/BOOK 2 - PROPOSAL SERIES/
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Starting fresh, starting new is never easy. Not when you leave a major part of yourself back and locked in chains of the past.
Mahira comes to Mumbai - unplanned, unguided. She strives to make a life here with more wo...
A/n || If anyone wishes to see what Mahira's wearing. Here's a little reference (Source pinterest) I had imagined her more enchanting then this one though.
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Morii (Noun) The desire to capture a fleeting moment.
♡♡
🎶 Aashiyan
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Happiness has always been scarce for her. The emotion which makes one feel joy and peace all at one same time have never seemed to take a liking for Mahira, leaving her wanting, yearning more for the feel of it. Happiness never ceased in her life not for moments longer she could cherish and talk about. Even when she was back home, not alone and surrounded by people. She had to look for reasons, she searched for little happy moments in the days, pondering and remembering them at nights to have a small curve play on her lips before she gave in to sleep, before the darkness consumed her dreams, She held her little smiles as her weapon to fight what ever nightmare was coming for her.
She have been very perceiving, watchful these past years to find all those fleeting second where she could smile freely, unbothered. Everyday she did every normal thing, just like any other girl of her age would do to be happy and enjoying. May it be using her earphones to listen all of the melodies while going to and fro from her coaching, observing people in trams and trying to sketch anything from the scene, taking leisure walks on the Howrah bridge letting the cold air brush and play with her open hairs, stealing sweets from kitchen and erasing her trail before anyone could find out, Eating Golgappe after college which extra chilies or taking glances at handsome boys passing subtle smiles. She did them all to find little treasures of joy, preserving them all before the reality crashed back and made her aware of the happenings.
But it never seemed to halt for her.
Her lips always curved, eyes glinting for mini-moments but never they stayed for long.
As a young girl, her playful chuckles are now such a distant memory that some days she doubt them to be real. Her shrieks, giggles, squeals and that jingling anklet she held possession of. All felt so fresh but unreal now that she hardly laughs. She miss her younger self, the years when she was so uncaring and happy. She missed her anklets, the very one her father gifted her on her ninth birthday because she loved bells and the melodies it produced. She had snatched them away from her, all in the names of paying bills.
