𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐊𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐫 𝐎𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐢 (𝟏𝟖+) ✅

𝟐𝟖: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

The name caught in my throat. "A-Aisha?" I stammered. Stuttering was something I never did. What in the world was going on here? This was Aisha, so why was she acting like this?

"Oo ji, kon Aisha??" she responded, flipping her hair dismissively. "Why are you grabbing some random girl on the street like this? I may be easy on the eyes, but keep your distance, okay?"

"W-what? Jaan," I stammered, "what are you talking about? I know I'm your culprit! but please, I'm so sorry, let me just-"

"Oh, hello mister," she cut me off, a bored look on her face. "I have no idea who you are or what you're babbling about. Move along, please."

Riya materialized between us, her voice laced with concern. "A-Aisha? It's me, Riya, please..." She reached out for a hug, but Aisha flinched back.

"O madamji," Aisha snapped, a sharp edge to her voice, "do you not understand Hindi? Should I explain it in Punjabi?"

Aisha tried to shove past them, but I instinctively reached out and grasped her wrist. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing, Aisha," I said, my voice firm, "but you can't just pretend I don't exist!"

Her eyes blazed with sudden fury. "Tussi kis tarahan de dangra ho, mera hath chadd deo, nahi tah main tuhade chihre' te satt maar diangi" she spat. 

(What kind of idiot are you? Let go of my hand, or I swear I'll slap you right across the face!)

The venom in her voice sent a shiver down my spine. Hesitantly, I released her grip.

My heart raced with anticipation. But when my fingers brushed against her skin, a wave of confusion washed over me. She didn't feel like my Aisha. Every fibre of my being screamed that something was wrong.

I closed my eyes, desperately trying to reconcile the image before me with the memories etched deep within my soul. The way her skin felt against mine, the way her presence enveloped me in warmth—it was all so vivid, so real. But this woman, standing before me, was different. There was a familiarity in her eyes, in the way she smiled, yet it wasn't the same.

My mind raced with a million questions, each one more haunting than the last. How could this be possible? How could someone else look so much like my Aisha? Was it some cruel trick of fate, mocking me with a twisted illusion of what once was?

But deep down, a tiny voice whispered the truth I dreaded to accept. What if she was telling the truth? What if this woman, who bore such a striking resemblance to my beloved Aisha, was indeed her? My heart clenched at the mere thought. How could I even begin to comprehend such a notion?

Tears welled up in my eyes as I struggled to make sense of it all. The ache in my chest grew with each passing moment, a relentless reminder of the void that had consumed me since Aisha's disappearance. And now, faced with this surreal moment of uncertainty, I felt utterly lost.