A torn cardboard box lay on his settee. Toys, books, shreds of gift wrap tumbling out of it. Action figures, bits and pieces of board games, toy guns, and even some battered stuffed toys were strewn across the sofa, for one and all to see.
It was like a painting. Like the visual painted by Neruda's Ode to Things. Things that seemed used, and hence looked worn and torn. But the sad reality was that they had never been touched by the person they were meant to be played with. Each of these possessions has been carefully gift wrapped, lovingly. But none of them would ever be played by the child who's name was on the tag, next to the silver bow on each of the packages. They had been sitting in those gift wrapped boxes, for years, waiting to be used, to be played with, to be appreciated.
Asad Ahmed Khan stood before his settee, speechless. He carefully eyes each of the toys spilling out of the now severed box. Storybooks, musical toys, a baby guitar, pens with figures on the ends, a lunch box with a cartoon lion on it, and a dozen others stared back at him, mocking him.
This was the childhood he could have had. A childhood filled with bliss, free of worries about money, or food. A childhood full of love from the man he knew nothing of. A childhood full of guidance from the man he could not even refer to as his own father.
Another thought tugged at his brain. Ayaan. His brother, though as much his brother as Najma was his sister, had been privy to that childhood. He had always had this thought in the back of his head. And it angered him, for one simple reason. Envy. Ayaan not only had that love that Asad craved from Mr. Rashid Ahmed Khan to this day, but he also had the liberty to lead a carefree life. That didn't mean he held his brother accountable. Ayaan was merely a baby when Mr. Rashid took him away. But he was allowed to be stupid, to make mistakes, to explore and live life fully and freely. Something Asad aspired to as a child, and well into his teens.
It's not to say that that desire had completely vanished. But as he had explained to many before, he had become so disciplined in his daily life, that he was able to successfully lock this, and other such desires away. He would keep them in a little corner of his brain, and his heart, never to be opened. Try as they might, no one, not even his Ammi was ever able to find the key to those desires.
Until, that is, Zoya came into his life.
As Zoya crossed his mind again, he realized he'd been quiet for quite some time. She stood before him, tears in her eyes, clutching the only toy from the bunch, that was entirely intact. A transformer robot, about the size of a medium vase, with a silver armor, and a yellow helmet. It's feet were coated in red combat boots, or so it seemed. And there seemed to be a lever on the side. For what, Asad had no idea. But he found he was curious about it.
As he was scrutinizing the toy, he noticed Zoya's trembling grip on it. His gaze slowly rose to meet her face, and the sight before him broke his heart.
Zoya's eyes, growing redder by the second, were filled with tears. She held onto to the figure in her hands in a death grip. Afraid that if she let it out of her sight for even a second, it would break, and be ruined, just like she had ruined the others. There they lay, mocking her. Reminding her of how clumsy, and careless she was. How could he not want to kill me right now?, she thought.
One thing. One thing Mr. Khan had ever truly wished for, and she couldn't even fulfill that wish correctly.
Asad stared at her, trying to understand what she was feeling. Why this toy was so important to her, when it wasn't even meant for her. He placed one of his hands on hers. Zoya's gaze met his, and she felt her tears increase, as she saw the questions in his eyes. She looked down again, before opening her mouth.
"Mujhe.. mujhe mauf kije, Mr. Khan. Mein, mein yehi ek khilona bacha pai. Baki, baki sare tofe kharab hogay. Mein, mein bohot buri hoon, na, Mr. Khan? Mein ek, ek bhi kaam theek se nahin kar sakh thi hoon," she managed between sobs.
Asad's heart constricted, hearing her feeling guilty for the toys being ruined. How on earth was this her fault? If anything, she shed some light on his childhood. On what could have been, on what never was and on what he wished for, every single year.
He was convinced, when he had opened up to her, that even Ms. Zoya Farooqui would never be able to bring back his childhood. But as always, he had underestimated her. She was not only able to bring him one, but all the toys he could have gotten on his many birthdays. But it was more than that. And he realized, she needed to know, just what it was she had done for him.
His grip on her hand tightened, and he pried the toy out of her hands. He took one long look at it, before looking at Zoya again, and set it down on the settee, surrounded by the other broken toys. Zoya's hands, still trembling, went limp, as he gently held them in his. He guided her hands to his chest, and put one over the other. He held both her hands, in one of his, and cupped her cheek with the other, wiping away her tears with his thumb.
Zoya slowly rose her gaze to meet his again, her eyes full of questions, and fear. She tilted her head, just a bit, as if asking him, what he was trying to tell her. Asad smiled a little at this, a sad but sincere smile.
"Zoya, aapse bohot, bari galati hui hai," he started, softly. Zoya's eyes welled up again. Seeing this, he cleared his throat, and wiped away another stubborn tear with his thumb. "Aapki galati yeh hai, ki aap apne aap ko doshi teh rah rahe hain." Zoya's eyes widened at this. "Haan, Zoya. Aapne, aapne toh meri bachpan ki hone wali yaadein dila di. Yeh kaisi galati hai? Yeh sach hai," he paused, turning his attention to the pieces of the childhood that could have been, and looked at Zoya again, "ke yeh sab khilone, toot gaye," he saw Zoya close her eyes at this, but continued. "Lekin, aapne mujhe khilone se kuch aur diya hai. Aisi cheez, jo taufein se bohot azeez hai."
Zoya looked at him curiously. She had always tried to get him to open up to her, to tell her what bothered him, what would make him happy. But he would never, or rarely budge. He would always keep to himself. Today, however, Asad Ahmed Khan was laying it all out. He was laying his heart out, in her hands, for her to see.
"Woh, woh kya hai, Mr. Khan...?" managed Zoya, finally finding her voice again. She tilted her head again, and continued to study his features. He seemed, at peace. Something she rarely witnessed on his chiseled features.
"Aapne mujhe iss baat ka ehsaas dilaya, ki Mr. Rashid-" he hesitated, "ki mere abbu,"
Zoya's eyes widened to the size of two moons, as she digested what she had just heard come out of his mouth. She blinked a few times. Did he, just call Dost, abbu!?
Asad cleared his throat, and held both her hands in his again, separately. "Ki mere abbu," he repeated, a little less stiffly, "itne saalon meri phikar, karte the. Chahe woh, mujhe kabhi milne na aye ho. Chahe unone, humein nahin, Ayaan ko woh bachpan diya, jiss ke liye, mein taraz raha tha. Lekin..." he swallowed, feeling a lump form in his own throat. "Lekin unone, mere barein mein... socha... Aaj, mujhe pata chala, ki mein, unke liye, kuch to maine rakh tha hoon." His voice cracked at that last word, as he opened up to Zoya, once again. "Aur, yeh, yeh mujhe kabhi, kabhi bhi, pata nahin chalta, agar aap meri zindagi mein nahin hoti," he finished, firmly, looking her in the eye, his gaze, making her go weak at the knees.
Zoya's ears were ringing. Had he said that? Had he really just said that? She was stunned. The man who was angered at the mere mention of his father, who didn't dare look him in the eye. The man who wouldn't dare take more than one step into his father's house. That same man, was today... understanding his father.
Asad eyes darted back and forth from Zoya's right and left eye, trying to gauge her reaction, and what she was thinking. He noticed they were welling up again, and was unsure of what to make of that.
But Zoya knew exactly what to do. She slowly freed her hands from his, and impatiently threw her arms around his waist, nuzzling his neck with her nose. Asad was taken aback by her actions, but smiled foolishly, wrapping his own arms around her slender frame. Zoya rested her head on his chest, but continued to nuzzle his neck, as she felt him tighten his hold on her. They stayed in this position, both of them quietly taking each other in, and slowly swaying from side to side.
"Zoya?"
"Hmm?" she responded, absentmindedly, burying her face further into his chest.
"Jaanti hai, mujhe apne muqaddar se, koi shikayat nahin," Asad informed her, closing his eyes, intoxicated by the sweet strawberry scent of her silky tresses.
"Oh really?" she tried sassing him, assuming he was trying to tease her again. She smiled into his chest, taking his musky cologne.
"Hmm, kyunki agar mere muqaddar ne, mujhe, Najma aur Ammi ko, unse alag nahin kiya hota, to shayad, aap, meri zindagi mein nahin aati. Aur aapse nikaah karna, meri zindagi ki sabse badi aarzoo." He pulled her out of his embrace, and tugged at her chin, guiding her eyes to meet his.
"Aap meri yeh aarzoo poori karengi, na?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
Zoya smiled, and nodded vigorously, before nestling herself back into his arms. Asad wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and hugged her tightly, vowing never to let go. Both of them had the same wish. The only wish that mattered to them now.
To be with each other, for each other and love each other. Forever. And anything that Allah, life or anyone else threw at them, they would conquer. Together.
A/N:
So I know it was out of the blue. And yes, I incorporated the show's dialogues, because I wanted to change the scene. Not write a completely knew one. It is kinda what I do 😆
Hope you liked it
P.S. Please please please comment guys! I love getting your feedback. But I feel disheartened when I send out 250+ PM's and don't even get half of that amount of comments 😭
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