Furore

22| Hers, Not Mine.

22| Hers, Not Mine.

I wished if time could return me my city, the city I really belonged to, the city where my heart was unbroken, the city where I hadn't come across him.

The world was diversifying with each passing second, everything old and rusting was transforming into something new, everything empty was becoming full yet there was my heart that felt the same every time it came here, every time it was in Indore as if the air in the city had his fragrance, his possession.

Over the time, I learnt how there were so many ways in which one could feel scared, in which one could feel pained.

Sometimes there was this sudden, abrupt, loud thumping of your heart that made you numb, unfit to feel or know anything and then sometimes there was this slow, mellow beating of your heart that made you count each second of it, that let it seep into you.

As I walked across to the entrance of her house, his house, I felt the second kind, the one that was slow, the one that made you aware of each ounce of it, that every inch that had hurt you right at the place, the why's, the when's and everything. The second one that made you live it again, though a little but still.

I could notice how my heart hit against my chest, tender but audible, I could notice how I breathed, the desperate intakes, the restless exhales. I could feel my skin tense and sweat, every bit of it and I could feel my mind chant innumerable possibilities of what could happen and small prayers in between.

It was not at all easy as said to be in a situation like this, to be at a constant war with yourself, to hear your mind tell you to stop, to hear it say how it is not worth it and how you deserve peace and still have your heart feel it, all the pain, all the hurt.

I wanted to revolt, I wanted to shout it out to everybody that I hated coming to Indore, that I wanted to be on my own, away from all and everything, but only if I could.

"Sithara." Daniya called out my name and I looked up at her a little awkward considering the way she was glaring at me.

"You know." She spoke. "I have not let any of what had happened between our fathers come between us then why do I feel you are so changed?"

She had an expression of sincerity that her question made me feel guilty in so many aspects. "Daniya. I'm just tired. I promise."

"I hope so." She muttered as we took a step in. She seemed disappointed but I knew I could not help.

"Look at you, Sithara!" I had hardly wrapped my thoughts when I heard the loud cheer of her mother.

I smiled. It was uncomfortable but it was instant, more nostalgic and home sick.

"Namaste aunty." I whispered as she embraced me into a hug without a wait.

"Khush raho, khush raho." She touched my forehead. "But where had you been, darling? Any idea that I missed you?"

"I missed you too." I confessed, my heart warmed and troubled at the same time.

I wondered if I would ever be able to be used to it; used to feel happy and hurt altogether.

"Lier. London made you forget us." She sat on the dinning chair, asking me to follow.

"Ugh, never." I could not forget the chair Arsalan sat at while eating, how could I forget his family. "Sabse pehle aap mujhe bataein aap kaisi hain?"

"Sukoon mein hun." Her eyes twinkled. "Allah ne dono bachun ko achi zindgi de di hai, aur kuch nahi chahiye. Ab toh nani bhi banne wali hun."

I stretched my lips as genuinely as I could. "Yeah, here I am pregnant and she isn't even engaged. I don't wanna look like a ball in her wedding but she would not understand!" Daniya's face twitched in complain. I could feel her pregnancy hormones push at her every now and then.