"For the ones who dream of stranger worlds."
•••••••
She gazed at the golden hills and swaying flowers, lost in the view - unaware that his eyes were fixed only on her.
Catching his stare, she teased,
"Ain, aap hamari aankhon mein aise na dekha kare...
Keyword: nervousness, anticipation, heartbeat — the quiet rush before a new beginning.
••••
•||Between Heartbeats: When Fear Meets Fate||•
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Sometimes, life feels like it’s playing a game I never agreed to join. My dreams, my wishes—somewhere along the way, they became background noise. And yet, fate still finds new ways to surprise me. Like him. I didn’t even realize I was staring until my heart reminded me to look away.
He sat right there, calm and composed, while I… couldn’t even lift my eyes properly. Maybe because I’ve never been in anything remotely like this before. "Not too long ago, I still believed in fairy tales." I used to think my life would unfold like those old dramas Mama loved—until Mr. Ahmed decided to rewrite mine.
After Mama left, something in him changed. He still smiles, but it’s not the same. He looks at Inam the way he used to look at me—softly, like she’s his whole world. And maybe she is now. I tell myself I’m not jealous. Really, I’m not. It’s just… weird, you know? Watching someone else get the love you once thought was yours.
My bond with Inam has always been strong, even though she’s my step-sister. That nine-year-old carries a charm that draws people in — including me. I hold no grudge against her, nor against Mrs. Faiz. But with Mr. Ahmed… it’s different. Ever since his marriage to Amina aunty, I’ve started calling him “Mr. Ahmed,” and he doesn’t seem to mind. He once asked why I stopped calling him "Baba," but I never gave him an answer.
What could I say? That I simply don’t feel like it anymore. That the word “Baba” doesn’t carry the warmth it once did. That somewhere along the way, his love had quietly shifted away from me, leaving a silence I couldn’t fill — a silence where the name no longer fit the man before me.
About Mrs. Faiz… I don’t even know what relation we truly share. It feels more like a matter of greetings than anything else. In the beginning, my nani had asked me to call her Mama, but the word felt heavier on my tongue than I expected — not because it was hard to say, but because it was reserved for my Mama… and her alone. Amina aunty is kind and helpful, always showing gratitude, yet the warmth… the closeness, still feels missing.
And… my baba too. He is here, yet not here — close enough to touch, yet distant enough that I can’t reach him. It’s a silence between us that speaks louder than words.
After Inam was born, I started living at Nani’s place. Sometimes I go to check on Inam, and she comes to visit me too. Those moments have quietly grown into something I cherish — a small comfort in a life that often feels uncertain.
Mr. Ahmed still takes care of my financial needs, even though mamu told him he don't have to. But he insisted, softly yet firmly, "Whether Hoor believes it or not, whether she calls me Baba or not, I am her Baba, and that cannot be changed. So, I will take care of her needs, no matter where she lives. I just want her happiness." For a brief moment, I let myself believe that maybe my Baba was still there, somewhere beneath the distance between us.
