AASHIQUI : chain bhi..dard bhi

Chapter-1

AASHIQUI

FAISAL

AGE: 15

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"Idhar aa, you little shit."

I haven't been a little shit since the seventh grade. Not that he would know.

Brushing him off, I walk the five steps down the tiny, narrow hallway leading to my bedroom. I'm twisting the doorknob when a glass bottle hits my back.

It's empty. Always fucking empty. Because Murad Sheikh would never waste a drop of booze.

Seeing red, I turn around and grab him by his dirty shirt. "You're drunk, DAD"

"And you're worthless." He swings his fist, but his coordination is messed up just like his brain, so he misses and stumbles back. "Bastard."

"Only because you made me one." I smirked while saying it.

My mind flashes back to a time when my life wasn't a train wreck. Before the alcohol and drugs. Before this piece of shit House in this shithole town. Before the affair. Before the abuse. Before she left us. I should hate her for it...but I can't. Because she is my MOM.

She saw the opportunity for freedom—a chance at a life where cracked ribs, broken noses, and bruises weren't an everyday occurrence—and she took it. Even though it meant leaving her seven-year-old son behind to fend for himself.

I look into my dad's hazy, glazed-over brown eyes—eyes I inherited from him— wondering how he let himself slip so far down the rabbit hole. Once upon a time, my father was a legend. Or at least on the verge of becoming one. People said he was the next Amyt Dutta (The famous guitarist of India). Hell, some even claimed he was better. He also had a gorgeous wife who loved him and a son who looked at him like he was a hero.

Once upon a time—he had it all. And then he lost it.

I REFUSE TO MAKE THE SAME MISTAKE

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JANNAT

5 YEARS LATER

AGE: 20

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I'm downing my second bowl of Chocos when my father strides into the kitchen, patting his pockets.

"Have you seen my keys?"

I point to the island where they're in clear view. "Kitchen island k upr"

"Ah." Walking to the marble island, he grabs them. "Thanks, monkey face."

You'd think someone with his talent would have come up with a better nickname for his daughter, but alas, I'm stuck with it.

According to him, when I was born, I looked just like a monkey—big ears and all.

Instantly, there's a sharp tug on my heart and I put down my spoon. Unfortunately, it was the only positive memory associated with my birth

for him, given my mom—his soul mate—died minutes later.

"Do you know where my—"

"Fridge k paas" I tell him, pointing to the notebook he placed on the counter next to the fridge.

Relief washes over his face. "Thanks. Tumhe pata hai, I have a meeting with Black Lung today."

That gets my attention. "Black Lung? Vo famous Music Band from Kolkata" I stifle the laugh working its way up my throat, because my dad definitely doesn't fit Black Lung's fan base. "Aren't you a little...you know."