She was like a butterfly in spring. Flying from one garden to the next with her face pulled in a bright smile.
He was like a lonely Eagle. Soaring through the winds at high speeds, looking for happiness.
Life threw curveball on curveball in her path...
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C ON T I N U A T I O N
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A F T E R the maulvi sahab had left the house, performing the matrimonial rites, all hell broke loose. Hoor, who was still sitting inside her bedroom, was still clueless as hell. She had no idea what had happened and why was the groom changed in the last minute. The look of anger on her mother's face and her father's short, curt sentences were a clear indication that things were not at all right.
Her father gripped her forearm, bringing her out of the room and onto the stage with force. It was not at all how she expected things to go. She had thought it would perhaps be the best day of her life, clearly she had thought wrong. Her elder brother, Ali, stood in the corner of their yard. Sporting a smug look, his smirk being the highlight of his face.
"Ammi huwa kia hai?" She asked, feeling sick at the looks the guests were giving her. "Chori aur upar sai sinazori? Wah!" Ali slow clapped his way to the front of the crowd. "Kia matlab? Ammi aap batain na! Rizwan kid-" "BAQWAS BAND KAR LARKI!" Her father slapped her.
Never in her whole life had any of her parents raised their voice at her, let alone slap her. This was all so unexpected. She was clueless. The slap cause her skin to redden instantly, the muscles still vibrating as a result of the sheer force that he had used.
"Hoor itni masoom mat ban. Sab tera sach jantay hain!" Her ammi gritted. "Likin-" Hoor was cut off. A load of pictures were thrown at her. One managing to cut her cheek slightly, causing an instant sting to buzz. The pictures fell on the floor. Laying limp on her feet. Hoor bent down, grabbing one of them up. They were pictures of her and Mustafa. All taken a few days prior. Hoor was baffled. Someone had been stalking the two, taking pictures that reflected only half the truth.
"Ammi, baba yehjhut hai," Hoor tried to defend herself. "Chup. Eik aur lafz nahi. Tumhara shohar bhi yahi sab keh chuka hai. Par aank sai sachaidekhi hai. Behtar yahi hai keh chup kar jao. Jatay jatay humaray liye mushkilat mat paida karo!" Ali joined his hands, raising them infront of her. As if asking for forgiveness. "Par bhai-" "Mein tum jaisi larki ka bhai ho hi nahi sakta!" Ali spewed venom. Not thinking how much this would hurt his beloved sister who had done nothing but support him at all times.
Her father having had enough of it all, grabbed Hoor's hand, pushing it into Mustafa's. Their hands were a total 180. Hoor's were nimble and small. The skin being soft but still slightly coarse due to all the work she did on a daily basis. Meanwhile, Mustafa had big hands with slender fingers, the fingertips calloused due to their constant use.
