Qubool Hai


Qubool Hai
Qubool Hai

SaHil FF: Eternally Yours, Epilogue, P42, Dec14.2016 (Page 3)

noesha Senior Member

Joined: 06 February 2013
Posts: 379

Posted: 25 May 2015 at 4:05am | IP Logged
Loved it! Love your writing. Update soon!

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Raingoddess IF-Rockerz

Joined: 03 June 2014
Posts: 6565

Posted: 25 May 2015 at 5:23am | IP Logged
Lovely chapter! I always love reading stories about the Khan family had Asad and Zoya been alive! You have done a great job Embarrassed Loved Asad, Zoya, Sanam and Seher in the small but delightful bits you have shown here! And now for ARI or Sanam's Air! Exciting! So Nawab of Bhopal finally arrives! Cant wait for their interactions! Looks like Sanam remembers their childhood encounter Day Dreaming Really interested to read what happens next! Update soon! Amazing job Star

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Kabhibloom Goldie

Joined: 31 July 2013
Posts: 1545

Posted: 25 May 2015 at 6:39am | IP Logged
Wow. Awesome.
Just loved it.
Sanam is a lawyer and Seher is an accountant.
Very nice. I think Sanam recognized Ahil.
Continue Soon

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adventure_gurl IF-Stunnerz

Joined: 05 October 2005
Posts: 25017

Posted: 25 May 2015 at 8:10am | IP Logged
wow  you did a great job!

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darkice7_12 Senior Member

Joined: 15 July 2010
Posts: 782

Posted: 25 May 2015 at 5:25pm | IP Logged
@noesha - Thanks! Will try to update soonish. I plan on beginning the chapter soon, but who knows how long it'll take to actually complete. LOL

@Raingoddess - Thanks. My only worry about the AsYa and SaSe interactions is that I may get AsYa's voice wrong. I've watched snippets of season 1, but not too thoroughly. Will try to update soon.

@khushbloom - Thanks! I think it is very important to show women having careers outside of the home, as well. Big smile

@adventure_gurl - Thank you!

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sahil333 IF-Rockerz

Joined: 07 August 2014
Posts: 5218

Posted: 25 May 2015 at 7:07pm | IP Logged

Wow!...Such a beautiful chapter.Thumbs Up. I love it.

A very light hearted one. Sanam is all grown up now. And so is Mr. ARI. Looking forward to their first meeting after so many years. Sanam is a lawyer so I think that ARI knew that from the beginning. Am I right?
Love Seher here, always the spunky one. She's an accountant and is weak in geography? I'm like her then as an accountant/auditor and I hate that I suck in geography even though I have to use my brain everyday for my job Wacko Silly.
Hey, don't worry about AsYa, this is your story right? But, they are beautiful in your story too. Love the VM!Smile
Can't wait for the next chapter, so update soon please? Tongue

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darkice7_12 Senior Member

Joined: 15 July 2010
Posts: 782

Posted: 25 May 2015 at 9:07pm | IP Logged
Originally posted by sahil333

Wow!...Such a beautiful chapter.Thumbs Up. I love it.

A very light hearted one. Sanam is all grown up now. And so is Mr. ARI. Looking forward to their first meeting after so many years. Sanam is a lawyer so I think that ARI knew that from the beginning. Am I right?

Love Seher here, always the spunky one. She's an accountant and is weak in geography? I'm like her then as an accountant/auditor and I hate that I suck in geography even though I have to use my brain everydayfor myjob WackoSilly.

Hey, don't worry about AsYa, this is your story right? But, they are beautiful in your story too. Love the VM!Smile

Can't wait for the next chapter, so update soon please? Tongue

Oy. That's a bit worrisome. I was going to wing it with the profession, since I don't know the specifics. I'll do some research if I need to talk about Seher's work.   LOL

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darkice7_12 Senior Member

Joined: 15 July 2010
Posts: 782

Posted: 09 June 2015 at 1:23am | IP Logged


Chapter 2: Qureshi. Rehan Imran Qureshi.



Sanam walked out of the ballroom, finding it hard to catch her breath. She needed air, and it was too crowded and loud in that ballroom to make that possible. The sound was muted out here, and she was alone in the hallway. Everyone else, including the LSB staff, had entered the room to catch a glimpse of the fabled Nawab of Bhopal.

In the carpeted hallway, under the bright lighting, she let out a gasp. She was away from any prying eyes, even the loving ones of her family, and she could finally allow her body to relax. She placed a hand against her chest, willing her rapid heartbeats to slow. Btu despite all efforts, her thoughts were still in turmoil. Turning back to look at the closed doors of the ballroom, her lips began to tremble. "ARI. Air," she murmured softly to herself. It was him. The memory of a young boy continued to tug at her psyche, refusing to let go.

"My initials are A . . . R . . . I. My name isn't Air."

"Then . . . what's your name? What's the mystery? Who gives their initials when someone asks for the name?"

"It's Aahil. Happy?"

She had been so happy to get the answer she needed from an older man. And at the time, he had seemed older. Even though . . . thinking back now, he must have been a young teenager at the time. She smiled ruefully at that remembered triumph, but the smile quickly faded away. She leaned against a cream-colored wall for support, having moved a few feet down from the ballroom doors.

"How can there be love . . . if parents hurt their children? . . . How can a kid trust his parents, or even love them, if they beat him up . . . lock him up . . . starve him?"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Don't worry your little head about it, kid . . . I was just joking."

The wealth of pain . . . the immeasurable darkness . . . the heart-clenching cynicism in that voice . . . and despite all of that, the attempt to take her worry away. That was what had remained with her long after he had left. That man in the ballroom had partly shaped the person she was today.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the heavy beat of her heart. In one fell swoop, she had gone from fearing the darkness of the night to appreciating its beauty. And then he had taught her that sometimes darkness could be ugly. That sometimes, even if you had the light in front of you, you couldn't see it. She took a deep breath again, but a sob escaped nonetheless. And now he was here.  Her heartbeat stuttered at the thought. The only thing was . . .

Sanam jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder, distracting her from her thoughts. Looking up with tear-stricken eyes, she met her mother's comforting gaze. "Ammi," she murmured, reaching up to grab hold of her mother's hand. "He's back."

"She's finally asleep," Zoya murmured, coming to sit beside Asad on their bed. "She still wouldn't tell me why she was crying. Not in any detail. Asad," she said plaintively, "Our daughter is hurting and there is nothing I can do about it." It was late at night, and the kids were finally asleep. Seher and Haya had both been affected by Sanam's depressed mood, but Zoya had finally managed to put the girls to bed, assuring them that Sanam was just tired.

Coming to bed herself, she was ready to rest. But she knew that the worries in her mind would not allow her to actually sleep. Asad reached out and pulled her close, hugging her in comfort.

"My heart hurts for our daughter," Zoya said, burying her face in his chest. The sounds of his heartbeats were soothing, but the memory of her daughter's tears was too strong for her to allow herself to be soothed.

"Ammi?" a young voice called out.

Zoya turned her head and saw Sanam standing in the doorway.

"Abu?" Sanam stood at the threshold, afraid to come in and disturb them.

"Sanam, why are you still up?" Asad asked sternly, holding out an arm, nonetheless, to silently welcome their young daughter.

Sanam walked over and climbed into his lap, forgetting that just days ago she had loudly proclaimed that she was too old for her father to carry. Nestling close to her father, she reached out and grabbed her mother's hand. It was only then that she allowed herself to relax, her heart soothed by the love she could feel coming from her parents.

"What is it, beta?" Zoya asked, brushing back the hair that had fallen across her daughter's face with her free hand. She looked into her daughter's eyes questioningly.

"Do some adults hurt kids, even when they're supposed to be taking care of them?" Sanam asked in a small voice.

"Sanam, what happened?" Asad asked grimly. "Who hurt you?" The anger was clear in his voice, as if he was ready to punish anyone who had dared to harm his little girl.

Sanam quickly shook her head. "I met someone today. He was hurt. He said . . .," she stopped, her voice breaking off.

"Said what?" Zoya prompted gently.

"I think his parents hurt him."

Her parents had listened to her. They had then talked to the authorities. By the time they had cut through all the red tape and someone had actually gone out to check on the children, the family had left the country. And no one in a position of authority had cared to pursue the matter any further.

Sanam was grateful from the bottom of her heart that her parents had listened to her that day. They had taken action to try to help a child, even if those actions had been unsuccessful. But the memory of a child who hadn't been helped had remained with her over the years.

"Sanam, I know how much that one incident shaped you," Zoya murmured, pulling her daughter into her arms for a quick hug. "You began to work harder in school. I don't even know when you decided to become an attorney, but I know it was because of your desire to change the system so that no children would fall through the cracks."

Pulling back, Zoya looked at her daughter closely, her heart aching at the confusion and pain she saw in her daughter's eyes. Her Sanam was a lioness, protecting those around her with all the life that she had in her body. And now, to have that boy come back into her daughter's life . . . as a man . . . and to see how he still had an effect on her vulnerable daughter.  She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"You can't just do that, Sanam!" Asad yelled at his recalcitrant daughter. "You can't just jump in front of someone like that! What if you had been hurt?" Asad asked. His arms were crossed across his chest, as he glared down at her angrily.

"But he was hurting her, Abu!" Sanam argued back, her arms crossed across her skinny chest, unconsciously mimicking her father's stance.

Zoya stared between her husband and their 12-year-old daughter, standing nose to nose and arguing about their daughter's foolish actions today. Seeing the vegetable vendor slapping his daughter, Sanam had stepped in the way to prevent another hit, almost getting hit herself.

It was only Asad's quick intervention that had saved their daughter from a slap herself.

"I couldn't just stand there and watch, Abu! She needed help! Anyways, Ammi would agree with me. Didn't she help one of your cousins? Badi Ammi told me how brave mom was!"

Asad and Zoya exchanged a look, remembering the consequence of those actions. Taking a deep breath, Asad attempted to control his temper. "You can't put yourself in danger," he said carefully. "You can't just fight abuse with your own violence or emotions. Get the tools you need to be able to fight it in a way that will do the most good, without causing harm to yourself or to others."

"What do you mean?" Sanam asked, calming down once she saw that her father had let go of his anger.

"Use the law. Call me," he pointed to himself in emphasis. "Call the police. There are so many tools. What could you have done?" he demanded, "If the man turned on you instead, you would have ended up getting hurt, too. Don't just react to abuse like this, be smart. A lioness is brave, but also intelligent. And you're my lioness, aren't you?" he asked, hugging his daughter close.

Their Sanam had listened to her father. Today, she was an attorney who was ready to fight for her clients. It did her heart good to see her daughter with a career, to see her with a mission and a passion.

But it also hurt her to realize that her daughter had stopped being a child a long time ago. Any other child would have forgotten that one incident, and that child could have been forgiven for forgetting. After all, how fleeting had that initial meeting been? But not her daughter.  Not her lioness.

Zoya stepped back and brushed Sanam's hair back from her face. Pulling out a tissue, she carefully wiped away the glow that had appeared on her daughter's face. Sanam closed her eyes, allowing her mother to take care of her. Zoya mused silently on the differences between her twin daughters. Seher was like her. The two of them felt deeply and often. The two of them could be angry one moment, but could also easily move on.

But Sanam was like Asad; the two of them could hold a grudge like no other. She remembered a 9-year-old Sanam telling her that she was only forgiving her for some minor infraction because Zoya was her mother and she loved her. Sanam was too much like her dad. She felt too deeply and held on too long, and that was a problem. Zoya knew. Sanam had held onto that boy's pain and made it her motivation. In the process, she'd made him her own. And now, Zoya worried, how would the reality compare?

"Sanam . . .," Zoya began, throwing the tissue away. She was uncertain what else to say. How could she demand that her daughter not take things too seriously? How could she say that Sanam needed to ignore that man for her own peace of mind? Especially when she could already see that he was having an effect on her daughter.

"Zoya?" It was Asad. He had stepped through the doors, and had been looking over at the two. Zoya and Sanam jumped at the influx of noise coming out of the ballroom. Shaking his head at how deeply they were into their conversation, he waited for his wife to notice him.

Zoya turned to look at him questioningly, stepping back from Sanam.

"Could you please come inside? Mrs. Khanna was just saying she hadn't had a chance to say hello."

Zoya grimaced at Sanam, "Duty calls." She left her daughter with a final comforting squeeze of the hand.

Sanam followed her parents back into the ballroom, and gazed up at the stage. Preparations were underway for the final presentations of the night. The speeches would now be of gratitude and thankful applause for those who had opened their pockets and their hearts to LSB clients. They would also be about those who had won the bids.

Peeking into the other room, she saw the furious calculations going on. Those calculations would result in an initial estimate of the amounts that LSB would share with their guests in the interest of transparency. She smiled on seeing Seher in the bid room, intently reading the sheets and speaking with LSB's financial officer. Seher would be a huge help with the number crunches.

Moving back into the other room, her eyes were drawn once more to the figure of Aahil Raza Ibrahim. The Nawab of Bhopal was now surrounded by a bevy of beauties, and he was all shy smiles and twinkling eyes. Sanam pursed her lips at the sight and resolutely turned away to leave the ballroom. That wasn't a sight that she cared to see.

As she left the room, allowing the doors to close behind her, she landed with a thump against a warm, male body. The breath left her body at the impact. Squeezing her eyes shut in disbelief at her own clumsiness, she quickly stepped back and tripped on the hem of her dress. With a squawk she fell, knowing that she was going to hit the floor hard.

But it wasn't to be. Her hands were suddenly gripping at material that had magically appeared below her fingers. She found herself surrounded by muscular arms, that seemed to cradle her close.

"Easy. Easy."

Her face landed against his chest, and she gasped at the shock of naked skin against naked skin. Her cheek and lips were touching the base of another's throat. She squeaked in protest, feeling utterly surrounded by this man's arms . . . body . . . scent. There was a touch of sandalwood, and a musky scent that she had never smelled before. She inhaled deeply, reveling in the moment, and then froze.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked, shocked at herself.

"Excuse me?" a male voice asked incredulously. His hold tightened on her, and he shook her gently. "I just saved you from falling . . . was I not supposed to do that?" he asked.

"I wasn't talking to you," Sanam muttered crossly, unbelieving that she had said the words out loud.

"There's no one else here," he helpfully pointed out. "And . . . "

She tilted her head back, and froze on meeting his eyes.

"Just because we're alone," he murmured, gazing back into her eyes, "That doesn't mean that I should still be holding your delectable form in my arms, don't you think?"

Sanam blinked at the question, her mouth falling open when she realized that she was still in his arms. Briefly struggling, she pushed herself out of those arms and straightened her dress. A blush covered her cheeks, as she fought her embarrassment. She'd been sniffing the guy! What was wrong with her?

"I'm sorry," she muttered, looking at his right ear because she was too embarrassed to meet his gaze directly. "And thank you."

"Don't mention it," he murmured, gazing at the color on her cheeks. It was because of his perusal that he caught her peeking at him from the corner of her eye, and saw her eyes widen for a moment.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

She shook her head, silently denying anything was wrong.

"Are you ever going to look at me?" he asked teasingly.

He moved slightly, and Sanam was hit by his scent once more. It was . . . surprisingly intoxicating.

She shook her head, and forced herself to look at him directly. "Nothing's wrong," she said abruptly. Her eyes moved over his body unconsciously, seeing for the first time the well-cut, black suit . .. the royal blue shirt . . . a colorful handkerchief in the pocket. His hair was slicked back, and there was a sexy five o'clock shadow on that firm jaw.

And those eyes . . . they captured her every time she looked into them.

They fell to his throat, and she blinked rapidly once more.

"You reacted for a moment there," he pointed out. "Something must be wrong?"

Sanam's shoulders slumped in defeat, and she gazed at him balefully. "You have my lipstick on your throat."

"What?" he asked, clearly surprised by her words.

"I might have . . . my lips must have . .. they landed against your throat when I bumped into you," she said with extreme difficulty. She flushed red when her gaze landed on his throat once more. 'Oh god,' she silently screamed to herself.

He firmed his lips, as if trying to stop a smile from appearing. He quickly pulled out his handkerchief to dab at his throat.

"No, a little bit to the left," Sanam instructed, staring at that throat carefully.

He complied, but still missed some of the color.

"A little bit up," she instructed.

His hand went higher, irritation now growing in his face.

"No, you're not getting it," she said in frustration, "Can't you follow instructions correctly?" Moving closer, she grabbed the handkerchief and began to clean away the lipstick. Looking up with another sharp retort ready, she saw him gazing down at her . . . or at her lips more specifically.

And all of a sudden, it was as if there was hardly any air in that hallway. She gasped softly, her lips parting at his proximity . . . at his attention . . . and the heat that came from standing so close to him, which was just too hot. She felt like she was surrounded by him. She quickly turned her attention back to cleaning the lipstick away. Finishing her task, she stepped back with alacrity. "There, it's done," she murmured, thrusting the handkerchief back at him.

"Thanks," he murmured, putting the piece of cloth back in his pocket. He stared at her silently, his eyes moving over her downcast face once more.

"You . . .," she began.

He looked at her with interest.

"You were with the Nawab," she finally pushed out, unable to remain silent anymore.

"I was," he replied, giving nothing away.

Sanam's lips firmed in disbelief at his curt reply. "What were you doing with him?" she asked, pushing the words out. She didn't know why she was being so pushy, but she couldn't stop herself. Something inside of her was pushing her to know everything about this mysterious man.

"I'm his right hand man," he offered, seeing the frown on her face.

"What is he like?" she burst out.

"I didn't take you for a groupie," he noted, leaning against the door of the ballroom.

"What the...?" Sanam said incredulously. "I am not a groupie! And I wouldn't lean against that door. If someone opened it, you'd be splat on your back."

He quickly straightened.

"Anyways, not a groupie," she asserted. "I just . . . met him once. When he was a young boy."

"Oh, really," he murmured, a small smile playing on his lips. "And what is your name? Maybe he mentioned you."

Sanam shook her head quickly, flushing once more. "He wouldn't remember me!"

"Try me," he instructed.

"My name is Sanam Ahmed Khan," she said softly, peeking up at him from under her lashes. More than finding out if the Nawab had mentioned her, it was this stranger that she wanted to share her name with.

The smile fell away from his lips, and he abruptly straightened.

She looked at him with hope.

"I'm sorry," he murmured with an artificial smile. "I have to go. Duty calls. My boss just commanded my presence."

"Oh," Sanam murmured, strangely disappointed. "I didn't hear anything."

"I have to go," he repeated. Pulling out a pair of sunglasses, he put them on.

Sanam made a face at the action. "You're inside," she pointed out to him acerbically. "There's really no need to put those on."

He smirked at her. "There are other things a person could use sunglasses for," he replied. Turning, he pulled open the doors of the ballroom.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

"And everyone at LSB and our clients would like to thank Nawab Aahil Raza Ibrahim for being our biggest donor of the night. We'd like to ask him to come to the stage and say a few words. Mr. Ibrahim?"

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Wait!" Sanam called out.

He turned back to glance at her. Or . . . she was almost sure he was looking at her through those ridiculous sunglasses. For some reason it seemed that he was actually looking towards the right, but why would he do that?

"You never told me who you were," she reminded him. "I told you my name."

There was nothing but silence from him.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "So?"

"So?" he replied with a shrug.

"What's your name?" she demanded, almost stamping her foot in irritation. "There's such a thing as tehzeeb."

He smiled slowly at her. "Manners. Well, fine. It's Qureshi."

"Is that a first or a last name?" she asked, frowning at him. "Why can't I get a straight answer to a simple question?"

"My name is Rehan Imran Qureshi," he said, reaching out to tap at her nose. "And this temper that you carry around with you . .. you do want to be a bit more careful with it, right?" With one final teasing smile, he turned and entered the ballroom.

Sanam slowly followed behind, the anger leaving her body completely. All that was left behind was a strange wistfulness. She hadn't wanted him to leave. And for a moment, talking to him had made her forget everything else.

"Hye, Sanam ki bacchi," Seher cried out, bounding over to grab Sanam in a hug. "Where have you been? I can't believe you missed it!"

"Missed what?" Sanam asked distractedly.

"I met the Nawab!" she shrieked in Sanam's ear. "We even got to talk. God, he's so cute! I got his number," she confided in her sister. "Who would've thought that I would find someone like that here?" There was a pause as Seher looked at her sister. "Sanam?"

"Hmm?" Sanam asked softly, her eyes on the stage.

"Why are you blushing?


It had been a lot harder than he thought it would be. Being in public . . . the noise . . . the people, being stared at and whispered about . . . nothing had been like he had thought it would be.

When he had agreed to do this, he had never thought people would care so much about the Nawab of Bhopal, but they hadn't let up. Since entering the ballroom, he hadn't been alone for a moment. Slumping down into his seat, he allowed himself a moment to relax. He was so tired.

He heard the door open and then close behind him. Looking around the back of the chair, he watched the man in blue walk over to the side table, his hand reaching out for a water bottle.

His own weariness was reflected in the other's face. But there was also a resoluteness about the other man's features that discouraged any commentary.

He sighed, unable to remain silent.

"How long do we have to do this, Aahil bhai? How long do you want me to pretend to be you?"




Chapter 03: Boy Next Door

AN: Here's Chapter 2 for your reading pleasure. Hope you liked it! Don't forget to leave a comment if you do. The more I see, the faster I'll update. LOL

Edited by darkice7_12 - 25 June 2015 at 1:06am

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