~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter 4: Star Light . . . Star Bright
~*~*~*~*~*~
"If you see a falling star, make a
wish on it. Your wish will come true."
Aahil
sat near the pool, his head resting against the back of the chair. His eyes
were trained on the skylight and through it to the night sky above, trying
desperately to find something . . . anything. Even though it was completely dark in the
living room . . . and it was the middle of the night, but he still couldn't see
any stars.
He
hadn't seen a light up in that sky for the longest time.
He
made a face, an annoyed huff leaving his lips. Why couldn't he . . . but there
it was! A single, bright light in the sky. A star!
He
smiled triumphantly.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Six
Years Ago . . .
Aahil
drank his coffee, his mind engrossed in the study materials placed in front of
him. His mind was numb due to a lack of sleep and too much studying. He winced
as the words in the book began to blur in front of his eyes. He couldn't afford
this right now.
"Here
are your eggs and fruit," a male voice said briskly, setting down the
plate in front of him.
Aahil
looked up and flashed a smile in thanks. "Thank you." For a moment,
the numbness washed away, as the smell of the food penetrated the fog that had
surrounded him. It was late at night, and the all night diner had only one or
two customers. It was the perfect place to get the food he needed, along with
the peace to continue studying for mid-terms.
The
waiter in front of him acknowledged the thanks with a nod and a smile. "Need
a refill?" he asked, holding up a hot carafe of coffee.
Aahil
quickly nodded, glancing down at the pile of books in front of him. "I'll
need it," he murmured, "For this all-nighter."
"Studying
can do that," the man replied. "Turning day into night and night into
day. Probably explains why you're having breakfast for a midnight snack,"
he noted.
Aahil
nodded absently, beginning to eat. "I shouldn't even be taking this
break," he grunted, "But I have to eat."
"Business
Law?" the male asked, gazing down at the books. "That's a difficult
course."
"Yep,
but unfortunately it's a requirement," Aahil replied. "Are you a
student, too, Rehan?" he asked, looking at the name tag on the uniform.
"Yep.
Still in undergrad," Rehan explained with a self-conscious laugh. He began
to arrange the desserts in the bell jar display placed on the counter. Quickly
putting the cover back on, he began to wipe off the counters. "It's my
second semester," he explained. "I'm still finding my way around. It
makes me feel a bit weird being one of the older students. Especially since . .
.," He broke off, shaking his head.
"What?"
He
shook his head again. "Excuse me." He moved off to refill coffee for
another customer, jotting down their order and passing it on to the cook in the
back.
Aahil
continued with their conversation when Rehan moved back toward him. "I'm
older than you and only in my second year of college. Think on how that makes
me feel. It's not easy. Especially, being in another country. I'm sorry, do you
have to...?" he asked, waving his finger around the diner.
"No,
I'll take my break now," Rehan said, settling down for the brief break he
was allowed during his eight hour shift. "And I'm sorry. You know my name,
but I don't know yours."
"My
name is Aahil. Aahil Raza Ibrahim," Aahil responded, holding out a hand.
Rehan
shook it with a smile, and then glanced down at the books once more. "It's
a heavy load for someone only in their second year," he noted.
"You're
one to talk," Aahil retorted good-naturedly. "You're in your second
semester and taking advanced courses. You must have taken this course in your
first semester." He shook his head, amazed.
"Well,
I have a scholarship for my tuition, but not enough for much of anything else,"
Rehan explained in a matter of fact tone. "Finishing college in three
years means I can then try to get a Masters in Business. And I'm hoping the foundation
that gave me my scholarship will be willing to pay for one year of my Masters
instead."
"And
afterwards?" Aahil asked, staring at the boy in front of him.
"Afterwards,
I stop sleeping, save up money and pay for the second year and then I can go
back to Bhopal," Rehan replied easily. "I have no reason to stay here and many
reasons to go back."
"You're
from Bhopal?" Aahil burst out, almost spitting out his mouthful of coffee
in his surprise. "I'm from Bhopal."
"Are
you attending UCLA, too?" Rehan asked.
Aahil
nodded silently in reply, a smile growing on his face.
"Really?"
Rehan asked skeptically. "What are the chances that two people from Bhopal,
who never met in that big city, would come across the world and meet at a diner
like this and also be attending the same university?"
"I
don't know what the chances are," Aahil said drily, "But it happened.
Believe me. It happens. I'm not going to say it's destiny or anything like
that. I'm not trying to hit on you," he said emphatically.
Rehan
burst out laughing. "I didn't think that! In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm not
your type," he quipped, raising an eyebrow at the other man.
"You're
right. You're not," Aahil said, finishing up the meal.
"How
do you like it?" Rehan asked, gesturing at the textbook.
Gazing
down at the book, Aahil looked up with a grimace. "The course is
definitely no fun, but I'm doing this for my pre-law major. I want to
specialize in business law, so there is no way around it. But seriously, it's
making me rethink my decision. But you're not doing business law, then why?"
"As
part of my business major," Rehan replied, staring at the title of the book.
"That class does not bring back pleasant memories."
"You
just began working here," Aahil suddenly said. "I've been coming to
this diner for the last couple of years, but haven't seen you before."
"I
did," Rehan answered. "I was working at a construction site before
this, but I'm hoping the diner will give me better hours." Distracted, he
glanced over to a gesturing customer. "I'll be right there! Excuse me. It
seems my break is over. It was good talking to you, Aahil."
"It
was good talking to you, too, man," Aahil, watching the other man walk
away with a smile before turning back to his studies.
.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
"How's
it going?" Aahil asked, glancing up to see Rehan approaching the table.
The
two had forged a connection over the past few months as they shared the trials
and tribulations of being later in life students. The two also enjoyed grumbling
about how immature today's students were. It truly made him feel like they were
two grumpy old men.
He
shook his head, wondering at how much time he had begun to spend with Rehan. He
had been hesitant on forging this friendship, having preferred to remain alone
and isolated in the past. But Rehan's honest and hardworking character and optimism,
despite what little he had heard about Rehan's past, had melted any resistance Aahil
had. The two had even begun to study together when they realized they had a
couple of overlapping classes together. The study sessions usually took place
after Rehan's shift ended a few nights a week.
Rehan
blew the fringe off his forehead and shook his head silently. "I'm not going to
be able to study tonight," he told Aahil unhappily.
"What
do you mean? We have finals, man!" Aahil protested. "You need to study. You
said that you were having trouble with this material."
"I
know," Rehan muttered, "But my boss wants me to cover for another
worker."
"You
have a test tomorrow, Rehan," Aahil enunciated carefully. "This is really
important."
"You
think I don't know that?" Rehan ground out, his face darkening in irritation.
"If I don't work, I lose this job. If I lose this job, I can't pay my rent. I
can't feed myself."
"If
you don't study, you fail this class. You lose your scholarship," Aahil pointed
out.
"What
do you want me to do?" Rehan burst out, clearly unhappy with the pressure Aahil
was putting on him. "I don't have a choice."
"You
do have a choice," Aahil insisted. "Just talk to your boss. I'm sure he'd be
willing to work with you on this. I'm sure he'd understand."
"Mr.
Qureshi, I pay you to work, not to fraternize with the clientele," a stern
voice called out from behind the two. Rehan looked around the empty diner and
then turned towards his boss.
"Talk
to him," Aahil encouraged Rehan.
Rehan
gave a reluctant glance over his shoulder, and then walked over to the man
standing at the back doors. He indicated a hand towards the back office, and then
followed his boss in.
Aahil
stared down at his watch, realizing that 10 minutes had elapsed since Rehan had
gone to the back. Where was he? His eyes widened when Rehan stomped out minutes
later. "What's wrong?" he asked worriedly, his eyes taking in the bag that
Rehan had slung over his shoulder.
"Let's
go," Rehan ordered, his expression dark.
"What's
wrong?" he asked again, refusing to get up until he found out what had happened.
There
was no answer; Rehan stood there, a blank expression on his face.
"Look,
your shift is clearly over. If he gave you a hassle about it, then let me talk
to him," Aahil offered. "Where is he?"
"Let's
just go, Aahil," Rehan said through gritted teeth. "You wanted to
study, right? Let's go study." He strode out the door and into the dark
night.
"Rehan!"
Aahil called out, quickly getting up and following the retreating figure.
"Rehan, slow down. What's wrong?" Aahil insisted, grabbing at Rehan's
arm to halt his headlong movement.
Rehan
swung around, angrily pulling his arm away. "I was fired, okay?"
It
was unseasonably cool for spring in California, but the two men paid no
attention to the cold wind blowing over them, their minds intent on having this
conversation.
"It's
not okay," Aahil replied grimly, seeing that Rehan had tears in his eyes.
"Your boss shouldn't have done that."
"There's
a lot of things that people shouldn't be doing," Rehan said, beginning to
walk again. "We'll have to find a place to study."
"Wait,
that's it?" Aahil asked, following Rehan. "What about work?"
"It's
over. That job is over," Rehan muttered. "What else is there to say?
I'll just have to find another job."
"That's
great!" Aahil said excitedly.
Rehan
stopped abruptly and turned to glare at Aahil. "Are you high? What the
hell does that even mean?"
"No,
I didn't mean that!" Aahil said, shaking his head. "I meant that you
can come work for me. I need someone to help me with the business related stuff
that I get from back home. All the things my Badi Ammi keeps on sending me and insisting that I look over. I can
use someone to check out the paperwork and save me the trouble. You can even
pick your own hours. It'll be perfect."
Rehan's
lips firmed in anger. Turning he began to walk more quickly, his face revealing
the anger he was still feeling.
"Rehan!
Where are you going? Rehan! Stop!" Aahil ordered. "Stop right now."
Rehan
stopped and turned to glare at Aahil.
"What
is wrong with you?" Aahil demanded, coming to stand next to him. He
crossed his arms across his chest, his eyes boring into Rehan's.
"What
is wrong with me?" Rehan asked incredulously. "What is wrong with
you? Why can't you understand? Oh, I forgot. How could you? You're the great
ARI."
Aahil's
face fell at those words. No one knew to call him that. At least no one in this
country.
"The
great Aahil Raza Ibrahim.. The Nawab of Bhopal. You think I wouldn't find out?"
Rehan asked, crossing his arms across his own chest. He had a bitter smirk on
his face that Aahil had never seen before. "You're the reason I'm here.
The Ibrahim Corporation funds scholarships at various orphanages in Bhopal. I'm
one of those lucky recipients."
"What's
wrong with that?" Aahil asked belligerently, slightly shivering now in the
cold, night air as it began to penetrate deep within. "What's wrong with
me being Aahil Raza Ibrahim? I feel like I should be apologizing for something
that is not my fault."
"I'm
already living on your charity," Rehan ground out, looking up to the skies
for some sort of inspiration to make this man understand. "Literal
charity. Now you're going to make up a position just so that you can give me
more money?"
"It's
not a made up position," Aahil said through gritted teeth. "What is
wrong with you? Why are you acting like this? You weren't like this, Rehan."
Rehan
shook his head. "It's soul-destroying enough to have no support . . . no
family . . . nothing and no one in this entire world to call my own," he
said in a broken voice, his voice trembling under the weight of emotion he was
finally letting out. "It's hard enough to fight for every bit you can get,
and to fight to keep your optimism and the ability to love alive . . . but to
have what little you have taken away because people just don't understand . . ."
He firmed his lips, and glared at Aahil. "You don't understand. And you're
taking away my pride! Why can't you see that?"
"Rehan,"
Aahil murmured, reaching out a hand.
Rehan
stepped back, rejecting that comfort.
"Don't
be like this," Aahil said after a short, uncomfortable silence. He shifted
from one foot to the other. Fiddling with his bag, he put it over the other
shoulder. "Just because I have money doesn't mean life was easy for
me," he finally got out. "Do you have any idea . . . ?" He
stopped and took a deep breath. "It's not easy for me to say this . . .
but I'd like to be your friend."
There
was no response from Rehan, who seemed busy staring at his own shoes.
"You
don't seem to have a friend," Aahil finally said, breaking the fraught
silence. "I've seen you on campus. Always alone. We're study partners. But
I think we could be friends?"
Rehan
refused to look up.
Aahil
bit his lip, unsure of what to say. He didn't know how he had allowed himself
to care, but he did . . . he cared about this boy. He had even begun to
consider him a friend, but now he realized that that had just been his mistake.
And the thing was that he understood Rehan's hesitation all too well. Sighing
heavily, he turned away. There was nothing more to say.
"I
can use a friend," Rehan called out from behind him. "But I don't
need a savior."
Aahil
turned around and looked at him.
The
two smiled at each other hesitantly.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Two
Months Ago . . .
"What do you mean? Did she leave any
provisions? No. Okay. I'll let you know."
Aahil
sat staring out the window of his penthouse apartment in Southern California,
his eyes trained on the public below. His mind wouldn't stop circling around
the conversation he had just had with one of the Ibrahim Corporation's in-house
lawyers.
His
Badi Ammi was gone. It was time for
him to go back home. A sick feeling was beginning to gnaw at him. He didn't
want to go back. He didn't want to become the Nawab of Bhopal.
He
heard the door opening and looked up to see his roommate walking in. Rehan stopped in the doorway, his eyes
widening in surprise to see Aahil there before him. "Why aren't you at
work?" he blurted out, referring to the job that Aahil held as an
associate lawyer at a big law firm.
His
eyes landed on the whiskey in Aahil's hand. He opened his mouth for a
reprimand, but stopped when he saw the bleakness in Aahil's gaze. "What's
wrong?" he asked instead.
"There
was a phone call from Bhopal," he responded hoarsely. "It was a lawyer.
My Badi Ammi has passed."
Rehan
came and sat down beside Aahil, placing a hand on his arm in commiseration.
"I'm sorry."
Aahil
shook his head. "She was sick, but did not tell me. It was her choice. I
have to go back," he uttered grimly. "I have to." His gaze revealed
how much he hated that thought. He took a deep swallow from the glass, setting
it down on the coffee table when the need to drink it all down in one gulp grew
inside of him. "I have to take care of the Nawab's properties and
businesses since grandmother has died. After all, I am the Nawab of
Bhopal." His tone was anything but happy about that truth.
"Can't
you just hire some trusted people to take care of things?" Rehan offered
the option. "Why do you have to go back when you don't want to?"
"No,
I can't," Aahil replied. "My sisters are in Bhopal. They've been
staying in the college dorms, and that was okay while Badi Ammi was alive. Now that she's gone, and they're growing up .
. .I have to get them married. I haven't seen them in more than a decade. I need
to go back and take care of them. And the business. There are things that I
can't do from here."
He
got up abruptly and strode over to the big glass doors leading out to the
balcony. "I don't know if I can do this and still keep my peace of mind,
Rehan," turning to the man who knew his every secret. His legs were
trembling beneath him. He reached out a hand and braced it against the wall. "I
don't want to be in the limelight again. If I start going out amongst Bhopal's
elite . . . what if rumors begin to spread? I don't want any hint of my past
out there for the world to see." He sighed heavily, his shoulders
slumping. His thoughts were in turmoil, and he didn't know how to stop that
torrent of worry. His hands clenched into fists, the emotions roiling inside of
him.
"Aahil
bhai," Rehan murmured, coming to
stand next to him. "Don't take it to heart so much."
The
two had became roommates soon after Rehan had lost his job at the diner. While
not allowing Aahil to help by giving him a job, Rehan had agreed to move in and
live rent free until he could find another job. The two had become the best of
friends, trusting each other enough to share their deepest secrets.
For
Aahil, Rehan was the second friend he had allowed himself in his life. And . .
. the best friend that he had ever had. His brother of the heart.
Rehan
turned to stare at Aahil, able to see the pain that Aahil hid from the entire
world. For Rehan, Aahil was his brother . . . his family . . . his support. It
hurt to see his support hurting like this.
"My
grandmother and I did not have the best relationship," Aahil murmured.
"You know that, but she was able to keep the vultures away. No one
questioned where I was because she fed them the right kind of information in
the right-sized bites."
"You
know that you'll be okay," Rehan encouraged him. "We'll take care of
it."
Aahil
looked at him in surprise. "You'll go back with me?"
"Of
course," Rehan quickly answered.
"What
about your job? You just got promoted to associate director in HR," he
pointed out. "You've been going from one high to another, Rehan. You can't
just give up everything you've been working towards in the past two years after
getting your Masters. How could I take that away from you?"
"You're
not taking anything away from me. Aahil bhai,
you know I don't use that word lightly," he pointed out softly, gazing at
him. "You are my brother in every way that counts. I am going back with
you. There is nothing you can do about it," he said implacably.
Aahil
nodded, grateful for this man's support. He looked out the window, a great
feeling of relief welling up inside of him. But would he really be able to do
this? Would he be able to go back to Bhopal and face those people again? The
deep ache inside of him made him feel afraid that he really couldn't.
"Stop
thinking about it," Rehan ordered. "We'll find a way through
this."
"I
really don't think I can do it," Aahil said softly . . . so softly that he
was sure that Rehan couldn't have heard him. It was a cry for help. . . a soft cry
from that little boy he used to be. But even that little boy knew that help wouldn't
come.
But
it was Rehan, after all. "You can do it," Rehan murmured
encouragingly. "In fact, since I'm not emotionally invested in this . . .
I have an idea."
Aahil
turned to look at him enquiringly.
"How about when the Nawab of Bhopal returns to Bhopal, he looks a little
bit different?"
Aahil
quirked an eyebrow in silent question.
"How
about he looks like this handsome gentlemen instead?" he asked, pointing
to his own face.
"What?"
Aahil asked.
"What
about I pretend to be the Nawab instead?" Rehan asked. "That way you
won't have to worry about the limelight while learning the ropes of the Nawab
role. I'll be your 'public face'."
"You'd
do that? Even knowing everything?" Aahil asked incredulously.
Rehan
nodded silently.
"Why?"
"Because
you're my brother," Rehan replied.
Aahil
tightened his lips, unsure of what to say.
"And
besides," Rehan continued, clearing his throat, "Who would it hurt?
Right now, you're too emotionally affected that you can't be rational about
this. If we do this, you'll be able to slip back into Bhopal society, and we
can let the truth come out slowly."
~*~*~*~*~*~
One
Month Ago . . .
"I
can't wait to get to your house and sleep," Rehan groaned out loud.
"I couldn't sleep a wink on that flight. I hate airplanes."
Aahil
stiffened by his side. "Unbelievable."
"What's
wrong?" Rehan asked, sensing the change in mood.
"Lateef
at 2 o'clock," Aahil said carefully. "She's the . . ."
"Where?"
Rehan asked, looking around.
"Your
other right, Rehan," Aahil barked at him.
"You told me about her," Rehan said, looking
in the right direction. "What is she doing here?"
"You
think I know? I was expecting an attorney not a house employee. Get ready. She's
very flamboyant. As you can very well see."
"Aah!"
Lateef exclaimed loudly. "Aahil baba, you're finally here. Do you have any
idea how long I have been waiting, sitting in these hard airport seats? I
almost thought my delicate body would be permanently harmed. After all, main to hui chui mui."
Rehan
raised his eyebrows at that, trying to control his smile.
Lateef
raced over to the two men and clasped her hands in joy.
"You're
finally back where you belong," she sang joyfully. "Do you have any
idea how long I have waited for your return? Well, me and Suleiman chacha before he passed."
Aahil's
smile disappeared at the reminder that the elderly man who had taken care of
him to the best of his ability had recently passed, as well. The sad thing was
that his passing hurt more than his own
grandmother's passing had.
"Aahil
baba, let me take your things," she offered enthusiastically. "We
have everything ready at home. You said that you wanted to change houses, so
I've been going around with the real estate agent, as well. I think we have the
perfect house picked out. You just have to give your final approval."
Reaching out, Lateef grabbed Aahil's bags.
Aahil
tugged them back. "Uh, no. I'm not Aahil," he explained, wondering
frantically if their attempts at subterfuge had failed at the first obstacle.
"My name is Rehan. I'm Aahil's friend."
Lateef
began to laugh, placing her dupatta
in front of her face.
"What's
wrong?" Rehan asked.
"How
could I not know my Aahil baba?" she demanded, her hands going to her
waist as she shook her head at the absurdity at their claim. "Do you think
I wouldn't recognize the boy that brought me home when I was being beaten up
for dressing like a girl? Or the boy who shared his meager amount of food with
me?" She began to cry loudly, her mind
remembering the tragedy of their shared childhood. "Why would you say that? Why would you
think you could fool me?!"
"Lateef!"
Aahil cried out in exasperation. "Put a sock in it, will you?" He had
never thought that Lateef would recognize him so easily and so adamantly.
"See!
It's the exact same attitude! Even when you're pretending to be someone else,
you can't stop being the Nawab," Lateef cried out in delight. Using her dupatta, she wiped her tears away,
making sure to wipe away any traces of running mascara.
Aahil
noticed the looks Lateef's loud voice were drawing. If they didn't calm her
down, she would reveal everything and it would be game over before the game had
even started. "Lateef, stop," he ordered authoritatively.
"But,
why?" Lateef asked in confusion.
"Okay,
fine," Aahil said in defeat. "I am Aahil Raza Ibrahim," he
admitted.
Lateef
nodded. As if there had ever been any doubt.
"Just
relax. I'll explain everything, but you better not let anyone know that I am
the actual Nawab."
Lateef
tilted her head in question. "But . ..?"
Aahil
raised an eyebrow at her.
"Why?"
~*~*~*~*~*~
Aahil's
eyes burst open, his heart racing. It seemed that he had fallen asleep for a
few moments there. He looked at his watch. An hour had passed in the blink of
an eye. His eyes looked up at the night sky once more.
That
light was still there. But to add to it . . . there was another twinkle.
Another star.
He
smiled softly.
Was
there hope yet for him?
~*~*~*~*~*~
Sixteen
Years Ago . . .
Star
light, star bright,
First
star I see tonight,
I
wish I may, I wish I might,
Have
this wish I wish tonight.
"Aahil
baba, I'll keep watch," Lateef said from the doorway. "You go out and
look at the stars."
"If
father finds out, you'll get punished," Aahil said somberly, as he sat on
the bed. "He's already exploded once today. And you weren't even supposed
to come on this trip with us. Why did you hide in the trunk? I told you to keep
away from dad! With you coming here, he'll definitely see you."
"You
are all down here for months at a time," Lateef complained, her hand
playing with her short braid. "I can't protect you while I'm in Bhopal, can
I?" Using the fingers of the other hand, she carefully patted down the
final bandage and stepped back. "Besides, Suleiman Chacha said it would be alright and that he'll say I'm his
apprentice if anyone asks."
Aahil
just shook his head at the older child, and took a deep breath. "I'll go
out for only a little while," he promised. "Mom used to say that
wishes made on falling stars come true . . . there's going to be a meteor
shower today with lots of falling stars. I read it in the newspaper that Chacha brought. I have to go out there
and make a wish." His lips trembled at the thought of what his father
might do if he found out. He'd told him
to stay in his room.
Lateef
nodded in understanding. "Go!"
"I
know I shouldn't be like this," he admitted, "But it's just that I
can't see any stars from here," Aahil explained, looking up at the sky
from the window. "I think if I go out there, maybe they'll be easier to
see."
Lateef
looked confused, looking up at the sky and seeing all the stars. Her face
softened when she saw the tears in Aahil's eyes.
"Go,
Aahil baba. I'll keep watch," she promised.
His
steps quick and hurried, despite the pain his body was still feeling, he moved
across the lawn, going towards the far end of the property. His hope was that
even if his father chanced to look outside, he wouldn't notice his son's black-clad
figure near the far end.
As
he moved closer to the wall, he took a deep breath, telling himself to relax.
He sat down near it, his head tilted to look up at the sky. Despite how carefully he had been moving, the
pain had become unbearable, causing him to gasp. His breaths became quiet sobs,
the tears beginning to blur his vision.
He
looked up into the night sky, but there was no light. He could see no stars.
Rubbing at his tearing eyes, he tried once more. It seemed that his tears
wouldn't stop. And if the tears couldn't stop, then how would he see the
falling stars . . . how would he be able to make a wish? He wanted to see his
mom, even if it meant . . .
There
was a quiet rustling on the other side of the wall. He froze.
"Are
you okay?" a young girl's voice called out.
He
got up, moving quietly, hoping that his movements would attract no further
attention. He didn't want to talk to anyone right now. He should just leave. What
was the point of staying out here, anyways? It wasn't like he could see any
stars today.
One
final glance above. There were no stars. In fact, maybe Mom had lied. His
movements jarred another one of his wounds, causing it to begin bleeding once
more. He could feel the blood trickling down his ribs. Reaching down with one hand,
he pressed it against the open wound, hoping to staunch the flow.
"Please
don't go! Please!"
That
voice sounded so desperate. But . . . why?
He
stopped for a moment, willing to listen.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Taking
his glass, he took a healthy swallow of the alcohol within, hoping to numb the
turmoil of his mind.
"I'm
sorry! . . . I'm sorry! I'm sorry! . . . I'm sorry!
Why
did he remember her even now?
Sanam
Ahmed Khan.
His
father hadn't allowed him contact with outsiders, worrying that a chance to
speak and connect would lead to certain revelations. Lateef had been his only
confidant . . . his only friend for the longest time.
When
he had talked to that little girl through the wall, it was the first time
someone from the outside world had actually noticed what was happening and had
actually cared. He could still hear the desperation in her voice as she called
out to him how sorry she was.
That
little girls sorrys had followed him through the years. It was proof that there
were caring people out there in the world. There was goodness. But before his
heart could get used to someone else caring, they had left the country. It was only years later that he had discovered
the reason for their leaving the country so hastily.
..
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
And
he'd met her again last night. He smiled softly at that memory.
Without
even knowing who she was, he had noticed her. Before the announcement had been
made about the Nawab of Bhopal attending, he and Rehan had come to the gala incognito.
They'd checked out the organization before making a donation and talked to some
of the staff.
And
Sanam had been quite noticeable. The way she moved efficiently around the
ballroom, taking care of business. The way she directed other people around,
using her expressive face to demonstrate her happiness or unhappiness with her
co-workers. And how gracefully she moved. . . how she smiled.
He
smiled in the remembered glory of that smile.
And
when she had landed in his arms . . . her scent . . . . her voice . . . the way
she had felt in his arms . . . all of it had imprinted on him. He shifted
uncomfortably in the chair, the feel of her still making his body react.
"You were with the Nawab. What is
he like? I just . . . met him once. When he was a young boy. He wouldn't
remember me!"
And
she'd turned out to be Sanam Ahmed Khan. The girl from the outside world. The
woman that had cared enough to apologize for his pain. And she was living next
door.
The
smile fell away from his face.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Earlier
in the Evening . . .
"Haye Allah, what is this?" Lateef cried
out, his mouth closing around a spoonful of rice. "This is so delicious!
Aahil baba, you have to try it!"
"Lateef,
can you please tone it down?" Aahil asked, exasperated by Lateef's flamboyance,
especially when he hadn't been able to sleep the entire night and he had a throbbing
headache. Looking more carefully at the tableau in front of him, he realized
there were three women standing at the dining table, one older than the other
two.
He
blinked when he saw the face of the older woman, his body tensing when he took in
the familiar features. The younger woman next to her smiled at him, as well.
But
it was the third woman's face he wanted to see.
Moving
forward, he watched that figure tense up and then begin to turn around. Because
he was watching her carefully, he saw her foot slip. Without thinking . . . without
knowing . . . he was next to her and catching her. And she fell into his arms
once more.
He
felt his lips open and shape the words. But it was as if they were spoken by
someone else from far away.
"What's this? You again. Not that I
mind, but we've got to stop meeting like this."
His
eyes blinked slowly, and he was unable to tear his gaze away from her eyes. She
bit her lip and then looked away, a blush stealing over her cheeks.
"Allah miyah, what's wrong with you
Sanam?" a voice intruded and someone pulled Sanam away from him.
His
fingers grasped at air, as if wanting to hold on to her. But he shook his head
roughly, trying to clear the cobwebs that had encased his thoughts. For a
moment everything had seemed to disappear. But that wasn't true. The world was
still there.
"My
name is Zoya Ahmed Khan," the older woman introduced herself to both Rehan
and Aahil. "We're your next door neighbors." She smiled happily at
them, inducing the men to smile back at her in return. "This is my niece,
Haya Rahat Ansari."
The
two nodded their heads in greeting at the one of the young women.
"And
this is my daughter . . . what the . . . ?" She turned to glare at Lateef.
"Haye
Allah!" Lateef shouted, coming over with a napkin. "I'm sorry, my
hand just slipped. The food was so delicious, that I got careless. I'm sorry
for the juice." She began to dab at Zoya's dress.
Aahil
ignored the drama, his eyes trained on Sanam and her conversation with Rehan.
Rehan
was blushing as he spoke with her, reaching out to touch her hand.
His
lips tightened at that touch. Just what was Rehan doing to a strange woman?
He
saw her peeking at him from the corner of her eye, before turning back to smile at Rehan.
Minutes
passed, and the two still spoke. What were they talking about?! His hands
curled into fists. He didn't like it at all. But, his hands slowing unfurled,
what right did he have to say anything? Why should he care?
Stepping
back, he turned and left the room, leaving all the confusion behind.
~*~*~*~*~*~
"Aahil
bhai, what are you doing there?"
Rehan asked sleepily, moving over to sit on the neighboring chair.
It
was near dark in the house, with the only light the one coming from the garden
outside.
"It's
the middle of the night, and we have multiple meetings tomorrow. We're still
playing catch up with all the things your grandmother left unfinished. You need
your sleep."
Aahil
shrugged. "You know my sleeping habits," he offered as an explanation.
"I couldn't sleep even if I wanted to. I thought that a change of environment
might help me. Want a drink?" He gestured towards the bottle next to his
half-filled glass.
Rehan
shook his head. Hanging his head, he smiled and then looked up.
"You
left so quickly this evening," he finally said, his smile falling away.
"The neighbors were worried that they had done something to make you
unhappy."
"It
was nothing like that," Aahil said, his body stiffening with rejection at
the admonishing words. "You know it's better if we don't get to know our
neighbors too well. What if something got out? I haven't forgotten the
precariousness of our position, but you seem to have."
"It's
nothing like that," Rehan said, echoing Aahil's words. "They're
different. She's different. Their daughter . . . she is just so wonderful," he
breathed out. "I really like her."
Aahil
stiffened even more at that confession. 'No!'
his heart cried out. 'She's mine.' He
straightened at that thought. 'She is not
yours,' he growled to himself. 'You
don't get to think that way.'
"Do
you think that she would mind it if I wasn't the Nawab she thinks me?" Rehan
asked in a vulnerable tone.
Aahil
remained silent, unable to get any words past the knot in his throat.
"You're
right," Rehan breathed out. "Of course she'd care about getting a
nobody when she thought she was getting a Nawab. Who wouldn't? What was I
thinking?"
"Rehan,"
Aahil burst out, seeing the unhappy expression on his face. "Any woman
would be lucky to have you. If she can't see that, then she doesn't deserve
you. Give her a chance. Since when were you the coward with your heart?"
"Just
because I'm more willing to trust doesn't mean that I risk my heart freely,"
Rehan pointed out. "I'm more like you in that sense."
Aahil
smiled sardonically at that comment. "Then stop being like me. When has being
me made anyone happy? Be courageous, Rehan. If you like her enough to risk that
heart of yours, then I'm happy for you," he murmured.
Rehan
had finally gone, the smile on his face remaining there during the rest of
their conversation.
Aahil
sat back down on the chair after sending Rehan off to his sweet dreams. Where
did that confidence from? This man . . . who had been hurt and abandoned by so
many, and yet he still had the courage to entrust his vulnerable heart to
another.
His
eyes moved to sky above once more. His brow wrinkled in confusion. There was
nothing there. What had happened to the stars he had seen before? He squinted,
but there was nothing.
He
closed his eyes, closing out that dark sky with no hint of light. He was tired
of trying to find those stars.
It
was better he stop trying.
A/N: Chapter 4 for your reading pleasure. Leave a comment if you like it! And this is true . . . the more comments I see, the faster I'll update. 😉 Found an online tool to make the poster. What do you all think?
For those of you interested and missed it, I've posted up a new video mix on our SaHil:
Mujhe Kuch Kehna Hai.
Check it out.
Edited by darkice7_12 - 8 years ago
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