❝Dil Ajab Shaher Ki Jis Par Bhi Khula Dar Is Ka
Wo Musafir Ise Har Samt Se Barbad Kare❞

Flashback: In Bold

The Night Before...

One glass to burn the course of his throat. He couldn't drink more than one. It was Rapunzel's day tomorrow. He needed to be there on time. He swirled the amber drink, taking one sip at a time to lessen the effect of it, but he needed to fill the hollow space within him. The emptiness within him got numbed with each sip. He drowned the last of it, ready to leave the bar. His phone buzzed in his pocket at the strike of twelve.

Asmara's Birthday!

He struggled to breathe as he fell back on the barstool. The blinding rage mixed with lashes of sorrow started filling every inch of his body. The memories scorching his entire body, barely sparing him to gasp. He held his head, fuck, no, damn it, no.

"Happy Birthday Asmara!"

Woh us hujoom ke beech khadi thi jo uski duniya thi. Woh hujoom jo nashe mein jhoom raha tha. Woh jaanta tha woh uski duniya ka kabhi nahi ban sakta. Per dil ka mamla bhi kitna ajeeb tha, sirf uske he mohabbat mein pagal tha. Uske saath apni duniya busana chahta tha. Hath mein woh chota sa box liye us ka intezar kar raha tha, ek corner mein khade ho kar.

Woh jaanta tha jis duniya mein woh usse leke jaana chahta tha woh uske liye choti par jaye gi. Na jaane woh yeh raasta kaise teh karegi. Na jaane woh kaise apne mehlon jaise ghar ko chor kar uske chote chote shor se bhare mohalle mein reh paye gi.

Per Asmara ne usse yeh sab jaante hue qubool kia tha. Woh jaanti thi sab aur phir bhi usne uska saath nahi chora. Aaj woh yeh saath us'se hamesha ke liye maangne ja raha tha. Uske saath apni choti si duniya banane.

"Phir se chupke se yahan baithe ho." Woh uske saamne khadi ho gayi. Apni gheri ankhon se usse ghoorte hue. "Gift?"  Asmara ki ankhon mein thora sa sharab ka nasha tha. Woh jaanta tha, magar phir bhi kuch nahi bola. Shayad woh chup he uska pehla qadam tha barbadi ki tarf, magar kash woh us waqt yeh sab jaanta.

"Tumhari itni bari duniya mein kho jata hoon." Ek nazar usne uski alag si duniya pe phir dali. Na to Shehryar ko sharab ki chahat thi aur na hi uske paiso se. Woh to yahan aata to sirf Asmara ki mohabbat mein aata. Aur kabhi kabhi insaan ko uska dil he usko barbaadi ki tarf mor leta hai.  "Reh pao gi is sab se door?"

"Tumhare liye to duniya chor doon." Asmara ne ek qadam uski janib barhaya apni bahein uske galle mein daalte hue. Woh jaanta tha woh is had ko bhi par kar jayegi. Asmara us'se junoon ki had tak mohabbat karti thi.  Ek nasha jo uske dil, dimagh, zehan, sab per havi tha.

Kaash woh jaan jata ke nasha to sirf waqti hota hai aur junoon sirf fanaa karta hai. Dono ka anjaam sirf barbadi hota hai. Aur Shehryar ne us waqti aur aarzi janaat ke liye apni deen, duniya, aur ruhaniat sab kuch barbad kar dia.

He wanted to forget, no, he needed to forget to breathe again. He stumbled back towards the bar, asking for enough to drown himself to the point to forget the pain and his existence altogether. Asmara always took from him and even though she wasn't in his life anymore, the mere existence of her memories would take away one good thing that happened to him. His Rapunzel. Only if he knew, but that was the thing. He never knew. He was always too late and too drunk when he would show up at his destruction.

"Laila," He stood shaken as he realized the consequences of his rash behavior. The files fell from Laila's hands, scattering all around him synonymous with what their relationship was to become. Oh, fuck no. He'd bring the hell down to earth before he lost her. "Laila" He tried to reach out to her but she held up her shaking hand.

"Please!" She held on to the door as if it was too hard to stand. The voice as still as ever, but today it was ominously painful. His hands curled in fists as Junaid held her elbow walking her to sit on the sofa while escorting the other lady out of the house, leaving the two to stew in desolation. Her beautiful eyes were filled with grief and he was the one to cause it all.

"Laila!" He followed, but she sat on the sofa her held bent, held between her hands. What have I done? "Laila."

"What? what do you want me to say?" She moved her head, snapping her eyes open at him. Her eyes were brimming with tears, holding the pieces of his forlorn promises. Or that he made a spectacle out of her trust in him. "I trusted you with everything in me. Every hope, every way I could find... I put them all in your hands and trusted you with it." Her eyes let go of the tears she had been trying to hold. They were freely falling on her hands. He'd seen her cry many times before, but not like this. Not helpless and heartbroken like how she was in that moment. His heart cracked watching her so broken like that. He was the cause of all that.

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"I'm sorry." The broken words left his lips, but they were useless now, no matter how many time he said them.

"Sorry doesn't fix anything. This is not your one-night-stand which will get fixed with a sorry and a bouquet. This is about the lives of those hundreds of kids who will have nowhere to go. This about the kids who will be put in danger because you couldn't stay celibate for one night." She stood up, trying to figure something, but everything seemed to be in dark and she had no way out. "What am I going to do? This is all my fault."

"Laila. No-" He took a step towards her but she stepped back as if any closer, his existence would burn her.

"It was a favor. You could have told me if you didn't want to do it. Nobody forced you to do anything. It would have been better if you told me no that day. I would have done something. I would've gone to court or did something, but you robbed me of that time." She snatched her bag and her jaw tightened as she picked up the papers Junaid had collected and put on the coffee table. Her hand curled around the documents, wrinkling them. "Next week they'll be thrown on the road, left to die, and all that is on you." She threw the papers on his face, left him standing in his living room she left with nothing in her hands, but burning tears.

"Inaaya," She called her friend as her voice broke through the phone.

"We'll figure something out." Inaaya held her hand as they sat in Laila's office. Inaaya had come running in her scrubs, with her raven hair tied in a bun. Laila was thankful for her presence as she couldn't go home. Malka would sense her pain from miles no matter how hard she tried to hide. "I'll talk to my Dad, his lawyer will figure something out."

"Martin's got the politicians in the area. The orphanage is in redevelopment done. They'll leave the Church under a religious basis, but there is no way they'll let the orphanage and dorms stay there." Laila's eyes were swollen and red. Never in her life had she ever felt so helpless and broken. She had fought tooth and nail to find a way out of every situation, but here she couldn't even do anything.

"I'll have Adeel contact his friend in a news channel. Social Media is powerful. There is a way. There is always a way, Lily." Inaaya opened the water bottle handing it to her. Laila nodded in thanks. "Malka ne tumhe darna ya iss tarhan haar man'na nahi sikhaya. Chin up, we got this babe."

"Lyls?" She wiped her face when she saw Zain in the door. "What happened?"

"Your brother happened." Inaaya put her hands on her waist and stood in front of her, blocking her view.

"Excuse me." Zain rather sounded confused.

"You're excused." Inaaya turned her head, her nose in the air.

"Maharani?"

"Maharani Who?"

Laila groaned, covering her face. She had no energy to deal with all this.

"Remember on the phone... threatening me with an injury lawsuit."

"Oh, you! The little shareef kunwara Farishta."

Laila's face burned. She'd take jumping out the window to hungry dogs than witnessing another embarrassment. She watched the two go at each other like kids.

"I like the description, Maharani."

"You call me Maharani one more time. I will cut your larynx out." Inaaya pulled out the scalpel from her scrubs.

"WHAT THE HELL?" Zain stumbled back.

"INAAYA AAMIR!" Laila made her sit down, taking the scalpel from her. "What the hell are you doing with this?"

"Oh, I was practicing on the dummy when you called me so I kinda forgot I put it in my pocket."

"Do you have any idea how creepy you look?" Inaaya shrugged, pulling out a bag of chips from another pocket.

"Sorry, This is Inaaya, my friend. She is a doctor, actually a surgical resident. She doesn't just carry," Laila awkwardly stared at the scalpel in her hand, "uh weapons?" Zain looked over Laila's shoulder at Inaaya who sneered back at him and he jumped back.

"You have interesting friends." Zain handed her the file. "But happened? Why were you crying? Did my brother do something?"

"Your brother," Laila bitterly whispered about one man who crushed everything in his hands. "Nothing. I just have a lot on my plate." But whatever happened it was between the two of them. There was no way she was going to spill it in front of Zain.

"Your brother singlehandedly ruined one chance we had to save the orphanage." Of course, Inaaya had a mouth bigger than the map of Russia.

"What?" Zain's forehead creased as he met Laila's gaze again for the explanation. Laila motioned him to sit down and let Inaaya do the talking. Laila needed wallow in her misery for a while more as she stared at the darkened office through the blinds.

The week felt like years as her eyes burned like her heart, but she was hardly able to do anything. The news channel, of course, didn't do a thing. No one wanted to meddle with the Shah family. The court gave her the date sometime next month. And her boss had been MIA since the day of the incident. Zain had been at it again to take care after Mr. Ali.

A small rebellious part of her heart was worried, wondering where he was. It was hoping that he was okay wherever he was for the past week. That part was pushing her to pick up the phone and call him, but she squashed that part of hers. She had enough to deal with she couldn't find more in her to deal with him after what he did.

She took the cab to the orphanage early in the morning. If they tried to do anything to St. Mary's, it'd be over her dead body. Sister Rosalie was pacing near the front gate and finally stopped when Laila got there.

"I haven't let the kids out today. I don't want them to see all this." Sister Rosalie held Laila's hands.

"That's a great idea. Inaaya will here too. We'll figure something out." Laila tried to sound strong, but her words were empty and bitter on her tongue. The loss of home lingering on her arms like goosebumps in winter, making her shiver with fear.

Laila sat near the wrought iron gates, waiting for God knows what. Maybe one last miracle to save the home that was due to turn into a ruin of hopes otherwise. Drenched in the scorching sun rays, she searched for a ray of miracle amongst them, but there was none.

She sucked in her breath as the beige sedan came to halt on the other side of the gates, ruffling the dust on the road. Martin came out of the car, smirking. She despised that phase. He'd always been a bully when she was living at the orphanage.

"Laila." The side of his lips curled up. For a second she was thankful for the gates between them. No matter how much courage she gathered, she still wasn't strong enough to face the bullies.

"Martin." Laila gritted her teeth, trying to stop them from clattering.

"Did you come here to pick up the remains of your abandoned childhood?" Martin's black eyes sparkled the edge of the knife in sun. The button-up shirt and slacks did nothing to hide his sadistic nature. Even cleaned up he still reeked of being a bully. He took a step closer to the rusty gates. Laila took an unconscious step away from the gates.

Even the sweltering sun couldn't warm up the color draining from her face. She twiddled her clammy hands around the edge of her black duppatta. Her throat was closing up, warning her of her vomiting reflex, but she repressed it. She needed her spine straight and strong, not bent over the curb, coughing out little courage she had left.

"I supposed the kids left with their ancient grandmas." His malignant gaze went beyond her over the empty courtyard. "That was easy." He moved his head around cracking his neck.

"They are here and they will stay here. Nobody can take their home from them. Not you or your political puppets."Laila hissed at him with everything within her.

"You were always too stubborn." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Not this time. I will have those mutts out of here before the end of the day.

"Over my dead body." She curled her arms around her waist, trying to stop herself from shaking.

"Gladly."

And the next thing she knew, she had cold metal pressed against her forehead.

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Ramadan Mubarak to those who are celebrating it!
Sorry I have been MIA! living that sloth life to the max.