AU- An old school infatuation is what occurs when Meerab and Murtasim coincidentally share the same night train from Islamabad to Karachi. Just a couple sentences and caring guestures are enough to change their route forever.
Any mature scene will...
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On Meerab's return to work, Maya's detached stance continued, using clippsed sentences and excusing herself as if spurred on by guilt. Not thinking much of it as she was so secure in her new home life, Meerab brushed it off, the hours passed like a whimsical blur between students and teaching them about simple maths.
When a knock sounded on her classroom door just 15 minutes before the school day ending, the children all fell hush as if for a new revered guest.
Meerab supposed that maybe her husband had come to pay a surprise visit, to settle into the seat of a student to tease her, gazing at her whilst experiencing perpetual incandescent affection. Her hand twist the cool handle with both hope and excitement, pushing with a gentle smile gracing her face, bracing herself for Murtasim; a part of her silently yearned for him. Opening, with each inch, she unveiled someone burlier than expected. With broad shoulders, a taller formidable figure greeted her. Her sight darted upwards with surprise, finding a wide temple with thick eyebrows; the face of her father looked back at her.
Meerab's heart lurched, air suddenly stolen from her lungs at the sight of her baba after months of separation. Her mouth produced a sound that she had not said in so long that it felt novel, whimpering a chocked, ''Baba?''
''Meerab,'' he replied, even softer as if the glass tableau would shatter on noise, the entire class of children wonder-stuck and confused.
Her heart sank out of her body, all repressed hate, guilt and love confounded in a messy turmoil until she tumbled backwards, one uncertain step and then another until she lost her balance, her buttocks making harsh contact with the table — Meerab didn't even wince.
She was a run away bride, now found.
Stupor hazed her senses, fear coursed through her veins.
''Beti,'' he bemoaned, hand coming out as if in sheer disbelief of a reunion after months of hopeless separation and searching, unsure of what state she would be in — the newspaper trick had bought an insider forward, lighting a flickering lantern of hope that guided him south, all that way down to a city that wasn't even on his radar. (My daughter.)
Meerab trembled, ghostly pale from shock, ''aap yahan?'' Her hand, vacant, fumbled in the air, searching for an escape route whilst her entire class watched the show, coming face to face with her baba in almost the exact same way as the wretched nightmare. Where was Murtasim to hug the fear away this time? (What are you doing here?)
Tired, Waqas wore a structured navy blazer, the collars of his shirt errantly unbuttoned as if sleepless. ''Yeh sawal tumko poochna chahiye,'' he gritted out, entering the class and feeling exactly 16 pairs of eyes on him as he drew closer, investigating her face to see if she was hurt, but she was in pristine condition. The dress was luxurious and clean and fit her like a perfect glove; there was no tell tale sign of poverty or hardship, of hunger, briefly exhaling with one worry out the way. (I should be the one asking you.)
