In the opulent world of modern-day Pakistan, Layla Malik, once the wild heiress to a political dynasty, has transformed herself into a formidable force of ambition and revenge. Her heart scarred by betrayal, she stands at the helm of her family's em...
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0 4 : s t a r r y n i g h t s
does it ever drive you crazy, just how fast the night changes.
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𝐴𝑧𝑎𝑎𝑛
HER gaze was hot like the gusts from a bonfire, but it was the unmissable softness in those cherubic lambert eyes that drew me in. There was a warm chaos that burnt in her stormy orbs. The fire in her eyes told me a story her lips never would. By the way she eyed her world, it wasn't hard to tell, she was strong, yet broken and too goddamn stubborn to admit it.
It had been a week since I met her. A week since I had been thinking of her. Every evening, lying on the grass, watching the graveyard of stars twinkle above me, I'd be reminded of her. Of the dark billowing locks of midnight black hair falling over her sun-kissed shoulders, the beguiling black eyes that trapped within them a hundred untold secrets and the gorgeous smile that haunted my memory during sleepless nights.
I wasn't sure if it was the light of the moon or darkness of the sky, but as the night descended to the sound of the chirping crickets squeaking at the white orb suspended in the midnight sky, my thoughts would squander back to the woman who had a piece of the demon in her angel-like eyes.
Shaking my thoughts off, I straightened back up, my white gardening gloves all covered with dirt and mud. Despite the dry weather, my flowers bloomed in profusion, their sweet scent perfuming the air. The bougainvillea vines drooped with orange and watermelon coloured flowers and the roses blossomed on the neatly pruned bushes. Shoving the pruners and hand spades in the gardening bag, I took one proud look at my garden. This place was my heaven, my escape, my sanctuary. The more time I spent sifting the dirt through my fingers, inspecting the buds, pulling out the weeds and inhaling the fresh scent of my labour, the more alive I felt.
Watching a tiny seed nurture life and bloom into existence was a fascinating fest. It was truly breathtaking, whimsical and stirring, just like the girl who had caught my eye that night, immaculately dressed in her shadows and black silk.
Dark long hair cascaded down her back, those thick tendrils contouring her face. Throughout the night, she had walked around with a smile on her face, but her expressions had remained schooled, cold even. She was gorgeous, with dainty feminine features; long lusty lashes and lips that were reminiscent of sweet intoxication. The sound of her heels against the wooden flooring was enough to silence a storm and quieten a dragon, but there was a subtle vulnerability to her. She might have worn her strengths and darknesses on her sleeve, but she sure as hell was damned with the heart she kept locked in a gilded cage.
I could not shake off her moonlight magic that seemed to have besieged her aura. I knew nothing about her, and yet the mystery soaking her bones intrigued me. I wanted to unravel the darkest secrets and sins that lay underneath that milky skin.
