AsYa FF ~ Mere Jazbaat ~ T#2 ~ NOTE PG. 123 - Page 44

Originally posted by: sona_naksh

plzzz update karo na ..

Hey guys!!

I know I know I'm a little late updating! But hey! It's only two weeks! Not 2 months! 🤣

Anyhooo! this update is dedicated to sona_naksh for her new found love for my FF and incessant spamming 😳 🤗

And fair warning, you might hate me at the end of this update 😆

Happy Reading! 😃

Chapter 26: "Disbelief is a form of belief"

"Zoya," Asad tried again, as Zoya looked up at him. "Zoya, mein, tumse mohabbat karta hoon. I, I love you, Zoya."

I love you, Zoya.

I love you, Zoya.

I love you, Zoya.

Zoya's ears rung with those four words, her eyes wide. Love. He loves me. HE loves ME. He LOVES me. She repeated it to herself, over and over again in her head, trying to digest the enormity of this sudden revelation. Every possibly combination of them.

Asad gazed at her nervously, and intently, gauging her reaction. Was that too blunt? What is she thinking? Zoya, please say something! His nervousness, her speechlessness and a fear of rejection getting the best of him, he decided to take it a step further. He took both her hands in his, and bringing them up to his chest, he kissed them softly, earning a faint sigh from Zoya. He looked back into her questioning eyes, and smiled, all hints of nervousness gone.

"Haan Zoya. Mein aapse mohabbat karta hoon. Beimtehaan mohabbat. Ajeeb lagta hai, na?" he chuckled. "Mujhe iss baat ka ehsaas tab hua, jab aap meri zindagi se chali gayi. Jab mujhe pata chala, ki mujhse kitni badi galati hui thi." He looked down at her hands, as he paused. Peering back up at her, he took a deep breath and continued.

"Aapne meri adhoori, aur andheri zindagi mein roshni pheldi. Mujhe jeena sikhaya. Agar aap nahin hoti, toh mein ab tak, ek judgmental, gussa karne wala aur pyaar se darne wala insaan hota. Jo zindagi se larta rehta tha, aur apni kismat se larta tha. Lekin aapke aane ke baad, mujhe ehsaas hua, ki mein kitna galat tha. Aapne zindagi mein itna dekha, itna saha, lekin aap phir bhi khush rehti hai, aur doosron ki khushian ke baarein mein soch thi hain. Aur aapne mere liye bhi aisa hi kiya hai. Aapki woh har baat, jise mujhe chir hoti thi, aaj mujhe sabse zyaada pasand hain."

Zoya's eyes twinkled, as she felt them brim with tears. He loves me...

"Jaise aapki shayari," he smiled a little, "aapka Allah miya' aur mere liye aapke nicknames. Aapne meri Ammi ko pehle se zyaada khush kiya hai. Tamatar ko kitna sikhaya hai. Aap mere liye bilkul sahi hai, Ms. Farooqui. Mein nahin jaanta tha, ki aapko judge karke mujhe se kitni bari galati hui thi. Lekin ab nahin. Aap ek misfit nahin hai. Koi misfit hai, toh mein hoon. Aur yeh misfit, Ms. Perfect se bohot mohabbat karta hai."

Zoya closed her eyes, smiling a little, as the words sunk in for the umpteenth time. Asad placed one of her hands against his chest, and cupped her face with his. Zoya unconsciously leaned into his touch, sighing softly, as an errant tear streamed down onto Asad's fingers. He frowned. He didn't know if they were tears of happiness, or sadness, but either way, a tear from her eyes, was a drop of acid on his heart. He wiped the stubborn tear away, and feathered his lips on the same spot, earning another soft sigh from Zoya.

Asad took both her hands in his again, and knelt down on one knee, Zoya's eyes widening tenfold. What... Is he doing what I think he's doing!?

"Mujhse bohot galatiyan hui hai, mein jaanta hoon," he began, looking up at her with pleading eyes. Zoya swallowed hard, her lips parting slightly, her eyes wide still. "Lekin mein aapse vaada karta hoon, aaj ke baad, aaj ke baad mein aapko rohne nahin doonga. Aaj ke baad, mein aapko koi bhi shikayat ka mokka nahin doonga. Aapki har baat, aapki har khuaish puri karoonga. Mein yeh vaada nahin kar sakhta ki aapki zindagi mere saath sakoon ki hogi. Lekin itna vaada kar sakhta hoon, ki mein aako khush rakhne ke liye woh har koshish karoonga. Kya aap mujhe ek mokka dengi? Kya aap, meri hona chahati hai? Kya aap..." he paused, taking a deep breath.

Pulling out a royal blue velvet box from his blazer's pocket, he looked down at it, and opened it. Zoya gasped. Inside was a beautiful, gold ring, with a diamond cluster in the middle, as well as two diamonds on each side of the band. It was a breathtakingly beautiful, engagement ring. Asad looked up at her again, holding the now open box, up to her.

"Ms. Zoya Farooqui, kya aap mujhse nikaah karengi?"

Zoya's head was spinning. When she had come tonight, she had expected to get along with him, to have a nice time, to give him a chance to show her a different side. And he did. But this? She thought back to all that had happened in the last week. How she ended up here, in this place, with him of all people. How their relationship, their dynamic as people had changed. How they weren't at each other's throats anymore. How he had done so much to apologize for his mistake, to show her he had changed. That he wasn't the same judgemental, angry young man she knew. And she had seen it, but...

"Mr. Khan... aap... m-mein..." she stuttered, trying to put her thoughts into words. Her eyes welled up again, as she came to a realization. A realization, that would change both their lives. She watched Asad's eyes, and could see the fear in them. The fear of her rejection. But she couldn't find the reassurance she was looking for. She closed her eyes, her lips quivering as she bit her lower lip in an attempt to keep in the sobs that threatened to wrack her body. Her eyes still closed, she spoke, grudgingly.

"Mein, mein aapse nikaah nahin kar sakhti, Mr. Khan," she breathed, finally breaking into soft sobs, her hands flying to her mouth.

Asad's eyes trailed from her eyes, to her hands, to her waist, as he stared at the space to the right of her, blankly. The words he had heard echoed in the openness of the clearing, carried by the warm winds of the summer air, mocking him.

...nahin kar sakhti...

...nahin kar sakhti...

...nahin kar sakhti...

He dropped sideways, to both his knees as his pants were soiled with grass stains, his OCD a distant memory. The box, and the ring falling from his hands, landed on the green ground, with a ruffling sound. It was as if a ton of bricks had been poured onto his shoulders, and his heart. He couldn't move, the echo of those words paralyzing him. His eyes brimmed with tears, a single tear landing on his thigh.

There was only one thought going through his head, repetitively.

Why?

"Kyun..." he finally managed, hoarsely, the lump in his throat growing with every passing moment.

"Kyun ki," Zoya began, wiping her tears, in an attempt to somewhat compose herself. "Aap, aap mujh par bharosa, nahin, karte hain. Aap, aapko, mujh par, yakeen nahin hai." She sobbed a little more, before continuing. "Kamse kam, uss tarah to nahin, jitna mein, aap par karti hoon..." she finished, her voice cracking, and low, as she took a step backward.

"Mein... Zoya..." he tried, finally looking up at her retreating figure.

"Nahin, Mr. Khan. Nikaah, ek vaada hai. Aur, aap woh vaada, bakhoobi nibha sakhte hain. Lekin," she looked up, taking a deep breath, her hand now on her chest, the other fisting a handful of her dress, "agar, aapko, mujh par bharosa, hi nahin... toh yeh kaisa nikaah hoga?" She looked at him, the pain in her eyes evident, tilting her head slightly. She didn't want to say no. She didn't know why. But she knew she wanted to, needed to be with him. But, the bottom line was that he didn't trust her. And trust? Trust was the pillar that held up every relationship. Without it, it would crumble down. And Zoya couldn't do that. Not to him, or to herself, or to Dilshad, who was like a mother to her.

"Zoya, mein, mein," he tried again, desperate to make her see, to listen to him. "Mein aap par, bharosa karta hoon. Yeh sach hai, ki pehle nahin karta tha, lekin... Ab mein aap par, poori tara se bharosa, karta hoon. Please, mera yakeen, kije," he begged her.

Zoya couldn't take it anymore. She knew the longer she stood there, and listened to him, the more easily she would give in. She had to be strong. She had to stand her ground. And the only way to do that, was to run.

She took a few more steps backwards, and in one swift movement, turned in the opposite direction. She sprinted to the beautifully decorated table, her heart constricting even more, grabbed her purse, the shawl and followed the path of roses, all the way back to the carriage.

Asad watched helplessly, as she retreated, his heart telling him to shout, to yell, to beg her to stop, and listen to him. But he couldn't. His throat dried up. He did trust her. He knew that. But, he was too late. He couldn't show her. He didn't know how. Not anymore. More tears formed in his eyes, as he froze on the ground, unable to fathom how he had gotten there. A few minutes ago, they were so close, so in tune, in such a perfect moment.

How did it morph, into this?

* * * * * * *

The same carriage, limousine, and elevator rides later, Zoya ran towards her room, past four bewildered faces, and up the stairs, throwing herself on her bed, sobbing uncontrollably. Dilshad, Najma, Zeenat and Anwar all exchanged confused glances. What happened?, they all thought to themselves.

"Mein dekhe aati hoon," Dilshad announced, as she stood up from her spot on the couch, and made her way up the stairs to Zoya's room. She wasn't sure what had happened, but she knew for a fact, it had something to do with her son.

"Zoya?" she called hesitantly, as she knocked Zoya's door lightly. She could hear the sounds of muffled sobs, and felt her heart break. What could have possibly gone wrong?

"Zoya, please beta, darwaza kholo na, please?" she begged, trying again. She heard the ruffle of sheets, and a click, but no footsteps. Dilshad sighed deeply. Perhaps she needed some time alone. It was, after all, how Zoya chose to deal with things. All she could do now, was wait. Wait for Asad to come home, so she could understand what it was, that had gone awry.

Zoya listened intently to the sounds of footsteps becoming more and more distant. Once she heard none, she let out a small cry, her body being once again wracked with soft sobs. She held a pillow between her arms, and rested her chin on it. Closing her eyes she cried helplessly, her tears streaming down her flushed cheeks, and soaking the fabric of the pillow.

* * * * * * *

The Farooqui's front door opened half an hour later with a creek, announcing Asad's arrival to the apartment. Dilshad immediately ran to Asad, not wasting even a moment.

"Asad? Kya, hua kya? Zoya aise akeli wapas kyun agayi? Kuch garbar hui kya?" Dilshad fired her questions at her son. But as soon as the words left her mouth, she stopped, and took in the sight before her. Her soon looked defeated, beaten down, and hopeless. It was almost, almost like when Zoya had left for New York. Ya Allah, yeah kya ho raha hai?, she wondered worriedly.

Asad hung his head low, unable to mask his pain. He took a few steps forward, and sat on the chair near the doorway. He slumped down on it, as if he had no more energy left in him. He stared blankly again, at nothing in particular, as the moments from that night played in his head on a loop. He cringed visibly, as those three dreaded words rung in his ears.

...nahin kar sakhti...

With more than mere hint of concern in her eyes, Dilshad kneeled next to her son, and placed one hand on his head, caressing the back of his neck soothingly.

"Asad..." she tried again, a little more gently. He slowly turned his gaze to her, and she saw the pain in his eyes. The defeat, the helplessness even more evident.

"Woh, unno ne, Ammi, woh mujhse- mujhse nikaah, nahin karna chahati..." he coughed out hoarsely. His eyes brimmed with tears once again, the lump in throat back in all it's mocking glory. Dilshad stared at him in disbelief. But, why? was all she could think.

He sat up a little, his rigid posture back, and supported his upper body by placing his elbows on his thighs, his hand joined. Swallowing the lump in his throat, and somewhat composing himself, he looked away from his Ammi, down to his hands.

"Unne iss baat ka, yakeen hi nahin. Ke mein ab, un par bharosa karta hoon. Yakeen hi nahin hai. Aap- aap hi bataiye, Ammi." He tilted his head slightly, meeting her gaze again. "Mein aur kya karoon?" he asked. He looked lost, like a little child, begging his mother to make all better. To help him fix it. Though what it was he was trying to fix, was a complete mystery to him. He had done everything he could think of. He had apologized, he had allowed her to have a few laughs at his expense, he had been her rock through the whole Deepak ordeal and had even managed to be forgiven. How? How else, was he supposed to show her, that he did in fact, trust her?

Asad stood up carefully, and let his Ammi kiss his forehead tenderly, as if to assure him, that it would all be okay. But he wasn't so sure anymore. He was so worried about hurting her, that he forgot to show her, he trusted her. And now, it was too late. Beaten, took one last look at his Ammi, before heading up the stairs.

Dilshad's heart broke as she watched her son walk away, his shoulders slumped with sadness. To a certain extent, she felt, Zoya's insecurities were justified. After all, in all her time in India, Asad had rarely, if ever, trusted her. How could she not think it was still the same? But what Dilshad was confused about, was Zoya's response. Didn't she love him? Wouldn't she give the relationship a chance, a chance to build that trust she felt was lacking, if she truly loved him? Then Dilshad had a thought.

Does she know she loves him?

Looking up at both her children's rooms, she sent a slient prayer to Allah to help them get through this, and find their peace. She turned her attention back to the three, still bewildered and confused faces staring at her. She sighed deeply, before walking back to the living room, to explain the new obstacle in the love story, of the lion, and his wounded lioness.

* * * * * * *

One heavy step after another, Asad climbed the stairs to both his, and Zoya's rooms. He stood at the edge of the second floor, looking at his feet. His gaze rose slowly, Zoya's closed door coming into his sightline. He could see the light was still on in her room. A couple measured strides later, he found himself at the foot of her door, his hand going up to knock on it. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. His heart couldn't take it, not could his ears. No more words of rejection, or accusations of lack of trust would be born by him. He rested his palm on the door, as a single tears streamed down his chiseled cheek.

* * * * * * *

After what seemed like hours of endless tears, Zoya had changed and freshened up. The dress, now a constant reminder of his proposal, hung on the back of her door, openly mocking her. She heard a set of footsteps approaching her door. But they weren't Phoopie's. She didn't know how, but somehow, she knew it was... him. Jumping off the bed, she tip toed to the door, despite herself, and reached for the door knob.

But she couldn't open the door. Something paralyzed her.

"Aap mujh par bharosa nahin karte, Mr. Khan."

The words she had uttered herself, now rang in her ears, like gongs. She retracted her hand slightly, and settled for placing it gently on the door. Little did she know, she had placed it, in the exact same spot as Asad, on the opposite side. She closed her eyes, baffled the sudden current going through her body, despite him not touching her.

* * * * * * *

Asad could feel her on the side. He just knew. And the current he felt suddenly coursing through him was a dead give away. Even without touching, their proximity wreaked havoc on his senses. But all that would soon end, he thought sadly. Feeling suddenly very awkward about being at her door at that late hour, his hand slid down, until it made no contact with her door, the current disappearing along with it. He turned on his heels, and walked into his room.

He sat on his bed, all the event of the past week running through his mind, and realized he really only had one choice. He had already caused her a lot of pain. Given her many reasons to doubt him, and his trust. She didn't need that. She didn't need, him.

* * * * * * *

Zoya felt the current disappear, and the feeling of safety part with it. He had left. He was no longer outside her door. Another lump formed in her throat at the realization, but she pushed it down, and blinked away her newly formed tears. She looked at the dress, one more time, running her hands through the soft folds of the fabric, and sighed.

The shrill ringing of her Skype on her iPad broke her out of her thoughts. She turned to face her bed, and ran to it, jumping on the mattress. Once she found the source of the sound, she smiled a little, and answered the call.

"Asalaam Walikum Rabaart!" Zoya greeted him, her chirpy demeanor back, as if nothing happened. Wasn't that what she'd always done?

"Walikum asalaam, Mona," he returned the cheery greeting. But his smile seemed forced, much like hers.

"Kya hua, Rabaart? Tum itne pareshaan kyun lag rahe ho?" she asked, genuinely concerned. She noticed him ruffle his hair, and clear his throat, as if he was going to make a big announcement.

"Mona, aap New York kyun gayi?" he asked, hesitantly. He noticed Zoya stiffen, but quickly compose herself.

"I told you, Rabaart, mera visa expire ho chuka tha. Issi liye," she replied, laughing nervously. Why does he want to know now? It's been almost a week!

Ayaan furrowed his brows in confusion. "Mona, mein Bhaijaan ke ghar gaya tha. Lekin Tanveer ne kaha ki Bhaijaan, Badi Ammi, aur Najma sab New York gaye hain? Kahin tumne unne dekha toh nahin?" he asked her, earnestly. He was desperate to talk to Asad. "Woh sab achanak New York kyun gaye hain? I mean woh tume do teen hafte baad bhi milne aa sakhte the. Toh phir...?" he finished, with an incomplete question.

Zoya's eyes widened at his questions, but all she could do was sigh. She had to tell him. After all, it wasn't like she was going back to India, she'd decided. So she might as well explain to Ayaan, why it was she was staying back.

Zoya proceeded to explain it all to him. From the ordeal at his house, with the sweets, to Mr. Khan stopping her, to her deal with Mr. Bhatawdekhar, and even to her finally getting her visa back on track, for another six months.

Ayaan's jaw dropped, as he digested what all she had just told him. So I was right. She did leave because of Bhaijaan's anger. But if Bhaijaan went there, and every thing is okay between them, why isn't Zoya coming back? She has her visa. Something else happened, he concluded. But he also concluded that now wasn't the time to prober her further. He had more important things to discuss with her.

"Lekin, Mona. Mujhe ek baat samaj mein nahin aayi," he began, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Agar woh immigration office aapko iss mulk se nikaal ne par thula hua tha, toh phir unke paas koi to wajeh hogi na? I mean aise kaise unno ne aapse itni jaldi nafrat ki."

Zoya pondered this, thoughtfully. He had a point. That man was hell bent on making her leave the country, and he was so sure she was criminal. But why?

"Rabaart, tumhe na unke paas jaana parega," she announced hurriedly. His eyes widened.

"Mona are you crazy? Mein kyun jaun?" he asked, incredulous.

"Soch lo," she retorted. "Mein to yahan, New York mein hoon. Aur sirf tum hi jaante ho ki mera visa renew hua hai. Aur Rabaart tum yeh Mr. Khan ko bilkul mat batana okay?" she warned sternly. Ayaan nodded furiously, unable to refute her claims.

"Waise Rabaart, woh meethai jo meine Humeira ko khi layi thi, kya tumhe yaad uska kya hua? Kaun ho sakhta hai, jisne uss meethai mein zeher mila diya." she explained. Ayaan's eyes grew sad, at the mention of Humeira. She was okay physically, but she seemed to be pushing him away. He gently shook his head, and got back to the situation at hand.

"Pata nahin chala ab tak, Mona. Lekin kisne kiya hoga? I mean aapko toh koi nahin jaanta hai. Aur aapki humnse mulakaat abhi abhi ek meina pehle hua tha," he explained. Another thought struck him.

"Mona?" he asked before she could answer his previous questions.

Rabaart?" she imitated, as she heard the hint of seriousness now laced with his voice.

"Woh meethai, aapko mili kahan? Matlab, kisine aapko diya hoga na?" he asked, hopeful his hunch is true.

Zoya thought back to that day. She had bought the meethai herself. And even tasted it. She had been preparing the thaali with it and the gifts for Ayaan and Humeira, when Mr. Bhatawdekhar had come to interrogate them. Zoya blushed, and felt her eyes moisten again, as she fondly remembered how they knew each other so well. How they answered his questions to each of them like it was second nature for them. She sighed.

After that, what did she do? She had given the thaali to...

Zoya's eyes went wide. But, it couldn't be. It didn't make sense. Did it?

* * * * * * *

The next morning at the Farooqui's, breakfast was a quiet affair. Zoya had stayed up quite late talking to Ayaan, and was pensive. She was glad Asad wasn't at the table, his presence would have made her very confused. And right now, that was the last thing she needed. But she was curious where he was. After all, he was all about being healthy, and it wasn't like him to skip breakfast.

"Phoopi," she turned to Dilshad, "Mr. Khan breakfast nahin karenge? Woh to itne bade health freak hai," she tried, joking to cover up her concern.

"Woh, Zoya, Asad apni packing kar raha hai," Dilshad replied, her voice small. She sighed lightly. "Aaj hamari flight hai, India ke liye," she finished, her voice quivering.

The clang of a fork hitting the glass dining table made everyone turn their heads in Zoya' direction.

"Kya... Phoopi, aap sab, jaa rahe hain..." Zoya managed, her voice barely audible. They're... leaving...? She knew this day would come. They didn't live here, they lived in Bhopal. But she didn't expect it to come so soon. Was it her fault? Was he leaving because she said no to his proposal? A pang of guilt hit her stomach. I hurt him, that badly? she wondered.

Seeing her pensive state, the sadness in her eyes, Dilshad went over to give Zoya a tight hug. Zoya returned the hug with equal strength, and soon thereafter, Najma joined them. Zeenat and Anwar watched the scene before them, Zeenat's eyes moistening as well.

The three ladies pulled apart, wiping each other's tears, as Dilshad cupped Zoya's face. "Haan Zoya, Najma ki chutian kuch dinoon mein khatam ho jayengi, aur Asad ko bhi bohot kaam hai. Humein wapas jana parenga," she admitted sadly, while flicking another tear off Zoya's cheek.

Zoya put her hands over Dilshad's on her face, and looked down, unable to let go. She took Dilshad's hands in hers, and turned to look at Najma who was also looking back at her. They both smiled and nodded to each other, making a silent vow to keep in touch. She looked back at Dilshad and bolted from the dining area back up the stairs, and finally to her room, closing the door.

Dilshad sighed, and looked at Najma. The both knew Zoya was more affected with Asad's departure than theirs, but couldn't bring themselves to console her, when they themselves were sad they wouldn't get to see her for a very long time. Najma knew what had happened last night, Dilshad filling her in, and although they had talked about it, they, too, couldn't think of what else to do.

Zeenat placed sympathetic hand on Dilshad's shoulder, turning to face her. "Dilshad Bi, kya hua? Zoya to yahan thode din ke liye aayi hai. Woh to aapke paas wapas milne aa sakhti hai. Aap, aap itna roh kyun rahi hai?" asked a confused Zeenat. She knew Zoya's mission to find her Abbu was over. Why else would she come back to New York? But they didn't mean they would never see her again. She could see Zoya had become family with them. And moreover, that she and Asad were in love. And soon Zoya would be coming to Dilshad's home as her bahu. So why was this separation so painful?

"Nahin Zeenat. Meine Anwar ko yeh baat pehle batay thi, kyun uss waqt unka jaana zaroori tha. Lekin mujhe laga, huun uska hal kabhi na kabhi nika lenge. Lekin, ab koi faida nahin," Dilshad said crytically.

"Bi, aap kya kehna chaha thi hain. Mujhe kuch samaj mein nahin aa raha hai." Zeenat turned to look at Anwar. He sighed and guided her away from Dilshad.

"Aapi, aap packing kije, mein Zeenat ko sab kuch samja doonga," he suggested, dejectedly. He was hoping against hope that Zoya and Asad would solve their differences, and then they could focus on finding a solution to Zoya's deportation. But it seemed almost impossible now. And what was the point? If Zoya wasn't willing to forgive Asad, and accept his proposal, there was no reason for her to go back to India anymore.

"Theek hai," she agreed stoically. "Chalo, Najma." Both of them made their way to their bedroom, dejectedly. They really didn't want to leave. They wanted to spend more time with Zoya, but they also knew Asad would never let them travel back here alone. Dilshad sighed, as she tried to be positive about all this. But alas, what was positive about possibly never seeing Zoya again?

* * * * * * *

Asad jumped at the sound of Zoya's room door closing loudly. I guess Ammi told her, he thought to himself. He had almost finished his packing and a short, but important letter for Zoya. He knew she wouldn't face him. He couldn't face her. If he did, he wouldn't be able to leave. He just wouldn't.

Zipping up his suitcase, he grabbed the envelope on his dresser and walked out of his room, now standing in front of Zoya's. He kneeled down, and looked up at her door, picturing her in his mind. Her dimpled smile, her kohl lined eyes, pink plump lips, her silky brunet tresses, and her soft creamy skin. She was beautiful. She was pure. She was innocent. How would he stay away from her?

Sighing again, he slipped the envelope under her door, and reluctantly went back to his room to grab his jacket, suitcase and handbag. He then made his way down the stairs to check on his Ammi and Najma.

* * * * * * *

Zoya sobbed uncontrollably. Why was it hurting her so much, to not be with him? Why did him loving her make her heart soar? Why couldn't she look past his lack of trust in her, despite his assurance that he did trust her? Why, Allah Miya, why?

Unable to answer any of her questions, she sat up on the bed, wiping her tears with the back of her palms, when she noticed an envelope from the corner of her eye. How did that get there?

Jumping off the bed, she bent down to pick it up. Her eyes widened when she recognized the hand writing. Mr. Khan. She put it down on the dresser. She couldn't read it. Not now. Who knew what it said? She knew they were leaving already, and she didn't want to miss anymore time with Phoopi and Najma. Not wasting another second, she went downstairs and saw her Aapi and Jeeju having a heated discussion.

* * * * * * *

"Lekin ab kya hoga! Ya Allah! Yeh sab hua kaise!" cried a distraught Zeenat, as she saw Zoya come down the stairs.

"Aapi? Kya hua? Aap itni pareshaan kyun hai? Jeeju?" she asked earnestly.

They both looked at her, with differing expressions on their faces. Anwar was frustrated, and Zeenat was in shock.

"Kuch nahin, Zoya, tum Najma aur Dilshad Aapi se baat karlo. Unne airport ke liye bhi jaana hai," he suggested, hoping to get Zoya away from Zeenat. The last thing this situation needed was another fight. He rubbed his temples, as he dragged his wife to their bedroom, to try and calm her down.

As Zoya made her way to their room, she saw Asad coming out of it, with his suitcase in hand. Her heart sank, and she felt a pang of guilt yet again.

"Ms. Farooqui, woh, actually, mein neeche taxi lene jaa raha tha. Taki Ammi aur Najma ko itni dair tak intezaar na karna pade," he explained, not making eye contact. He noticed Zoya shifting her feet nervously as he looked down, and his heart betraying him, lifted his gaze to meet hers.

"Jee, Mr. Khan," she replied, distractedly. All she could focus on was his bag. He's really leaving...

"Mein, mein chalta hoon," he said meekly. "Aap, apna khayal rakhiega..."

She smiled weakly at him, and gave him space to pass by her. He walked slowly, dejectedly to the front door, and once he was there, he turned his head back to where she was standing. Zoya sensed his intense gaze on her, and looked up to meet his eyes. They both got lost in each other, each of their hearts breaking, at not being able to see each other again, for a long, long time.

* * * * * * *

"Phoopi?" asked Zoya, as she poked her head into the room. She noticed they were both sitting on the bed, as if they were relaxing. Well that was odd.

"Zoya, aao," Dilshad invited her in, patting the space on the bed next to her.

"Phoopi, aapko airport ke liye dair nahi ho rahi hai?" she asked sadly.

"Woh, actually, Zoya," Najma began, lamely. Zoya looked at them, confused.

"Tamatar, yeh to Mr. Khan ka dialogue hai. Kya hua, Phoopi?" Zoya probed.

"Zoya, hum kahin nahin jaa rahe hain," said Dilshad, avoiding eye contact.

"Lekinn Phoopi, Mr. Khan to neeche aapka wait kar rahe hain," Zoya countered.

"Nahin, Zoya. Asad jaa raha hai, lekin, mein aur Najma kuch dino baad wapas jaenge," Dilshad let out, finally looking into Zoya's eyes, which had widened considerably.

Mr. Khan left, alone!?

A/N:

So... don't kill me??? 😆

Things are moving along! Any guesses as to what happens next??? 😉

Sign off with some love in the comments! Pwetty pwease! 😃

-Monica <3