Sisters torn apart by the fragility of the heart, how can love possibly hurt so much?
Hana Junaid decided two years ago, distance would make her younger sister Hanaan more independent but Hanaan's love and yearning for Hana during this time has drow...
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My heart is a sea in this moment and the tides are crashing hard. Hana Junaid has always been an innocent, naïve, self-righteous, considerate girl in her life. Well everyone has a turning point.
"Do we know you?" Faria's look is pointed.
Zimal scrutinizes Waheed, fitting a whole tart in her mouth.
His gaze flits between them both before he adjusts his tie. I see. He lacks his confidence. He is the guy Yahya described him to be, decent, middle class, focused student who is now trying to be what he is not really with a motive not ferocious enough. All the better. It makes him an easier prey for my performance tonight.
"I am surprised Hana did not tell you about me, I am a very close friend of hers. Waheed Qayser. In fact, we've been more than friends really." His eyes are trained on me and I could scorch him with my own but I exchange confused glances with my friends for the show.
"Never heard that name," I lie.
He smiles affectionately. "Don't be shy, Hana."
Zimal flicks back her long hair. "She does not know you, mister. You can leave her alone now." Faria does not pick up her spoon to finish the trifle.
"But I do know Hana." He takes a sip from his steaming styrofoam cup. "We've been talking for a really long time now, three or four months?"
I give no reaction.
Faria asks, "How exactly have you been talking to her?"
"— I told you your barbies ain't loyal—"
"Instagram, of course though I would have preferred—"
Faria cuts him, "Hana does not use Instagram."
"You've been played with, mister," Zimal adds. "Or you're making this up to get her attention."
The confidence in his eyes wavers again, I see it flickering like a candle flame. I impress myself with the way I am able to see the shift of expressions on his face, I have never been one who was quick to judge and recognize the true character of people from their very first impression, Nashwa does not bother doing it at all, everyone's fake in her eyes while my Dadi always sees the heart for what it truly is the moment she sees a person. But perhaps, luck is on my side today. My posture straightens in the hope of this.
His eyes flash dangerously on me, like a threat, are you really going to do this?
I let my brows knit together. "Instagram? By my name? Does it also have my pictures?"
At this his jaw ticks. He shifts from one foot to another and sips on his coffee, his eyes narrowing behind the cup on me. He's beginning to doubt himself, excellent.
"It is how I recognized you." He stuffs his free hand into his pocket. "And it is genuine, you really can't call it a fake account, Hana. Maybe I approached you at the wrong time with the wrong company, we can start over if you—"
