Faajal took a step forward and detected a face a few feet away, beaming. A deliberate smile played on his lips. Golden aura radiated from his body in gentle currents, his sharp contours fluorescing. He treaded near, the clink of his heels pulsing louder until he paused close to her. The staff smiled and left. Her molten brown orbs twined with his rich blue ones. Unspoken emotions and ensconced secrets channelled into the invisible cord.

Faajal pricked the silence. "Janamdin Mubarak ho." Her voice was barely above a whisper. [Happy Birthday.]

He leaned closer to her ear. The ridges of his feather-soft lips fricked against her ear. "Shukriya," [Thanks]

He faced her again. They entered her room and shut the door. Yusuf reclined on the chair of the dressing table. Faajal crouched behind his nape. Their reflections glowed on the bulbed vanity. Yusuf constrained his smile. His brows curved. "Mera taufa kahan hain?" [Where's my gift?]

"Pehle yeh bataiye ki aap kitne saal ke huye?" Faajal continued the banter. [First, tell me, how old have you turned?]

"Hum jaise legends ki koi umar nahi hoti." Yusuf flipped the shock of hair on between his brows. [Legends like me don't age.]

Faajal smickered. Her hands looped around his neck as she loomed against his back. The crown of his head now leaned on her chest. "Weren't you shooting in Pune? The director let you come this far during lunch break?" Faajal questioned.

"Well, I took half day off." Yusuf's thumb drew small circles on the back of Faajal's palm. "I am the birthday boy after all."

"You drove all the way from Pune to see me?" Faajal murmured. Her eyes dilated.

"I actually came here for the gift." He jeered and petted her knuckles. The aroma of jasmine cologne imbued her senses. "So, tell me, mehbooba," His look lifted to her. "The whole world is hustling to gift Rajan Saxena. What have you got?"

"This present isn't for the Blue-eyed Halley's comet of Indian Cinema. It's for my rangrez." She brought the box to the dressing table and tugged the lace on top. The lid of the box uncoiled and a small vial glared inside. Intricate golden patterns blazed on an azure background on the label of the cologne. Rays kindled the number 4711 on the label.

Yusuf didn't pick it at first glance. He cupped the paper lotus beside the vial and plucked the piece of paper stowed in the centre. "Hain tu jahan ka moutjza, jis se aftaab bhi chhupe afaq ke piche. Hain tu aisa khwab, jiska taabir khud pharishte na de paye. Hain tu mera mehr-o-mah, jiski har lehja mein meri sassein basti hain."

[You are the miracle of this world, before whom even the sun hides behind the horizon. You are a dream so rare, that even angels cannot decipher its meaning. You are my sun and my moon, in every syllable of yours, my breath resides.]

He pressed the paper to his chest and exhaled. "Haye, itna mohabbat?" [Haye, this much love?]

Her left hand grazed his heart, the very heart that bore a hole within. "Aur likhti agar tu itni nakhre na karta." [Would have written more if you weren't so whiny.]

He grabbed the perfume and traced the golden patterns. A while after, he kept the vial aside and steered Faajal on his thigh. "You can gift me another thing."

Faajal furrowed. "What?"

He licked his lips. "An honest answer."

His fingertip traced the wave of her curls, a strange glitter in his pupils, as if he was drunk in a mist of euphoria. "Years came and went. Faajal and Yusuf rendered countless scripted couples, countless confessions and happy endings. But, now, I don't want to act anymore, Faajal....." His voice was like a dainty tune. The silence between them was deafening. Faajal froze, her bones shrinking cold. Blood waned in her veins. Her mind throbbed for his next words, anticipating her forecast to transpire.

"For every line we ever spoke, for every scene survived.....I want our story outlive every reel, every poster....I want us to write an ending together......." His throat worked violently. Gone was his exuberant manner. Instead, Faajal was witnessing a humanoid incarnation of paradise. He looked too pristine now. Sincerity draped his expression. "Faajal Kaur, will you be my mehbooba forever?"

The world ceased as if it held its breath. Chill crawled down her spine. Stars freckled her heart, its string began pulsing with a pearly radiance. He, Yusuf Khan Dehlavi, was asking for her hand! He was embracing her for a promise that would outlast death itself, as it is said. He wanted her to pledge their souls to a sacred bond she had been longing for ages.

Tears swelled in her sight. No word could suffice the answer to his question. Comets stroked her veins from head to toe until a million sensations flickered under her skin. Her lungs fluctuated furiously, yet she was in shortness of breath.

Pained anticipation flared in his face, as if each fleeting second was a torment. Fright glistened in his eyes, along with hope.

Faajal managed a smile, assailed. Her nails dug into his shirt. She summoned the courage. She wasn't the girl who cared for others' wrath over her own heart anymore.

"Yes." She mouthed the word, not only to him but to the universe that watched her wage for her silent love.

The strain of his expression ebbed. Hope engulfed the dread in his eyes. A drop of tear jumped from her eyelids. He kissed the spot where the tear rolled down and slurped the crystalline drop. Her lips crept to his temple and poured every bit of affection her heart cradled. Both had a fountain of elated tears on their faces now.

There they were, Yusuf and Faajal, with the whole universe on one side, and each other on the other. Tethers awaited them, yet somehow they were falling into the abyss of love, deeply and inevitably.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Faajal was dusting her nose and cheeks with powder when Chanchal knocked on the door. Night had fallen, and their dinner had been done.

"Hum anadar aajaye?" Chanchal twirled a strand of her hair. [May I come?]

Faajal gave a snicker. Chanchal frisked to her and stroked the elder's hair. "Kyu di, bara khush lag rahi ho." [What, di, you seem so happy?]

Faajal downcast her stare. Heat splattered on her neck. That moment, those words—all spiralled in her mind. Her fingers crumpled her linen maxi.

"Tell, now. I am dying of this suspense!" Chanchal hopped. Her eyes popped up. "Has Yusuf bhaiya done something again?"

Beats passed in hush. Faajal finally opened her mouth. "Chanchal...." She stared back at the younger. "He has asked for my hand."

Contrary to her typical mannerism, Chanchal didn't react. She stood transfixed by the revelation. Her jaw hung slack. Faajal could only hear the whir of her own breath.

"Chanchal," Faajal jolted the younger and was pounced upon. "When? How? Where?" Chanchal jerked her, frenzied. Her face was torn between laughter and confusion.

"He came today, to the set. There–" Faajal let her expression speak the rest.

Chanchal cast the widest smile she could afford and hugged the elder. "Oh, after so many years, di...."

Faajal returned her ardour, but her tenderness collapsed when Ravinder's chances of disapproval floated in her head. "I have to tell baba soon."

"You tell him now. He is in the study room. Poor Meher can't get her books from there tonight." Chanchal snorted.

Faajal shrieked, "Haye, Waheguru!" She didn't fear him anymore, but his coarse objections on vital matters as such fazed her. He selectively accepted her suggestions if explained properly.

"If you keep recalling Waheguru, then Yusuf bhaiya himself will be here as a groom."

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Faajal rehearsed the lines she would be uttering to Ravinder. The earlier sparks of euphoria had vanished into the probe of Ravinder's grunt. But, she wouldn't stand back this time. If her words struck true, he would have to accept, even at the cost of his opinion. To him, Yusuf was a profit. He wouldn't budge his profit. Fists formed at her sides. She should venture sooner or he would be off to bed.

She pushed the mahogany door sideways and peeped. "Baba, I need a talk with you."

Ravinder's eyes flickered to her behind a pair of crooked glasses. "Come in. What do you need again?" He griped as if the house he was living in wasn't the fruit of her labour.

Faajal stiffened her posture, her chest swelling in confidence. She dragged the chair in front and sat. "Baba," Her fingers draw lines on her wrist. When she began, her voice was solemn and grounded. The explanation proceeded. Faajal applied the best of her negotiation skills that had granted her projects of choice before.

After she finished, the air died. Stillness reigned in the atmosphere. Faajal stared at Ravinder in anticipation. Ravinder didn't twitch even a single facial muscle. His hostile eyes were glued to the ceramic-tiled floor.

"Do you realise what you are asking for?" He said.

"Yes, baba. I know the barriers and everything." She heaved a sigh. "I know we are Sikh and he is....Muslim. But faith doesn't determine a relationship. It shouldn't be a factor in a marriage, baba. Mutuality is."

"What about his prejudiced father?"

Faajal halted. Rashidul Khan Dehlavi had always been dour about their interfaith relationship. But Yusuf's resolve had overpowered his intolerance. Would the same happen this time?

"Yusuf has convinced him. Everyone is ready," Faajal lied. She couldn't afford to miss this chance for mere tentativeness. "If you agree."

Ravinder's grim stare lifted to hers. "Call Yusuf tomorrow. We will hold a discussion."

He left his seat and switched off the lights, quitting Faajal in misgiving.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

The next day, Faajal finished her shooting right on 6 pm and prepared herself for the encounter. Their discussion was arranged in Hotel Intercontinental, one of the fanciest hotels in Southeast Asia. Yusuf confirmed that he would be there on his own.

The black Rolls-Royce screeched stop before the grand entrance of Hotel Intercontinental. Faajal slithered out, cloaked in a cream coloured chiffon saree. The delicate pleats rippled like fluid pearl. Her hair fluttered like pitch-black tendrils in the salty breeze of Juhu. Ravinder fixed his shirt. Ivory lights washed the area. They penetrated through the floor-to-ceiling gateway. As soon as the gatemen recognised Faajal, their faces illuminated. She beamed at them.

When they were to take the lift, a well-tailored man walked to them. His grey hair swirled above his browline. "Who might I be meeting?" He extended his hand. Faajal shook it, flashing a cheeky smile.

"You are way more radiant off-screen, Madhu Sharma. I suppose no Bollywood gathering demands your visit here." He laughed.

"Actually, we are here for a little family event." Contrived poise exuded from Faajal.

"And, this might be your respected–"

"Father." Ravinder faked an interested smile and shook hands. "You must be–."

"Shapoorji Nadiadwala. I thought you knew me well. I am producing 'Deewar-e-Ishq'."

Ravinder awkwardly chuckled, aghast. Feroz never told either of them about this.

Faajal floundered. "That's great news, Mr Nadiadwala! We should hold a crew gathering soon."

"Of course! Now, you all enjoy your event." He bade farewell. "Sorry for the interruption."

"No, no, it was a great meet!" Faajal squeaked and entered the lift. A bell chimed in the cushioned-covered lift. The liftman greeted her with a salam. She reciprocated. The lift heightened. They were to arrive on the 10th floor.

The 10th floor appeared, and they plodded inside. A cultivated ambience welcomed them with lavish chandeliers and crafted decor. A faint piano hummed in the background. The Juhu beach glimmered behind the floor-to-ceiling in black. No distinction stood between the sky and the ocean. Ravinder had booked a private dining space for them. A waiter greeted and escorted them to the chamber. Faajal perched on a veneered chair. Her heart was close to her ears now, thrumming like a drumbeat.

"I hope he knows the time." Ravinder grimaced, fidgeting with the stem of a snifter.

"He does. It must be the traffic." Faajal wrapped the aanchal of her saree over her back.

10 minutes later, the door tilted to the side and revealed Yusuf, slicked with sweat and panting. He wore a jet black coat and a pair of navy blue jeans. "I am sorry for the delay. I had an appointment." Yusuf gave an edged laugh, unease knitting his brows.

Ravinder stayed mute. Faajal mumbled, "No, we just arrived."

"Thank lord." Yusuf huffed, his smile still remaining. He folded onto a chair and gazed at Ravinder. Even his tacit confidence seemed to falter before Ravinder's menacing presence.

Ravinder moved his tongue after 5 ailing minutes. "I heard you asked for her hand." His look still didn't connect with Yusuf's. Yusuf wriggled in his position, his tension tangible.

"You can't just come up with an idea and do it the next minute. Everything needs a plan, and so does this." Ravinder's thankless leer snapped to Yusuf now. His fingers toyed with a napkin. Silence filled the room again—cold and dreadful. Faajal, herself, felt her stomach tangle in knots.

"You must be aware of the consequences of an interfaith marriage." His tone dropped like a serpent hissing around its prey. Another pause followed.

"Uncle ji, faiths don't dictate a marriage. And it has been a decade now. Both of us are satisfied with each other's religions. Our cultures don't clash. Both of the faiths can be practised alongside, uncle ji. If different faiths are said to be a problem, they would have been years ago."

Yusuf's deduction was coherent, but his victory relied on Ravinder's response. "Baba, as I said–"

Ravinder beckoned her to pause with his palm. Faajal shut her mouth, biting back bile.

Ravinder's hands now grappled with a knife. "Religion is not the only topic." A deep breath left his chest. "A few are already aware of your health." Ravinder's brows scrunched. "If you marry her, and after that something bad happens, who will take the responsibility?"

This time, Yusuf's face stiffened. His blue eyes widened, then whisked to Faajal, who shifted on her hips. Apprehension clung to the air, scattered with glances and subtle hand motions.

Yusuf cut the silence, his voice like a blade in the plain hush. "Science has come a long way. I would not have proposed to her if I were not sure of my well-being."

Ravinder rested his elbow on the armrest. His authority wavered for a meagre second. "Let me be clear. I am a man of words. Firstly, I would be handling her professional matters." He raised a finger.

Disbelief overcast Yusuf, but Faajal implied him not to interrupt. Ravinder resumed, "Secondly, I get to negotiate with your respective directors."

A vein ticked in Faajal's wrist. A flash of rage slammed her. She wondered what he would put as the final term.

Ravinder inhaled, "Lastly, we get 25 percent of your salary." He pointed at Yusuf. Faajal stared at Ravinder, then at Yusuf. Ice gusted through her chest. Was he discussing their marriage or trading for his personal gain?

Yusuf couldn't mask his distrust anymore. Fury lustred in his eyes, his jaw tightened. His lips folded. Crimson burned his skin. A bump glided down his neck. Beats dropped. The air conditioner seemed too cold to endure now. Anticipation thumped over them.

Ravinder's hands were steepled. He observed Yusuf's contorted face like a hawk.

Yusuf slanted his chin sideways and cracked his knuckles. Anxiety and rage simmered inside Faajal. She contemplated how Yusuf must be feeling.

Yusuf inhaled sharply, his countenance dire. "Fine." His gaze lacked the usual warmth. "But, I want to clear one thing: You can not dictate either of us about our choices. I haven't given this chance to Mehboob Khan himself and will not ever give to anyone."

This struck Ravinder like lightning. Once in control, his retain weakened. He hardened his face, icier than earlier. "The wedding will happen only after the shooting of 'Deewar-e-Ishq'."

Faajal finally snapped, "Baba!" Her tone was louder than intended.

"I don't want anything to disrupt this project. We shall hold the engagement, but further steps will be taken later." Ravinder rose up from his seat. His decisive tone lashed the bliss Yusuf and Faajal were basking in.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

A week later, Farozan and Yusuf's brothers emerged at Faajal's threshold. According to Yusuf's familial ritual, a silver churi was passed down to the future daughter-in-law for engagement instead of a ring.

"To a fairy whom my donkey son doesn't even deserve." Farozan inserted the silver churi in Faajal's wrist. Faajal struggled to contain her smile, her lips throbbing from the glee dribbling inside her. Yusuf's eyes were adorned with stars, hers glowed like new moons.

When Gurbani slid a silver ring onto Yusuf's finger, his eyes welled up. He swallowed shallow breaths and glued his eyes to Faajal, who was huddled with Chanchal. Coyness birthed a rose pink on her cheeks and ears. They were knotted to one destiny, one ending now. Had 14-year-old Faajal imagined that the stranger she had met at Rehmatbagh would be her soulmate now?

After laughter and confectioneries were exchanged among the two families, Farozan led Faajal to a balcony. "Puttar, I need to tell you something."

Faajal nodded. "Yes, mummy?"

Farozan caressed Faajal's hand. "You two have begun a new life now. This life isn't easy, it isn't hard either. Obstacles come and go with time. It's your bond that's important in this life, Faajal." Farozan wore a subtle smile.

"Yusuf is rash, desperate sometimes. But he loves you like a madman. He has a pure heart, and that only belongs to you." The elder fondled the younger's chin. "Do take care of this child of mine. He is the miracle I was blessed with after many heartbreaks." Glassy studs built on her eyelids. The gloom of the night hummed like a comforting listener. "I know you are the finest girl in the world for him. I see how you love him, how you know each and every detail of him like an obedient student. Just be like this to my miracle, Faajal. I have nothing more to ask from you." The last note faded as a whisper.

Faajal tilted the corners of her lips. "Don't worry, mummy. The day I stop loving Yusuf will be the day I shall breathe my last." Her fingertips skated over the cool metal piece on her hand, rubies and sapphires twinkled in its intricate patterns.

He was hers, she was his and as long as love existed in the universe, their names would be two halves of one heartbeat.

A/N: This is a special chapter, pretty people! Make sure to vote and comment if you enjoyed the chapter.