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کب ہاتھ میں تیرا ہات نہیں ،
کب یاد میں تیرا ساتھ نہیں۔

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Ibraheem drove the car as Azlaan sat in the front seat, quiet as a mouse. Jannat sat on the backseat, her lips sealed but heart pounding so loud that she could hear it beating.

For the first ten minutes they were quiet, then Azlaan and Ibraheem started their business talk and Jannat stared out of the window, periodically setting the dupatta on her head.The air was still heavy with tension.

When they reached home, Ibraheem's eyes met Jannat's in the rearview mirror and his eyes were hard. Hard as stone but the soft moss growing on it was comforting. Her heart thudded just like it had done three times before when his eyes had met hers in the car.

Jannat didn't wait for any of them. She slipped out of the car and ran inside, without even bothering to close the car's door. Both of them stared at her back, one with longing and the other with annoyance.

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Jannat went straight to her room after greeting her mother and Khaala who were sitting in the living room. She showered and changed into a black embroidered Shalwar Kameez with a colourful chunri.

She stared at herself through the mirror and saw eyelashes trying to hide the emotions in her eyes. She was just over him. It was okay. She told herself daily that she was young and it was just a passing crush.

She left her wet hair parted from the middle, the light brown now a darker brown, the colour of wood that clashed against her porcelain skin. Her button nose now red due to a slight cold she was suffering from. Slipping her feet into her slides, she adjusted her neckline once again. She had love-hate relationship with this dress. She loved the black colour and the chunri but the neckline was little deep and the it scooped lower from the back where a colourful tassle held it together.

She went to the garden, her garden was her kingdom. She sat her on her bench and took off her slides, her feet grazing the dewy grass.

Looking up at the sky, she looked at the moon and sighed.

Someone coughed behind her and she turned, scared.

Azlaan had changed into a soft white a shalwar kameez, his neckline a round one, not collared. His brown hair dishevelled, like he had run his hands through it numerous times. Fondling a tiny button om his shirt, he sat beside her, his eyes reflecting silver.

"Can I accompany you?", his husky voice felt like the mud she had planted her roses in with love, which were still to bloom.

She nodded. "Just looking at the sky."

Azlaan, too, gazed up for a second . Then his hand went behind his back, protruding a beautiful red rose supported by a moss green stem which had all the thorns cut off.

Jannat smiled. She stood up, her hand clutching the rose, her eyes a well of a muddy water as she teased him,
"Ammi says you shouldn't pluck the flowers at night. Jinn aashiq ho jataay hain."

He laughed, head tilting back as she ran inside and cup of chai fell from the balcony where Ibraheem stood seething.

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"It's not coming off! It's stuck to my hair! Chudail! Stop laughing", Ali kept carefully pulling the wig from his head as Dua kept laughing, still wearing her maid's Abaya.

Dua plucked the wig off with one forceful tug, Ali shrieked and held his head.

  "See? It came off. Who told you to put glue in it?", Dua's hands propped on her waist, as she scolded him.

  "Saw how romantic Azlaan bhai was? God", she acted as if ahe was being swayed by the mere thought of his romance.

"Yeah. God. I wanted to puke.", Ali laughed.  

Both of them stood in the balcony, the moon hiding behind clouds in shyness and the  trees shaking their head due to their mischief.

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   Carrying a load of washed clothes in one hand and handling a cup of lemon tea and her dupatta with the other, Jannat strided down the hallway to her room.

Suddenly, the arm holding the clothes was grabbed and everything fell down as Jannat struggled to save the tea.
 
She was pulled into a dark empty guest room, her tea taken from her in a second and hands pinned to the wall. All this happened in a second that she didn't even have time to scream nor did her brain register the shock.

  Iron met wood.

Black met brown.

Ibraheem breathed heavily as he
moved his body closer to her, his nose inhaling her freshly washed hair, his eyes admiring her rosy cheeks.

"Why did you go out with him alone? "

Jannat started struggling to get her hands free. His five o'clock shadow tickled her forehead and his straight nose seemed arrogant.

"What do you mean?"

He pressed himself closer and Jannat stopped breathing. His abdomen touched her soft figure, one hand curling around her wet hair.

" I asked why you went out with him, Jannat. "

"He is my cousin.You know why."

she knew she hadn't done anything wrong. For God's sake, her mother sent her!

"So he is just a cousin to you? With whom you have a rendezvous in the garden whenever he wants? " His lips forced the bitter words out which had already poisoned his heart.

Jannat stilled. Rendezvous? What was wrong with this man? They were going to be engaged in a couple of days! How dare he after everything he had done? There, she decided to be brave. She decided to be strong.

"Yes. He's more than just a cousin. And yes, I can do whatever I want with him!" She barked out, tugging her hands away she pushed him backwards and he staggered.

Picking up the forgotten tea, he smashed it against the tiled floor and all its contents created a pool around the broken pieces of china
 
She ran out the door, her colourful chunri flowing behind her, reflecting the rainbow.

He snatched her wrist before she could leave, her dupatta floating in the air for a second before moulding itself against his face.

She was against the wall once again and this time her back was towards him, her chest pressed against the wall. He bent forward, his lips touching her hair, nose inhaling deep.

One hand held her wrist to the wall , the other caressed the space where her neck met her back.

  "Don't be alone with him again. Okay?"

  It was a light whisper, his tone drunk in her scent, his senses drunk in the feel of her skin.

His hand tugged the string of the tassel, it fell free and exposed her upper back till her bra strap. Her breathing fastened, hands clammy as his lips hovered above the skin of her back and pressed down. His lips were hot and it felt like they sealed her milky back with his name.

Once.

Twice.

Slowly, he stood straight, his lips dragging a searing path behind her ear, hands tying the string again.

She breathed in him. The musky wood and cinnamon scent wafting around her and her eyes closed.

And when they opened, he was gone along with scent, leaving behind the shattered glass and a broken soul.

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Eid Mubarak!

Did you like the chapter? What about Azlaan or Ibraheem? Which team?

Please don't mind I know it's not edited. I am writing this at 9 am without even sleeping!

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