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Wearing White Chicken Cotton Shalwar Kameez with a heavy thick brown shawl draped around his wide and broad shoulders

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Wearing White Chicken Cotton Shalwar Kameez with a heavy thick brown shawl draped around his wide and broad shoulders. His sleeves were fold upto his elbows, showing off his veiny and muscular hands. Expensive gold Rolex watch was framing his left wrist.

His black hair were slightly wet from the rain and the thick dark stumble on his face made him look more muscular and dominating. He stood at a height of six four. He was the perfect example of masculinity. He looked deliciously handsome.

For once, his emotions were quite visible on his face. He looked tensed. His eyes kept drifting to Arzoo, checking up on her. But like everytime he spare a glance at her, she sat still, lifeless like a doll. If it weren't for her blinking her eyelashes or breathing, one might mistake her dead.

Arzoo was wearing the same outfit in which she met Imran and had a conversation with him for the last time. Her eyes are mere slits and bloodshot red. Her long curly brown hair was tied in a loose bun, while a few strands of her hair was all over her face. Wiping the dry tears that frame her face.

She was surrounding by the women's of her house. Zoya, Iqra, Iram and Shafaq who were crying hysterically. Zoya kept looking at her daughter, in hope of her saying something or showing some emotion. But she sat stilled looking at the Janazah. Where her future husband, her love of the life, Imran Bakhtiyar Sheikh was.

"Aunty please, get some reaction out of her. She need to cry or she might face some trauma." Shafaq pleaded.

Running his hand through his hair, he walked out of the house. To lessen the pain that he was feeling in his heart. Leaning against a tree, he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Her image of sobbing flashed in darkness, when Imran took his last breath in her arms.

Thunder boomed, shaking the branches of nearby trees. The rain slanted sideways, splattering him with water droplets so heavy and hard they stung when they hit his skin.

He immediately opened his eyes, as a lone tear escapes his eyes, the image kept haunting his mind from time to time. He remembered that moment too well. How she had her breakdown in front of him. The colorful Arzoo lost all her colours that day. She looked so broken and torn.

"Khud Ko Sambhalo, Saqib!" Sameer says gently, putting his hand on his brother shoulder. "Warna Phir Arzoo Ko Kaun Sambhalega."

Roaming his hand through his messy hair, he asked frustratingly on the verge of another set of tears, "Kaash Khuda Ne Imran Ki Jagah Mujhe Bula Liya Hota." Tension poured off him in waves, and the set of his shoulders was visibly tighter.

"Bakwas Mat Karo." Sameer replies, anger lacing his tone. "Uska Waqt Hamare Saath Shayad Itna Hi Tha."

"I can't see Arzoo like this." He whispers, yet again glancing at her. "Kitni Toot Chuki Hai Woh."

"Dua Karo, Arzoo ke liye." Sameer stated, patting his brother back.

Seeing various men entering the room going towards Janazah, Sameer said. "Chalo Janazah Ko Leke Jaane Ka Waqt Ho Gaya Hai."

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