Shattered Dreams

Chapter 11

Safiya's Pov:

"You are the only one I'll ever love (I gotta tell ya, gotta tell ya) Yeah, you, if it's not you, it's not anyone (I gotta tell ya, gotta tell ya)

"Black color looks great on me, doesn't it Safiya?" Fahad suddenly raised his head, looking into my eyes with a surprising sincerity.

"And especially the Gucci shirts," he added with a smirk. I was more shocked by his unexpected smile than his question. "What's the point of such a question?" I asked, deliberately looking away from Fahad Abbasi's face.

"How do I know which color looks best?" I continued, absentmindedly putting my hands on the clothes in his cabinet.

Fahad, with a smirk, responded, "Oh, I thought maybe this color looks too good on me. That's why you're staring at my face so carefully for so long." He attempted a mockingly sad expression, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

I examined Fahad's face, trying to decipher if his impressions were genuine or just another one of his theatrical acts. And it didn't take long to understand what he was doing.

"Mujhe aapke chehere ko gaur se dekhne ki kya zaroorat, main toh bas dekh rahi thi," I explained, trying to downplay the situation, but my face betrayed me with a sudden blush.

"And I was looking for a long time because you were choosing your clothes, and I thought you might give me an order. I was waiting, doing my secretary job for you, CEO."

"Oh, you..." Fahad protested, wearing his fake sad face with a small smile. "Well, sorry, I didn't get it. I often get such misunderstandings," he explained apologetically, a strange departure from his usual demeanor.

This time, I didn't glance at him. Instead, I focused on his collection of watches in front of me, each one a pinnacle of luxury. I picked up the V-LEGEND SKELETON,  he was wearing with his tie.

As I turned to hand it to him, the watch slipped from my hand, crashing loudly onto the ground in his dressing room. Fahad raised his head, once again studying his reflection in the mirror, and I was left shocked. His expression was entirely unreadable, leaving me uncertain of his thoughts.

"Sorry, I don't know how it fell from me. I'm not clumsy; I'm sorry," I stammered, moving my tongue over my lips nervously. To my surprise, Fahad flashed a beautiful smile.

"No problem, it happens. You see, now I'll buy a new watch. And someone has to fill this empty space, right? If one is gone, someone else takes his place," he remarked, presenting a peculiar logic. Unfazed by my accidental mishap, he continued adjusting his blazer.

"Wrong," I said, looking directly at him. He halted, meeting my gaze.

"Koi kissi ki kami poori nahi kar sakta. Jiska jo maqam hai, woh wahi rehta hai, bhale hi voh aapke paas na ho," I continued, conveying a sentiment that seemed to disrupt his composed facade.

Fahad calmly raised his head to look at me. "Matlab, me tumhari zindagi mein rahoon ya na rahoon, tum mujhe hamesha chahogi."

"I'm waiting for you downstairs," I replied, choosing to ignore his question. As I left his room, I turned for a moment to see Fahad picking up his perfume. In the doorway, I murmured to myself, "Hamesha, agar mere nahi bhi hue, Fahad mein tab bhi tumko chahungi," and a solitary tear escaped my eyes.

***

Ayyan's pov:

As I sat in the hospital garden, nursing my coffee, I found solace in the rhythmic cadence of my murmured thoughts. "Losing people is my fate, I guess. Mohabbat kissi ko bhi akela mehsoos karwa sakti hai, iski saza bhi misaal hoti hai. Udaas rehne ki adat hi daal deti hai." The weight of my emotions felt like a relentless burden that had become an inherent part of my existence.