___
ankhain thi jo keh gayi sab kuch
lafz hote toh mukar gaye hote
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Mustafa had always been horrified of being useless, he was well educated with a degree in Business Administration, brilliantly promising for what his age was, had everything within the flick of his wrist until the night before, yet he was useless. He had always pedunculated between certainties and doubts of his existence.

He had wept and wept his entirety of teenage years, muffled sobs into his silk pillows, room embellished with the finest of decor yet his heart had no cure to the throbbing pain. He had alas, come to the conclusion that the more he wanted something, needed something, the throbbing increased and that itself was a promise within itself that he would not get it.

His Liya Aapi had told him once jokingly as they sat talking about the destruction of his beloved curls, that he had fallaciously gotten cut a little too short and that was enough for him to cry over a river. She had said, "You know, loving intensely always leads to mourning. You are bound to get hurt if you care too much." Of course, in that context it was his hair, but it was something Mustafa thought about a lot. Because all the things he desired were never destined to be his.

So he had stopped desiring, stopped dreaming. He just went along with everything that life offered or didn't, hopelessly wishing that it wouldn't make his life more abhorrently miserable than it already was.

He wanted to call his elder sister, his heart felt homesick to hear her soothing voice. He wondered once again for the nth time as to what must be going on since he had left. Should he call her?

His eyes wandered off to Madiha, who was talking animatedly with a shopkeeper. Her abaya & niqab still on. He then, scrunched his eyes and looked down at himself dressed the same way. The delirious but extremely kind Momin Ejaz had managed to avoid security check points and had dropped them safely in the city before bidding farewell. Madiha and him hadn't spoken to each other at all after her "outburst" at him in the Van. He didn't think, she would try initiating conversation with him any time soon. He just hoped she would listen to him and get medical assistance for her arm.

Coming back, there might be some risk involved in calling Liya Aapi, Mustafa concluded. Because knowing his father, he must be tracking her phone. But, he could call his brother in law. Despite his wretched ways, his father wouldn't dare disrespect his wealthy and influential son in law that way.

Sighing in resignation, Mustafa took unsteady strides towards the local PCO which was pretty empty given how progressive the mobile phones had become. Pulling out a neatly folded piece of paper, his shaking fingers traced over the few numbers he had managed to note down—of people he cared about— before he disposed off his phone.

Taking another deep puff of air, his juddering fingers inserted a coin in the narrow slot and then dialled the number. His entire body heating up in nervousness. The bell rang a few times and Mustafa's hope began fading every-time that happened, his heart unsettling into the pit of his stomach. Just when he was about to give up and put the receiver down, the line connected with a beep, his brother in laws rough voice echoing.

"Hello? Who is this?"

Mustafa's breath got caught in his throat, his mouth drying up as it refused to form words.

"Hello?"

"Fahad Bhai. It's me." A few beats later Mustafa finally managed to reply.

There was a swift pause right after, the sound of hurried steps, and finally there was an uncertain response.

"Mustafa? Is that you? Are you alright, Bacche?"

Gulping the lump in his throat, Mustafa hummed. "Yes, I am fine, Bhai."

"Okay, Good. Take care of yourself wherever you are. I am giving the phone to Daliya. Hold on." His barely verbose brother-in-law announced, before the phone was passed on.

"Musi Jaan?"

Hearing the familiar soft speculative voice through the phone caused Mustafa to close his eyes tight shut, his eyes swarming with unshed tears.

"Aapi.." Mustafa croaked out as he inserted a few more coins in order to keep the conversation going. Never before had he appreciated cell phones more.

"You are fine! Thank heavens you are." His sister sighed in relief as her own voice wobbled with unprotected emotions. "You are fine right?"

A drowsy chuckle escaped his lips, as he nodded his head vigorously. "I am fine. I am okay."

"You aren't safe, Mustafa. By any chance you aren't. Tell me where you are, Fahad is going to come and get you. We will keep you safe, I promise." His eyes burned with tears once again at his sister's & brother in law's generosity.

"Aapi, No, I can't come back. I can't risk it." A sharp gush of air escaped from his sister as her now stubborn voice commanded.

"Of course, I am not asking you to come back, you idiot! You didn't run away to come back. Fahad is powerful and he knows people who are powerful, more so than our father. You know that, he will assure you safety!"

"I can't—I possibly c-an't. I have to do this on my own. I will meet you sometime else in the future, someday not so miserable, we will see each other again when I am happy. I re-ally think i owe myself this one thing." Mustafa stutter his eyes becoming unfocused because of the tears as he lifted his niqab trying to breathe properly, completely forgetting he was in midst of a semi bustling market place.

If it were truly in Mustafa's hands he would just much prefer taking them up on the offer to keep him safe. He wasn't a coward, he preferred the term realist. Because the chances of his survival in the long term were very thin. His family was very influential and they would scrounge the depts of the entire country to hunt him down. But he wanted to try surviving on his own for the time being. To do something for himself. He couldn't risk ruining his sister's life. His parents already loathed their son-in-law. Even though he was their own choice. And for some reason he wasn't so miserable with Madiha by his side. He liked her uncanny company, even if it was temporary.

"Mustafaa.." a soft sigh echoed from the phone as his sister's drained voice reverberated. "I don't want to lose you. But I love you a little too much so I am setting you free, my choices don't govern you. Please be safe and come back to me as soon as you can, a new addition in family is waiting to call you Mamu Jaan."

"What?!" Mustafa's face glittered with joy as he interpreted the words face glittered with joy as he interpreted the words. "Congratulations to you and Fahad Bhai! I am so incredibly happy for you both."

"Ya ya, now come back soon okay? We are only one call away if you ever need anything."

Before Mustafa could reply back, a strong hold on his arm caused him to look up but by then the person had pulled down his niqab. Niqab?! Shit! He had completely forgotten.

"Jee jee. I have to go now, Aapi. Take care of yourself." Mustafa hurriedly mumbled his goodbye and kept the receiver down before even hearing the reply, out of nowhere suddenly he was being dragged by his hand, his abaya fluttering behind him in dust.

"What are you doing?" Mustafa sneered at the culprit who was making him sprint, the infamous whirlwind hurricane- Madiha.

"What are you doing?" She sneered back equally if not more, as she clutched his nervous clammy hands in her own as they hurried past the market in a narrow dark alley.

Both of them were breathing hard, as their bodies pressed against each other, Mustafa's hands uncomfortably rested against the sides of Madiha's head against the wall as her own hands lay on his muscular chest. Their eyes boring into each other. This was the most intimacy they had shared since their first encounter. And they would be lying if they said that they couldn't feel each other's heartbeat just as clear as their own, if not more.

Just then, a group of men and women stormed past them as stood a few feet farther, mumbling about the prize of lakhs and how two abaya clad outcasts of which one resembled to be the likes of the infamous Mustafa Rahmanzai, son of business tycoon Noman Rahmanzai, had run away.

Hearing her father's name Mustafa's breathing became erratic, his skin turning pale and he looked like he was hyperventilating. Madiha's eyes widened in concern as she pressed her un injured hand of his chest, right above his heart, surprising the both of them with this action of hers.
"Hey hey, Shh it's okay. We are safe. Nothing will happen. I will protect you, I promise. Calm down."

Mustafa's eyes darted down to her lips, trying to concentrate on what she was saying, For a second, he found himself forgetting about all his woes, his only concern was her face so close to his, her almost faded vanilla scent.

His arms dropped from beside her head to his sides as he closed his eyes forcefully, as to if he kept looking at her it felt like he would just suffocate and die. He wanted to touch her soft skin, press her body to his completely and just stay that way until his heart calmed down, until he was okay. But he couldn't. He shouldn't.

"Mustafa.." Her velvety voice vertebrate from his cheat to his heart. His palms pressed to his thighs, clenched in fists.

"Breathe.." a gush of fresh air, her voice was. The irony how she wanted him to breathe when she stood so very close depriving him of all of his senses.

Suddenly, she laid her head against his chest, against his thundering heart. Have mercy on us, his mind and heart subconsciously muttered, causing Mustafa to breathe deeply even then it only resulted in her filling his senses more fervidly.

Laying his head cautiously on top of hers, his eyes still closed, his hands itching to curve against the small of her waist, hold her like he wanted to, like he was meant to. And for some reason he didn't fight it, he gave in.

His hands slowly inched towards her covered waist, trembling as he held her to himself. Mustafa truly couldn't procure the definition of peace until now, he imagined it to be this. It felt a lot like her in his arms.

They stood like that for a good few minutes, not wanting to let go of each other. Suddenly, just like she had laid her head on his chest, she lifted it back up, her eyes darting to the side of the road that was visible. The side of her cheek that was pressed against his chest now red.
"I think they left. We could leave now." She murmured in the most feeble voice, not making eye contact with him while all he could do was stare at her.

"We could." Mustafa mumbled back, his hands still on her waist, his own face growing warm.

Her gaze, finally collided with his and in that moment Mustafa felt like this woman before him had the power to make the moon jealous, to make hearts stops, to bring men down to their knees. She was stardust and everything beyond. Her silver lined, jade specked eyes colliding with his cognac brown ones. What a terrific combination.

"Mustafa.." She almost implored, her warm hand pressing down against his chest once more. It felt like flowers would start sprouting from his ribcage, with his name on her mouth and hand on his chest. How was he to let go when she did that? Like she was everything he wanted yet everything he couldn't have.

"Just a little longer, please." Mustafa beseeched almost agonised with the thought of letting go of her as he dropped his forehead against her shoulder. His hot breath fanning her collar bone.

Madiha sucked in a sharp breath. Her brain telling her to push the gorgeous man away and run for the hills, to never see him again. Her heart however refuted profusely, she wanted to stay, to have a moment of normalcy. To have the devoted man willing to worship whatever was left of the broken shrine she was.

For once, her logic dissipated, against all odds and fears she decided.
"Just a little longer.."

____

Qassim Hamdani.

The man was so dreaded that even his name was enough to bury someone six feet deep. His hands were covered with blood and eyes obsidian, that one would mistake them for being kind or lost. That would be their last mistake. Qassim Hamdani wasn't even capable to be compared to the likes of those words. He was wretched, unholy and remorseless.

Despite being of such a gruesome caliber he was at near loss because of his two children. His own blood. One was raised to be a weapon, to wield the world that ran by the abhorrent surname and the other was raised with such affection that could turn cold hearts warm.

One refused to accept the power that presided over him and the other had run away like a coward, tarnishing everything that he held pride in. What pathetic excuses he had for children.

But, he was a shrewd opportunist. He only ever saw his benefit. He was going to set fire to the world around him, to his blood, to his own flesh, if that meant he would have all that he had lost and more.

Farris was his matchless option, but the obstinate man refused to even acknowledge it. Qassim Hamdani was no fool. His son's hawk eyes had caught sight of a naive prey, he knew that. His prey, to get Farris begging at his feet. All he had to do was put bait and wait for his son to come crawling on his knees.

Farris would surely find Aabish, afterall, and very soon if this plan worked. And then he would take his revenge. He would kill his beloved Daughter with bare hands. He will make her suffer and bleed before dying. He would make her face double the humiliation that was inflicted on him. And he would not spare anyone who dared to stop him.

"Rauf! Send a few people over to that deaf girl's house. Break a few of her bones for Farris Hamdani, will you?"

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(Le author while writing about Qassim Hamdani )
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How are my crispy pakorass?

How was the chapter? To me it seemed like a word vomit tbh. Please bear with me T.T I haven't proof read it.

How is the chemistry between Madi & Musi? They truly had me squealing in joy!

Also trouble in barely a paradise for Farris Bhai ;))
(I promise next chapter is a big one for our beloved Farris Bhaii)

The update was after ages, i am sorry but i was on an unexpected hiatus, i might go back into hibernation but until then i will try my best with the updates!
(Leave loads of comments for early updates ;))

Alright then,
Bring your foreheads to your screens.
*smooches*

Love you
Byee!

~flawfully