Love isn't always butterflies and pounding hearts. Love can also lie, deceive and betray.
Her way of seeing the world was a lot different from his. She was broken with open wounds, standing high on her throne and giving no damn to the world. A stron...
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"Pretend." That was all Ayat could hear before he went silent on the other side, giving her space to interpret a seven lettered word that might have no purpose in her life. She had never pretended in her life.
And after a moment of silence and when her patience grew thin, she sighed, "Pretend what?"
"Pretend that you know me." He deadpanned because he knew it was the most stupid thing he could say to her.
"I do know you." Ayat scowled.
"Don't be a pain in the back. Be ready, I'm coming, we have somewhere to be." With that and giving her no opportunity to speak, he hung up.
Knowing him, Ayat exhaled. It had only been a little over a month since he walked into his office, demanding to fix an appointment with the motive to hear something– which she hadn't asked about yet– and ended up shaking hands with her death threats. She didn't know where he had been all his life but he seemed like a friend– like someone to rely on. But who were to tell her that they would be damned if they trusted each other way too much. He had said so much yet nothing. He had told everything that was related to his life but he never uttered a word about him. He never said anything about the scar and what he went through in the past. Ayat had so much to ask. They were aware that they had questions about each other.
The shiny black lid of her piano was a sight to her eyes. It had been almost eight months since she had last played it– since she could feel the waves of sweet music hit her earbuds and let her soak in the moments of temporary ecstasy. It was only so much that she asked. A moment of silence and a moment of peace amidst all the thorny days. Her life hadn't hit it's rock bottom but she could feel it as she would every other month when one thing in her company went wrong.
The black piano with white keys and customized silver carvings reminded her of the days she spent playing it with her father– when her father would drag her out of sleep to play with him early in the morning and when her mother would bake a cinnamon cake and make a perfect English breakfast for them. Her parents were so different during weekends. They were not workaholic business people, they were just a set of parents to their daughter– to their only child. Her mother would always make sure that she spent the day with her daughter.
Ayat's throat constricted just by thinking of it. They left her as if she was never theirs, like she was no one. They left and they never returned. She wasn't sure of their return, only they weren't to return ever again. They were not in places to return. Her slender fingers found their way over the keys and pressed on to them as though they were made to play the instrument. They moved and moved, creating soothing music– music that could heal fresh wounds. A music that could slaughter a heart of stone. A music that spoke unspoken words and unknown language. A music that picked her together when she was about to fall in pieces.
Her dead love– Asher loved seeing her play the piano. He was the only one after her parents that was fond and keen of her odd passion as they called it. He would sit for hours and watch her play– watch her play until her wrist hurt and then he would place his hand over hers, massaging the spot so she could keep going with her notes. No, she wasn't in love with him anymore, she was in love with the way her days started and ended with him. She was in love with him as an echo of her perfect life— an undisturbed and untouched memory.
