Chapter 4.

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Amongst the tall canopies of the Fir trees, behind the fast flowing river of Mushkpur, was a secluded mansion. Acres of land spread out in front of it, neatly maintained rows of grass never grew above a few inches, the yellow soapstone pathways cleaned every other day to make sure it was always spotless. The gardeners wove the tree branches around iron frames and after years the fruit was borne as they grew in nothing but the perfect shapes, not a leaf out of place. A long drive way, with lanterns on either side gathered into a large round about, a large fountain in the middle. The Gaia statue still stood tall, albeit vines now creeped up over it.

Heavy wooden doors with the engravings made out of hand kept intruders from peaking into the mansion itself, large windows in the front of the home covered with thick curtains. Inside the foyer, a large glass chandelier accompanied by smaller white ceiling lights kept the place illuminated after sunset. A curling staircase opened into the wide space, to the left a powder room for the guests had been added. Adjacent to it was a private office for Azmaray to entertain his many visitors.

Crossing the threshold and foyer, one was lead straight into the large dining room overlooking the gardens behind the property. Trees native and non-native to the country grew under meticulous care. Birds chirped around the tops of the trees and ducks took an occasional dip in the man made pool. Some way away from the main gardens were the stables where only the most top class Arabian horses resided, living in the lap of luxury generation after generation. A small hallway was the shorter route to the large kitchens, only place in the home where the touches of history were most dominant.

"That's all perfect Mr.Azmaray but aren't the kitchens a bit outdated?" The contractor, Azeem, who had the job of converting the west wing into a private annex, questioned.

"It was in truth update with the rest of the house, however, my daughter likes to sit in the kitchens during winters, and is awfully impressed by the ones they talk about in books so we renovated it to fit those descriptions".

"You're telling me you ripped out state of the art appliances to make room for a stone hearth, where wood burns and a brick oven?"

"That's what I think I did". Azmaray shrugged.

"You realized you just downgraded the property's worth, if you ever want to sell it have the place renovated," Azeem sneered.

"Thank you for the advice but this place shall not be sold. Ever". He waved his hand, the end of the conversation.

"Now Azeem would you like to stay for breakfast?"

"No—uh sir I should leave now, need to hire workers".

"Best of luck with that then," the parting words uttered, Azmaray walked away.

His hands straightened the collar of his shirt as he took two steps a time towards his own bedroom, where he had left his wife a mere half an hour ago.

Summers in Mushkpur had an aura of a fairytale to them. The mornings were misty as dew lay thick amongst the homes and streets. Tall trees kept the might spirited sun's rays away fron sight, yet somehow a bit of heat escaped and managed to warm the curving slopes of the valley. Today was one such day, although not as humid the air was still crackling dry. Sun out of sight yet it's presence could be felt in the heatwave that made motions lazier by the second.

"Lai—Laila?" Azmaray called out to her, surprised to find their bedroom empty.

"Sahab". [Sir.] A voice startled him.

He nodded his head, asking the housekeeper to continue speaking.

"Laila baaji neechay chali gai hain". [Laila sister has gone downstairs.]

Azmaray thanked the woman for her help, closing the door of their bedroom behind himself, he walked deeper into the corridor. Three doors down, right at the end of the corridor beside the large portrait of his maternal grandfather— the last nawab, who ruled Mushkpur, was the bedroom of his nineteen year old daughter, Filza. His fist knocked lightly on the wooden door, just next to the carving of hydrangeas — her favorite flowers. Silence was received from the other side, his hands twisting the door handles.

Stepping into the colossal bedroom, he straightened the Persian rug that was folded over itself. Each of his steps were cautious as he walked towards the canopy bed, a thin chiffon curtain keeping the owner of the bed hidden from anyone that walked in. His fingers gripped the cloth to remove it, when a groan from the bay window. Azmaray shook his head, trudging towards one of the three windows inside her bedroom. Her head was resting on her shoulders against the window, fingers tightly gripping one of her many novels. A thin blanket covered her figure, her muscles shivering as the bedroom was now far too cold.

"Filza?" He patted her cheek.

She stirred, humming in response. Her head slowly shifted from the awkward angle, arms thrown out in the direction of the warmth — source acquired, target locked. Filza threw herself into her father's arms, her eyes still closed. She snuggled into his chest as his arms wrapped themselves around her frame, carrying her to her bed. The mattress was made of the softest feathers, the pillows always plumped right after she woke up, an Egyptian cotton duvet wrapped around her, as she instantly snuggled into the stuffed cat.

"When did you sleep?" Azmaray sighed, in worry.

"Six in the morning". Her voice cracking.

"Reading a book again?"

His tone was sarcastic, his fingers brushing the strands of mocha hair away from her face. Steadily, Filza opened her eyes to catch a glimpse of her worried father.

"I'm sorry the plot twist was just too good to be missed palar". [Palar is Pashto for father].

"Yeh achi aadat nahi hai". [This is not a good habit.]

"Acha ap tou na daantein mor kaafi daanti hain". [Okay atleast you don't scold me mother (mor is pashto for mother) scolds me enough.] Filza groaned.

"Fine, just because you're out of school and about to start university in September am I letting this slide. I'm setting an alarm for noon, okay?"

"Okay. Love you, good night," she smiled, turning her back towards him, her face nuzzled between her many pillows.

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Filza Azmaray Khan, the only child of her parents was born on the eve of new year. She lived vivaciously in the vast manor of her parents. Days full of love and music while her evenings were generally calm and spent near windows in the summers and fire places during the winters. She had inherited the fierce green eyes of her ancestors that turned a dark shade, almost turning into a vibrant brown many days — as a kid Filza always thought of it as a secret power she possessed. Her naturally raven hair was dyed a mocha brown that warmed up her otherwise pale skin. She had a fierce jaw that went along with the wide, full lips nature had gifted her.

Filza had grown up in a sheltered environment, almost out of touch with reality most would say. Her summer vacations were spent touring foreign countries with her parents, winters in snow boarding across their rocky land. Anything her feline shaped eyes so much as looked at would be handed over to her within moments, no one in her family left a stone unturned to raise her. Her bedroom was decorated in shades of sage green and gold, her favorite colors. Not a single expense spared on furnishing it.

When she had turned ten, Filza developed a fondness for books. Her eyes would gauge the printed words, the curves of her brain would hold them hostage then. Transported in a non-existent land where these characters on page moved and breathed just like her. When the wooden shelves inside her bedroom began to collapse under the weight of her collections, her eldest uncle, Asghar gifted her a library. Where books of all kinds, including the collections of her ancestors were put in display. A large deep green sofa chair placed next to the brick fireplace, soon became her favorite spot to lounge on.

Running down the stairs, Filza giggled. Her breathy voice filled the calm home, everyone inside their bedrooms at this time of the day. She had already spent half of her day sleeping, now not a minute could he spared. Her hand slid down the banister, the thin Cartier bracelet hugging her wrists tightly, the tiny diamonds inside of it creating a play of lights in front of her. Jewelry and piercings were her favorite things to collect, if one did not know that, they would seeing the nose ring she wore as well as the three ear piercings.

"Araam sai!" [Carefully!] Her mother shouted from the foot of the staircase.

"Sorry, I'm just excited because it's the first day of summer vacations!" She squealed, throwing her arms around her mother's neck.

"Oh we all know how excited you are to be able to read all night". Laila rolled her eyes.

"Should be glad I'm not into drugs mor," she replied.

Laila sighed, wrapping an arm around Filza's shoulder. Her heart sighed in contentment, pursing her lips she placed them against the side of her head, Filza's lavender perfume choking her breath.

"Where is everyone?"

"Your Zaeem chachu and Ayna chachi have left for Lahore—".

"Don't tell me that Zyna baji and Ameena left with them too".

Zyna and Ameena where her uncle's daughters. Zyna, now at the age of twenty nine was married to a businessman who lived in the Gulf. She flew in two days ago to spend summers with her family, which had both Filza and Ameena — who had just turned eighteen, beyond excited.

"They did. They'll be back in a week though, so you'll have loads of time to spend with Zyna meri jaan". [My life.] Laila pinched her cheek in reassurance.

"And where's Anbar tayima and Asghar tayaabu?"

"He went to visit the fields and your aunt is just about done making your favorite breakfast for you".

"Her signature waffles?"

"That's right Filza, come on have 'em," her aunt called from the dinning room.

Filza's slides made loud sounds against the floors as she rushed into her aunt's arms. Her aunt looked exactly like she did in all her pictures from youth. The same fiery red hair, bright moss green eyes and warmth in her smiles. Pecking her cheek she slid on to the chair at the head of the dining table, grasping the thin silver cutlery. Motioning for both her aunt and mother to take a seat.

"Won't you ask about your father?"

"Should I be worried?" Filza looked up, alarmed.

"Nope. He's gone to Islamabad so we won't see him for a day," Laila explained.

"Sab sair karnay ja rahay hain, chutiyan tou meri hain!" [Everyone is going around to have vacations even though I'm the one who has them!] She whined.

"She's just like you Laila, a drama queen".

"Oh really? I'm the drama queen?" Laila raised a brow in question.

"Yeah! You used to be so dramatic before having Filza, poor Azmaray bhai," Anbar sighed.

"Tayi ammi, taya abu says that you used to be very dramatic in your youth too, so I guess I'm like both of you?"

Filza's voice cut the two women's chatter. Her eyes were open wide as she stared at the two women, honey smeared across her cheek as she munched on the bite too big for her nimble frame. Anbar and Laila looked at her with starry eyes, fawning at the young girls naive attitude. Laila wiped the honey using one of the linen handkerchiefs, whilst Anbar kissed her forehead.

"I was very theatric as a young adult, I regret it now," she replied.

"Really? I think that's half the reason you and Asghar bhai are still together".

"Still? These two weren't always so sickeningly in love?" Filza asked in surprise.

"It's a story for another day, don't you think Laila?"

"It is!"

"I want to hear it now! I can already imagine the two of you young and so in love!" Filza sighed, dreamily.

The topic of why her father was in Islamabad long forgotten as she forced the two elderly women to tell her what had happened three decades ago, winning as her aunt finally sighed, nodding her head, and began to narrate the tale of her life, the one whose secret's were still kept well hidden from their children.

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Green flood lights melted on the harsh grass and the flowers crept up the bushes behind the tall deep green gates. There was a thicket of fences and some more, guards with eyes laced with power stared out of the forward facing walls. The gong in the village nearby rung and the air changed even in the heart of Mushkpur. Tiny petulant fire flys fled the scene in silence, buzzing their way in a drunken, enamored gait through the vastness. Jewel toned the gardens stretched far beyond sight and the collecting rumble on the opposite end, the part that was left to the shadows almost bit at the fingers that dared to inch closer.

Sweeping the views on the ground for something far more luxurious, the deep blue midnight skies presented themselves. Stars in the pristine air thrived and ran around the moon in a clockwise arrangement, covering her whole in their light. In fact, the moon — the lover, was shy and had dimmed behind the after math of dark clouds. Though they tried, the fervent whistles of the zephyr did little to push her case and turned the night a bit dimmer. That is if an eye noticed it for far too long, on the whole it was an average night for the residents of Mushkpur. Dinner on stove, warming and bubbling as the mother's washed their children and tucked them into bed. The hardworking father's just returning and dropping in front of the television to enjoy the few moments of solace they got with their wives.

Filza pushed the heavy doors aside, huffing as her might dwindled in front of the mahogany make of it — like an ant and an elephant. Her hair twisted in the breeze and spun with a mind of it's own as she stepped out, the sandals sunk into the grass and her steps were soft, so as to not rouse the lion. She giggled, her winsome voice traveled far and carried over the moors — where she could only imagine a Heathcliff must have waited. Or perhaps a Flynn Rider, who was rushing closer by the minute. And she the unknown princess who needed saving. Her palms smacked the top of her head in annoyance, her feet dashed across the span of the lawn.

Filza's lungs burned with the lack of air, the last spurts of energy that she had gained somehow, died down shortly afterwards. Her mouth broke into a full blown guffaw and the curve of her back melted into a hunch. It was cold, that was Mushkpur. No matter what time of the year, it's nights would always remain cold. Her breath formed a light fog in front of the mossy eyes that were like the forests in front of them. Spotting the curves of his back under the dim moonlight, the stars her savior she marched towards him. Wrapping an arm around his neck, as his held them in place. And her lips, pressed to his cheeks.

"Let's go!" Filza cheered.

The man nodded, waiting as she slid of his back and held her palms, guiding them through the woods in the safety of his white torchlight. Reach out she dug into the soft bark of the trees, feeling every ridge dig into her fingers — almost a moment of freedom from the hectic routines she was bound to. In the hazy moors all she could make of his high face were the bushy brows and unkempt beard. The small smile crowning on his face was unusual when not around her. His arms around her shoulders kept the cruel warmth of, the tip of her nose and eyes burning with tears as she thought of life when it wasn't so mundane.

"Taya abu," she whispered, afraid of the ears that might hear, "you sure palar won't find out right?"

"Trust me Fizzy pop, your father's a dunce!" Asghar replied.

Filza's face contorted until peals of laughter began to force their way out of her lips. Dunce — her father was not that but hearing her uncle take a jibe at him was almost always welcome. Her heart fluttered at the bond they shared, and she wished some days to have a sibling of her own. Ameena was a sister sure — but then there were days she was away, she had experiences Filza could not relate to and it punched her in the gut. Wrapping her arms around her frame, she felt soft and helpless. Following her uncle with care as her arms stubbed into splinters.

"Where are we going?" She turned to her uncle out of curiosity.

"We're almost there."

Filza hummed under her breath. The conical branches that twisted like candy canes, the sharp green leaves and everything about them was unique. For the first time she had been exposed to beauty so raw. It left her breathless.

Their steps increased as they crushed more and more branches under their weight. He held her hand in his and skillfully guided her over and above fallen trees, deeper into the forests they went by the minute. It was a long forgotten part of their property, like much of it, nature had taken over, forcing it to be moulded. Asghar sighed and took in the sweet smells of the wood, reminding him of the days of youth far gone. He decreased his pace and turned lethargic as they reached a clearing, nothing but a single green bench in the middle of nowhere. Though it was a place sacred to him. The land had turned fertile over years — but his tears had contributed their fair share.

"What is this taya abu? How do you know this place exists?" Filza questioned.

"I was once a young man. A man who liked to explore." He shrugged simply.

"It's so ethereal!"

Filza's eyes were lit up with a whimsical sensation as she walked from the unruly garden into the neatly arranged one. Her legs ached and burned as she pushed herself on to the bench. The edge of her nimble palms dug into the iron wrought seat, pressing her legs together, she closed her eyes and felt the breeze guzzle down her throat. It was heavenly. The bright smile on her face put to shame the light of the stars and cosmic bodies of all sizes. She breathed, deeply, for once freed from the burdens that came with her name.

"Why bring me here?" She spoke with her eyes still closed.

"I know the pressures of our family get to you, I was there too once. This place," he sighed, "it's our safe haven I guess. No expectations. Only dreams."

"Wow taya abu," Filza spoke, "that was so poetic. No wonder tayi ami gave you a chance."

She winked at him, knowingly.

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tehhe !
I just added the last scene today to give some more screen time to our girl Filza who has made an appearance, at last!

Did you like it?

Azmaray & Laila as parents have me

Asghar & Anbar as aunt and uncle OOOOFFFFFFFFFF

Ahhhhhhh!
We all must loose our minds collectively over them, lmfao.

In other news,
I just finished 50% of ACM today!
(Barekhna & Aliyaar's story)
It's so exciting and pretty.
You guys will love them!

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Next Update : July 10,2022
(Also happens to be eid so that'll be your eidi 😏)

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