[Sequel of Warm Love, hence can't be read as a standalone.]
In the first phase, Reyansh concealed a web of mysteries, but as they stand face to face once more, it's Kiraz who holds the tantalizing secrets waiting to be unveiled. These hidden truths...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
|A U T H O R|
Fuck beauty. Fuck beast.
I thought these fictional characters existed in the story books. How naïve of me, to think that way. It was a just a matter of opening my eye. If this story is written, the writer must have had a reason to write them. The playwright, if not a beauty, he must have seen a beast. Beast do exist in real world. They are hidden among us and who knows, the one reading the book must be one.
But believe me beast do exists. They may not be ugly, dreadful, vile but a beautiful King.
A smile grazes his lips, reading the words from the folded piece of paper.
Indeed, a beautiful King.
The person who is the writer of the words in the paper, must have seen a real beast. His fingers gracefully coil against the myriad folded sheets, contributing to their abundance. He balls it inside his palm, when a boy comes running to him. Reyansh remembers him, the child of his neighbor. Who has bestowed a soothing serenity on him, with those innocent eyes since the time he has meet him.
"Did you saw my plane?" Veer inquires, craning his neck, his eyes half-open against the sun's relentless rays.
Reyansh shifts, casting a protective shadow over the boy, shielding him from the sun's glare. Veer blinks, observing Reyansh with widened eyes.
"No," Reyansh replies, shaking his head, tucking the crumpled paper ball - once Veer's plane, formerly a page from Kiraz's diary - into his sweatpants.
Veer keeps his hand on his hip, perking his lips, and looking around for his paper plane, "But, it went this way."
"It might have went in the gutter." Reyansh suggests, gesturing toward the nearby drain hole.
"No!" Veer exclaims in frustration. "It's Veer's plane; it can't end up in the gutter."
Reyansh stands amused for a second. Here he thought there is no over-confident child other than him. Maybe the four or five years old kid, proves him wrong.
"What is your name?" Even though he knew his name still he wanted to know from his mouth.
Veer stops glaring at the manhole, looking at the tall man who has drawings on his skin. He brings his small arms before him, a trait inherited from his mother.
"What is your name?"
Reyansh furrows his brows, a question for a question.
"Reyansh." he replies.
"Re-ysh," Veer tries to spell the name just the way the drawing man did, but he failed. The vocabulary twisted his tongue, and he knows he is hating the name.
"Who puts a name like that? You should change your name." Veer sassed out, leaving Reyansh flabbergasted. Did the child just insult his name? If the 44 inches human can't spell his name, what is the fault of his name. Now, it was a matter of a name.
