||• Jageer-e-Mohabbat - جاگیرِ محبت • ||

1. **Chapter One: A Chance Encounter** موقعی ملاقات

He stood tall with a confident posture, his dirty blonde hair styled in a way that suggests effortless charm. Each strand seems to catch the light, revealing subtle hints of chocolate and mahogany hues. His piercing blue eyes were like twin sapphires, sparkling with intelligence and curiosity. They contrast beautifully against his olive skin, adding depth to his gaze.

His features were chiseled yet soft, with a strong jawline that speaks of determination and resilience. A subtle stubble graces his cheeks, giving him a rugged yet refined look.

His lips formed a firm line that hints at resolve and focus. The fullness of his lips becomes more pronounced, adding a sense of strength to his expression. Though they were not parted, the intensity in his gaze was mirrored in the subtle tension of his lips, conveying a quiet determination that speaks volumes without uttering a word.

Dressed in kameez and shalwar, the fabric draped elegantly around his form, accentuating his broad shoulders and trim physique. The rich midnight color and intricate patterns of his attire added an element of cultural sophistication to his appearance.

There was an air of mystery about him, a sense of quiet confidence that draws people in without him having to say a word. He carried himself with grace and poise, making it hard not to look at.

As the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the vast fields of swaying crops, he started striding purposefully through the verdant expanse. His silhouette cut a striking figure against the backdrop of lush greenery and golden grains, the earthy scent of soil and harvest lingering in the air.

Each step he took seemed deliberate, as if he were in tune with the rhythm of the land itself.

As he walked, his gaze swept across the fields with a mix of pride and reverence; occasionally, he would pause to inspect a particular plant or to adjust an irrigation line, his hands moving with practiced ease. His connection to the land was palpable, a deep-rooted bond forged through generations of farming tradition.

As he walked through the fields of ripening crops, the air was filled with the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers and the earthy scent of fertile soil. The rustle of leaves and the gentle swaying of plants accompanied his footsteps, creating a symphony of nature's rhythms.

Amidst this tranquil scene, his attention was suddenly drawn to a nearby mango tree, its branches heavy with luscious, golden fruit. There, perched on a sturdy limb, was a young woman with a grace and agility that captivated his gaze.

Her dark hair cascaded in loose waves around her shoulders, glinting in the dappled sunlight filtering through the foliage. Her skin, kissed by the sun, carried a warm glow, accentuating the curve of her cheekbones and the softness of her features.

With nimble fingers, she reached out to pluck a ripe mango, her movements fluid and effortless. Each motion seemed to flow with the rhythm of nature itself, as if she were in perfect harmony with the tree and its bountiful offerings.

The man stood mesmerized, his eyes tracing her every gesture with a sense of wonder and admiration. There was a raw beauty in her simplicity, a natural grace that spoke of a deep connection to the land and its gifts.

As she descended from the tree with a basket of freshly picked mangoes cradled in her arms, her eyes met his piercing gaze, her heart raced and a chill ran down her spine as she spotted him approaching. She knew him all too well - Sardar Barlas, the feudal lord's ruthless and arrogant son whose land she was trespassing on. Fear clenched at her chest, for the mango tree she was climbing belonged to him, and she had heard stories of his merciless nature towards those who crossed him.

In that moment, fear took hold, and she knew she had to flee. Dropping the basket of mangoes, she hastily made her way down the tree, her heart pounding in her chest. With a swift movement, she darted into the cover of nearby bushes, hoping to evade his notice.

As she ran, her bracelet caught on a branch and slipped from her wrist, falling to the ground with a soft clink. Unaware of the lost ornament, she focused on putting distance between herself and the imposing figure of Sardar Barlas.

Meanwhile, Sardar Barlas's eyes followed her escape with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue. Spotting the discarded bracelet on the ground, he picked it up, his thoughts lingering on the enigmatic girl who had crossed his path amidst the mango trees.

As Sardar Barlas held the bracelet in his hand, contemplating the mysterious encounter with the girl, he heard a voice call out his name. Startled, he turned around to see a young man standing nearby, his features strikingly similar to his own. However, what caught Sardar Barlas's attention were the young man's eyes, a deep shade of gray that seemed to hold a world of secrets.The same gray eye that belonged to the women he despised the most yet for the young man before him he had the utmost love.

"Barlas Lala" the young man spoke again, his voice calm yet tinged with a hint of curiosity. "What brings you to this part of the fields?"

Sardar Barlas studied the newcomer, recognizing the resemblance that marked him as family. "Orazay," he said with a nod, acknowledging his brother. "I was just... admiring the harvest. And you?"

Orazay smiled, a knowing glint in his gray eyes. "I heard from one of the workers that there was a commotion near the mango trees. It seems like something caught your attention."

Sardar Barlas glanced down at the bracelet in his hand, a silent reminder of the encounter with the girl. "It's nothing of importance," he replied casually, though his thoughts drifted back to the fleeting moment in the mango orchard.

Orazay, ever perceptive, raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? You seem unusually intrigued, Lala."

Sardar Barlas shrugged nonchalantly, masking the curiosity that stirred within him. "Perhaps. It's just a bracelet that caught my eye."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. A familiar voice called out, "Barlas Sai!"

As Sardar Barlas and Orazay turned around, they saw Rehman Buksh approaching, his figure sturdy and his demeanor carrying an air of unwavering loyalty. Rehman Buksh had been their father's most trusted confidant and loyal servant since their birth, a constant presence in their lives and the haveli.

His weathered face bore the lines of years spent in service, yet his eyes held a keen intelligence and a deep sense of devotion to the Lakhani family. As he drew closer, his expression was one of respectful acknowledgment, his gaze meeting theirs with a silent understanding that spoke volumes of the bond they shared.

"Barlas Sai, Orazay," Rehman Buksh greeted them with a nod, his voice carrying the weight of years of experience and loyalty. "Your father awaits you at the haveli. He mentioned that there is an urgent matter to discuss."

Sardar Barlas and Orazay exchanged a glance, a silent communication passing between them as they acknowledged the gravity of their father's summons. Without a word, they followed Rehman Buksh back to the haveli, yet Sardar Barlas's thoughts lingered on the mysterious girl and the bracelet she had left behind. Little did he know that this chance encounter would be just the beginning.

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Dear Readers,I wanted to take a moment to thanks  every one of you for joining me on this literary journey by reading my book. Your support and interest mean the world to me, and I hope that the words within these pages have resonated with you in meaningful ways.

If you've enjoyed the book, I would greatly appreciate it if you could take a moment to like it and leave a comment sharing your thoughts. Your feedback is invaluable to me as an author, and it helps me understand what aspects of the book resonated most with you and what I can improve upon in future works.

Thank you once again for your support and for being a part of this wonderful community of readers. Your engagement makes all the difference.Warm regards,[Liza🌹]

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