Ishq

3

Zainab.

Glancing up, I saw veins popping out on his arms, rain dampening his chest, his eyes intense and focused on me.

"What?" He asked, a quizzical expression on his face.

I looked at him, my mouth falling open at his appearance. His hair was plastered to his brow, the rough chestnut darkened to black. Rivulets of water streamed down his face, dripping into his starched collar.

Heart thumping, I looked at his poor form. This was so unlike him. He hadn't even bothered getting an umbrella before coming after me.

"This is Ishq. Dancing in the rain even when you know it'll make you sick," his brows furrowed together, not understanding. "Ishq is boundless, like the rain, the sun, the moon and the sky," I breathed out, my words a light whisper in the wind.

He raised a hand to cover mine, and his energy surged through me like an electric current. "Like energy flowing through the universe?"

The rain had made his dark lashes spiky. My cheeks heated despite the cold. How I wished I could be immune to his unlikely charms. "Like two souls connecting at the unlikeliest of times."

He blinked, a foreign emotion settling over his face. I stumbled to my feet, lifting my hands as if to embrace the storm, tilting my face to the sky.

My eyes were still shut, and the rain had soaked through my dress, making it cling to my body. My feet were bare and I felt the sharp blades of the grass sting the soft arches of my feet.

I could feel the heat of his gaze as I stilled, my heart hammering against my chest. Startled, I glanced up, looking to see some sort of explanation on his face.

Nothing. Asad's eyes were closed, the same oddly playful—and deeply out of character—smile on his rain-dotted lips. He looked more at ease than I had ever seen him.

He looked inviting.

"When you write about Ishq, write about a boy and a girl standing at the precipice," his eyes snapped open and I ignored him, the words flowing out of mouth unbidden. "Write about how the girl danced, her clothes drenched, her eyes on the sky, feeling the rain sweep through her, healing her, freeing her."

"And I'll write about the boy who watched her as if she was a dream," I blinked rapidly and he stared, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Who knew she was too good to be true, untouchable and beautiful like a mirage."

What? Where had that come from? Was he talking about himself?

"I don't understand..."

He chuckled. "But I do." He started to walk away but I grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving.

"Tell me."

In a move that surprised me, he pulled me towards him, his arm coming to snake around my waist, his body inches away. I gasped at the sudden move and clutched at his forearms to maintain my balance.

The hitch in his breath at the touch was the only indication of his emotions.

"Ishq," he muttered, his eyes focused on mine.

My heart stumbled over itself.

Was this the Asad who'd berated me a few minutes ago? Who'd given me an encyclopaedia for my tenth birthday? Who'd beaten up a boy because he'd made me cry?

"The need to envelop, to own and to protect." he pushed me away and raised my arm to give me a small whirl, pulling me back towards his chest.

Was he, was he dancing with me?

"To cherish," he continued.

"Are you describing the first page of your screenplay?" He shook his head, amusement softening his features.

"There was a boy and a girl," A devilish grin crossed his lips as he stepped back and took my hand. "The boy was an overprotective lout," a laugh burst out of my mouth. "And the girl was an emotional whirlwind."

My heart clawed up my throat. Aleena had often teased me about our fight. That they were all borne out of love. Our parents had joked that we'd end up together.

Both Asad and I'd disagreed.

Had they been right? All of them?

"The boy always knew that the girl was his destiny. He just didn't understand how," His gaze darkened and he pulled me closer. "He didn't understand because she didn't understand. And she was always the one who made him feel. He felt, because of her. But somehow, eventually, he realized what he was feeling."

I worked the question through the lump in my throat. "Did the boy tell her?"

"What do you think?" I didn't answer, my heart almost leaping out of my chest. "The girl was left speechless. And why not? The boy had always watched her from the sidelines, always stepping in when she needed him to." Like today. Like that day in June. Like when I'd almost fallen off the deck.

"The girl sounds like an idiot," the rain had ended, the storm slowly pettering out. He smiled, his eyes crinkling.

"They didn't know. They just didn't know," he looked up at the sky, watching the clouds lighten. "Until the girl decided to teach him. What is Ishq she'd asked. The boy had no clue. He had no answer."

"I..."

"Until he saw her dancing in the rain, full of life, her hair flying behind her, her feet bare, all without a care in the world," I blinked stepping closer, my fingers fluttering over his face, as if to convince myself that he was there.

That he was saying these words.

"And then the boy said," He looked at me, his voice catching. "In you I see my heart, my purpose . . . my very soul. That's Ishq."