views. Pushing around with their nimble shoulders, their fingers pinched the genteel skins. Beneath the tailor made tuxedo's, brought in straight from England, where their brute spirits. Beady blue eyes contested with the speckled warm ones, time was running out.

"Azur let me!"

Abbas whisper yelled at his brother, tugging his hand off of the metallic instrument. Running his coarse finger along the side of it, he could imagine the sleekness of it in the tiny tremors of his skin, each one bringing him alive. Huffing back at his younger twin, he pushed back a curled lock of his black hair. The obsidian of which matched his satin dress shirt. His ruby standing out — in pride. Fisting both his palms he stood wide, pushing his face against the cold metal to view the broken star, that fell straight from the doors of heaven.

"It's my turn now Abbas!"

Azur was fast to retort. Pinching his brother's inner thigh, he let out a chuckle of defiance. Smirking. The edges of his cheek bone sharpened into an arrogant grin, his eyes glossy from tears of resistance. Holding back the heavy bouts of laughter that would at any given time break through.

"Someone's coming we need to be fast!" Abbas ignored his bidding.

"I'll go tell Arash right now." Azur hissed, tugging at his collar.

Deep shadows covered their faces. Dark and full of depths the more than empty room was mid construction. Posters of stars and orbits lingered over the white walls and they smelt of alcohol. Rubbing alcohol. The window sill dropped lower then the rest and curved around the telescope, it's stem pressed against the thin fibre glass, the sturdy legs pushed apart to keep the anchor. Slithering in a honeycomb pattern around their heads the webbed darkness managed to wear it's cloak even tighter. The droplets of rain that inched closer were left to race down the sides of the home.

Alabaster ceilings with tugged inscriptions of sightings stared at their sturdy frame. Tall enough to reach each other, staring dead into their eyes, they fought for a place. Punching and pulling all in good intentions or so was assumed. Spilled over the marble floors and the unused cashmere carpets that had made their way into the once storage room. The heaviness of their limbs was felt. Polished to reflect even the furthest of stars, their shoes bore the worst of the brunt. Twisting in carnal flames. Ripping through the sides and the double stitched edges in a violent rampant. Until a thud sounded — a crack and splattering of glass.

A hush spread across the room. Everything was taken into the arms of the expected silence, gentle creaks from the blowing zephyrs alone creating sounds. Startling. Sparkling. Light broke in through fissures of sharp raptures, an array of dismembered rainbows spread over the walls and floor behind them, the tethered legs hung on their own. Standing tall still, albeit half. Twinkling with the motions of despair, the moving glass chandelier rustled along to the sounds of dread. Manifesting the pain. Reminding of the severity. Stripped hollows of light passed through and the star that had been the cause of war disappeared beneath the horizon.
For better or for worse?

"He's going to kill us!"

Azur's voice was to his own ears a strange one. Tugging with the fingers on his left arm, he straightened his slackened collar. Sliding his hands between the ironed pockets of the trousers he wore. Lapping at the palpable emotions in the room he nudged the carcass of the mighty telescope with the edge of his shoe. His eyes squeezing shut, the veins in his arms trembled with fear. Biting his lips, his tongue pressed into the side of his cheek, he was at a loss for words. A first.

"We should have stayed out of here." Abbas hummed in agreement, in front of his eyes already the image of his head served on a platter rotated.

"Let's leave while we're undetected." Azur spoke, hoping that everyone was still in the dinning room, celebrating Larmina's fifth birthday.

"I agree!"

Fixated in their romp, their callous conversations had called for a dilute sense of foreboding, one that ran shivers down their backs. Riverine nerves that were in honesty spent and that familiar shade of beige that had more often than not been morphed into a collectable over their dining table. Beneath the steely fork of their mother, the musk of their father's cologne and sharp retorts from their brother. Smothered over the tips in broken shards of glass, smoother than fine rice flour, the sounds followed them out into the hallways. Hollowed. Relapsed in their boundaries, the hushed murmurs of their soles against the heavy carpets were not enough to stop the tiny stuttered murmurs, that broke through their hearts.

"Zur bhai, Abby bhai you 'roke Ash bhai's tele-csope?" Larmina gasped, her hands resting on top of her deep fawn eyes.

"Larmina what are you doing here?" Abbas swallowed thickly, turning to his twin for some help.

"Ma send me to call you," she spoke, "then I heard a bang. I was scared—" she stopped, shivering.

"Then what?" Azur held her hand in his.

"Ash bhai saw and left, he said 'I'll kill these two 'uckers myself!' " She explained.

"That is not a good word first of all Larmina and secondly you'll save us right?" The two spoke with hope.

"One cookie each." She spoke in the authority that she could muster up, resembling their mother.

"Mina I'd have hoped my things would be worth more than one cookie," Arash's harsh voice captivated them, the twins shaky like a leaf and the toddler buzzing with excitement.

"Five cookies and I won't tell ma and abu you spoke 'uckers in front of me." The child grinned, staring between the three tall men.

The fallacies of gold spun around them in a thin sheet of strained visuals, something that latched on to their skins that drained down into the warmth. The hearths from the centre of the home pulled in traction, called out to each and everyone, from the farthest of spaces to linger in the heat. Trapped between a shade of silver and pastel peaches, the liberated golds were unmatched and undiluted, free from the interference of their sweaty palms that drug down the sides of the glass enclosures and fixtures. Lulling their strolling pets — an aged Mars and limping Lightning into a battle of winning the stars over. The shadows of their mother's hefty horse Champion, hung with eerie familiarity against the outer walls. His wide brushed eyes staring at their figures.

Three witnesses to a love of nearly three decades.

Brushing away the top of her silky fringe, with the back of her pudgy palm, Larmina ran down the stairs. A fair enough no go, but the red tearing figures of her elder brother's behind her called for it. Twitching in her ballerina shoes, the thin satin socks slipped around her ankles and the organza frills barely kept in place. Mother of pearls studded into a butterfly shaped pin, hung low across her hair, striking the bolts on the glass embedded into the stairs. Her breathing fast, the lungs of their capacity burned. Bright and in complete tune to the wanting of her mind. Larmina's gaze shuffled across the threshold that sharply cut into the private lounge — where she knew her parents were entertaining the adults.

'Adults'—that was a funny word she giggled. The crooked 'd' that bit into the soft 'l', produced a sound she could match up to the deeper tones of her grand piano ; a gift her grandfather had given her when she turned three. Chuckling to herself, the ridges of her fingers holding on to the ends of the railing in a tight grip, she jumped off of the last step.
Stumbling.
Ambling.
Rambling.
Fisting the material of her dress, she threw a last glance at her cousins who stared at her adult brother's running behind her. Gasping at their racing. Not wasting a moment and licking her lips that tasted still of the sugary icing of her cake — that her chachi, Filza had mastered the art of making, she slid into the room.

Dark jewel tones ran across in a morally uniting theme. The umbers of gold painted on to the hand cut ceilings, matched the bronze strobes with the modern light fixtures and appeared a shade too dark under the shadows of the unlimited thicket of greenery that surrounded it's glass walls. Under the arched entrance the marble floors exchanged themselves for a nearly black wooden floor. Rich coffee tones with equal sized boards contrasted the shades of mitigated green, hand woven the carpet that covered the centre of the room was much similar to the shades of a grapevine green. Lengthy leaves ran across and the glass table that covered it was perfect host to their heavy base glasses.

Dim light gave refuge from the murky shadows to the occupants, the sturdy arms of each of the man wrapped around their wives as soft murmurs moved through. The air was lingering in the oceanic depths of the twilight zone. Sharp, riveting and at loss of oxygen. Blurred between the lines, their silhouettes burned into the walls around. Grazing the barely untouched glasses of coffee and tea — their sweaty hands warmed at the one sided fireplace. Warm eyes and rich colours of them were born to worship, clouded in tears from their lust less banter. Remembering the days of their former youth. The crimes and the un-performed ones.
Humour now.
Hauntings then.

Wrapping with a gentle air her lips across the ceramic mug, she too let out a puff of exhilarating air. Calm, the arm of her husband wrapped around her figure keeping her content. This was all hers. She had to believe it. A hum of appreciation escaped her lips, that like always were a shade of lusty red. Roasted the flavour of the coffee beans was not watered down. Sugary cream floated around free. Rubbing her fingers across the side of his jaw, she placed a sneaky kiss along the underside of it, nuzzling back against his front. Made from the finest of silks, her figure hugging dress rose up from the ankles as she crossed her legs, deep in banter with her sister-in-law, Filza and best friend, Inaya — about what the careers of her children would be.

"Ain 'achu?" The whispered out shout would have gone unheard, had it not belonged to the apple of her eyes, Larmina Aliyaar.

The man in question — Zayed Hussam, motioned for her to run to him. His hands wrapped around hers in a protective grip, his lips pressing a kiss into her hair.

"Ain 'achu you need to take my brother's away!" She huffed, toying with the buttons of his shirt.

"Why princess? Your brother's, they love you."

"They take 'ribes," she hiccuped, hiding that she was the one offering them.

"Phir tou unko jail le jana ho ga. Yeh tou court case banta hai."
[Then I'll have to take them to jail. This is a court case.]

"N-no jail," Larmina spoke.

She did not want her brother's to be beat.

"Mina come here and tell me what happened."

Barekhna spoke, breaking away from Aliyaar's grip who smiled at her softly. Listening to the voices of everyone around him he breathed in contentment.

➖➖➖➖➖
Twenty-five years of loving
Twenty years of living
Two halves of one soul
Both maimed by the strokes of a case
In loving memory of all the stars in the space

🌬🦄
The final Goodbye.