She fell in love. She couldn't be with him. She married someone else. She fell in love again. Then she fell apart.
•••
Iraj Kazmi knows only one thing, that she's always right. Then life proves her wrong...
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"Hi." She tried to ease her nerves entering the room.
Her voice was enough for Azfar to put the file down in a second that he was reading and stand, "Jaan! I was about to call you, I've been waiting since more than an hour."
"You were waiting?" She asked when she realized he wasn't in a bad mood.
Azfar walked towards her while she stood fixed to her place near the door, "Yes I was, you look so pretty." He took her hands in his, she could sense he was on the contrary to her assumption in a great mood, "How was your meeting?"
"It was alright, we have another rendezvous in the evening." She nodded feeling a little nervous, his office made her nervous automatically, it wasn't gone, completely yet, the memory.
The haze in her voice made him look at her face carefully, he held her face leaving her hands, "You okay? Are you feeling alright?"
"I'm fine." She tried to smile.
"Azfar, sweetheart!" The voice made them turn towards the open door where Zeenat stood batting her lashes in Azfar's direction, making him exhale a sigh of annoyance. His hands left Iraj's cheeks and he pushed one in his pocket and holding her hand firmly in the other.
"S-sir, sorry, I tried to stop her but she wouldn't listen." A man came behind Zeenat and stood holding the door with an apologetic expression.
"It's alright Raghib, I'll speak with Ms Zeenat myself today and clear all her queries." He told the man making him leave with a nod.
Iraj felt her husband's tone shifting but he didn't let go of her hand even for a second when Zeenat stepped forward towards him, "Azfar, I don't understand why you asked that incompetent man to design my house! Sweetheart can't—"
"Ms Zeenat, if you don't mind me asking, what languages can you speak?" Harsh. Harsh was the language rather than anything else she could hear that came from Azfar's mouth.
Zeenat still holding onto her delusions continued, "Why would I mind Azfar, I can speak three languages and—"
"English or Urdu one of them?" He interrupted her.
"Obviously." She smirked with a shrug and then her eyes moved to Azfar's hand that was holding his wife's fingers and it made her frown.
"Then I believe the only conclusion I can come up with is that you seem to have a brain impairment of some sort, because I think everyone here speaks those two languages and they clearly told you that I'm not going to design your house and if you still wanted my firm to design for you then Raghib would be the Project architect. So either you give me a medical report from your side to prove that your senses are malfunctioned or I'll call the authorities from the mental asylum to take you because you just crossed all the limitations of a professional workplace." Azfar spat with much consistency in his deliberate arrogance.
