𝗠𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗹-𝗲-𝗠𝗮𝗵𝘁𝗮𝗮𝗯

غمِ عشق epilogue

اپنے ہی رنگ میں مجھ کو رنگ دے~

"Kitni cheezein rakh rahi ho! Ham 15 din ke liye jaa rahe hain 15 saalo ke liye nahi yaar!"

(How many things are you packing! We're going for 15 days, not for 15 years, yaar!)

Hamza, who had just finished his work on his laptop, glanced up and was shocked to see the clothes on the bed and the things scattered around their luggage bags.

Airah gave him a sheepish smile.

"This is my first time going to Turkey, Hamza! I want to take pictures in at least two different outfits every day for memories! Turkey is a beautiful place with stunning scenery!"

Airah said matter-of-factly. She didn't understand why men couldn't grasp that women need extra clothes for every occasion.

"Irah yaaar! We can buy clothes from there too! The limit is 30kg per person! All your stuff alone will easily be 60kg! And where are my things supposed to go?"

Hamza said, looking at Airah and trying his best to understand her. Airah quickly pointed to the small luggage bag in the corner of the room, which was clearly too small. She smiled sheepishly and said,

"Aap wahan se khareedlena! Aur wese bhi ham ne weigh karliya hai hamara luggage approximately 48 kg ka hai! Aap apna 12 kg tak karliyaga"

(You can buy your clothes from there! Besides, I've already weighed my luggage; it's approximately 48 kg. You can manage with 12 kg.)

Hamza looked at her as if she had grown two horns. Ignoring his reaction, Airah continued packing her bag, a broad smile spread across her face. She was too excited for the trip. She had dreamed of visiting Turkey since her O-level days, when her school had planned a trip to Turkey that she wasn't allowed to join. Knowing that Hamza also disapproved of co-ed trips, she didn't ask for his help in persuading her family. He, too, had never gone on co-ed trips during his college days, so she suppressed her wish.

Now, with her dream finally coming true, she was more than just happy.

The next day, they had their flight.

______

راستے مل جاتے ہیں، منزلیں مل جاتی ہیں، تم سے ہی~

It was their third day in Turkey. As usual, they got ready early in the morning because they didn't want to miss the tram. They were scheduled to meet their tour guide, who was waiting for them and other tourists at the beginning of Istiklal Street.

Istiklal Street was long, crowded, and seemingly never-ending.

The guide was explaining everything in English, describing the significance of the place, its history, and the struggles people faced to create everything they saw around them.

Hamza and Airah were at the back of their group, which consisted of six people, including them. They walked hand in hand, both wearing gloves to ward off the winter chill.

Their guide halted at a shop somewhere in the middle of Istiklal Street where they ordered steaming hot coffee. After a brief break, they resumed their journey. Despite holding the coffee in their hands, Hamza didn't let go of Airah's hand; instead, he shifted the cup to his left hand, maintaining his grip on her with his right. They both remained quiet, attentively listening to the guide's informative narrative.

Airah was listening enthusiastically, while Hamza was bored. He was interested in the place itself, not its history and struggles. It was at Airah's insistence that he had hired a guide; otherwise, he would have preferred exploring Turkey on their own.