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*

Farhaan

"Why did you call off the wedding?" Hoor asked. Dressed in formal black trousers, a pink blouse and a black blazer, her professional outfit was for the interview for the position of Assistant Lecture, which she had been successful in. She had come here straight away to tell me and give me mithai because I'd been the one who'd sent her the link for the job.

"Because it didn't feel right. And when I finally performed Istikhara, it confirmed my doubts." I replied simply. "Sophie is a very, very good person. She deserves someone who is a hundred percent sure of her." 

She opened her mouth, as if she wanted to say something, but her phone vibrated and she glanced down at it. "It's Papa. I really have to rush. Thank you once again for sending me the link of the job. Allah Hafiz." With a little wave of her hand she left, her ponytail swinging behind her.

Glancing down at the mithai box, I opened it and smiled. It was balushahi, my favourite.

*Balushahi is a doughnut-shaped crispy and flaky traditional sweet.

Hoor was always so considerate of everyone's preferences and favourites.

*

FLASHBACK

THIRD PERSON POV

The eldest amongst her siblings, Hoor tended to take charge of things. When she was ten, her mother and Hareem Khalla (a.k.a. Reem Khalla) took the kids out to the cinema to watch an animated film.

Hoor took her little notebook and pink glittering pen from her small bag, making the kids stand in line. "Okay. I'm gonna ask you all your choices in age order. Popcorns or nachos? Sweet popcorn or salted? And nachos with jalapenos or without?" She wrote down her own order of salted popcorn, then turned to Haya. 

"Sweet and salted popcorn." Haya said. "I like the best of both worlds."

Hoor made a note, before turning to look at eight-year-old Shayaan. 

"Nachos with cheese and jalapenos." Shayaan, her Mamu's son, replied. "Extra jalapenos."

"Sweet popcorn." Harris Emaad, also eight, said.

"Popcorn with jalapenos." Rohaan, seven, laughed.

"Be serious, Rohaan." Hoor told him off.

"You are such a party pooper." Rohaan rolled his eyes. "Nachos and jalapenos."

"Salty popcorn." Six-year-old Arsalan told his choice before Hoor even asked.

Five-years-old Ifra Emaad was too busy running around to care about the world around her.

"Just write down salted popcorn for her, Hoor." Hareem said, wearily, before chasing after her daughter. "Ifra, get back here right now or no film for you!" 

"Aren't you going to ask me and Hareem Khalla our orders?" Anabia teased her eldest daughter.

"You like salted popcorn too, so you I can share. Hareem Khalla likes nachos with cheese and jalapenos." Hoor replied. "I'll go place the order, and you all can come and help me carry it." She turned to head to the counter, and everyone else followed- only after Anabia asked them to do so.

Near the counter, Hoor spotted a packet of Maltesers. "Hareem Khalla, doesn't Aizah Appi like Maltesers? Shall we get a packet for her since she couldn't come along? Tell her that I got it especially for her." 

Hareem Khalla leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. "You're so sweet, Hoor. Okay. But I have to be fair right? What about Faizan and Farhaan?" 

"Faizan likes Twix. Last time he ate the whole packet when I just offered to share." Rohaan grumbled.

"And Farhaan?" Hareem looked thoughtful. 

"He likes Dairy Milk Whole Nut." Hoor spoke shyly, her cheeks pink. She still remembered when chocolates were being handed out at someone's birthday, he had selected that one.

"Great! That's all sorted." Hareem had said. "Let's order up, kids!" She wrapped her arm around Hoor's shoulders as they approached the counter. "You have a big heart, Hooriya. Ma Sha Allah. A very beautiful one. You're so considerate towards everyone, towards their tastes, their likes and dislikes." 

Hoor blushed once again. Her Hareem Khalla had no idea that Hoor felt extra special when she thought about him. She looked up to him, admired him. He was nice to her, unlike Faizan! Faizan always smelled like sweat because he played so much football! And he was mean.

While Hoor really was considerate of everyone's choices and tastes, she was especially aware of his. 

Her adorable little  childhood crush had changed into an adolescence admiration to something very powerful that was beyond her understanding.

Something certainly irrevocable.

*

Haya Rehan Tariq

I walked into the wide, bright room. Walking on my tiptoes, trying not to making a noise, I approached the man seated with his bag towards me. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I leaned down. "You don't love me anymore, I think."

"Oh, I love you from the bottom of my heart, Hooriya. It's Haya that I don't love anymore." He stood up and turned. 

I frowned. "I can't believe you!"

Yasin Chachu stared at me with a mischievous smile, and a twinkle in his eyes. With a light beard and thick dark hair with silver streaks, our sweet and almost shy uncle, was now the Head of Curriculum for Art in a local secondary school. He didn't teach, but he decided on the curriculum that needed to be taught to the art students. 

"Who else but my fellow beloved artist would come and join me here in my art zone?" He wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

"Assalam Alaikum." I was still sulking.

"Walaikum Assalam. How are you, Haya?"

"Annoyed at you. I didn't expect this from you!" I glared up at him.

"Oh, Haya, you know that you mean the world to me." He spoke in his normally soft voice. 

"You have to make it up to me." 

"Of course." His smile sealed the promise made by his words.

"The rest of the family is at Dada Jaan's house, so I thought I'd go with you...so I came all the way out here in the Tube, just so I can drive back with you, but you? You have crushed the hopes of this niece of yours."

"It looks like our Haya is very angry with her Chachu." He moved away and walked over to a brown cupboard at the other end of the room. Pulling it open, he took out a gift back, and brought it back over to me. "I suppose you don't want this, then?" 

I took the bag from him and glanced in, squealing happily. "Oh whoa!" It was a beautiful set of little paint bottles, in a large variety of colours. 

"I brought this especially from Los Angeles for you." Chachu had done his Masters in LA and had grown to love that city so much that he regularly took his family there. "Are you still angry with me?" 

I gave him an angelic smile. "Me? Angry?" 

He laughed, heartily. "Okay. I'll drive you home, and on the way we can pick up some coffee and doughnuts for the road, okay?" 

"You're slowly melting me, Chachu. I approve." 

He laughed again. "But you need to do me a favour, okay?" 

"What is it?" 

"Yamna is ready with a list of complaints that she'll hand over to Rehan Bhai, regarding Rohaan. Distract Yamna, okay?" He smiled. "Poor Rohaan always gets in trouble because of her."

"Chachu, Rohaan is anything but poor. In fact, it's Yamna that we should feel sorry for. I can't do that, I'm sorry. I love it when she complains to Papa and then he tells Rohaan off." I shrugged. "And you know it very well, that Yamna would never make anything up. Everything she tells Papa is a hundred percent accurate!"

****

Hooriya

I opened the door and smiled automatically. "Yamna!" Leaning down, I hugged my little cousin.

Wearing a little pink dress with white leggings and pink ballet pumps, Yamna had her hair in two braids that rested on her shoulders. She had round glasses that she had been prescribed from a very young age. "Assalam Alaikum, Hoor Appi!" 

"Walaikum Assalam! I missed you, Yamna." I straightened up and saw her mother coming up behind her. "Assalam Alaikum, Saba Chachi."

Hijabi, and dressed in a full dark-blue abaya, Saba Chachi smiled at me, her nose stud glinting in the sunshine. "Walaikum Assalam, Hoor..."

"TAYAN!" Shouting, Yamna instantly headed into the house. "Where are you? We have to talk!" 

instead of calling him Rehan Taya, or Taya Jaan, Yamna had cleverly combined the words to call him 'Tayan'. I giggled as Chachi shook her head, sighing. "Rohaan to aaj gaya." 

*"Rohaan won't be spared today."

"She's always getting the poor guy in trouble." Chachi said.

"Poor guy? Rohaan? Oh Chachi, you're too nice." I closed the front door and saw that Yamna was heading up the stairs.

"Yamna! Wait downstairs, beta." Chachi instantly told her.

"Why are you stopping her, Saba? It's okay. It's her own home too." A voice came from the doorway of the living room and we turned to see Dado standing there. Despite being in her late seventies, she was Ma Sha Allah active, using only a walking stick for support.

"She keeps bothering Rehan Bhai with all her complaints each time she seems him." Chachi explained.

"So what, dear? She's like a daughter to him, and he adores her. You know that. He never minds it when she complains about Rohaan." Dado said. "Don't worry, Saba. Come inside. We have a lot to catch up on. Why don't you and Anabia prepare your lists of complaints against my sons, and I will happily hear them?" 

Chachi smiled. "That sounds amazing, Mum."

I felt happy seeing my family dynamics. Ma Sha Allah. My Dado had always supported her daughters-in-law over her sons, and if her daughters-in-law were in the wrong, she had gently explained to them rather than taunting or stereotypically criticising them.

I saw Papa coming down the stairs, with Yamna holding his hand. She was listing out the things that Rohaan had done now. 

"Sort him out, Tayan! He makes so much fun of me!" Yamna was pouting.

"Don't worry, meri jaan. I'll tell him off, okay?" He reassured her. He looked over at me. "Hoor, where's Rohaan?" 

"Rehan..." Dado instantly became defensive. Her grandchildren were her precious babies that she always stood up for. "I will talk to him sweetly, okay? I'll tell him to be nicer to Yamna." 

"Sweetness clearly doesn't work with him, Mum." Papa looked annoyed. "Yamna is ten years younger than him, and he always ends up making her cry. He needs to grow up!"

"He just teases her like a big brother, Rehan Bhai." Chachi said. "Yamna tends to exaggerate."

"I don't, Mama!" Yamna protested with wide eyes, glancing up at Papa. "Tayan, I'm always honest, and you know that. Ask Hoor Appi! She knows how much Rohaan Bhai teases me! She stops him but Bhai is a monster and can only be defeated by parents!"

Chachi didn't look impressed. She frowned and said, "Yamna, we've not raised you to talk about your elders like that!" 

Squealing a little, Yamna hid behind Papa. She knew that she was safe in the presence of her Tayan, and at her paternal grandparents' house.

Rohaan chose that moment to enter. He had been in the back garden with Arsalan, attempting to get our youngest brother to play football... with no luck. They both greeted Chachi, and then Rohaan saw Yamna standing beside Papa, and my brother's eyes narrowed. "Shuru hogayi yeh shikayatein lagana?" 

*"Has she started her complaining?"

"Harkatein band karlo na shikayaton waali phir." Papa told him off.

*"Then stop behaving in a way that warranties complaining."

This was a regular scenario of when our families got together. Yamna, Papa's beloved, always told him about every mean behaviour of Rohaan- and to be honest, she never made things up. It was always true. Yamna was actually a sweetheart, and Haya and I adored her completely. Even Arsalan had a soft spot for her. Rohaan was like a typical big brother- the one whom considered teasing younger siblings/cousins as vital as oxygen, food and water for survival.

*

"Everyone," Dada Jaan spoke as we sat down for the meal. "I'm proud of our granddaughter Hooriya, who has been offered the position of Assistant Lecturer. To celebrate, I asked the staff to prepare gajar ka halwa."

*Gajar ka halwa: carrot pudding, made by placing grated carrots in a pot containing a specific amount of water, milk, sugar and cardamom, then cooking while stirring regularly until the milk is ultimately dried off, leaving behind a thick mixture of carrots and milk. Ultimately, it is garnished with nuts.

Sitting on Dada Jaan's right was Dado, who smiled at me with pride. At the other end of the table, directly opposite was Papa, and to his right was Mama, while I sat opposite her. Next to me was Yamna, who adored sitting beside me and Haya. On Haya's other side was Chachi, and then Dado. Next to Mama was Arsal, Rohaan and then Yasin Chachu. It was table fit for a royal feast, but my grandparents had deemed it necessary because of our entire family, Ma Sha Allah.

"What's your plan, Haya?" Dado asked my twin. "Beta, I know you want to open your own gallery, but in the meantime, why don't you look for jobs in galleries? See how they operate?" 

"If she gets a job, how will she be able to focus on her cricket?" Rohaan asked. "She wants both art and cricket in her life."

"At least I have some ambitions." Haya narrowed her eyes at him.

"I have ambitions. Football is my ambition!" Rohaan said, defensively.

"Oh, right. And soon you'll be playing around Messi and Ronaldo, right?" Haya spoke drily.

Rohaan opened his mouth to argue.

"No arguments. Both of you." Papa spoke firmly, without even looking up at them.

Rohaan glared at Haya one last time before continuing eating his food.

"It's okay. In Sha Allah, soon Haya will decide, and then I pray that she achieves her goals and dreams, as long as they are good for her. Ameen." Dado said, softly.

"Ameen." We all repeated. I even saw Rohaan mouthing it out, and I smiled. No matter how much he and Haya clashed, it was undeniable that the two adored each other and were fiercely protective of each other. 

"What about our adorable little Arsal?" Dado gently smiled at him.

"I got offered a summer internship at a publishing company- without using my parents' names." Arsalan muttered, keeping his gaze on his plate.

"What?" Both my parents spoke in unison, staring at him stunned.

Haya was the only one who didn't look surprised, and I raised both eyebrows at him. She pointed towards Arsal and then did a zipping gesture over her mouth, meaning that he'd asked her to remain quiet.

"Why didn't you tell us, Arsal?" Mama asked him, looking almost hurt.

"I only found out today. I didn't want to steal attention from Hoor Appi's achievement." Arsal shrugged.

"Arsal, are you serious?" I asked. "I'm so proud of you! How could you think that I'd care about my own achievement after hearing such a good news from you?" 

Dado couldn't contain her happiness. "Rehan, Anabia, you both have exceptionally talented kids. Ma Sha Allah!"

"I'm very proud of you, Arsalan." Papa looked at Arsal. "Well done. But next time, don't hide things, okay? All of the achievements of our kids are equally important."

"Mine too?" Yamna whispered up to me, looking worried that she would be left out.

Papa smiled as he had overheard her. "Yours too, jaan. You're like my own daughter as well."

Yamna looked visibly pleased, and everyone smiled at her cuteness.

"That means that we can have dessert tomorrow as well!" Dada Jaan spoke with a twinkle in his eyes. "For our young Arsalan."

"You just need an excuse!" Dado shook her head.

We all laughed at their daily banter. Their fondness for each other was obvious even as they lightly argued.

Ma Sha Allah! May Allah always protect this beautiful, loving family from evil eyes. Ameen.

*

Farhaan

As I entered my parents' house, Ifra came running down the stairs, her gaze on her phone.

"Careful." I told her.

She looked up, smiling. With shoulder-length straight black hair and blue eyes, Ifra had inherited most of her facial features from her father. Otherwise her overexcited nature, her loudness and boldness was a hundred percent like Hareem Phupho. "You wouldn't believe it! I have ten thousand followers!"

"They're still not worth you tumbling down the stairs for." I shrugged out of my work jacket.

"Farhaan Bhai, why don't you ever understand my excitement?" Ifra rolled her eyes and practically skipped into the living room.

I followed her with a sigh. Mama and Hareem Phupho were discussing something soberly. From the way they looked at me when I greeted them, it was obvious that it had something to do with mine and Sophie's called-off wedding. Meanwhile Harris and Faizan were playing football on the PlayStation set up. Aizah was sitting on an armchair, scrolling on her tablet.

Ifra went to sit on the armrest beside Aizah, and excitedly started telling her about her followers. 

I sighed and took a seat on the empty sofa. 

"Why didn't it feel right, Farhaan?" Phupho asked me, softly. "Is there a particular reason? I thought Sophie was your own choice." 

"He likes someone else." Aizah smirked in my directions.

"Who?" Ifra's ears instantly perked up.

Even Faizan and Harris briefly glanced up in my direction.

"She's just making things up." I glared at my twin.

"Am I?" She asked. "Isn't it time you admitted it before it's too late? I know you have a habit of leaving things too late, but this time would be a major loss for you if you don't act now!" 

"What are you talking about?" Hareem Phupho asked.

Aizah just gave me a teasing smile. "I'm just messing around. His instincts just said that it wasn't right, and he followed his instincts. Sometimes we ignore our inner feelings, and that can be greatly harmful for us." 

"Farhaan, go freshen up. It's almost time for dinner." Mama gave me a small smile, but her expressions told me that she was going to interrogate me about it later.

*

"Farhaan?" Naturally, Mama was not one to forget, and she came to my former room as I rested there later that night.

"Yes, Mama?" I sat up, feeling weary.

She walked over to sit on the bed beside me, and ran a hand over my hair. "It wasn't just an instinct, was it? You know something with certainty, which is why you called off the wedding with Sophie."

I didn't reply. 

"I'm not naïve, Farhaan." Mama continued. "I need you to be honest with me."

"And then what?" I asked, glancing at her. "What's this honesty going to achieve, Mama? Will you and Papa go to her parents to ask for her hand in marriage to me?" 

"Who are you talking about, Farhaan?" She asked, even though her expressions clearly told me that she knew the answer very well.

"I can't." I shook my head. "She's too young. She has a bright future potentially waiting for her, In Sha Allah. I don't want to tie her to myself and become an obstacle to whatever she hopes to achieve. She can go places, Mama. I don't want to cut her wings and keep her grounded."

"Hooriya." She whispered out the name that set my heart aflame at just the mere mention. "Farhaan, marriage isn't an obstacle. If it were, why would you be willing to marry Sophie then?"

"Sophie waited until her education was complete before she agreed for the wedding to take place. She has a successful career as a Financial Adviser. She's already reached heights, Ma Sha Allah." 

She shook her head, placing a hand over her forehead. "And here I was, planning her rishta with Faizan."  

I smiled weakly. "Don't make me call her 'Bhabi', for Allah's sake." 

She placed a hand on my arm. "Hoor is an exceptional girl, Ma Sha Allah. Pyari hai, zaheen hai. Koi na koi kal aake uska haath maangle ga shaadi ke liye, aur uske Maa Baap ache rishte ke liye raazi ho jayenge. Phir?"

*"She's pretty, intelligent. Someone or the other will come and propose marriage to her one day, and her parents will agree to a good alliance. Then?" 

"If she's meant to be with me, she'll be with me even after she has placed a strong foundation for her career. If she's not, you can ask for her hand for me tomorrow, and it won't happen." 

"Farhaan..."

"Besides, I don't even know how she feels, Mama. She could have different wishes and desires. I don't want her to be under any obligation, just because we've known her family forever."

She looked at me silently and thoughtfully for a few seconds. "How much do you like her, Farhaan? Because your selfless words make me think that..." I looked at her questioningly to finish her sentence, but she simply shook her head. "Don't take too long, Farhaan. Delaying things all the time is not a good thing at all." She tapped my arm and stood up. "I, for one, would love to have Hooriya as my daughter-in-law." She smiled.

I thought of how quickly my mother had correctly guessed the source of my confusion. Even Sophie had realised it. How obvious had I been?

*

"Ugh. How are you so into this?" Sophie gestured towards the car that I'd been fixing.

There was a barbeque party at my parents' house, and we had a lot of guests that included Sophie's family, of course. I'd lost track of time while fixing my car, when Sophie had walked into the garage to look for me.

"It's what I do." I grinned. "Accept me for who I am."

"If I didn't, I wouldn't be here right now. But at a party, Farhaan?" She rolled her eyes.

My grey vest was almost soaking with sweat as I finally managed to fix the car. I stood up straight, wiping my hands on a rag. Chuckling, I pretended to toss the rag at her and she squealed, stepping back and raising both her hands up. This made me laugh harder.

"Farhaan!" The garage door opened and Hoor rushed in. Wearing a long white maxi dress with a wide brown belt around the midriff, Hoor panted as if she had been running. Her hair was in a braid, with loose strands curtaining her face. 

Sophie glanced in her direction with curiosity. The two had already been introduced and had repeatedly met each other by this point.

I  raised an eyebrow questioningly at Hoor. 

"Please have a look at my car. It's behaving badly." She said, pleadingly.

"Where are you going? The barbeque hasn't even started yet." 

"I'm not going anywhere,  but my car is blocking someone in, and when I tried to move it, it wouldn't even start." Hoor shook her head. "I don't know what the issue is."

"Let me see." I glanced at Sophie. "I'll be right back." I smirked at Hoor, and she stared back up at me, unamused. 

Sophie cleared her throat a few seconds later. "Okay. I'll be outside with the others." Almost hesitantly, she turned to go.

I followed Hoor out to her car and opened up the bonnet. After a few minutes of checking, I sat down in her driving seat and turned on the ignition. "Hoor?" 

"Hmm?" She stood outside, looking worriedly at her car.

"Did you forget the fill up the petrol?" 

Her eyes widened in realisation. 

"You are the limit, Hoor. You drive regularly. How can you forget to fill up petrol?" I got out of the car.

"I have so much on my mind right now! I forgot!" She groaned.

"All okay?" I asked her, handing her the key.

"Just focused on finding jobs after my Masters is complete..." She shook her head. "But, what are we going to do about this?" 

"We?" I chuckled. "It's cute that you think that I have anything to do with finding a solution for this."

"Would you just abandon me like this in a middle of a crisis?" She gasped out. "How mean!"

I headed back into the garage and grabbed a petrol can. Due to space, I worked here a lot, and I often found myself fixing my parents' or siblings' cars, so there was always petrol handy for situations like this. I brought it back out and filled up Hoor's car as she watched in awe. "Try now." 

She got into the car and turned on the ignition and her car roared to life. She smiled. "Oh, thank God, otherwise that Uncle would have killed me." She nodded towards a middle-aged gentleman who was impatiently waiting for her to move her car. 

I recognised him as a friend of Papa's. I'd always questioned that friendship though because he was one miserable man. Papa, on the other hand was so nice and friendly- bias aside. "Uncle Ji, kudi hilandi ay gaddi halay. Gaddi nu pookh lag gayi si."

*"Uncle, the girl will move the car. The car just got a little hungry."

The Uncle didn't look amused, and simply got into his car.

"Reminds me of the Snickers' add. 'You're not you when you're hungry'. Maybe Uncle is just hangry and wants food." She muttered.

"Yaar, meri izzat rakhlo aur gadi peechay hatalo." I spoke to her in amusement.

*"Protect my respect and move the car please."

Mumbling something about stuffing the uncle with kebabs, she backed the car out of the driveway.

I couldn't stop chuckling till I'd even gone upstairs for a shower.

*

PRESENT

Hooriya

Qasoor to us pehli nazar ka tha, jisne ek hi dawa main dil jeet liya.

To phir kyun bane dil hi mujrim, kyun kaate akle sazaa?

*It was the fault of the first sight, that at once won over the heart.

Then why should the heart be the culprit; why should it bear punishment alone?

-Starsandmoon1447 original

I stared at the words I had written, and my heart was pounding erratically.

I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. Just the thought of merely his name was driving me crazy.

What is wrong with me?

*

FLASHBACK

I was trying to write something, but inspiration wouldn't come. I continued tapping my pen against the notebook, staring intently at the page as if I could magically place the right words on it, simply with my mind.

"Focus Hooriya!" Haya's voice startled me as she place the tray down on the table before sitting on a chair opposite me. "Can you stop writing when we're out together?" 

"The need to write is an uncontrollable urge, Haya. It's in my blood and I can't control it."

"God, writers are so dramatic." Rolling her eyes, Haya opened a little container of ketchup and dipped two fries into it before chewing it.

I glanced at my chicken nuggets and fries- 'baby meal' as Haya called it. I didn't even feel hungry anymore. My appetite and my inspiration had eloped together. Still, not wanting to waste food, I began to eat slowly.

"Farhaan Bhai?" Haya whispered.

I looked up and saw he glancing out of the window. On the street outside, Farhaan was walking alongside Sophie as they were both completely absorbed in a conversation. Just ahead, I could see both sets of their parents. My heart ached at how good the couple looked together.

Haya knocked on the window.

"What are you doing?!" I gasped out.

"I wanted to say hello!" She shrugged.

"Yeah, like you'd actually speak up if he comes over." I rolled my eyes. Haya was only bold around family. With others, she had a shy nature that often came as a surprising to everyone who met her, as her appearance made he seem like a loud tomboy.

"He's coming over. I accept your challenge." She stuck her tongue out at me.

I stood up as I saw him approach the window of the halal restaurant we were in. He could obviously see us, as he nodded politely in Haya's direction, before his gaze moved to me. 

My cheeks were burning as I stared at him, with the glass window between us. I felt like I no longer remembered any words.

Behind him, I saw Sophie glance in our direction, and even Anaya Aunty had turned to see why the couple had stopped. She looked in our direction, and smiled warmly as she spotted me through the window.

It was a small, brief period, where his blue-green eyes clashed with mine and where time seemed to stand still, but that brief moment felt like a lifetime for me.

I backed away, swallowing hard. It was wrong. He belonged to Sophie. I was nothing but a girl with a ridiculous crush. I turned my back towards him, the tears in my eyes being evidence of the pain that my heart was feeling upon seeing them together. But nevertheless, I prayed for their happiness, and for their protection against evil eyes.

I wanted him, but I wanted his happiness more. My own feelings were secondary compared to what would make him happy. Sophie Khan was his happiness, and hence I was going to be a part of his marriage celebration.

I would not allow his day of celebration become a day of tragedy for me. In fact, I would accept it as a joyful occasion for myself as well... because his happiness meant a lot to me.

*

This chapter gave you a little bit of a glimpse into the lives of the extended Tariq family, and also some insight into the background of Hoor and Farhaan's story.

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