Love Thy Enemy ~ A ZaiRa FF

Chapter 1 : She Always Wins, He Never Loses

Many horses were lined up in the stable. Varying in colour, size and weight befitting their breeds. They were all past the age of six years, and trained expertly for the annual horse racing taking place in a couple of months. The shiny hair on their body grabbed attention of the bidders but only looks were not going to help if the owner wanted to win the race.

“4 lacs ?” - cried a bidder as he got to know the price of a horse on asking.

Just a distance away, at a joint stable, was standing a girl, her gaze calculative as she admired the horses. A black Arabian horse, in particular, with sleek fur all over the body was her center of attention.

“Tho Arabian is a nice choice but that horse hasn't won any race for three years in a row ma'am.” - the stable lad told, following her gaze. “Aap yeh dekhiye.” - he moved towards a chestnut brown horse. “Thoroughbred. One of the best for racings as their hind legs are slightly longer than the front ones which helps them run at around 40 miles per hour. And to his credit, this horse has been winning continuously.”

She knew that of course. She was the rider last year, emerging as the winner. But this time, something about that black Arabian horse was captivating. Pulling her in.

“Mubashira Jaffer haar ya jeet dekh kar intekhab nahi karti. Wo jise chun leti hai, usey jeetna hi hota hai.” - she spoke with authority and conviction in her voice.

She put her favourite round metallic Rayban glasses back on and adjusted her Hermès black purse on her left forearm. “I'll go with Arabian.” - she declared while pulling out a handsome amount of cash from her purse and handed over to the lad. “Take care of the horse till the race and NO. INJURIES.” - she warned, her jaws set.

The stable lad gulped and nodded his head. Tho he didn't know who she was, the no nonsense look on her face was enough to tell she was not one to mess with.

~

A game of snooker was going on beside the swimming pool in a house. Three friends, each holding a plate loaded with barbecue in one hand and mocktail in the other, had their eyes fixed on the snooker board. Their fourth friend was bent over the table, holding the cue. His sharp eyes on the white cue ball to hit all the coloured balls in a single strike.

“Nahi ho payega Zaid...” - said a guy, Noman, anxiously.

“Aaj toh haar pakki hai.” - the other friend named Ahmer, chimed.

“Aisa hua to yeh pehli baar hoga...” - the third friend, Hashim, mused. His hand holding a chicken wing frozen near his mouth.

Zaid smirked. “Zaid Shahwani ko haarne ki aadat nahin.”

The cue rubbed against his fingers as he prepared himself and struck. His friends watched holding their breaths as all the balls rushed towards the pockets. They were on chokehold because the last ball, the black one, rolled towards a pocket at snail's speed before finally, going down.

“YES!” - the three friends shouted in joy, high-fiving one another.

Zaid straightened up, his proud smile intact on face. “Kaha tha na maine ?” - he asked his friends rhetorically.

“Maan gaye bhaee!” - Hashim said, finally eating his chicken wing. He forwarded the plate towards Zaid as well.

“Nahin yaar. Baba ke sath ek function pe jana hai and I should get going now as it's 6 already.” - Zaid reasoned, checking time on his phone. The screen displayed a girl's picture that caused his friends to give him teasing looks.

“Dusron ke hi functions attend karte rahoge ya apna bhi koi function karoge ?” - Ahmer asked.

Zaid sighed, his smile widening. “Soch raha hun Baba se baat karun ab. Unhen Ayma ke baare main bata dun.”