There was an odd serenity in night-time heavy rain. Every droplet portrayed in longer strands, cascading the street lights, and seemed almost mercurial. Soft steams that ascended due to the collisions of the brisk pours on the all-day heated grounds. The layer of cool that enveloped everywhere together with the symphonic rhyme of the falling drops made it more than ideal to lay down with a good book or simply just to doze off.
Ideal wasn't what you would describe when the auto you were riding malfunctioned halfway down the road home, leaving you to run through the downpour to look for the nearest shelter.
Despite of being drenched and understandably annoyed, I settled myself on a side of a long bench in a dingy crowded bus stop. I scavenged for a book in my bag only finding a copy of 'In The Face of Danger' and braced myself, in anticipation for the rain to shrink before peering for another auto. That went well for about 15 minute when the plump lady beside me decided it was a great time to stretch her arms which allowed my only salvation to escape from my hands and take a dip into a close by puddle.
I huffed. ''Oh, bad lucks are unending today,'' I muttered to myself while bending down to pick up the book, instead a prominent masculine hand reached it first.
'' Didn't the writer say and I quote 'Bad luck is only the superstitious excuse for those who don't have―' "
'' 'Who don't have the wit to deal with the problems of life' '' I finished for him, somewhat surprised that someone read this book enough to remember that line. The owner of the hand extended my book to me. I grabbed it and I raised myself to meet his gaze.
If I had been any other girl I would have fallen in love with him in that very first sight. Almost silver but dramatic juxtaposing grey-green were his eyes. A prominent nose, a sharper jaw. Honey tinted skin and envious pink lips. And blazing raven hair.
His lips, they formed into a smirk. "Intrigued, are we.''
My checks heated being caught staring. "Ah ...and thank you,'' I said raising the book and blush a little more seeing awkward my stance.
A low chuckle escapes him, a little husky like his voice. '' A little late for a children's book, don't you think?''
'' I teach English for elementary students, and it's never too late to read this,'' I replied as I examined the book which was very much soaked but not ruined, ''what's your excuse?''
'' Fair point, I read this to my nieces and nephews a few times, but I read it as a child quite of a lot of times as well.''
He wore a navy cashmere blazer with brass buttoned over an oxford with a Ralph Lauren logo, not the fake kind. A Porsche design glasses hung over his breast pocket. There was a washed-out grey denim finished with a pair of gleaming black loafers. Mehreen taught me to speak Prada and altogether with his alluring height and broad shoulders, he was the perfectly cliché prince one would see in Karachi. He probably had a chauffeur coming to pick him up with a luxury German car. And with the accent he spoke with, he most likely spent more time in foreign lands than here, England very probable.
''It is easier for some people to say that about luck than others.'' I found myself saying.
He looked up, corking an eyebrow. "Easier for who would that be?''
''The wealthy,'' I stated. '' They have all that they have, and putting such into notions of luck, something out of their control makes it so common, not very endearing and definitely not very elite as they believe themselves to be. '' This time I chuckled. '' For the less fortunate, as odd as it may sound, bad luck can be a better explanation, that yes not everything to where they are is their fault. A futile hope, but hope nonetheless.''
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Living In Contrast (ON HOLD)
Roman d'amour(A/N: Story on hiatus ) Her life was a book. Written by everyone but her. She, however did not fight. Her life was painted. The colors decided. She, however did not crack. But changes they come, as inevitable they are. She learns things. She...
