Fifteen Years Ago

There was something strongly tangible about the air. It smelt of something like rusted metal, iron that had bled through and oxidized then. There was a fire — annoyingly so that like a chalice filled to the top let itself overflow and drip down the sides with newfound rage. Around the leaves that had fallen on the lush green grass, painting it in a sea of their death, heat simmered. Humid and dry all at once, the weather was inherently not September. Sunlight blinked by and kept the stove hot for hours as a secret cool air blew. Was it a hallucination or a figment of their imagination?

Like lust and luxury, all things lustrous collapsed over the bones of their glass house. The tears and the pain washed anew, could not withstand the force. An early demise. Gifted to them, to their affections that had not blossomed enough. Death was voluntary. Demise the only virtue they had. Amongst silent eye looks and meetings of crushed palms and letters failed to have been sent over. Sparks of pain that had been carved into their fates at their own hands still flew. At night, when the stars refused to be their refuge and kept them painfully stranded from heaven — was when they realized the pain in it's fullest.

Myra's fingers twisted the cobble shaded veil in agony. It stuck between the diamonds of her rings, tearing tiny holes into it every now and then. The heart like this expensive cloth was sensitive and shattered with ease. It was left bruised. It rarely ever healed. Her lips painted carmine pinched together into a frown. The empty muscles of her brain searched for answers to questions she had long lost. Myra's phone dimmed and buzzed in the centre of her lap. The ivory of her dress contrasted the charcoal of her phone. She tapped away at the glossy cover, her fingers seldom stopping.

It had been a lousy forty eight hours since Aryan had given her the deadline. Time had chugged by slow. Almost impossible to pass. Myra had felt the curious glances of her acquaintances, perhaps wondering what had gone on behind the scenes. Aryan had vanished and she was worried — she did not want him to stay in pain because of her pressed attitude. Now, seated in the middle of a pan-asian restaurant Myra awaited his arrival. Her fingers crossed under the gauze of her veil, hoping he would show up. Aryan was fifteen minutes late, and her friends reminded her that he might have stood her up.

He's not like that, she had told them in the man's defense. Her tone guarded and cold.

How much do you know him? They had reiterated. Tearing her heart into pieces more than one.

Sipping the cold water once more, her nerves frazzled under the façade of her prepped skin. The thrumming of her heart reached the ends of her hair, her irises dimmed in pain and goosebumps erupted all across her being. Myra felt trapped inside the world she had woven for herself. Despite the dreams of sweet love, and fairytales ; Myra had built herself a nightmare. She were the ravenous beast and Aryan the damsel in distress. Tapping away at the linoleum table cloth and twisting the life out of her red napkin she counted down to ten. If he came — well and good. If he didn't, she would walk away and erase herself from his life — as he had asked — as she deserved.

"Ahem!"

The sounds of a forced cough brought Myra out of her tyrannical thoughts. Blinking back into reality she stood up from her chair with a step too harsh, dropping her water all over her shirt. Using the stained napkin to wipe it off, whilst he stood in silence, observing her from underneath his hooded eyes.

"I'm sorry — sorry I'm just all over the place." She stuttered.

Aryan chuckled at that, shaking his head, helping her sit back in place. His hands lingered for a moment more on top of her seat, before drifted into place in front of her. On the edge of his tongue he could taste her anxiousness.

"Quite understandable." He smiled tightly, "I apologize for being late."

"No worries. I deserved that adrenaline rush after what I put you through." Myra shook her head.

"No. My mother raised me better. There was just a family emergency that I had to deal with."

Myra nodded her head, smothering the compound butter on the piece of bread served complementary on arrival. It was still warm and bits of rosemary lingered on the tip of her tongue as she swallowed. Watching Aryan take small bites and then savor the flavors of it all tingled her senses. Underneath the table she wiped her sweaty palms against the front of her dress. His eyes would reflect the taste, it's many dimensions as he felt them turned the irises different colors on the same spectrum. Engrossed in his bites, she let her eyes roam over his toned shoulders and fingers covered in metallic rings.

"Staring is an unacceptable value."

Aryan grinned in reply, washing down the buttered bread with water. Inching closer to the maroon embossed menu card he let his eyes roam over the options in cursive lettering. He knew what was up with her. It was apparent the affect he had on her. Her soft shudders, and the way she watched his every move — Myra did not do well to hide her feelings. Yet being emotionless and hiding what he felt was the first trick nature beat into him as a child.

"Sorry." Myra smiled sheepishly, tucking her hair with an impish look.

"For what?"

"For everything I've done and said Aryan. I apologize, my parents did not raise me to be this bitter. I'm sorry."

"It's alright. I can't stay long though, I need to leave." He spoke in a rushed voice, throwing a few notes on the table as he ran out.

"Wait where are you going?" Myra inquired, walking briskly behind him.

"Hospital. My younger brother — he had a nervous breakdown."

"Ayaan? Why?"

"This is a personal matter. I need to go be with my family." He replied.

"Take me with you!" Myra added in an authoritative tone, softening slightly, "please? Let me help you."

📜

That was the beginning of their tale. In the middle of the white, pale corridors on top of the plastic chairs as they sipped watery coffee out of the styrofoam cups. Her hands on his, reassuring his parents in her own manner, by presenting his brother with a glittery get well soon card and letting him weep on her shoulders. Amidst the long days of autumn and the riverine evenings of the onslaught of winter, their animosity had dwindled down. Dying like a bright flame it gave birth to a phoenix — their affections unstoppable for each other. The red apples of their cheeks and the stolen touches of their hands in the library. Or the way they were constantly hand in hand during their recess and lectures.

Myra had become Aryan's heart.
Aryan had become Myra's joy.
There was not much to add in their perfect fairytale. Their parents had agreed without a hitch and the bands on their ring finger's indicated the place they held in each other's life. Jumping from being at each others throat to a relationship of love— it was two extremities, and everyone around them adored it. Blanching their hands in the passion of their hearts as they held them with sheer strength, the two were adamant to pass this year with highest marks.

"You're living the life Myra. Hot fiancé and top notch grades. What more can a woman ask for?" Tara spoke.

Myra punched her on the back of her upper arm, the giant diamond of her engagement ring dragging down her bare arm. Tara groaned, pushing it away, massaging her skin. The thin earrings dangled around her ear, Myra's arm carelessly thrown around the top of her best friends shoulders as they walked further into the library. The meshed material of her cropped top raised a few millimeters, her skin spotless at the soft curve of her waist.

"Zaida bako nahi!" She rolled her eyes in annoyance.
[Don't speak much!]

"Don't be upset Myra. You are lucky. Aryan is everyone's dream prince!" She sighed, her eyes hazy with thoughts.

"Unfortunately he is mine so don't even think about it!"

Dragging her fingers along the spines of the leather bound books, Myra's long nails dug into each one as she read over the titles. Searching for a book to base her thesis on was proving easier said than done. Outside the sun set behind the papaya tree, casting long shadows into the room lined with rows of shelves larger than the tallest student. Blind corners muddled into one precipitate as the clouds— charcoal and muddy gathered over head. Through the large glass windows a silent opulent darkness evolved and covered the room. It felt cold. Abandoned and even with a large student population sitting on the chairs, typing away, loneliness crept up their shoulders.

Throwing her bag on top of a chair, Myra sat with a heavy sigh. Her arm smacked into the wooden table, a tiny scratch on her skin. Scratching her arm in annoyance, she flipped open her laptop. Myra's fingers danced over the keyboard with blinding speed, her head bobbing along to the words she typed away on the once white document. She could feel her fingertips burn up with a heartbeat inside of them from the constant drumming. Heat escaped from the top of them, the books flicked open as she found point after point.

"You have time for me?"

Aryan walked up behind her, Tara immediately rushing away from them. Her goggly eyes and suggestive winks would later get her a beating — for sure. Myra smiled at Aryan, his arm going around her chair and the scent of his suave cologne primed her skin for his words that would definitely set her on fire.

"How's your thesis coming along?" He enquired, tilting the laptop.

"Just fine. It's a pain to type this!" She sighed in frustration.

"Why did you take business as your masters if you suck at it?"

Aryan placed her hands out of reach, typing away the facts he had memorized at a young age. Within a few minutes he had typed lines longer than she had in thirty minutes. He beamed as he saw the smile on her face dim by the minute, shocked at his mental capabilities.

"Why do you look so stunned?" He teased.

"Im surprised that you remembered all this. Mujh sai tou nahi hota!" She whined.
[I can't do this!]

"It's okay Myra. I'll help you out."

"Mera poora thesis likh do?" She beamed.
[Write my complete thesis?]

"Never!"

📜

Present Day.

"Wow! I always thought mama was the smarter one!"

Usman looked from his father to mother, alarmed at the recent change of events. His tiny hands slammed across his own cheeks as he watched the two exchange a emotional eye contact.

"No no! I'm the smarter one Usman. You have betrayed me!" Aryan feigned anger.

"Dont trust him Usman. He was only better at Business studies. I topped all other classes."

Myra pinched Aryan's cheeks, brushing her hands through her younger two son's hair. Usman giggled, outraged at the sudden change of events as he once more found himself tugging between which parent to choose.

"How did you get married then? And why did Ayaan chachu fall sick?" He enquired.

"Well basically there was a small fight—" Aryan started.

"Between who? Fights are bad!" Usman spoke.

"Yes they are. Just Alamgeer tayaabu and dada abu had a bit of a falling out. Under it's pressure Ayaan fell sick." Aryan explained.

"Oh!"

"Yes. Now sleep so I can tell you how we got married, tomorrow." Myra kissed his hair.

Their wedding, performed in tiny intervals was after all her most favorite part of their love story.

Their wedding in the next chapter.
Sorry for this short one.
Short stories are the toughest for me to type soo.
Also I apologize for the mismanagement of the updating schedule.
I've decided for my own-self, to update Kos-e-Kaza twice a week. On Monday's and Fridays.