Reclaimed Legacy

(35) - My Pakizah

The world was lost in shadows as Aamir-ul-din Haider Khan leaned against the stone pillar, watching her from a distance he had kept sacred for so long. He had come to this celebration, a foreign affair for a man like him, solely to get a glimpse of her again after all these years. Abhira—his Pakizah—sat across the room in a shade of emerald that graced her every movement, her beauty undimmed by time. She was an oasis amid a desert of strangers, a vision he had kept buried in memory and now, finally, in front of him. Four years apart, and it was as if no time had passed at all. He had been just as struck by her a few nights before at Kingston Gardens, when he found her weeping beneath the sky. Unseen, he had left his handkerchief for her to dry her tears. A coward's move, he cursed himself, but one he had little choice in.

Aamir watched her, careful, calculating. His hand moved instinctively as he closed the curtains around them, shrouding them from the world. Only the moonlight remained, casting a delicate glow over her as she lifted her head, her gaze meeting his with a silent understanding. Khuda ki kasam, there was relief in her eyes—a quiet ease she only revealed when she knew he was near. For him, this was enough, a testament to the trust they had built, piece by fragile piece. How he had missed her gaze, the unspoken strength and gentleness within it. He was the ghost who watched from the shadows, content simply knowing she felt safe in his presence. To her, he was her anchor, a shadow who walked beside her, one she could trust but never openly claim. It was his curse, his blessing—to love her quietly from the edges of her life. He catches her glancing over to the chair where Marcus had been sitting, silently asking him to sit there, and he can't help but wonder what secrets have passed between them. A lesser man would pry, but he'd rather she share it on her own terms. He only wants her truth, spoken willingly.

For so long, he had traced her steps from afar, sometimes knowing her every breath, sometimes waiting for scraps of news. He had been aware of her accident in Srinagar, her years in Mussoorie, her marriage to a stranger in Udaipur. Her memory loss—this merciless twist of fate—had hidden him from her. She had lived as if he never existed, yet he had lingered all the same, safeguarding her in ways even she could never know. Her family, the Brars, had never known he'd searched for her along with them, when she went missing. Brij Bhushan Singh Brar might have questioned his motives, his intentions, even his right to protect her. Yet he had done it all in silence, even as the world remained unaware. He had found her within two months, safe and sheltered in Udaipur. But he kept that knowledge hidden, for revealing it would mean putting her in jeopardy from his father, Sultan Haider Khan - the one who caused her accident in Srinagar, a ruthless man who held no mercy for anyone in his path, especially not for the woman his son cherished.

Finally, he crossed the distance, and she murmured, "How are you... Aamir?" That word, his name on her lips, sank deep, filling his heart with a quiet, all-encompassing joy. He had waited so long for this moment, for that voice that could soothe every storm within him. He nodded slightly, a ghost of a smile flickering at the corner of his mouth, and as he noticed her shiver, he rose without a word, slipping his jacket over her shoulders with tender care. She accepted it, her hands gathering the fabric close, her gaze drifting to the moon outside. His attention stayed solely on her, mesmerized by the sight of her—wrapped in his coat, she looked delicate, like a child, yet so very poised. 

"I am well, as long as you are safe," he answered softly, his voice like the night—still but charged.

Abhira glanced up, her eyes widening at the words. She had always been his Pakizah, the rarest among women, untouched by the world's venom and yet resilient enough to endure its hardships. No one knew how he felt; not even her family, who held him in contempt, could understand the reverence in his heart. His affection was silent, sacrificial, and bound to the shadows. If the Brars ever knew the depth of his devotion, they would banish him, just as his father would hunt her down without mercy, eliminating the light she brought to his life.

"I forgot you... but why do I feel you also forgot about me," she admitted, her words a whispered confession. The ache in her voice made his chest tighten. He had waited so long for her to remember, but instead, he had been left to piece her life together from afar.  "Forget?" he echoed, his voice rich with an intensity only she could bring out. "Pakizah, I could never forget you". Tum meri dua ho jo kabhi qabul na hui, par mein har din maangta hoon. You are my prayer left unanswered, but I ask for you every day. His voice wove through the night like a spell, carrying the words he never dared to speak aloud. 

Then, they sat, in that perfect silence. She looked to the heavens, her thoughts seemingly miles away, while he remained rooted, his gaze fixed on her, his own moon, his qamar. A thousand unspoken words rested on his lips, secrets buried so deeply even he couldn't fathom their full weight. But right now, words were unnecessary; silence enveloped them, becoming something sacred, a sanctuary between them.

Ya Rab, he thought, feeling his soul reach for her, if this silence is all I am granted, then so be it. There was a strange comfort in this moment, an acceptance he had rarely known. She would never understand the depth of his devotion, the sacrifices he had made in her name. But here, in this fragile stillness, he found peace, his heart speaking what his words could not.

To the world, Aamir-ul-din Haider Khan is an enigma, a silent storm whose loyalty comes at a cost. Yet, in this moment, he's stripped of all pretense, watching her watch the moon, each heartbeat resonating in his chest like a quiet echo of devotion. For now, this silence is enough. The secrets between them can wait, for this moment of stillness holds a beauty he knows he may never experience again. 

And as they both gazed into the quiet of the night, her eyes on the moon and his on her, he felt as though he were wrapped in a stillness that could never break. The silence between them was rare and perfect, a sanctuary neither would find again. She was his Pakizah—the only purity he'd ever known.