She stared at the plate that was given to her by her younger mami. She was standing in the kitchen, alone. Her lashes were wet with tears. She was hit with a flashback and she realised how big of a hypocrite she was.
When she first came to Pakistan, she was fed bread and jam for almost two years. At first, she wasn't used to the food, so she would be fed a jam sandwich. After her mother's death, they still fed her.
She remembered sitting on the couch, watching her cousins come back from the dining table and then her two aunts came, realizing they forgot to feed her. So Asma handed her a dry bread with a bit of jam and left to go to bed.
Maham sat all alone on the couch, eating the dry bread and choking. She quickly drank water and stopped eating before running away to sleep on the couch of her grandmother's room with tears running down her face and her lips calling for her mom.
Maham sobbed, entering reality. The pain of being an orphan never goes away. It's permanent. Like black ink on a uniform. That dark black hole is always in her heart, giving her reminders of how she's alone and has no one to comfort her or care for her.
She kept the plate on the side and cried. She missed her mommy. She missed her daddy. She missed her parents who were only there for four years of her life. Zayan entered the kitchen for his bottled water when he froze.
Her back was turned to him but her sobs were audible. He swallowed the lump in his throat, her Adam's apple bopping. He didn't want to intrude but his arms itched to hug her. He tore his gaze away, not wanting to upset her further by announcing his presence.
He walked out, his throat drier than before. He walked upstairs and went into his room. Sighing, and running a hand through his dark hair. I should've comforted her. But what if she became uncomfortable? You didn't think that a month ago when you grabbed her wrist.
His mind was in a constant battle but he was ready to face rejection. He left the room and walked towards the stairs but when he saw her coming up the stairs, tears dried on her face and her gaze down.
When she looked up at him and met his gaze, she quickly looked away and walked up the remaining stairs and walked past him. Once again, his hand moved to her hand but he didn't pull her. She turned and looked up at him, he looked back.
Emerald against Autumn.
He once again gulped the lump in his throat and asked in a gruff voice, "Kya howa?" Tears gathered in her eyes and she burst into them. He pulled her close, letting her choose.
(What happened?)
She gripped his jacket, hiding her face in his chest as she sobbed. It felt peaceful. But it was still wrong.
"Mai nahi bhool pati unhe," She sobbed. She clutched to him, scared and wanting to savor the feeling of how a hug feels. To savor the feeling of how a shoulder to cry on feels.
(I can't forget them.)
He knew who she meant and yet asked, "kisse?" In a low whisper.
"Ammi ko. Abbu ko. Mujhe unke pass jaana hai, Zayan, mujhe unke pass rehna hai," She cried. "Woh kyun chor ke chale gaye aap logon keh pass? Itni nafrat karte hain woh mujhse?" She asked him but he had no answer.
(Mom. Dad. I want to go to them, Zayan, I want to live with them. Why did they leave me here with you people? Do they hate me this much?)
Zayan blinked the tears away at her cries, and he stayed silent. Shahnaz opened the door with the plan of getting water, but her eyes froze and widened when she saw her son's back by the stairs, him holding a girl. She couldn't see the girl. But she recognised those bangles. The bangles of her "whore" mother.
And all hell broke loose.
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𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐎𝐎𝐍 - rewritten | ✓
Romance"Zayan, you don't believe that is true, right? You know I am not that type of girl. That- It's not me in that video, Zayan, you believe me, right?" She asked, desperate as she held onto his warm hands, looking deep into his brown cold eyes. "How ca...
