Sisters torn apart by the fragility of the heart, how can love possibly hurt so much?
Hana Junaid decided two years ago, distance would make her younger sister Hanaan more independent but Hanaan's love and yearning for Hana during this time has drow...
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When your soul is worn out, exhausted, all strength to carry on depleted, it is easy to fall into the sinful attractions of the world. The music calls to my heart like a magnet, the lights around me are hypnotic, the clattering of glasses in cheers before the sweet sticky substance meets the lips, I find myself falling into its tempt. When I reach for a glass that a uniformed waiter extends on a platter previously held high above his head, my Mamu does not snatch it away from my hand so I know it's not alcohol. But if it were and he did, would I try to grab it again later?
I sip on the blueberry slush. This too shall pass. I sip again. But at what cost will I make it through?
We walk through the entrance, fairy lights on strings making a canopy under the open night sky, light warm breeze making them sway to the distant party music. I look around at the men dressed in tuxedos and the women in sleeveless, chest tight blouses and I don't mind the sights at all even though my cheeks do feel hot. I don't mind anymore that I'm not clad in my chadar like I am usually in public, I don't crouch trying to conceal myself as my dupatta lies at my throat, not even covering my chest and I do not lower my gaze or peer covertly at the faces of the younger lads. I am drawn to this atmosphere, of power, fame, wealth and beauty. Surely there must be such an elite doctor's circle too?
"Hana." Mamu stops before we reach the main party crowd.
I keep looking around and falter at the sight of the pool side where more fairy lights brighten up the night. The décor is breath taking, golden and white flowers, ribbons and lights glowing up the large expanse of Barrister Fozaan's garden that could encompass three of my houses and that is saying something because my house is no small a structure. Money does hold its importance. Wealth is beautiful.
"Hana."
I break out of my reverie and meet his concerned eyes. I do not need his concern when he has none for Nashwa. Contempt laces my own irises and I know he knows I'm not on good term with him.
"Are your friends here yet?"
I look around and spot Zimal and Faria standing by a pillar, sipping on glasses in their hands. I gesture towards them.
Mamu looks over. "Don't stray too far away from the main crowd."
"They're waiting there for me."
"I am saying so because the further away you are, the easier it will be for Waheed to approach you and harass you."
I narrow my eyes at him. His tone is still fervent like yesterdays. What is he mad at me for? "I'll be careful."
"Keep your phone on at all times. Yahya is around to keep an eye on you but do not approach him or me at any cost. The men we are gathered with are not as chivalrous as they may seem. And—"
"I'm not a child, I know. Can I leave?"
He looks down on me, hands stuffed in his pockets. It only exasperates me more that he does not show a frown or any other facial expression that gives away his own frustration. His posture is always enough to intimidate. "Don't be rash, Hana."
