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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Huzaifa dared not to ask a question as he settled on her dresser chair and tried solving the rubix cube he found from the side table. The woman– Ayat had been packing things for God knew whatever reason. After rolling her luggage outside of the closet and placing it over the bed, she waltzed back into the closet and brought out her clothes. The red edges in her eyes that he noticed earlier when she walked in were gone and she gave out calmness which to him was skeptical, knowing she could crack heads open. He straightened when she walked up to him, her arms folded against her chest and looked dead into his eyes but before he said something, she pushed him lightly by his back and opened the drawers and fetched the things before throwing them into a pouch.
He cleared his throat. He needed to know what she was trying to do, "Going back to Pakistan?" Her hands stopped midway zipping the pouch. She turned to him with a raised brow.
"No, I rented an apartment so moving out." She answered, glancing over at him for a split second.
"And bibi jaan?"
"She's with me so she should come." She nodded thoughtfully, bringing her belongings together.
"Are you not going to talk to her about moving out? What will you say to baba?" Her hands stopped working and she dropped next to the luggage as the thought of messing it again with the family she had had lurched forward. Her mind hazy.
"I don't know. I was never taught to deal with a family." And she couldn't blame it on herself.
It was true– it was a naked truth that she never had to deal with anyone she shared a bloodline with. Her reasons being that, one, her parents never told about the existence of a family she had beside them. Two, she didn't want to do anything with them after she realised she had a family. Knowing the existence of her father's twin, she really wanted to know about her mother's family albeit she had no knowledge of it. She could atleast say her father was a Pakistani American, she had no inklings of her mother's ethnicity and background. The woman that nurtured her was a ghost of someone else. A woman who was brought up with power raised her and in the end, she became a shell of the woman she used to be. Her mother's late night screams were maddening and deafening so much that she had to stay away from mirrors and glasses. At last, the bug inside Shakura Wajdani did eat her alive.
"Look I don't know why you're staying back and no one is asking for a reason. This house is yours as much as it is mine so I really don't understand why you're moving out. You don't have to." He sighed and placed the rubix cube on the dresser, standing up.
"I have a few matters at hand that need to be looked at. I can't do that while being around so many people. I can't risk putting you all in danger, Huzaifa," She pulled up from the bed, chasing herself to complete packing and walk towards bibi jaan's room, "Why are you here? You should have gone with your family."
"A divorced man is a bane of desi families. Nobody says anything but I'm old enough to see it in their eyes. I don't fancy family dinings anyways." Adding a duh in the end, he went away giving her space to complete her packing. Her eyes trailed to his retreating figure and watched him walk out of the doorway.
