Romanza In Rome

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• Lilah •

Hysteria gripped her senses as soon as she had gotten that fateful phone call, three days ago. Just back home from the opera, dancing lazily in the lounge of her apartment she stumbled across the soft carpets. She wasn't drunk from any alcohol but her heart was drunk with the afterglow of love. Was it that? Was she in love? She had looked at herself in the mirror, her gaze zeroing in on the many novels littered on her bed. No. Her eyes did not glow, nor was her skin radiant. Her hair was as it usually was and her fingers had not turned red from holding on to the edge of her dress in a frenzy. So she wasn't in love, she concluded. There was however, something electric in the air, grappling the edges of her nails.

Before Lilah could further question herself about the night, interrogate and cut through each minute meticulously inside her mind, pouring it out on to her fuzzy pink journal she had carried since her teenage years, her phone buzzed. Her mother was calling. It was late, Lilah knew, and instant fear fought it's way to the top of her head. Thoughts that were covered in black, dusted with shadows and spider webs crawled their way to her eyes, tears already filling the khol lined eyes as she placed the phone next to her ear. All hell broke loose in the second after that.

Frantically, Lilah had torn her dress off of herself. Crying, as the earrings cut the the skin of her neck, leaving a tender pink bruise. She threw off her fancy jewelry and immediately dressed into her comfortable grey sweatsuit. The luggage was thrown open, and anything that touched her finger was thrown inside. Lilah was hysterical as her head began to pound, her jaw clenched she flexed her fingers to feel better. Her flight was in forty minutes, her mother had told her, she needed to leave right this instant. Lumiere was waiting for her outside, her family was waiting for her in Lahore.

Her phone had died in the midst of all this drama, her mind too occupied to even think of the man waiting for a reply to his texts and calls. With tear stained cheeks, an aching heart and severe headache she found herself in the middle of international flight security lines. Her bag was booked, the sunglasses shielded her view from the blinding white flood lights in the airport. The thick fuzzy ear muffs kept the noises at a minimum. Fiddling with the cover of her ipad, Lilah struggled to find her e-ticket, emailed to her by Arham. It was her first time flying alone, to say that she was scared, would be an understatement.

The ugly looks passed to her by the receptionist as she formed muffled half sentences made her guilty. With shaky fingers, her eyes trained on the mismatched socks she had pulled on in a frenzy, Lilah entered the first class lounge, seating for the passengers beginning already. The line was ever growing as men, in their early fifties and sixties pushed to the front, competent young assistants behind them, reciting their schedules. Hiccups escaped her mouth, nervousness crippling her new found confidence as she stepped over the threshold of the airplane, passing a wobbly smile to the flight attendant.

The strength inside her legs wavered as the plane stopped at the Dubai international airport for the connecting flight, fear settling inside her as she ran from one terminal to the next, holding on to the ripping seams of her rationality. Her lungs burnt as if they had been set on fire, eyes swollen with fatigue weighting them down. Each step towards the flight to Lahore, was a war. All she wanted was to collapse on the cold marble floors of the airport, heave and sigh. The past few hours had been nothing but a whirlwind. A blur. Moments had fallen into place with each second as she moved farther from her home away from home. The throbbing of her temples seemed to never stop, even as the kind air hostess served a glass of cool water, the burning of her cheeks alarming everyone.

That night had been the hardest on her. All alone, inside the plane, seated on the camel colored leather seats, her fingers gripping the glossy wooden armrest tightly. The flight would be short, for everyone else, but with the stares that lingered on her, the laughter that ruffled through the flight as the sons of rich Pakistani men sat behind her, alarmed her senses. The seat beside her was occupied by a man unknown to her, she had caught his eyes on herself more than once leaving her with no option but to squeeze herself smaller, and smaller by the second.