Chaos in the Canvas √

31 | broken

یہ اک شام نہیں کٹ رہی کسی سورت
ابھی تو عمر ہے اور عمر بھی جدائی کی ہے

Sunday - 11:23pm

The night was a spectacle to behold today.

The rain had stopped, leaving behind in its wake cold winds and starry sky. With each tick of the clock, the cold only seemed to magnify, the crescent moon hiding behind the blanket of clouds to keep itself warm.

The chill of the outside easily crossed the threshold and into her room too, the open window its accomplice. And behind it stood Hemayal Khakwani, only a shawl wrapped around her broken frame to keep the glacial winds from entering her soul.

Her eyes were lost as they were fixed far above, somewhere between lights of the stars and mystery of the sky. The fatigue she had felt throughout the week had only intensified by a hundred times after dinner with Ibrahim's family just a few hours ago.

Now, she couldn't function - couldn't even breathe without her insides hurting. When she planned her revenge, she forgot the aspect of her love for Ibrahim, how constant interactions with him were going to destroy her heart. She had also completely forgotten about their families - the fact that them being married was something only they had forgotten, not the rest of the world.

And now their marriage and expectations associated with it were coming to haunt her and she didn't know how to handle. And to top it all, Dadu wasn't there to guide her like he always did. It was her against the world and damn, she was losing.

Her ringtone pulled her out of her reverie just as a shiver travelled down the length of her spine. Turning around, she marched towards the nightstand to gather her phone but the name flashing across the screen made her exhale a heavy breath before she answered.

"Hey." Hemayal whispered, careful not to break the sacred silence spread across the room.

"Hey." Ibrahim's voice too was a whisper and Hemayal felt her eyes closing at the softness it carried.

Walking back towards the windowsill, she leaned her head forward against the wood and sighed, tightening the shawl around her.

"How are you?" He asked and Hemayal felt a frown gathering on her forehead at the gentleness of his tone.

True, Ibrahim had never been harsh with her ever since they had resumed contact but this softness in his tone, the compassion in his voice - it made her heart ache for different reasons altogether.

"Why are you asking?" She couldn't contain the lack of trust sprawled all across her voice from coming to the surface and a small silence filled the line.

"I just got off the phone with Safaa," Ibrahim silently said after a beat and Hemayal groaned softly. "She told me what happened, what Ammu said."

Hemayal didn't know how to respond, whether to shame him further or take the blame for accepting his mother's request. So, in that moment, she stayed silent.

"Hemayal, I'm sorry. I asked her not to talk about us." Ibrahim went on and Hemayal couldn't bear to hear him anymore.

"I don't want to talk about it. Goodbye." She replied, voice broken and Ibrahim must have sensed it too for a heavy silence descended upon the connection before he sighed.