SS Going Home Parts 1, 2, 3 and 4 (FINAL)

Have been trying to post this since Wednesday night. Have not watched show since Tuesday night so as not to be influenced by show content. Praying my account does not delete. Will not be responding out of fear the account does not delete. Please contact admins to make sure this does not delete again. Major technical problem with my account. Have had to register several times and am getting rather tired.

Part 2

Asad stormed into his room, slamming the door behind him. What had he done! In his fit of anger he had not only ordered Zoya to leave, but he had torn into her with some of the cruelest words he would never imagine hurling at his worst enemy. The fury that had enraged him had overpowered all his reason upon discovering that Zoya had chosen to disrespect him and his family and had sneaked into the house to offer gifts on his and his family's behalf to the people he loathed the most. Zoya had deceived him; she didn't value his feelings or what mattered to him. To add insult to injury, she had apparently fed Humaira some sweets causing her to faint nearly forcing the family to call off the engagement. Zoya's stubbornness and foolishness had further fueled Razia's temper causing her spew a barrage of ugly and vile accusations at his mother.

Tanveer had told him what Zoya had planned to trick him into entering the home of his enemy. He could not believe his ears when he heard of Zoya's dishonesty and what she had intended. He was livid; his face, his gut burned with anger; he was ready to explode. He paced his room, his fists clenched. He had tried to calm himself but his anger continued to churn inside of him, eating at his core. A sense of betrayal weighed heavily on his mind; just when he was overjoyed he had successfully managed to make sure he could keep her with him, Zoya had soured the whole moment by stabbing him and his family in the back by wandering off to the Siddiqui household after he had made it very clear to her that he was not going. He had also told his "father" Mr. Rashid Khan and Ayaan that he would not be attending and now she had shown up with a plan to have him show up that could have left him looking a fool - a man who could not keep his word; an indecisive and untrustworthy man - men whom Asad abhorred - just like his father.

Shireen had called the house, inflamed at what had happened. His mother unfortunately picked up the phone, but she was too shaken to continue with the call. Asad listened on the other end, horrified. The family accused them for trying to sabotage the engagement. Shireen was relentless in spitting out her anger and shrieked at Asad for harboring ill feelings towards his brother. She blamed him for the tragic events because he was a jealous and bitter brother who could not bear to see him rejoice on this special day. Asad remained silent as she cried; reproaching him for his two faced behavior; that he had not kept his word but instead sent a guest in house on his behalf. How vulgar and tasteless of them to send a "guest" to do their dirty work. The nightmarish account of what transpired in the Siddiqui household reverberated in his mind and the one name that roared was "Zoya Farooqui."

Asad was determined to cleanse his family of the senseless accusations that painted his mother as a scorned and bitter woman. Sternly he informed Shireen that none of the gifts were from the family and Zoya was a guest in the house who had, despite the wishes of the family, chosen to go there of her own accord and that he had no inclination of her intentions. Asad reiterated once again his position regarding the family and that he had no plan to attend the engagement and had made it very clear. As for the gifts, they could return them or burn them, but they were not from him or his family.

He then swallowed his pride and humbled himself reluctantly and apologized for any inconvenience caused by the "guest" and asked if Humeira was all right. Shireen laughed and chastised him as to whether he was concerned if his mother's plan had succeeded and sneered, "Asad Ahmed Khan, you and your mother can't ruin my son's life so quickly" and slammed the phone.

As soon as Zoya entered into the house, Asad's anger plowed into her. She was so taken back at his anger that her voice shuddered and she started to stammer. Tears overwhelmed her and she desperately tried to defend herself.

"Miss Farooqui, may I remind you that we have certain rules in our house and one of them is we do not visit the Siddiqui household. As a guest in our house I can understand that sometimes these rules might seem meaningless to you but there are there for a reason. Because of your callous behavior toward these rules, you have not only insulted me but you have degraded and humiliated my mother. Have you any idea what vulgar accusations were said about my mother by Mrs. Shireen Khan?"

"Mr Khan," she wept. "I am so sor_"

"Sorry, sorry?" his anger had reached a tipping point, his voice cold and bitter. "Do you have any idea what you did? Have you any idea what they said about my mother? Do you?"

"Mr Khan, I -"

"You don't do you? You think you can just go and do what you want because you want to make everyone happy? Because you care about everyone so much that you don't even care to think about the consequences of your actions."

"Asad, please," begged Dilshaad, "I had asked you not do this-"

"Ammi, please," urged Asad, gently moving her aside. "I cannot let this rest."

Dilshaad looked at Zoya pleading with her to stay calm and that she understood she had not meant any harm. Tears filled Zoya's eyes as Asad continued to attack her with a detailed account of the conversation that had transpired between Shireen and his mother, the horrible accusations and words of ugliness. "Do you know that Ayaan's mother accused my mother of engaging in black magic? She called her witch. My mother, who prays five times a day and only to Allah, and this woman dared suggest she was worshipping some evilness? Because of you Miss Farooqui my mother was degraded. As if that family hasn't done enough harm"

Dilshaad closed her eyes in frustration, wishing her son would stop before he did more damage to Zoya; he would soon regret his actions and this time he might not be able to ease the damage. She recalled the time he had slapped her and said those harsh and horrible words that she was not deserving of a mother. Dilshaad had reprimanded him and told him that he was lucky that Zoya had forgiven him. Zoya had a big heart and she would put things aside for him; she had forgiven so much - his taunts at her habits, her upbringing, and her messiness. But how much more could this amazing young woman tolerate?

Dilshaad had tried to reason with Asad after the phone call not to attack Zoya when she returned. They would talk to her and help her understand the rules in the house and that if they explained it to her she would understand. She desperately tried to help him realize that Zoya had no ill intentions; that she went there to help build a relationship between him and Ayaan and not to harm or embarrass him. She was just a nave girl thinking she could do something good and that was it. Unfortunately her pleas had fallen on Asad's deaf ears and she was forced to witness her son tear a part her sweet and lovely Zoya - the girl whom she secretly hoped that her son would one day marry. If only he would see Zoya through her eyes.

Najma sobbed; she hated watching her brother break Zoya a part. S he wanted so much to speak up but she was always reluctant to confront her brother. Zoya had been a loyal friend, a sister and the girl she imagined would one day become her baabhi. Zoya had kept her secrets and protected her from her brother; she had never betrayed her. Zoya's bubbliness and giddiness had turned her dull and orderly life into a colorful and lively world. Now, she, Zoya, stood before her sobbing and pleading for him to just listen to her and Asad was not going to give her chance. His anger punctured Najma's helpless heart and tears filled her eyes; she so desperately wanted to wrap Zoya in layers of consolation and beg forgiveness for her brother's outrage.

And then, in the midst of Asad's outburst, Dolly and Mr. Batavdekar appeared as promised to witness the engagement between Asad and Zoya. To their surprise Zoya was dressed in a burka and Asad in the suit he had been wearing during the day; in fact, no-one was dressed for the occasion. He had heard of parties starting late - after all this was standard fare in India - but this was far from unusual. The house had no decorations; no guests, no food, nothing to suggest that two people would be bonded together forever. Was there even a ring to place on the young girl's hand they wondered?

Mr. Batavdekar, inquired, "So, the engagement, are we a little early? I thought you said 5:00 p.m?"

"Mr Batavdekar," sighed Asad, "I am sorry to have bothered you, but" Asad gave a piercing glance at Zoya and announced, "Miss Farooqui and I are no longer getting engaged."

Dilshaad and Najma started at each other; their jaws dropped. They looked at Zoya who looked back at Asad. Then they both turned towards Asad; his eyes staring at the floor. He looked up but he could not make eye contact with Dilshaad, Najma and most of all, Zoya.

"No engagement? You do realize what will happen if there is no engagement?"

"Asad! Do you realize what you are saying!" exclaimed Dilshaad. She was frantic; if she did not stop Asad, Zoya would have no choice but to leave India. She quickly intervened. "Yes, there is an engagement; we were just confused with the time. Please come sit -"

"Ammi, please," urged Asad. "Mr. Batavdekar, Dolly, there is no engagement; there never was an engagement. I wanted to help Miss Farooqui stay in this country and in desperation I said we were engaged. I know what I did was wrong and it has bothered my conscience ever since, but there is no engagement between Miss Farooqui and myself. I am terribly sorry for my deception as is Miss Farooqui"

What was he saying! He knew that his confession, transpired in a moment of anger and frustration, was going to mean Zoya had to leave. Leave his home, his life and perhaps never have an opportunity to return. She would be gone. With it her cheerful chatter, her nonsense couplets, her bursting into his room at the oddest hours, her fixation with his six-pack, her impulsivity, her selflessness, her khol lined dark and almond shaped eyes, her bee-stung red lips and the wisp of hair that forever fell over her eye that he so desperately wanted to tuck behind her ear. It would all be gone. Forever.

But she had to go. She didn't belong here; he couldn't let his emotions take over him. He had to do what was right for his family and Zoya was not right for him or them. Today was a perfect example of what she was capable of doing if this charade continued. He had to do what was right; he would sacrifice his feelings for Zoya and fix everything. In a few weeks everything would be back to normal and she would become a distant memory.

"Miss Farooqui and Mr. Khan, do you realize that your lies could get you arrested? Have you any idea what your deception could cost you?

"Mr. Batavdekar. My lawyer will be consulting you regarding the matter"

"Lawyer?" Mr. Batavdekar was frazzled; not everyone had a lawyer. Perhaps he had been to haste in his threats. Dealing with a lawyer was always meant mountains of paper work that often lasted months on end, court hearings, depositions-perhaps it was just easier to scare them and just deport the girl. "Lawyer?" He gave a nervous laugh. "Lawyer? Mr. Batavdekar does not need a lawyer. As a man of principle my warning is enough to remind you that I will forgive you just this once, but if you try to deceive me again-"

"It will never happen. I assure you."

"Lekin Asad, if you are not engaged to Zoya, she will have to leave," cried Dilshaad. "Please-"

"Lekin, lekin, kuch nahain," stressed Asad. "I will not pretend to be engaged to Miss Farooqui anymore. I cannot make a joke out of a pure and auspicious act. For how long would we do this? A month? A year? A lifetime? Anyhow, in reality I would never choose to get married to someone like Miss Farooqui."

His hard, cold words punched Zoya in the stomach. She looked at him astonished and Asad Ahmed Khan turned averted her eyes once again. Dilshaad closed her eyes in frustration; Asad was ruining her dreams.

"Really Mr. Khan, and what makes you think I would want to be engaged to someone like you? Someone so heartless, mean and so emotionally challenged."

He turned at her. So is that how she wanted to play this game. Well he could do the same and better. "At least I have some tameez and tahzeeb. I learn to respect the people in whose home I reside. I care what matters to them, what is important to them. I don't do what I "think" is right and then act as though I am doing them a favor. What favor did you bestow on my mother, this family by going to that engagement?"

Zoya's eyes welled up with tears; she could feel all the eyes in the room focus on her.

"Asad, please, stop, can't you see what you're doing to Zoya, " begged Dilshaad.

"Ammi, please stop covering up her actions as if she is some "bechari." She knows what she is doing - all the time. "

"If you aren't engaged to her, she will have to leave. Please think of what you're doing," she wept.

"Then she leaves. Anyhow, she has outstayed her welcome." And then, before he could rail in the heartlessness that was overtaking his soul, out came those cruel and spiteful words. "She's a misfit in our family; she doesn't belong."

"Asad!" exclaimed Dilshaad.

And the anger claimed him. "She isn't fit to belong to this family; she isn't fit enough to be my wife or the daughter-in-law of this family or that of anyone else's family. She's a disaster, a chaotic, emotional mess who through no fault of her own has no class, grace, manners or value for what it means to have a family. Perhaps when she goes back to New York, I will send a note to her Jiju and Appie to send her to some classes where she can learn some manners. It might do her favor when they decide find her another suitor."

"Asad! Enough! Do you have any idea what you are saying!" Dilshaad grabbed Asad's shoulders and turned him towards her. Angered and hurt, implored him to stop. "Do you realize what you just said? What has come over you?"

Asad's eyes were full of tears; he was hurting and in turn he had hurt Zoya. He had done it again; he had let his anger overwhelm him and govern his rationale self. He was too stubborn to apologize and turned away. This would be over soon and life would be back to normal he tried to reassure himself.

Tanveer was elated; her venomous eyes delighted in the visuals of Asad berating Zoya, announcing their sham of an engagement and abruptly ending it. Now for the finale ' the icing on the cake: Zoya's deportation. Her job was done. This was amazingly simple. She would rich and Asad would soon be hers and that beautiful ring would soon be resting on her finger in matter of days. She would weave her way into Asad's life by consoling him. A grieving Asad would be delightfully vulnerable and such an easy target. O, this was wonderful; too easy. For now though, she just had to shed some tears and look miserable at the idea of Zoya's leaving.

Zoya eyes that were once filled with adoration for her Mr. Khan were now full of tears of despair. Did Mr. Khan really felt this much disdain for her? Was he that appalled by her that he would so willingily detach himself from her in an instance? What about all those moments at Mangalpur? The night in the rain at the abandoned house? Those nights they chatted together? The times he helped her? All of it meant nothing to him? She edged towards her room; Dilshaad grabbed her and hugged her, as did Najma; they sobbed. The romance, the dream, it was over. Zoya had to go to her room and pack for the last time. She inched towards her room; each step bringing with it a jolt of pain to remind her that the end was near.

Now with her luggage for the last time, Asad refused to look at Zoya as she clung onto Dilshaad and Najma, crying. Each second was marred with grief - one second closer to her leaving. She turned back to look at Dilshaad, Najma and even Tanveer. She looked at the house absorbing everything she could from the color of the room to the arrangement of items on the table. She would never see it again and she wanted to make sure she never forgot it. This one last moment was her chance to capture it all.

Mr. Khan had his back to her. He would not look at her; he wouldn't even wish her good-bye. She staggered forward; this was her last chance.

"Mr. Khan. Thank you for everything. For saving my life from the men at Bhopal station who were about to attack me; for saving me from Akram's men and for saving me from the men at Mangalpur and from being buried alive."

Dilshaad and Najma were shocked. They had no idea of this incident. Both looked at each other, astonished.

"I realize I have not been an easy guest. After all, I broke your cellphone and nearly blew up the house because I apparently didn't do a good job of changing the gas cylinder, but I know that I did it correctly - but anyway."

For a moment Tanveer worried; would Asad start to suspect what really happened? She had hoped everyone had forgotten her failed attempt at killing the family.

"I am sorry for the horrible mess I created of your presentation - I didn't mean to cook your CD in the cake. I am sorry for all the times I forced you to meet your brother and most of all for today. I am also sorry that I put you in such a horrible position to force yourself to have to be engaged to me just to keep me here. I want to thank you for helping me find my father; it meant a lot to me that you went to all that trouble for a guest. You didn't have too, and it meant a lot."

Asad closed his eyes. What was she doing and when was she going to stop. Why was she making this so hard? Did she have to do this now? Did she have to be this open and appreciative at this very time? This was agony.

"I know that I don't have a family and I was not raised with one. I think the orphanage did the best they could. I think my aunt, appie and Jiju also did what they could. I know I am not perfect and I know that sometimes I take life too lightly but I suppose if you take things too seriously, then you just dwell in the past and forget to enjoy life. You end up feeling miserable and that misery eats away your soul. So I guess you might think I am fickle and silly about life, that I can't take things seriously and that I don't value people. I value what you've done and I value what Poophi and Najma have done. I didn't want to leave like this with you and everyone so sad and upset with what I have done. Goodbye Mr. Khan and thank you."

With that a tearful Mr Batavdekar and Dolly escorted her out of the house. They were both wondering, was this job becoming too much for them? Today was definitely a distressing time for them.

The door clicked shut. For a moment silence encapsulated the room. Asad turned to look at the door. She was gone. She had left him. He heard the car back out of the driveway; the sound of engine faded into the distance.

Zoya Farooqui had gone. He had let her go. What had he done!

PART 3

"Bhaijaan?"

It was Ayaan. Asad had avoided taking his call. He was grievously troubled in mind and vexed in soul. He had expected to feel a sense of devout relief now that Zoya, his musibat, had gone. Instead he felt a profound sense of shame and remorse for his actions. What had he done to her? She was so gentle, so innocent, so charming and delightful. She didn't deserve to be degraded and humiliated in front of everyone. He was repulsed at himself for the cruel words he had used towards her. How could he have been so brutal to her? He desperately wanted to grab her, hold her, comfort her, wipe those titanic tears that drowned her face - 'no, he wanted to kiss them, gently, each one and taste the salty tears - savoring each one. He wanted her. He needed her; she was his breath, his soul.

He couldn't breath; he struggled to inhale and his heart stopped and when he finally released the pent up fears strangling his throat, out poured an avalanche of heartache and grief. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed. "Zoya, forgive me," he whispered. He was angry, but this time at himself. He paced his room and slammed his fists against the wall. Anguished and broken; he wept pouring his heart out just like he did the night his father left with Ayaan. He had never left so lonely today as he did when his happiness was torn from him. Zoya was his happiness and he had ripped it from his heart. "Zoya" he whispered.

He couldn't remember the number of times he had ignored Ayaan's call; he was so buried in the misery of his grief that everything else seemed oblivious to him.

"Yes," he cleared his throat. He didn't want Ayaan to know he had been crying. "Are you OK? How's Humeira?"

"She will be fine; the doctors want to keep her overnight. Seems like there was some time of poison in the mitaai. They sent it to the lab for analysis and will get a report back to us in a couple of days. It is strange, but they said this type of poison is not available from the stores here; it comes from Australia. It is from a plant there. When you eat it, there is no - what they call - residual aftertaste. The symptoms are different from other poisons - that's how they could tell. Strange. They've had some cases of it before. Last week some family tried to get rid of a daughter-in-law with something similar'"

Asad wasn't paying attention. He was glad Humeira was safe but Ayaan has simply reminded him again of the chaos and turmoil Zoya had created and the tragic events of the past hour.

"Bhaijaan, are you there?"

"Yes..yes.." stammered Asad. "I'm glad you're OK." Words were at a loss for him; he gazed out of the window where his Zoya would sit and his eyes glistened as his memory desperately hunted for images of her he could project on the window to heal this wounded heart.

"How is Zoya?" asked Ayaan.

The images shattered and Asad was jolted back to reality. "How was Zoya?" he wondered. Broken, just like him.

"Bhaijaan, I hated what happened to her at the house."

Suddenly, Asad's attention picked up. What had happened at the house? He had never bothered to ask her what had happened to her.

"Bahijaan, when Humeira fainted, Razia Mumani, that witch, she said some mean and ugly things about your mother. Such ugly and horrible accusations; I couldn't believe my ears. They were disgusting. It was like she was insulting my own mother I was so ashamed that this woman was going to be my future mother-in-law. But Zoya, she wouldn't stand for it."

His ears picked up; he was intrigued, what had Zoya done?

"Zoya defended your mother; for every ugly word she said, Zoya defended her and confronted Mumani. Bhaijaan, it was incredible. If you could have seen Zoya's face; it was like every insult was an attack at her own mother. I have never seen anyone stand up to Mumani. Wah, kiya baat hai Miss Mona mein. I wish you had been there."

She, his Musibat, his Misfit, had stood up for his mother? Asad was dumbfounded.

"Then Bhaijaan, when they accused Zoya of poisoning Humeira, Zoya said why would she try to harm her; Humeira was like her younger sister and then Mumani eyes flared up and "wham" she slapped her across the face. I don't know what possessed her, but I couldn't stand for it and when she tried to raise her hand again, I had to stop her."

Asad was livid. His eyes were inflamed and he could feel his anger boiling inside of him. How dare anyone raise a hand on Zoya? How dare anyone touch her? Hurt her? Harm her? She was his delicate gem and not a scratch, a chip should she endure and she had suffered all of this mistreatment and degradation. Instead of comforting her in his arms when she had returned home, he had erupted with those painful and hateful words and instead added to her already unbearable heartache gifted to her by the Siddiquis. He had been a complete jerk.

"Zoya cried; she was so degraded and shamed. Bhaijaan, I was so worried and upset. Dadi went after her and talked to her about the mitaai; she believes Zoya never put it there and nor did your mother. She just can't believe that someone who wanted to bring us together; who had good intentions could be so heartless. And you know Dadi, she might be frail and weakened by her age but she is sharper then all of us and has never misjudged someone. In her heart she thinks Zoya was set up."

"Ayaan, how can you be so sure?" questioned Asad. It was too improbable that the only culprit could have been Zoya; after all she was the one who had purchased the mitaai and brought them to the house. Who else would have reason to have done it?

"Because you know as well, she wouldn't have done it. If don't believe Mona Dahling would do this, then why should you?"

"But"

"Bhaijaan, why would she try to hurt Humeira? What would she gain from it? Nothing. But someone did. Someone at the house, someone did. There has to be a time when the tray was out of her sight and it was but she, Zoya, shook her head and said that person would never have done anything. So it could be that someone or it could have been from the place where she purchased it. Who knows, the box may have intended for someone else, and she picked up the wrong box. Have you wondered about it? That poison is only available in Australia; did Zoya travel to Australia, does she know of anyone who lives there?"

No, Zoya was from New York, but Tanveer had been living in Australia for the past ten years. No, Tanveer? He shook his head. If it was not Zoya, then was it really Tanveer? He erased the thought form his mind. He didn't want to wander down the wrong path again and this time unleash is anger on Tanveer. If he needed to find out more, he would try another approach. If, it Tanveer was responsible, then she would have a lot of explaining to do. But what would she have to gain from it either? He stopped himself from hammering at his brain with what ifs and trying to make sense of isolated incidents. He didn't have time for this mystery. Instead he had to find Zoya. Zoya was innocent.

"You know why Zoya came? She was trying to set up a camera for you to watch the engagement but the whole set up was a disaster as one of the pieces of equipment failed to work. It was a great idea; she did this for you, for me. She is so selfless Bhaijaan; she tried to get us to meet when I was at the hospital. So many people try to keep people a part, but she, she tried to bring us together. Who does that Bhaijaan. You tell Zoya, thank you. Aaise dost kahan milte? When you find someone who has a desire to think of others of themselves, who speak up in defense of people so passionately as if they are their own, you treasure those people and never let them go. You can only love, admire and respect someone like Zoya. I have to go Bhaijaan. Tell Zoya. Thank you. KhudaHafiz."

Asad paced his room; his mind caught in the events Ayaan had unfolded before him. How could he have misjudged her again? When would he learn? Why did he insist on trying to frame her when there was hardly any evidence? What was wrong with him? He was touched and humbled by Zoya's selfless actions; her defense of him, his mother and troubled that she suffered so much abuse. He didn't even realize his brother had ended the conversation. He snapped back from his world of regret and remorse and said good-bye to his brother.

He had not treasured Zoya; he had thrown her out of his life. He thought it would be simple; after all Zoya was a problem. Now, just like the many times before, he had made a haste judgment of her and she had once again been the victim of his narrow-mindedness and paid a heavy price. How could he forget though, he was paying a price too. He was without her.

Her absence was already unbearable; he had everything a man his age could desire - money, the owner of a major corporation, a sister, a mother, a brother, people who loved him dearly, but without Zoya, life was going to be meaningless. She had taught him to laugh; to stop taking life seriously. She was the spark, the energy that he craved all these years. He could back to the routine way of life but it would be empty without the Zoya's surprises and rearranging of his neatly organized life. She was the spontaneity he loved, but feared. She forced him to break free from the tension and agony that had consumed him since childhood. She understood him; she forgave him his follies and his weaknesses. She was willing to accept him with his wounds, his temperament and emotional baggage. She was his soul mate.

Dilshaad, Najma and Tanveer ran into the room; Asad's temper was notorious for overcoming his logical self and they feared he might be injured. Dilshaad, overcome with grief at Zoya's absence, ached to see her son so remorseful and weary. His bloodshot eyes bore the disturbing moments following Zoya's departure. Hopelessness covered his face and her heart sank as she embraced her son. Her arms welcomed him and reminded him that even though he was an adult male, a business tycoon, his mother would always be there to heal his wounds. Asad clung to his mother and cried seeking comfort in her warm embrace. Dilshaad held him and whispered softly, "Asad bring Zoya home. If you want to make us all happy, then bring home Zoya."

"Ammi, if you knew what happened" and he described to her in great detail what Zoya had conjured up in her efforts to "invite" him to the engagement and how her plans had backfired. How the mitaai had been tampered with and Zoya had no inkling of what was going on. The vulgarities hurled at Dilshaad by Razia and how Zoya had so valiantly stood up to her and then in turn suffered her own degradation and slap from Razia. He added that neither Ayaan nor Daadi believed she was responsible for what happened to Humeira. Asad didn't want to forget out what piece of the tragic events that had developed at the Siddiqui household.

"I misjudged her again; I rushed to punish her and she's gone. I told her to leave," he sighed, his voice losing power. Asad berated himself for his decision and Dilshaad saw the painful expression of loss in his eyes. She had not seen this since the time Rashid and Ayaan had left them. Her son was reliving a nightmare again of losing someone he loved.

"Asad, you love me more than anyone in this world? Right? And you want to make me happy, then give me what I want: Zoya."

"Yes Bhaijaan," chimed in Najma. Finally she had found the courage to speak up. It was now or never, she had to do what was right. "You don't know how much Zoya means to me; how much she belongs here. It was like having a best friend and sister all in one. I didn't tell you but she defended me in college against those boys who were harassing me."

Asad looked at Najma in disbelief; how many more secrets were going to be unveiled about the goodness of Zoya that he had ignored or were buried away.

"Bhaijaan, twice she stood up for me and the last time, that's why she ended up in a jail. It was because of me and I didn't want you to know, so Zoya took the blame. Even when you lectured her she remained silent. And do you remember that what happened with your cellphone? She broke it on purpose so you wouldn't find out that I was wearing a wig because I had cut my hair. I kept things a secret from you because I was afraid; she was there for me. She's wonderful."

Tanveer's eyes widened; her nostrils flared in anger and a bitter taste of dread loomed its dark cloud over what she thought had been her successful attempt to remove Zoya from the Khan residence. She masterfully concealed her disappointment with her "butter couldn't melt in your mouth smile" while inside she frantically tried to juggle up a plan for last minute damage control.

"Asad, bring Zoya home; don't live your life wondering if she will fit in with this family. She fits in our lives; she belongs here. Bring her home.

And with that Asad grabbed his jacket and the ring, and feverishly ran out of the house. He hurriedly dialed Dolly; would she still be at the office or had she left with Mr. Batavdekar? Dolly picked up the phone and the emotionally challenged and rigid Asad Khan poured out his heart to the young woman confessing his love for Zoya. He begged forgiveness for his actions and that he was prepared to make Zoya his wife but the days events had taken with him his senses and he had made a rash and foolish decision to end his chances to be with Zoya. His heart raced; his hands were clammy. He wiped them on his pants but they still remained damp. He could hardly hold the steering wheel steady; his felt dizzy, his throat was dry fearing that Dolly would never believe him. He was terrified at the silence in the background waiting for her to give an answer. What had Dolly decided to do? His breathing was tense and he felt a heavy heartbeat; his chest, heavy. He was scared.

"Mr. Khan, go to Delhi airport, find Miss Farooqui and bring her home. Mr. Batavdekar. will be there. I will be filing the papers. It is too late for you to get a flight from Bhopal airport, but if you drive there you should be able to make it in the next 6 hours. A long drive I know, but I promise you, Zoya will be there." She paused. "Mr. Khan, might I just say something. You lied to us, but don't lie to yourself or Miss Farooqui. When you get there, be honest with yourself. Life will be so much easier on all of us."

"Thank you." The tension released from his body; it relaxed and a sudden lightness consumed him, working its way from his gut to the ends of his fingers. He drew a deep breath through his nose; he was relieved. Gratitude overwhelmed him; his eyes looked upward for a moment and he thanked Allah for giving him a second chance to be with this one he loved. He would be in Delhi in the early hours of the morning; he had enough time to think of what he was going to say, but for certain, whatever it was, he would be bringing her home and back into his life.

An awakening had happened for Asad Ahmed Khan. What he had feared the most was to hurt Zoya, but he had done it repeatedly. His attraction for her overwhelmed him and he believed if he painted Zoya as a thoughtless, selfish, careless young girl who didn't respect his values and beliefs, he could successfully push her out of his mind, his life. It had not worked; Zoya was none of these things; in fact she was a fiercely independent, strong, and stunningly beautiful young woman. She had a fiery spirit, was smart and quick witted. She was not afraid to be his equal, to challenge him, to question him. He craved her presence; she stirred within him a passion for life, for love. Life had become an adventure with Zoya; it was alive. In his deepest sorrows, she had been there for him, as he so desperately wanted to be for her. He wanted to give her his complete attention; protect her. Zoya had accepted him; his strengths and his flaws; she loved him unconditionally. It was time he did the same. He put on the radio, remembering to stop for some coffee; it was going to be an eventful and memorable night.

PART 4 (FINAL)

http://www.india-forums.com/forum_posts.asp?TID=3544752&PID=81225142&#81225142

Originally posted by: MisHumptyDumpty

like i said before. God i cried. WOOW. i am waiting for the next update cause i am wordless.