WrongSufferedAtHands

Veils Of Illusions

The early winter's coldest day has just passed. Clouds covered the sky, and brisk winds were blowing. There was a - zero degree drop in temperature, and she was the only one not shivering in the cold. Afiyah was dragging her shawl over her shoulders while listening to Zoya's chuckles.

She studied Zoya in the mirror, who was giggling with her caretaker as the latter fed her and cracked jokes.

"Be more careful with her; I'll be gone for a longer amount of time today." She called attention, using a mild, calm voice.

"Mama, don't worry; your daughter is mature enough to care for herself." As she gave Afiyah a hug, Zoya laughed.

"I know, and I'm proud of you." She caressed her golden brown hair, "Take care."

Before leaving her room, Afiyah cast one more glance at Zoya, who returned her grin. The servants greeted her and bent down to bow to her; she returned the gesture.

The dirt was damp where she set her foot, but that didn't stop her from advancing ahead; she was encircled by guards, and as her gaze landed on the three men waiting alongside her car, she swallowed dryly.

He was exactly the same as he had been the day before: chin held high, gaze fixed directly in front of him, hands crossed behind his back. Like yesterday, his uniform was perfectly ironed, and the grey light from the sky glistened on his brown skin.

She gave him a fleeting glance as she headed to her car, then her gaze shifted away from him as she sat down.

She felt her hands quivering under her shawl and realized she hadn't breathed in a while. She then let out a breath she had been holding for some time.

She observed his leap on the car's trunk and his face poker from the side mirror of the car.

How does he maintain a straight face while she's around?

How come he didn't flinch when he first saw her?

She had concerns, but she decided not to address them because she was still trying to convince herself that it was the same Hassan she had fallen in love with seven years before and who had pledged to love her until the day they died.

She was, however, in front of Hassan as a total stranger.

"You've now had three, will you please stop?"

She was woken out of her reverie when the voice surged into the room. She gave a half-smile, drew in the smoke, and then let it out to let it dissipate into the air as she let the tip linger in her mouth.

She was hazed by the tobacco odor that permeated the space.

"They claim it helps in the erasure of memories from the brain." Her tone flattened as she chuckled in part.

"It is capable of killing." Bushra said in a commanding manner, but it didn't deter Afiyah from taking another drag.

"Then I'll claim that smoking killed me rather than presuming that my lover murdered me by breaking back into my ideal existence once more." Ashes fell into the ashtray as she watched.

"I don't even think what you said is true. You ought to speak with him. Talk to him once; he wasn't that cruel." In order to keep others outside from hearing them, Bushra spoke while hunching closer to her.

"Talking to him at this time is pointless. He isn't the Hassan I used to meet in the gazebo in the dead of the night. His persona has altered; he is now bold. He exudes pride and arrogance if you pay careful attention to him. He doesn't even look me in the eye, as if I am nothing more than a monarch."

Bushra breathed in, "You two certainly need to talk and work out these misunderstandings. Or else you two will be annihilated."

"What would occur if we spoke? He is a Military officer who serves as my escort, and I am a married mother of one who is behind him so that he may shield me from gunshots." Her scowl deepened as her voice grew a little louder.