Our Story Ends Here

Prologue

Do you know what it feels like to live without a heart, a soul and her? It's affliction. Deep affliction. I've been feeling this way for so many years that it doesn't feel unusual any more. I think it has become a permanent part of my life now. But for the faintest moment, I'd like to experience what life would have been if I had been with her? Not a day, not even a single moment goes by when I don't think about her. Those hazel brown eyes, pink cheeks, loose curls framing her face . . .

I suddenly came out of my reverie as a motorbike moved past me, blowing a puff of smoke on my face. I slowly slid the sunglasses over my eyes and observed the usual rush at the local bazaar. Sweat trickled down my forehead as I walked past a couple of shops. It was warm, and I suddenly realized that wearing a brown, leather jacket on a sunny day was not really a great idea.

I made sure nothing looked out of place. I looked around one more time and then finally went and sat inside a roadside eatery. A young boy, aged between fourteen- fifteen years, sat next to me. He was busy playing a game on a brand-new cell phone. Suddenly it rang out loud, compelling me to look at him.

'Yeah, what is it now? I have already told you that I will be home in an hour. Stop calling me every minute!' the young boy yelled at the caller.

I looked at him incuriously.

He paused, listened to what the caller was saying and then spoke again.

'I took permission from Abba and Amma. Now stop calling me again and again. Bye.' He cut the call and gasped for breath, looking in my direction as I was seated next to him.

'Getting calls from home?' I asked nonchalantly.

'Yes, bhai,' the boy said. 'It sucks. I mean, it's really not easy being a teenager, you know.'

I smirked, looking away.

'First, my parents were reluctant to buy me a phone and when they finally did, the calls just don't stop,' he complained.

'Maybe because they care for you, considering the incidents we hear of-bomb blasts and accidents,' I shrugged.

'Ah. That. I get your point. They're my family after all. They will be scared and worried. But I never get scared.'

'Really?' I pulled my brows in amazement. 'Does death never scare you?'

'Not at all. I'm not scared of death,' the boy shrugged. 'I've been brought up tough. I know how to fight my fears.' 'That's impressive, brother. How do you do that?' I asked, fishing out my cell phone from the pocket of my leather jacket.

'My sister, you know, she once told me this cool trick. It really helps in dealing with your fears.'

'And what's that?' I scrolled through a couple of messages on my phone as I listened to his story.

'Whenever you feel scared, just close your eyes, take a long deep breath, hold yourself together, and pray to god.

The fear will subside slowly,' the boy said, demonstrating each step with gestures.

Before I could absorb his words, a blinking message on my cell phone diverted my attention.

'Hey. I gotta go now. It was nice talking to you, brother. I think you should leave for home now. This place seems a bit crowded. Doesn't look very safe,' I said, pursing my lips together.

'Why not? What's wrong here?' he asked, shrugging his shoulders.

'Just leave. Do as I say,' I said, getting off the chair and walking away from the crowded area. As soon as I reached the other end of the bazaar, I dialed a number.

'Haider, listen to me. I don't think this seems like a safe move. We need to plan this somewhere else,' I said, concern filling my eyes.

'What the hell are you talking about, Sarmad? We have already set the entire plan in motion. The bomb has been planted,' Haider said.

'What the heck are you saying?' I yelled at him, trying to keep my voice as steady as I could.

'Sorry, Sarmad, but this is what we were asked to do. Just move away from that area as soon as you can. The bomb will blow off anytime now,' he told me and then ended the call.

I stood there motionless; the phone still glued to my ear. But my mind was somewhere else. It revolved around what the young boy had told me just a few minutes ago.

'Whenever you feel scared, just close your eyes, take a long deep breath, hold yourself together, and pray to god. The fear will subside slowly . . .'

It suddenly dawned on me that I recognized that advice. I remembered that trick. It was mine. I owned it. That boy knew the trick. She must have told him . . .

I opened my eyes and swirled around, frantically searching for the boy. To my relief, he was still sitting in the same spot, his eyes glued to his phone. I let out a sigh of relief and ran towards him.

'Hey . . .' I called out. I was only a few inches away from him now. Before I could see the reaction on his face, there was a huge explosion, throwing me to the ground. The entire area was covered in thick, grey smoke. I choked as I looked around with my blurred vision. I tried to look at the spot where he was but couldn't find anything. The metal pieces of his phone were on the ground along with a black, tattered leather wallet. I reached out with my wounded arm and got hold of the wallet. I slowly opened it and found a black and white photograph inside. She beamed at me- innocent and beautiful. Her laughter rang loud in my ears. I tried to smile back at her but soon lost consciousness. Within a few seconds, I lost track of everything. I lost the young boy. And with him, I lost the only possible hope of getting her back.

To read the full book, get it from Amazon (India): https://www.amazon.in/Story-Ends-Here-Sara-Naveed/dp/0143428179/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

Readings Bookstore (Pakistan): http://www.readings.com.pk/pages/BookDetails.aspx?BookID=457515