"Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same"
A tale where lies are woven, traps are laid and history awaits to be ignited again.
Dive into the world of the Khans, Ahmeds, and Sikander's as they rove in the dark swamps of greed, power...
"Some secrets are stronger than family" ~ Klaus Mikaelson
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𝄗𝄗𝄗𝄗♞𝄗𝄗𝄗𝄗
Life is unpredictable. It flows smoothly at one end, then a sharp turn and splash- into the fall. It's filled with lots of 'ifs' and 'buts'. Every decision you take is scrutinized, and every step you take is judged to no ends; but, maybe, that is life for us. Being in a spotlight of our own and enduring it. Sometimes there is peace, other times chaos and unfinished chapters.
Things don't always go your own way until you take the bearing. You can't sail smoothly, yet you can definitely try to sail as much as you can. After all those high tides, one does deserve to reach their destination.
For now, in the magnanimous room, slept a sailor. The soft sheer curtains were raised as slightly by the summer breeze as the balcony door was left open. The creme muslin canopy was pulled all around the four posters covering the man from the outside wonders. The rich ivory bed sheet and cushions were slightly creased due to the weight of the body and nightly movements made.
Crystal vases were placed purposely with bunches of white anemones and tiny purple dahlias in arrangements. The white, purple, and green were in harmony with the cloud gray and coconut white walls. The green moss sofas in the adjacent spacious personal parlor added more to the elegance. A huge table, Turkish plush carpet, and a shelf in one corner with lots of shiny trophies, medals, and distinctions. Photos from various times were hung on the walls while some were standing on the console tables with marble tops.
For now, the only sounds heard were of the soft breathing that signaled a deep slumber in contrast to the slightly furrowed eyebrows of our sailor. His parted lips were letting out light snores indicating his tiredness. He has rhythmic breathing- rise and fall of his broad muscled chest- while one of his arms was draped over his torso covered by the duvet.
It was a peaceful sight until it was not anymore.
In a flash, the dark, heavy curtains were pulled clear to let the dazzling summer sunlight. The whole room is illuminated with light reflections from the white and gray marble. It looked ethereal as if a piece of wonder was right there.
"God! Can someone turn the sun off please?" In his morning husky voice with a hint of annoyance lacing in between.
"No can do, Bhai!" With this said, Zunaid Rayyan Ahmed tackled his elder and only brother, Zaroon Rayyan Ahmed.
"Ugh! You shithead!" Shoving off the man-elephant as he called his younger sibling, Zaroon tried to get his much needed sleep. The cushions were so tempting.
"Ammi!" Grabbing his elder brother, with arms around and legs thrown over him, he clinged like a koala for a said 23-year-old, "Bring the swear jar!"
