Who knew being hit in the head would turn out to be an auspicious event? Not her — definitely not her. Nope. Nada. Myra had never in a hundred years imagined she would fall in love — let alone with the man whose bag had hit her in the head. Sharp. Like a rap on a thick door. A bruise left behind, and a hundred curses slipped out of her lips as she threw the bag back — unfortunately, it landed a few feet away and she instantly regretted not taking her father up on his offer of going to the gym with him. This of course, was a leap in their tale, she explained to her sons, placing her back against the headboard, her hand running through the curious creatures head.

"Mama maan hi nahi sakta keh ap aur abu itni araam sai shaadi kar bethay. Na bhai na, dil maan hi nahi sakta!" Usman shook his head.
[Mother I can not believe that you and father got married so easily. Nope, my heart can't trust this!]

"Kaha tou hai unka bag sar par laga, then he brought biryani over as an apology and I fell in love!" She explained.
[I told you his bag hit me.]

"Where is the pizzaz though?"

"Okay — okay let me start!" She shook her head.

Myra closed her eyes in peace, placing a hand over her eldest child's head, her fingers running through the thick roots as she travelled back in time. As the memories reeled inside her head, over the curves of all their trauma and pain, the distance and the sovereignty of it all. She felt the beginnings of smile lines on her soft mouth dissolve away, her heart soften up, bruises on her knees from the accident wash ashore, her skin once more spotless. In eagerness, she felt the joy fill her up like sunlight does to sunflowers. Oh how lucky she was! How she had lucked out. Thinking the perfect words over in her head, the incidents of fifteen years ago played out in her head like a movie, she the protagonist.

📜

Fifteen Years Ago.

Myra Khan. Her parents only daughter, the apple of their eyes and a successful entrepreneur in the making stepped into the grounds of the large university. Her honeycomb eyes were filled with the prospect of success that would find her as soon as she held her degree in hand. Dressed to kill, in the sweltering heat of September, silk black pants with wide bottoms and a sleeveless top with thin straps kept her from melting completely. Her skin, like spun copper and gold glinted under the sunlight, thick almost spruced up curly hair pulled into a ponytail gave a perfect glimpse at her sapphire earrings.

Gripping the maroon leather tote in her left hand, swinging it softly in the air with the sway of her hips. She was natural at that. Growing up in a home, in the heart of the city with amenities to rival that of a seven star hotel in the streets of England — Myra was privileged and she knew it. Often times, people were left stunned at the young heiresses kindness. Her father owned a chain of hospitals around the continent, with expensive hotels and restaurants too. Myra walked like a siren on the gravel path lined by creme colored stones, tiny tulips growing in bunches whilst a handful of squirrels sat on the tree tops, watching in glee as students returned once more after a few months of vacation.

Myra's head bobbed up and down, her teeth holding on to the peppermint gum. She chewed softly on it, her head bobbing up and down as the soulful voice of Sonu Nigam set the tone for her day. The Cartier bracelet hung to her round wrists clear as day as she tucked a piece of her curtains bangs behind her ear. Her heeled boots tapped against the floor as she trekked off into the vast gardens of the university, the blue and white symbol flashing at her from afar. Myra's eyes squinted, from one corner to the other, desiring the appearance of one, or more of her friends. All of whom had arrived before her — like always.

"Myra!" Her best friend shouted from behind.

Tara, a star in every way, ran towards her, bringing her curvy form into a tight hug as she did so. Myra wheezed under her breath, patting her arms in return, the sweet rose perfume flushing her cheeks, diluting her coffee scented perfume. Something about heavy tones oft considered manly was attractive to her — unlike anything else.

"Where is everyone else?"

"Off to the canteen to get some coffee. Come on let's go get a cup!" Tara jumped on her feet, holding Myra's hand in a tight grip.

"I don't feel like it!"

She spoke, falling in step with her ecstatic best friend. Bright sunlight through the papaya trees filtered to her skin, the glowing oils and sunscreen meshing into a larger affair. Sweat laced her arms, bare as the wind caused a cooling feeling on them. Myra fetched the modern sleek shades out of her tote, perching them on her straight nose, replacing the spectacles. Her lips pursed in anticipation as they neared the large cafeteria, the aroma of coffee's and the signature kebab sandwiches rumbled her full stomach.

"Kuch lein gi aap?"
[Would you like something?]

Frowning at her friends teasing tone, Myra stuck her tongue out, "rehnay do. Pichli baar ki tarah tumhari nazar sai pait kharab ho jaye ga!"
[Leave it. Just like last time thanks to your evil gaze I'll get an upset stomach!]

"Tsk! You wound me! To think I was going to give you my fudged brownies I made last night. Guess more for Aryan." Tara shrugged, emphasizing the man's name.

"Eww! Not him!"

Distaste washed Myra's face in bleach. Colored danced out of her cheeks, her eyes turning lifeless under the dark shades at the mention of her rival. The man had, been a serious problem since day one. Things had gained intensity last year when he won the student elections, forcing her to join the council as his vice and not the other way around. It of course did not help, Myra sighed, that everyone knew of her crush on him. Her bookworm friends were convinced she was the protagonist of an academic rivals to lovers novel — wherein she was already in love with her rival.

"Myra?" Tara said.

"Hmm?"

"What course did you take for this semester? I can't believe this is our last year already!" Tara sighed.

Glee inside her voice was palpable, Myra thought. All of them were excited to finally end their education and move out, to find a better life for themselves. In their second year of their masters — the last three hundred and sixty five days of them being part of an educational institution. Her shoulders cramped up with the weight of the world's expectations as she came to the realization. The glass windows of her father's office that overlooked the elite roads of MM Alam road awaited her, her steps and her words. Her own startup was taking off, but, her destiny lay in her father's established office.

"Law. Business law — that was one of the electives I lack for my graduation ." Myra explained.

"Oh! Isn't Aryan the teacher's assistant this year for it? Ah! How romantic!" Tara cooed.

"Bakwas band karo!"
[Shut up!]

The blazing fiery orbs rolled in disappointment as they stepped over the marble stairs into the canteen. She sighed in peace as the chilly air from the chillers melted against her sweaty skin, calming her nerves down in an instant. Pushing the glasses above her forehead, white ceilings lights inside the two story space kept the cafeteria illuminated well. A bespoke arrangement of motivating quotes painted on to the large walls along with a fair share of advertisements added the pop of color necessary. The rest of the white tables and chairs washed out against their bright oranges and blues.

Myra waved to their friend circle, throwing her bag on top of the table the occupied. Sliding into a chair, her back pressed against the rest she tapped her fingers on top of the faux wooden desk. Legs crossed and a grin perked up on her drowsy face Myra hid well the signs of fatigue and sleeplessness. Every now and then, she hummed in response, her eyes looking at the day's menu. The curve of her brows met as she squinted at the digital board, murmuring incoherent words under her breath.

"Hey Myra where you lost babe?" Sandal tapped her hand.

"In her TA's thoughts!" Tara spoke in a sing song voice.

"TA? Who is it?" Abeer inquired with enthusiasm.

"Guess!"

"Aryan?" The two spoke in unison.

"Bingo!"

"I swear to God ab agar uska naam liya na tou eik eik sab keh mun par laga dun gi mein." Myra said after an interval of silence.
[If you take his name now then I'll give a slap to each of you.]

Ripping her bag open, she fished out the leather wallet. Crisp notes kept the wallet from closing properly. Smiling softly, whistling under her breath she procured a few red notes. Pressing her hands over the table, Myra walked towards the stand. Behind the glass barriers in hygienic conditions the men and women prepared food and drink alike. Tapping her lower lip with the tip of her coffin shaped nails she contemplated what to get. An ache in her lower stomach spread to her back, a dense coldness itched her veins. Myra slid her hand over the cold counter, ordering a glass of icy lemonade, her favorite in the summer weather.

"Myra!"

Tara's loud scream gripped her attention. Myra turned on her heel, frowning at her friends, resting her hands over her waist. The curve of her hip jut out against the counter, the corner of her gaze fixated at the man as he poured shredded ice into a cup. She mouthed a  'what?', almost losing her patience with their snickering and raunchy motions. No one, would believe that her friends and she herself were above twenty four. Her cheeks turned red as they pointed to the man in the red polo shirt screaming gayly with his friends. Dust tickled her nose as the doors opened once more ; a sneeze escaping her lips. Myra's eyes closed on their own accord, hiding her nose in the crook of her elbow. And in a sudden moment as she looked up, a dark charcoal bag smacked her on the forehead.

"Ah!"

She groaned in pain, her lemonade forgotten as she threw the bag in her crush's direction, frowning as it feel two steps in front of her. Target not acquired.

"I'm sorry miss Khan! Extremely sorry. This was meant to hit Wahab but he ducked at the last moment!"

Aryan ran over to her, apologizing with his heart beating fast. He hoped, she would not press charges, the stamp on his pristine applications would be cause of worry and alarm for his parents.

"Rakha kia huwa hai iss mein?" She groaned, massaging her skin, ignoring the way the musky cologne sparked her skin.
[What have you kept inside this?]

"My metal lunch box and water bottle amongst a few things." He replied sheepishly.

"I —"

"I'm sorry miss Khan. I didn't intend to hurt you, like I said. I hope you won't report this to the dean."

"Khudgarz aadmi! Mera chakkar sai bura haal ho raha hai aur ap ko report ki pari hai!" She snapped, rubbing her nose bridge.
[Selfish man! This dizziness is making me feel sick and all you can think of is a report!]

"I'm— sorry." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yes we acknowledged that, I think."

"Gosh Myra you okay?" Tara intervened.

"Yeah I'm alright. I think I need to sit before I faint!" She sighed.

"Do you want me to call the doctor?" Aryan questioned.

"Rehnay dein."
[Please don't.]

📜

"Wow mama! Why did you give abu a chance?" Usman inquired.

"I'll tell you the rest tomorrow okay?"

"'Kay! Goodnight mama!"

Kissing her cheeks the young child ran out of their bedroom, leaving her alone to her own thoughts, her husband already snoring under the bedsheets.

Thoughts.
Thoughts.
Thoughtssssss.