Four college girls, each grappling with personal challenges, forge a deep bond as they share a hostel room. Their life changes in their last year.
Ahad x Hoorain
When the girl who has guarded herself from bullies (due to her terrifying past experie...
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I bolt into my room, unable to manage the hate wrecking me from inside, shattering my entire possession on myself leaving me with nothing but hate. Only hate.
I hate how she lodges my mind, as if she clutches the remote control to send me up the wall. After the bitter moment we shared in that haunted place, I've succeeded in avoiding the gaze of Ayra for I knew that after this time I loathe her more than before. The painful remnants of the past stings harder than before.
As I ran into Ayra today, I couldn't control myself to trail my hand over the cupboard I've sealed forever. One of the reasons that tops the list of "why I hate Ayra". The ridiculous role she played yesterday, cost me more than just my dream college; it cost me myself, the only thing that reminded me of happiness.
She shouldn't have met me. Not today. It's the day I lost myself, the day when Ayra's words act as fuel to my already burning fire.
With jittery hands, I finally reach out to the cupboard shielding a broken piece of mine from this world. I gradually open the compartment revealing a broken guitar.
A tear drifts from my eyes as the painful memory floods my mind, isn't it ironic how the pain still stings raw parallel to before? The metallic taste of blood still remains on my tongue.
It's like the day just happened now; I still remember it. This sharp saw of dad's words tearing my heart apart, the disappointing gaze of mom cursing me. Somewhere between trying to become the Zaid they wanted me to be, I lost the Zaid who loved this guitar.
My fingers tremble as they trace the fractured wood, the strings hanging loosely, no longer capable of producing the sounds that once filled my world with joy.
AUTHOR'S POV
FLASHBACK
A much younger Zaid, no more than fifteen, sat cross-legged on the floor of his room, his small fingers dancing over the strings of his guitar, each note filling the space with a melody that was uniquely his. This was his sanctuary, the only place where he felt truly at peace. The guitar was more than just an instrument; it was his escape, his solace from the world that demanded too much of him. Today it was his only way to wash out the pain of the insult he bore for something he never did. Zaid was ready with his explanation as soon as his father arrived, however for now he shut his eyes and let the music heal his heart while singing in his melodious voice.
But that peace was abruptly shattered when the door burst open, revealing his father, Haris Mirza, a man whose very presence commanded authority. His father’s eyes blazed with an anger that Zaid had never seen before, and his heart sank as he realized that his father was in a terrible mood.
"You disgrace the Mirza name!" his father thundered, his voice echoing off the walls. "You were supposed to be the perfect heir, Zaid. But this... this is how you repay the legacy I’ve built? With this insult?"
