There are others who feel the same as you. — Bridgett Devoue

Sword Lillie grew in abundance in the slopes of the valley. The foothill turned pastel with their abundance. The farmers cultivated the land with precision each year, waiting for the flower that symbolised strength to grow. Each year they popped their heads out of the fertile soil and spread out, in acres of land. Miles upon miles of nothing but bright flora. The gladiolus had increased revenue for the locals, used in great amounts by the people that lived in the plains for decor. The aesthetic sight and light perfume was something one could talk about for days on end.

Summers were spent by the people lazing in their fields. Ignoring the weight of responsibilities that awaited them in their lives. Just for a mere few seconds, they were one with the land and all else mattered not. Large Indian weeping trees acted as the shade and anchor. Their thin leaves spread out with the branches hosting many tiny creatures, visitors from lands afar. Nature's bounty was enjoyed by all and with no fare. It was one of the if not the best way to spend summers. Lingering in the flower garden and then taking a dip in the cold lake.

Azmaray stared out from his bedroom window. His family was back at its place once again. Zaeem and Almas shifted into the large estate last night, and Laila's happiness had known no limits, realising she too would have a female companion. His eyes marvelled at the large terrain of land in front of his eyes, thoughts miles away. He was imagining the reaction of the people that had been the cause behind his pain. His eyes were molten fury, so tangible that even standing behind him Laila shuddered. They had arrived late, no one realising the arrival of Almas and Zaeem.

His starchy dress shirt caved in on her touch. Her fingers lightly pressing into the fibrous contours of his back. Lean shoulders hunched forward as she dragged her fingers up by the second. The tips of her crimson nail digging into the cool flesh of his neck. Her chanel scent clouding his senses. Laila stood on the tips of her toes, dropping a light kiss behind his earlobe. She sunk her teeth in the side of his broad neck wrapping hands around his lean waist. He pressed his hands on hers, his fingers wrapping around her thin wrist.

Turning her around he pulled her to his chest. Eyes full of heated passion glanced down at her. She noticed they were drenched in hurt, a slight twinge of want. His mouth was set into a deep wolfish grin. To her it was like his body had been crafted by hands finer than those Greek sculptors his library raved about. The curve of his sharp jaw and softness in his cheekbones was immaculate. Neat and precise. He rested his forehead against hers, breathing in harshly. Underneath the slate grey shirt his heart beat at an unimpossibly fast speed. Her palms sweating up against his body, eyes drooped.

"You realise we need to be downstairs right?" Laila whispered.

Her soft voice cut through the heavy channel of silence. Azmaray's breath stopping for a few seconds before resuming once more. A light flush on his face as he hummed in agreement. Lounging around in his bedroom would not stop the inevitable from occurring. It was the need of the hour to face the 'heads' of this house. He was done living in fear, tired of his mind calculating every move he took. He could not pretend he owed them his life, any longer. It was time to look for the root cause and pluck it out.

"Azmaray!" Laila snapped her fingers before his face.

Blinking, he nodded his head. Wrapping his fist around her palm and kissing the back of it softly. A light blush splattered across the plateau of her cheeks. Fading out a few seconds later and the familiar shade of wheat taking over once more.

"I know. I know. Just a few more minutes," he spoke.

Bending forward he nuzzled his face into her neck. Deeply inhaling her perfume, that mixed in with the apricot scent of her shampoo. It was a pleasant mix, one that screamed Summer. Sun, light, warmth and picnics. The truth was, confronting the people he had lived with meant looking his life into the eye before slaughtering it. Picking it apart, piece by piece with no mercy. The past two days had been full of revelations. He could not forgive Saheefa for being the reason of his parents divorce. Nor could he let Hooriya stay in the walls of his home—after realising she could have given him safe passage to his mother all this time.

"Staying back won't lessen the pain Azmaray. You have to do this, for yourself, for mama and for Zaeem bhai". [Mother] [Brother]. Laila coaxed.

Whether it was the sweet way she took his name, like apples covered in honey. Or the gentle way she brushed his hair, or the way her lips sat on the ridges of his forehead—that had him walking out of the bedroom with confidence, he would never know. Laila stood beside him, her hand holding onto his in a firm grip. The crossed the staircase and the threshold, her eyes searching for signs of their family. The dinning room was empty, no sign of breakfast being prepared—which was odd.

However, Azmaray walked with not an ounce of regret. His shoulders were pulled back and head held high. Eyes with the sharpness like that of a Hawk's, bore into the faces of the workers. He helped her cross into the garden from under thick black archways. The metal covered in gold leaves, and just underneath a canopy of Hydranges, sat Almas and Zaeem. The round table filled with fresh breakfast foods and steam continued to waft off of them. The rest of the family, Azaan Khan's family, stared at a calm Almas with shock.

"I see you have met my mother," Alamgeer broke the cloud of silence.

Azaan Khan being the first one to glare in his direction. His mouth twisting in an ugly manner, disgust dripping from the edges of his frowning lips.

"What is this?" Azaan pointed his stick at Almas.

"Shouldn't I be the one to ask you? After all, who would be more acquainted with the actual mistress than the former gardner of this place?" He grinned.

His hands pulled Laila close, opening a chair for her beside his mother he helped her settle in, before turning his face back to the rest.

"Don't act clueless. There is ample proof of all the misdealing you, your daughter-in-law and son have been involved in," he shrugged.

"Unbelievable!" Azaan slammed the butt of the walking cane into the cobblestone path.

"Keep your lame excuses for someone else. As the duke of Mushkpur, I have the right to hasten decisions of court, and you best belive you'll be out of this place soon enough. All of you". Azmaray spoke with force.

"B-but I'm your mother!" Saheefa walked forward.

Stopping midway as he raised his hand, pointing towards Almas and silently letting her know his decision.

"And you, miss Hooriya, have skillfully managed to keep my mother and I apart, when you knew I was to be informed after I turned eighteen," he turned his attention towards the one person he gave importance to.

"Mein kia karti?" [What could I have done?] Hooriya pleaded guilty.

"Kuch bhi karti. Bohat tareekay thay," [You could have done anything. There were a lot of ways,] a sharp voice cut through Hooriya's bones.

Almas walked towards Azmaray and kept a hand on his shoulder. Squeezing it to offer him some silent strength. Glaring at the people that were once her family. She took in Hooriya with a disgusted gaze. Furious at herself for ever trusting a snake like her.

"You're lucky my son isn't reporting you Hooriya. This is the last of my favours to you," Alams spoke through her teeth.

"I have raised him like a son and—"

"And all of you kicked me out when needed. I thought you were a mother to me, but the love of one has made me realise all of them were your selfish efforts. You let me run away so that I would easily give up my birthright, out of guilt. You knew Asghar loved Anbar and that this would be best for her. I am ashamed of the love you gave me!" Azmaray choked out.

"All of you can leave this home. The police will knock on wherever you seek shelter, for Azaan Khan. A case of manslaughter has been filed," Almas completed.

Asghar felt the floor give in. All his life he had worked over the properties of these people. He would be kicked out now without a second thought, his attention diverted towards his equally worried wife. How would he fulfill her wishes? Keep the two of them safe? Once news of this incident managed to get into the ears of the people of Mushkpur, it would all be over for them.

"We shall leave," Asghar ordered his family, taking charge.

He was followed by Anbar, to be stopped by Azmaray walking into his path. His hands wrapping around his biceps and pulling him into a hug. Asghar stood like a block of ice. Straight and then gradually melting into his brother's embrace. A tear or two let out by both, as the anguish of the past slipped out.

"Hamesha kis jaldi mein mujh sai dur jaa rahay hotay hain?" [In what hurry are you always going away from me?] Azmaray questioned.

"That—" Asghar awkwardly stared at him.

"I get why you were cold to me. I understand it all now. Why are you so selfless? How can you leave the land you've worked for? You deserve this more than I do Asghar!" He spoke.

"What my family has done—"

A sound of a loud cough interrupted him. Asghar stared in confusion as Almas walked towards him.

"Quiet. I still remember the young Asghar playing in my lap. When you were free from the bitterness of this world. To me, you are my first born Asghar. I have given you my own milk because at first having a child for me seemed to be impossible. How can I let you go? How can your younger brothers let you walk away? You belong here in this home. As the Duke of Mushkpur," Almas held his head in her hands, dropping a kiss onto his face.

"I—um," Asghar looked at Azmaray who held a content smile.

"Yes Asghar. I want to give you this seal. You have worked the hardest to keep this place running. I know you had no idea about Azaan's money laundering. You deserve this, all of this. It is yours, bhai," [Brother,] he grinned.

Asghar felt Anbar gently squeeze his hand and pass him a confident smile. He shook his head, tears inside his eyes as he hugged the two, his youngest brother joining in. The whole family was one—finally. Suffering had been called by the Azaan family themselves and Asghar vowed to not step in. He had no idea what was happening while he slaved away in the district offices. He was a lot of things but not a corrupt man. And everyone was set to pay their dues, anyways.

EEEEEK IM SO EXCITED FOR THE LAST FEW CHAPTERS.

I'M ADDING A LOT OF ROMANCE AFTER THIS SO DONT WORRY 😼😼😼😼😼😼

ALL OF OUR COUPLES WILL SHINE UNDER THE STARS.

A CHAPTER ON ALL OF THEM

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