Love Means Sacrifice

Ch. 70: Chocolate Mousse

Zahid's P.O.V.

I shot up quickly in bed, my chest heaving, beads of sweat dripping down my forehead.

My eyes fell on the clock. 3:15 AM.

I had a recurring nightmare which I got randomly. I would jump into the ocean after seeing Mehwish sinking, thrashing about trying not to drown. There would be fear flickering in her eyes as she's running out of air. I swim towards her and just as our hands are about to meet, she gets sucked back into the darkness. I would wake up drenched in sweat, trying to catch my breath, my instincts conveying to me that Mehwish had been taken away from me, that I needed to save her.

I think it was haunting me, not having been able to save her from drowning, from getting drifted away at sea. I wasn't able to protect her.

I felt around for the side table drawer handle in the dark and pulled it open, reaching inside for the small box and the small object next to it.

I grabbed them and made my way outside to the pool area, treading through the dark halls where the only sources of light in them were the casts of moonlight coming in through the windows.

With the sight of Los Angeles laying ahead, my eyes fixated on the full moon illuminating the black sky overhead. I took out a cigarette from the box and held it to my lips, lighting it with the orange pocket lighter before exhaling a cloud of smoke.

After Mehwish, I had taken to this terrible action. I was ashamed of it. I tried not to do it in front of others. Farhan and Amal didn't know, no one did really. I didn't do it often either. Mostly when I got the nightmares or when things felt extremely unbearable without Mehwish did I smoke. The idea, meaning thinking the temporary high it gave, the temporary sense of relief I would get with every puff would mute or lessen the emotional pain for a few seconds was why I was drawn to it. It didn't really work. It always came back, the pain. I don't know why I still smoked, I just did.

I took a few more drags of the cigarette before putting it out, dissatisfied. Nothing could compensate for the loss of my Mehwish and the overwhelming grief and emptiness I felt because of it.

Sanam's P.O.V.

I mindlessly stared at the full moon, sat on the windowsill with my knees pressed to my chest and my arms around them.

I felt extremely lonely. No one understood the pain of being on my own like this. Having nobody was hard. I couldn't burden Nani with my troubles and feelings. I had no one to confide in... The everyday routine would also sometimes get to me. Getting up and going to work, coming home to an empty house most of the time, eating just to get by, being occupied with household chores, etc... It was complicated though, because I was still grateful for being busy. It kept me distracted from the negative thoughts that often tried to creep into my mind. I was grateful to have a job, food on the table, and just be able to provide for myself and not rely on others. I didn't owe anything to anyone.

Was there anyone else out there looking at the moon like me? Feeling so hopeless at times like me?

On Monday, I was sitting in front of Zahid in his office above the restaurant getting ideas for the event. After I got the gist of the theme and aesthetics, we were going to visit a decorator.

"So, do you have any preferences for the color scheme?" I looked up at him.

He was staring at my face with softness in his eyes.

I continued, "We could do a combination of silver and gold metallic balloons near the stage. Maybe it can be like a frame of balloons instead of them being on string?"

Nothing.

He was still observing me.

"And music? I was thinking we could get live music. Do you have any musicians in mind? Perhaps jazz would be suitable for this type of event," I trailed off.