Your heart beat-ON HOLD (imsorry)

Prologue

4 Months earlier

Dr Iman Sultan was sitting by her desk sipping the hot chai in the breezy July night .She was exhausted , every muscle of her body was strained and God she would kill for a massage right now.

She loved being a doctor but let's just admit it was a full-time job and no child's play. Being a doctor was demanding, she had to make compromises. The real test usually is when doctors have to compromise their family life, Iman didn't have to face such kind of problem. Her parents had died in a car crash when she was in 8th grade leaving her under the care of her brother , Haris.

Haris was everything a big brother should be. He protected her , loved her and looked after her when she had no one. When they were kids, Haris had been the careless one with no sense of maturity while Iman despite being seven years younger than him , appeared more mature than him. He used to say that it was only because she was a girl and girls get mentally mature before boys do. It was bullcrap, in Iman's opinion. But their parent's death scarred him permanently. Gone was the boy who was childish and immature once. The transformed Haris was responsible and reliable.

Iman was in fourth year of medical school when Haris shifted to Islamabad. He claimed that it had better prospective for a journalist. He was good at it. And Iman was proud of her brother and how far he had come. She didn't want to hold him back. The first year without him was tough. But now after 3 years, she was glad that she let him go. As he had claimed Islamabad did wonders to his career and now he was the biggie journalist she was proud of.

It been days since she had talked to him . He had been working on some report regarding the politicians. And with the upcoming elections in January , he was really busy. They didn't talk frequently but when they did, they talked for hours. It was how it was.

Iman being her usual busy self, had little and nearly zero interest in politics. She was ignorant about it , but not like Alia-bhatt type ignorant who didn't know who was running the shit show. She knew the name of Prime Minister, Presidents and people who held important ministries. But that was all she knew. Let's just say she wasn't so concerned about the opposition or other parties matter of fact-ly. Haris used to call her an ignorant fool and an unpatriotic national who didn't deserve to be in possession of green passport—that Iman rarely used, just  because she didn't know who 'Interior Minister' was. He argued that she was half as good as a traitor who ,didn't care what happened to country. She did care. She was more interested in doing her part for the betterment of the country, rather than dictating other. She wasn't responsible or should be held accountable for what the government was doing and how poorly the government was managing the country. It wasn't her headache. Her job was to caste a vote to elect the right man . And she had done her job.

When Iman and Haris , talked about politicians and her lack of interest in it, it was like they were having their own talk show. And Haris being the typical journalist and anchor person never did let her to voice her opinions. He lectured her like Arnab Goswami , not giving a damn about what she had to say. So instead of wasting her time , she used to sit there and pretend that she was listening to him and trying to understand it. But reality was far from it. She didn't give flying chicks about the politicians who were inapt and corrupt. They all were bad. And she had to chose from the lesser evil . There was no point in arguing who was eviler of the two.

Iman was busy enjoying the chai , which brought comfort and fought sleep. It was magical . Chai is something good sent to help mankind with stress and all, she thought looking at the cup as it held the 8th wonder of the world. Absent mindedly she directed her gaze towards the Tv which had a headline running on.

Iman had never payed any attention to new before. Except sometimes watching her brother's show when she missed him-but  on mute(A secret she wasnt going to confess to her brother). But not very often and only when she really missed him and yearned to see his face and hear his voice. She believed that watching news 24/7 brought depression and anxiety . She also hated it when news anchor and the guests invited on the show shouted and it got messy. It was better to avoid those banshee discussions instead of being a collateral damage in the fight which wasn't her's and getting a bad headache.

She thought of her brother as polite and soft spoken. And she wanted to keep that image in her mind.

As the words of the headline become clear, the mug released from her grasp . The mug dropped from her hand and landed on the floor with the cracking sound that echoed in the room. The chai spilled on the ground while some of it even burned her legs. She knew it was going to leave a mark; both on her white shalwar and on the skin which had been burned . But she was too shocked and too lost to care about the marks now. The pain she had felt due to the burn was thousand times less than the pain she was experiencing in her heart.

She stared at the screen finding it hard to believe. But no matter how hard she stared ; the text wasn't going to change. The text which said that "the famous journalist Haris Sultan had went missing" .

Her heart refused to believe it . She refused to believe any of it. Surely , there could be any other Haris Sultan. It wasn't her brother. Haris was a common name , it could be anyone. The fact that she didn't know much about the journalists was helping her heart's plead. A plead where it was telling her , that it was not her brother and some other journalist named Haris.

Sometimes , news reporters do make mistakes. Maybe they messed up the names. Maybe there was some other Haris. But all those maybes were short lived as the images of her brother started playing on the screen.

Iman sagged on the seat and the tears started pouring , her brother was missing, and she had no clue about it. No clue at all.

Suddenly her imperfect life had taken , such a drastic turn . Iman sat there trying to take the news in .It felt like a bad , horrid dream .She wanted to wake up from it. The stinging pain in her legs told her that it was all real. The anchor's voiced repeated in her mind like a tape. She closed her eyes to block everything out, but it was a fruitless attempt. No matter how much she tried to shield her ears by covering them with her hands, the sound still penetrated. And she kept on hearing the words repeatedly.

"The renown anchor person , Haris Sultan had went missing. He was working on..." Iman was too lost and numb.

She sat there frozen , staring at the screen ,which was displaying a slideshow of Haris pictures. Pictures, of him vacationing in Egypt , happy pictures of him , where he was smiling , while in some he was making funny faces for the camera. Iman found herself wondering when she would see that smile again. When she would feel the embrace of his arms. Had she lost him too like she had lost her parents?

Why did she keep losing family? She wanted to ask. But in the deepest corner of her heart she feared that if she acted like a thankless brat, the little she had would be taken away too. It was a tough time. She pledged to remain patient and steadfast. Because that's what Allah loved. And with patience and determination , she would eventually find her brother.
InshAllah ! a voice whispered in her head. 

She pledged herself that she wont rest until she found her brother. That she would never lose hope , both in herself and in Allah. She was going to bring her brother back , no matter what it takes. No matter what ! 

Heyyyyyyyyyyy , the song above is my personal favourite. I just love Anuv's Jain(songs ! I am talking about the songs) I suck at the asthetics so umm feel free do imagine the characters as you like...... There are going to be around 18-20 chapters including the prologue and epilogue . Comment , vote if you like takay I complete the story...( I have this bad habbit of shifting between stories. I have been some revamping "HIS Qisas to accomodate Wali's lovestory... Then I started working on other story....Phir I started writing Murtaza's story... Phir I started writing ek aur story... owfff )

I was so effing sad , so umm I thought why not make someone happy? 
Khair, take care everyone. Remember me in your prayers! Life keeps giving me lemons. Agr shauhar  bhi mujhe bura , ghusa karnay wala , dantnay wala mila na tu mainay sadmay say mar jana hai .. because when something I have been working hard for / praying for ( I dont get... I give myself this hope , "Life partner Allah asa dey ga saray dukh khatam ho jayen gay...") Zyda he bara ho gaya yeh note....
فی امان اللہ
Love Alyna ♥♥♥