Urooj (Pakistani Short Stories)

Raqs |VI| Last

Hadeed's eyes traced the curve of her body in the moonlight. There was the sound of wind, and jewelry ringing in his ears. Her hair wasn't bound in that braid of hers, but rather flowing wildly about.

Five months of watching her. Day in and out. Of loving her and being loved by her. Of seeing her the way an artist saw a muse.

Her feet seemed to know something even she didn't. He could tell they moved of their own accord because right after a particular move, she'd smile, her eyes closed, a peaceful smile expression  on her face.

The rise and fall of her hips to the music. The synchronization with her arms, her hands, her chest heaving with breathing.

She was enchanting to look at. Mesmerizing.

He stepped closer than he usually did. Holding onto the white  curtains. He wanted to hold her. To draw her. To kiss her.

He hadn't known she could dance. Not like this. Not like she belonged in another world.

The curtain rod came crashing down and she startled. Her face growing with horror as she covered her mouth to bite back a scream.

"Who-who is it?" She shakily called out, pausing the music.

He cursed, biting his lip. He couldn't have her scared. Stepping forward into the courtyard's light, he paused.

"You?" She was shocked, disdain etched over her every feature. "Aap yahan?"

"I'm sorry."

"Oh my god!" She suddenly said, her face coloring red. "You saw!"

"Sunehri it was beau-!"

She had already begun to gather her things as she rushed past him and he followed hot on her heels.

It was right before she could lock herself in the bathroom that he grabbed her hand.

"What are you so afraid of?"

Her eyes were betrayed. Angry.

"You shouldn't have! How long have you been—!"

"Since the first night." He breathlessly answered. Her cheek were pink and blushing. Her kajol smudged.

He carresssed her face, touching his forehead to hers. "I loved it. Each part of it. Each part of you."

His words washed over her like a calm. She stopped shaking, her eyes heavy on his.

"The way you move, the smile on your face. The happiness. How I wish I was an artist so that I could paint you."

"You don't wish I didn't? You're not upset?"

Her voice was hopeful. Quiet.

He groaned. "Darling, I'm so prepossessed by you. Don't you know how beautiful and talented you are?"

"It's embarrasing. It's not really a talent."

"Oh but it is." He whispered. He was intoxicated at this point. "You dance like no one I've seen before. Effortlessly, like you're in the air."

She looked at him with more clarity. "You're not mad your wife dances."

"I'm mad she doesn't dance for me."

His voice had gotten deeper, more pained. She moved back.

"Mein tawaif nahi hoon."

He stepped forward. Eyes flashing. "Meine kab aisa kaha?"

"Mein kisi k liye nahi nachti."

"Lekin mein koi aur nahi, tumhara shohar hoon."

"Aap mujhe meri ijazat k baghair dekh rahe thay." She pointed.

"I was. I did." Another step forward. "God, Nehri, why won't you dance like that for me, hmm?" He pulled her into his arm, his head dipping into her neck.

"I dance for myself."

"I should have known. The way your hips moved when we—fuck!" She had quieted his mouth with hers, and he was in heaven.

Her pushed her backwards as fast as he could and into the bed, never breaking the kiss. His hands threading through her hair.

Finally, he broke apart, to catch a breath. "You are a myriad of wonderful aren't you? I could've never guessed. A dancer. Kathak. An artist."

He kissed her again and she moaned softly, as his hands began to open the buttons of her pishwas.

"Give in to me, sweetheart." He kissed the shell of her ear, pushing back the fabric, sliding his finger deep into her. "I need you badly tonight. For all nights. Please."

A muffled moaned signified her release as he aligned them together and pushed. "You have undone me. I am where no one can touch me. This is the peak of my life, isn't it?" He wasn't making any sense now.

"I can't!" She whispered, as he made her take him.

"You can and you will."

Hours later, in the morning haze, she asked. "What did you mean by that?"

"By what?"

"That this was your peak."

"I meant what I said." His eyes caught onto hers. "This moment right here, with you, is what my lfie was building to. This was the finish line. This is what I was working towards."

The smile that lit her up in response was the prettiest he had seen yet.

"This doesn't mean I'll allow you to watch me dance."

He lazily grinned, pulling her under him. "There'll come a day you'll love watching me watch. The day you see yourself the way I see you."

Her cheeks colored deeply. "Hadeed—!"

"I love you Sunehri. I love you the way love is meant to be shared. I love you in the way that I feel alive when I am with you, and count the seconds to see you."

She looked at him, surprise etching across her face. "Am I worth being loved like that?"

His reply came quick. "That is not even in the question. There is nothing I could own or anyone could that'd be equivalent of your worth. Nothing but my heart."

Her resolve melted. The feeling of inadequacy melted. The feeling of unease melted.

It was all alright then and there.

///

This story came to me randomly. Sunehri is supposed to embody someone who doesn't know they can be worth fighting for as well. A second chance.

The end was not rushed but simply I decided to audit a few things out. There was going to be an interaction between Amna and Sunehri but I felt it was working against the point of the story. The story was their—Hadeed and Sunehri's. And they shouldn't have to prove the value of their relationship through an annoying interaction with an X.

Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed it. Lots of love!