Pendulum

Nineteen

Noor

He hardly thought of her anymore.

Of course, the memories still squeezed at his heart every now and then, but he found himself thinking about a young woman with hair as dark as the night. He lost himself in thoughts of running his fingers through the shiny curls as she lounged on his lap, her arms wrapped around his waist—he yearned to silence her incessant need to question everything with soft kisses, to feel her shiver with the intensity of their kisses before watching her break into a smile that was meant just for him.

He looked at their hands, linked together, before letting his eyes travel up to rest on her radiant face framed by beautifully wild locks that blocked the light—she didn't need the sunlight, she was lit from within. Her face was smooth, almost devoid of emotion, but he caught the mix of misery and something else in her eyes that he refused to accept in the event his hopes just got stronger.

She started stroking the back of his hand with her thumb, and his attention went back to their hands.

"So, she came to the mandir?"

He stiffened. "She did." She never stopped the strokes on his skin, it was as if she knew he needed the comfort to tell her as much as he could—she was silently telling him that she had no intentions of pushing him for more. She was waiting. "I knew she would come, I knew she loved me back. We were going to get married that day."

"Did you get married?'

He matched her gaze, his filled with agony and hers with warmth before he shook his head. Her eyes grew wide before she opened her mouth, ready to throw her next enquiry at him—she stopped herself by biting her bottom lip. He was close to reaching out, to tug her lip free from her teeth and brush his thumb over the sore spot, but he kept his free hand clenched at his side. "As much as I would love to tell you, I cannot do that, not if I want you taken from me forever."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Firdaus

"Why not?" I demanded.

He smiled, tilting his head to take a long look at me.

"It never ends well, Firdaus."

His voice broke, and my eyes flitted to his in panic. He was hurting, he was trusting me with this pain—his eyes deepened into cerulean as they filled with tears. I lifted my hands up to brush the tears that hadn't escaped his eyes, trembling as he shut them, letting the tears fall freely. "I'm sorry," I whispered. He was silent for a few excruciating seconds, before lifting his arms towards me—he let his arms linger in the air for some time, unsure if he could touch me. This was my fault. I had forced him to rip open a part of his heart that had been hurting for the longest time possible. I had been selfish.

Before I could comprehend whatever I was doing, I found myself reaching for his arms, wrapping them around my waist—the moment he felt my warm body in place of cool air, they clenched tighter around me, allowing him to press his face against my stomach and take in a deep breath. My throat went dry, my intentions were to comfort him but this was a completely foreign concept to me. I was always the one who was seeking solace in a family member. What did one do to comfort someone in such torment and misery? I decided to follow my instincts and buried my fingers in his hair, making soft strokes through his curls as he wept quietly.

"I want you to know everything there is to know, but it cannot come from me. You'd have to find out yourself," he explained, his voice muffled against the material of my kurta. I nodded, staring at the wall ahead to give him some time to gain his composure. He looked up at me and I waited for him to detach himself from me, but his gaze bored into mine, an absurd softness melting his eyes. I frowned, unsure what this meant. Perhaps he realised I would never be his Mehr. Could this be the moment he decided to let me go?

He loosened his hold on me, and I slipped, landing on his lap. I began to apologise, moving to shift myself from him, but his arms wrapped around me and tugged me closer. "Noor, what—" His lips were inches from mine and the memory of our first kiss flashed in my mind. This was wrong, this wasn't what I was supposed to be doing—his arms around me shouldn't feel at ease holding my body against his, I shouldn't be holding my breath in anticipation as he moved closer, I couldn't possibly want his lips on mine.

I shut my eyes, trying to shake myself awake from this trance-like feeling I was experiencing whenever I caught him moving towards me. I had to place my hands on his chest and push myself off him, but his lips touched the skin behind my ears and I heard a gasp escape my lips. He trailed his nose down my neck and I shivered-he chuckled before planting a kiss on my collarbone.

"Noor, please stop," I begged.

"I don't think I want to."