FF: Asya - Written in the Skies (Part 19/pg.80) - Page 5

Originally posted by: mariam1368

Superb update

Originally posted by: Linsie

waiting for asad entry...

Originally posted by: Linsie

Is all about humaira very strong person...
how is she teaching zoya... her own independent live

KSGsmitten u r love😉😉

Pinky i have no words 😉

Thank u every one for your love esp akaswan Linsie loveuarmaanu and others

Part 4

In the foyer of Ghafoor Siddiqui's house, Mubashir Hussain hesitated uneasily, searching through the crowds of people who, like himself, had come to pay the obligatory condolence visit on the day of Zahoor Siddiqui's funeral. The vodka, combined with gin he'd drunk from a flask in the car outside, made him feel slightly better fortified to face the funeral amenities. Beside him, a tiny elderly woman was leaning on a cane, studying him with curiosity. Since good manners seemed to require that he speak to her, Mubashir cast about for some sort of polite conversation pertinent to the occasion. "I hate funerals, don't you?" he said. "I rather like them," she said smugly. "At my age, I regard each funeral I attend as a personal triumph, because I was not the guest of honor."

He swallowed a bark of laughter, because loud laughter on this austere occasion would be a severe breach of the etiquette he'd been taught to observe. Excusing himself he left to get himself a drink. A few minutes later Mubashir spotted Ayaan Shaikh standing in an alcove off the living room with two young women and another man. After stopping at the buffet table to get another drink, he walked over to join his friends. "Great party isn't it," he remarked with a sarcastic smile.

"I thought you hated funerals and never went to them," Ayaan said when the chorus of greetings was over. "I do hate them. I'm not here to mourn Zahoor Siddiqui; I'm here today to protect my inheritance." Mubashir took a swallow of his drink, trying to wash away the bitterness he felt over what he was about to say. "My father is threatening to disinherit me again, only I think the old bas***d really means it this time."

Sara Zahid, a pretty brunette with a lovely figure, looked at him in amused disbelief. "Your father is going to disinherit you if you don't attend funerals?"... "No, my lovely, my father is threatening to disinherit me if I don't 'straighten up' and make something of myself immediately. Translated, that means I am to appear at funerals of old family friends such as this one, and I am to participate in our family's newest business venture. Or else I'm cut off from all that lovely money my family has."

"Sounds dire," Ayaan said with an unsympathetic grin. "What new business venture have you been assigned to?"

"Oil wells," he said. "More oil wells. This time my old man has cut a deal with the Dubai government to carry out exploration operations over there."

"Don't tell me he's sending you to South America?"

"Nothing as essential as that," Mubashir scoffed bitterly. "My father is turning me into a glorified personnel interviewer. He put me in charge of hiring the crews to go over there. And then you know what the old bas***d did?"

His friends were as accustomed to Mubashir's tirades against his father as they were to his drunkenness, but they waited to hear his newest complaints, anyway. "What did he do?" Kamran Ansari asked.

"He checked up on me. After I picked out the first fifteen able-bodied, experienced men, my old man insisted on meeting everyone I'd interviewed personally so that he could rate my ability to choose men. He rejected half of my choices. The only one he really liked was this guy named Asad, who's a steelworker and who I wasn't going to hire. The closest Asad's ever been to an oil rig was two years ago, when he worked on a few little ones in some damned cornfield in Pune. He's never been near a big rig like we'll have in Dubai. Furthermore, doesn't give a damn about oil drilling. His only interest is the one-hundred-fifty-thousand-dollar bonus he'll get if he sticks it out for two years over there. He told my father that right to his face."

"So why did your father hire him?"

"He said he liked Asad's style,"Mubashir sneered, tossing down the rest of his drink. "He liked Asad's ideas about what he planned to do with the bonus when he gets it. Shit, I half expected my father to change his mind about sending Asad to Dubai and offer him my office instead. As it is, I have been ordered to bring Asad in next month and 'acquaint him with our operation and introduce him around.'"

"Mubashir," Sara said calmly, "you're getting drunk and your voice is getting loud."

"Sorry," he said, "but I've had to listen to my father singing this guy's praises for two damned days. I'm telling you, Asad is an arrogant, ambitious son of a bitch. He has no class, no money, no nothing!"

"He sounds divine," Sara joked. Mubashir said defensively, "If you think I'm exaggerating, I'll bring him to the Diwali dance at the club and you can all see for yourself what sort of man my father thinks I ought to be."

"Don't be an idiot," Sana Hayat warned him. "Your father may like him as an employee, but he'll castrate you if you bring someone like that to Palms."

"I know," Mubashir said with a tight smile, "but it would be worth it."

"Just don't dump him on us if you bring him there," she warned after exchanging glances with Sara. "We aren't going to spend the evening trying to make small talk with some steelworker just so you can spite your father."

"No problem. I'll leave Asad all by himself and let him flounder while my father looks on, watching him try to figure out what fork to use. My old man won't be able to say a word to me either. After all, he's the one who told me to 'show Asad the ropes' and 'look after him' while he's in Mumbai."

Ayaan chuckled at Mubashir's ferocious expression. "There must be an easier way to solve your problem."

"There is," Mubashir said. "I can find myself a wealthy wife who can support me in my accustomed style, and then I can tell my old man to go to hell."

Mubashir turned his head, but his attention was suddenly diverted by the sight of a breathtaking Brunett wearing a white sheath with a high collar and short sleeves, who was walking down the stairs and into the living room. He stared at her with slackened jaw as she paused to talk to an elderly couple, and when a group of people shifted and blocked her from his view, he leaned sideways, trying to see her. "Who are you looking at?" Kamran asked, following his gaze.

"I don't know who she is, but I'd like to find out."

"Where is she?" Sana asked, and everyone looked in the direction he was staring.

"There!" Mubashir said, pointing with his glass as the crowd around the brunett moved and he saw her again.

Ayaan recognized her and grinned. "You've all known her for years; you just haven't seen her in a while." Four blank faces turned to him, and his grin widened. "That, my friends, is Zoya Siddiqui."

"You're out of your mind!" Mubashir said. He stared hard at her but could find little resemblance between the gauche, rather plain girl he remembered and the poised young beauty he beheld: Gone were the baby fat, the glasses, the braces, and the ever-present barrette that used to hold back her straight hair. Now that hazel brown hair was caught up in a simple chignon with tendrils at her ears framing a face of classic, sculpted beauty. She looked up then, somewhere to the right of Mubashir's group and nodded politely at someone, and he saw her eyes. Halfway across the room, he saw those large Hazel eyes.

She'd caught a glimpse of Ayaan at the graveside service, and she knew he could very well be somewhere in the house, but in view of the melancholy circumstances, it seemed wrong and disrespectful to go looking for him in hopes of furthering a romantic relationship at that time. Furthermore, she was growing just a little bit weary of always being the one who sought him out; it seemed to her that it was his turn to make some sort of move toward her. As if thinking of him had suddenly summoned him to her side, she heard an achingly familiar masculine voice say in her ear, "There's a man over in that alcove who's threatened my life if I don't bring you over so that he can say hello."

Already smiling, Zoya turned and put her hands into Ayaan's outstretched palms, then felt her knees go weak as he pulled her forward and kissed her cheek. "You look beautiful," he whispered, "and very tired. How about going for one of our walks after we get the social amenities over with?"

"All right," she said, surprised and relieved that her voice sounded steady.

Sana invited her to a party the following week and Sara urged her to sit with them at Palms's Diwali dance.

Ayaan deliberately "introduced" her to Mubashir last. "I can't believe it's you," he said, but the alcohol was making his words a little slurred. "Miss Siddiqui," he continued with his most winning grin. "I was just explaining to these people that I'm in urgent need of a suitably rich and gorgeous wife. Would you marry me next weekend?"

Zoya's father had mentioned Mubashir's frequent rifts with his disappointed parents to her, Zoya assumed Mubashir's "urgent need" to marry a "rich" woman was probably the result of one of those, and his entire attitude struck her as funny. "Next weekend will be perfect," she said, smiling brightly. "My father will disown me for marrying before I finish college, though, so we'll have to live with your parents."

"God forbid!" Mubashir shuddered, and everyone laughed.

Putting his hand on Zoya's elbow, Ayaan rescued her from further nonsense by saying, "Zoya needs some fresh air. We're going for a walk."

Outside, they strolled across the front lawn and wandered down the drive. "How are you bearing up?" he asked.

"I'm fine, really"just a little tired." In the ensuing silence, Zoya tried to think of some sort of witty and sophisticated repartee, and then she settled for simplicity and said with sincere interest, "A lot must have happened to you in the last year. ..."

He nodded and said the last thing Zoya wanted to hear. "You can be one of the first to congratulate me. I am getting married. I'm going to announce my engagement officially at a party Saturday night."

"I hope you'll be very happy," she said, carefully hiding her doubt and disappointment.

"I hope so too."

asad s entry in the next update..😳

'swagat nahi karoge humara?(Salman khan style)'said asadN i am like-baharoo phool barsao mere mehboob ayaa hai,mera mehboob ayaa hai 😆Update soon 😊Loads of lovepinky😳😊

I dont want to miss this story... can u pm me...