i have been following this story on myeduniya since last year and it has to be one of my absolute favs!!! i have re-read it over 5 times already between waiting for updates because i just cant get enough!! you write so amazingly well and everytime i read it I feel every emotion the characters go through!
I kinda love this FF and the fact that it has like 100 chapters , what more could a fangirl want Looking forward to reading more ! x
Typical Mr. Khan, she fumed, after she came away from his room seething with frustration.
Allah miyan, what's wrong with him? Runs hot and cold. Kabhi haan, kabhi na.
She paced in her room in agitation.
But why do I want him to own up to his feelings?
Shut up, Zoya! Stop playing coy. You know why.
She sat down on her bed and watched the video again. With her thumb she gently touched the screen when his face appeared.
"Actually, main khud ko express karne mein utna accha nahin hoon," he said softly in the video that he wasn't supposed to have recorded.
Ya think, Mr. Khan?
But she smiled.
"Itni si chhoti si baat tumse nahin keh pa raha hoon," he continued. Funny. For a guy who loved yelling at her 24/7 he seemed to be fumbling with words all of a sudden.
Never had he said 'tum' or 'tumse' before.
It was always the icily polite, "aap." And that "aap" had almost always been a reprimand.
For the hundredth time, she marveled at how torn he looked here; the hesitation, the look in his eyes when he looked straight into the camera, the intensity in the tone of his words ...
"Main nahin chahta ki tum jao." Again the "tum."
Everything added up.
It had to.
The realization sent yummy shivers down her spine. Yes! Yes! Yes! She pumped her fist in the air.
He does really want me to stay back!
I've always called him emotionally challenged, and yet this video says so much.
Mr. Khan does feel something for me! He even said "Zoya!" Usually he hides behind "Ms. Farooqui."
But was it love that he felt for her...?
She felt a jolt in her heart.
Could it be? She hadn't dared to admit this to herself but didn't she feel the same about him? Wasn't it that love with a capital 'L'? The ishq wala love, that Najma and she were discussing once?
That racing of her heart each time she ended up in his arms ...
When he danced with her on Valentine's Day? When he held her in the rain at the farmhouse? And countless other times when he rescued her, heck, even when he glowered and yelled at her?
She had never challenged another man so.
She shivered feeling that punch in her gut.
C'mon, I even felt jealous each time he showed affection and concern for Tanu! It's got to be the "L" word.
I totally meant it when I told him that I've come to rely so much on his strength, "when I'm in trouble, I think, Mr. Khan sab theek kar denge!"
Her mind replayed some of the most intense moments she had shared with him. How he had come at just the right time and fought for her safety when Akram had forcibly tried to marry her, his fury at the injuries they'd inflicted on her, his reluctant protectiveness during the Mangalpur fiasco, how he'd helped her find information about her father and been a pillar of strength and support when he told her about his death. He brought coffee for me ... listened to me about Abbu and Ammi, my fear of fire ... and now this ... and lying about the coin being heads when it was really ...
He does care!
She hugged the phone to her, hopeful and confident.
"Kash, main keh paata ..." his tentative words repeated themselves in her ears on a happy, giddy loop.
Aap kyun nahin kehte hain, Mr. Khan?
Mr. Khan, please sab theek kar dijiye, na.
Please, say it!
All afternoon and evening, Zoya stayed in her room agonizing over her feelings for him and feeling elated yet scared about the possibility of him reciprocating those feelings. At the dinner table Najma chattered on not noting her accomplice's quiet pensiveness.
Zoya couldn't take it anymore. And she wasn't the kind to dwell for too long over thinking things. She made decisions swiftly and stuck to those decisions, whatever the consequences-it was her DNA.
After dinner, she resolved to talk to him. She ran through several rehearsals in her head.
"Aap nahin kahenge. So I'll say it, for both of us ..."
No. That hardly sounded like a confession of love. Jeez, Zoya! Back it up, girl.
I don't want to nag or guilt him into confessing his love for me. Whoa! There she'd said it, the "L" word.
Yes, I do love Mr. Khan!
She giggled and tried again looking at herself in the mirror: "Mr. Khan, this is equally hard for me to say. But if I don't, then we'll never be together ..."
Hmm. Much better. Not too threatening that he'd go running to hide under his patthar-dil shell?
How about ...?
Enough! She didn't need lame rehearsals to delay the inevitable. The words would come. She was not Zoya Farooqui for nothing!
She barged into his room without knocking. Asad was on his settee at his laptop, and looked up in exasperation.
"Ms. Farooqui, how many times do I have to tell you about knocking first?"
In her usual fashion she ignored his irritation and the way his hand crept up to his forehead to squeeze the bridge of his nose.
"Mr. Khan," she said softly.
He went still.
There was something in her tone, the texture of her breathy voice ... the way she hesitated ... that alerted him to something bothering her. She looked eager, yet timid. Her eyes shone and pleaded. She had spoken too softly, not her style at all.
"Umm ... Mr. Khan, I want to talk to you about something."
He couldn't believe that she of all people was having a hard time saying outright what she wanted to say. Never before had she prefaced her speech with words seeking permission. Usually, she bulldozed her way in and yelled at him, or picked a fight, and even pronounced him an insensitive se*xist from the seventeenth century.
Oh boy, all this hemming and hawing meant that this was going to be something big. He just knew it.
Ms. Farooqui, and nervous about saying something? That's new.
His heart missed a beat, but he said nothing, just gazed at her intently.
" I ... I know that I call you emotionally challenged all the time ..."
Oh god, here she goes again, Asad sighed.
He couldn't take his eyes off the pulse in her neck, or her unsure lips. Those lips ...
Hmm, more hesitation? This should be interesting, he wondered. But his heart flipped and bounced around erratically in his chest. His eyes were drawn to her agitated fingers, twisting and squeezing nervously.
"I now realize that you're an intensely private person and ... and as you said in the video, I know now, that you have a hard time expressing your emotions. I'm sorry that I taunted and nagged you about it."
That damn video! He'd made a complete fool of himself and she was never going to let him forget it. But wait ... an actual apology from the mighty Ms. Farooqui!
He couldn't tell where this was going. But he sensed a difference and seismic shift in her. He knew that something momentous was coming, that she was leading up to something big because he'd never known her to be so tongue-tied, or be so careful about the choice of her words. Her agitated hands were a blur now.
He still said nothing.
Zoya began to panic.
His brooding silence was intimidating.
Allah miyan ... ?
She felt the blood rush to her face.
Allah miyan, am I doing the right thing, she wondered for the millionth time.
Gripping her hands tightly, she plodded on, "but I am not like you. I ... I am open about my feelings."
Her nails dug into her palms, and she clenched her eyes shut as she swallowed, "I ... I like you a lot."
Her voice broke, "... and ... and I hope that I never have to leave. I want to love your mom and sister as mine and be a part of your family."
She ran out of his room and into her own, and slammed the door to lean heavily against it.
There. It's done. Good job Zoya, she mentally patted herself on her back. Not bad at all.
At least now there is nothing unsaid and unheard between us anymore. Now the ball is in his court. He can either be alone with his best friends "Tehzeeb," "Tameez," and "Lihaaz" or he can tell me how he really feels. She giggled at her wit and then sighed.
And no video this time, Mr. Khan! Better put you big boy pants on and tell me to my face!
Zoya hugged herself tightly reliving some of the moments of closeness between them, how he was always there to catch her from falling, how they tended to be lost in each other's eyes when they got so close.
Mr. Khan, please!
But he won't say it, a voice whispered in her head. He is not the type, it insisted more loudly now. Look how long it took him to say "mat jao Zoya!"
A grim idea stuck her numb, and her smile evaporated.
What if he doesn't feel the same way about me?
She remembered that moment in the farmhouse when they had come inside from the rain and sat side by side on the sofa. She still got warm and gooey all over thinking of those beautiful words he's said, so passionately. The words had such intensity:
Agar aap mujhe itni napasand hain, to mere khwabon mein apke saye kyun?
Agar aap mujhe itni buri lagti hain, to kyun meri tanhayiyon mein khalal deti hain?
Kyun mere andheron mein roshni ban ke aati hain?
See? "Mere andheron mein roshni?" Of course he feels the same way about me; he said so himself.
He wouldn't have got me that cheesecake when I was feeling so low that day, or helped me find out about Abbu and deal with his death, or even been so romantic and such fun at Holi.
He's saved my life, taken care of me. And then in the video he was so clear about wanting me to stay back!
She hugged herself.
But what if all he feels is pity?
No! Stop it, Zoya! Don't open that door.
And then she remembered the rest of their conversation from the farmhouse.
"Khwabon aur hakeekat mein bahut fark hota hai.
Main apne jazbaaton mein nahin beh sakta.
Kyun ki aap mere liye, meri zindagi ke liye, mere ghar ke liye bilkul misfit hain!
Aap kabhi bhi ek achhi bahu ya acchi biwi nahin ban saktin.
You are a misfit."
And she was devastated.
The other memories came flooding back too: how he detested the way she dressed, or when she argued with him. How her messiness seemed to always put his teeth on edge.
How he had yelled at her about that leaky gas cylinder, or when bailing her out of jail, the cricket match, Najma's wig ... the attack on Phuphi! The list was endless.
And so was her misery. She nearly gagged on the horror.
That is why he hasn't ever said anything, and never will.
Oh my god, I'm so stupid.
He still thinks I'm interfering and irresponsible, childish and insolent ... that I nearly killed his family with that gas leak. He thinks I'm a bad influence on Najma. He dislikes my wearing jeans. He thinks me unladylike and loud, badtameez and ...
"Aap misfit hain ... kabhi ek acchi bahu ya biwi nahin ban sakteen."
He even hit me when he thought that I'd endangered Phuphi's life. And although he's apologized for that, his opinion of me has barely improved!
Allah miyan, Zoya what's wrong with you?
You stupid, dumb girl!
She flashbacked to yet another favorite opinion of his regarding her:
"Aapko rishton ki ehmiyat nahin pata hai!"
He would never want to be with someone like me! He said so that day, that no matter how he feels, he would never give in to his emotions. It wasn't that he was emotionally challenged, it was that he looked at emotions and love as a sign of weakness, something to be resisted. And feelings for a woman like me? I'm nobody, illegitimate, and representative of everything he detests in women. He likes women like Tanu, well-mannered, highly accomplished, demure and conservative.
Even Phuphi was talking of how everyone used to say that Asad and Tanveer should get married.
And even if he does feel something for me, he'll fight these feelings to his dying breath.
She broke down.
I can fight his silence but not his prejudice. He likes me but hates himself for liking me.
I'm so stupid.
Why am I always so impulsive? So blind? Why did I have to go and make such a fool of myself?
She thought about going back to his room, but stopped herself.
How can I ever face him again?
Zoya paced in her room and then decided to take the coward's way out by texting him.
"Please ignore all the stupid things I just said. I'm sorry for being so inappropriate."
She broke down after sending it.
He is right about you.
You are such a total idiot! No self-restraint, no sense of decorum. Congrats Zoya, you just confirmed every negative thing he thinks about you.
Zoya Farooqui, you deserve to be miserable.
"Aap misfit hain ..."
Misfit.Edited by dixeij - 2015-06-05T12:56:56Z
... Woh Jaake Aasman, Se Yoon Takra Gayee
In his room, a shocked Asad still stood in the same spot, blitzed. He was rooted to the ground. His mind churned.
But his heart thumped and rejoiced.
I want you to stay forever with me ... with us too. I just can't say it so directly because I don't have your courage ... Ammi always did say that I over think things.
He was surprised by how clear his mind was about his feelings though.
All these months of awkward and silent attraction, the strange pull he felt each time she laughed or pouted or bristled in anger at him. He thought of how, so often these days, he liked to provoke her by feigning strictness or seriousness just to see her eyes widen in response and then stab him with their glare as she retorted, "oh really?" The feel of her in his arms that night when she'd nagged him about dancing? The vision of her in a saree? What were the words he'd said to her that day ... phir mere khwabon mein aapke saye kyun? The jolt he'd felt when she said, "aap bhi toh dekhne waali cheez hain na Mr. Khan!"
The way she always called him Mr. Khan. Only once she'd called him Asad, and hadn't he yearned to hear his name on her lips ...? He had certainly loved pranking her at Holi!
Had it really been love all along? Love ...?
If not, then what was that "mat jao Zoya," video plea all about? Why couldn't he bear the thought of her leaving? Why pretend that the coin toss had been in favor of her staying back in India? Why not admit that when he had seen her injured at the bus accident site, and she fell into a dead faint in his arms, his heart had stopped cold. Admit it, you can't bear it when she's in pain. When you hit her, the cut she got, the anger you'd felt course through you when you saw her bleeding at Akram's house. When that bas*tard had slashed her hands ...
Asad ran his hand through his hair in agitation.
He hadn't even realized the camera was still recording last night. Having recorded his real message to wish her luck for the trip and her life, he had turned around and stared into the heartless night. It had seemed darker, the sky more starless.
When Zoya had showed the video to him this morning he'd been so embarrassed.
And terrified that she knew how he really felt about her.
Somehow he'd stuttered his way out by pretending to be angry and impatient just so he could get her off his back.
He had sighed in relief when she stormed out of his room. But she had just stormed right back in.
Asad remembered the first time he'd seen her at the dargah. He had been a man bewitched. Her tears that day had affected him so strongly.
Those tears were his own. He had flinched when she wiped her cheek. Was it because he had seen the lace of dark bridal mehendi lacerating her hands?
He hadn't been able to take his eyes off her.
He'd wanted to wipe her tears away, rest her head on his shoulders, and promise her that she would never cry again. The intensity of his emotional attraction to her that day had staggered him. But their next few meetings had thankfully erased that powerful tug.
Or so he thought.
She had been insolent and defiant, and he'd tried to put her in her place. She been a mouthy pain in the ass, he'd tried to shut her up and forget her each time.
But she'd given her own back.
And then a few days later, he'd found her in his bed.
Asad glanced at the bed.
His heart hammered.
He crashed on the settee, holding his head in his hands.
Zoya! Why can't I get you out of my head?
He stretched out, hands behind his head now.
Truth be told, he still couldn't bear to see her cry, and ached to hold her whenever he saw her with her father's music box.
When she had broken down at her father's gravesite, he wanted to crush her in his arms and hold her till her soul was mended. And his.
He still remembered it all so vividly.
When after offering his prayer he'd looked up that day at the dargah to find her gone, he had felt a hollow sense of unexplained loss.
And now he had the chance to ...
His phone pinged, and he looked at the sender's name and smiled fully. Tracing her name with his finger, Asad opened it eagerly. He read Zoya's text with a sinking heart.
No! Please, it wasn't stupid at all! I was stupid for not saying anything.
He felt terrible that his reticence and unfounded fears of hurt and betrayal were making her doubt herself. He needed to talk to her, to tell her ...
He started to go to her room and ran into Tanu just outside his room.
"Jammy, can I talk to you about something really important."
Asad looked longingly towards Zoya's room, but then sighing said, "sure."
"It's private, can we go to your room? I'll bring badaam milk which you used to like so much."
He walked into his room, but not before looking back at Zoya's closed door for one last time impatiently.
Tanu had already prepared the milk. All that was needed was to slip something into the glass.
"I'm sorry, Jammy. But this is the only way out for me."
She carried the tray into Asad's room.
The door closed behind her.
Zoya was miserable in her room. She sat on the floor by the bed, unconsciously hugging herself close.
Please ... If you saw the text, come tell me that I'm not stupid or a dumb loser. Tell me that you do think I am good for you and your family. Please! Tell me I'm not a misfit.
Her misery multiplied with each ticking second.
Each ticking second hope diminished and doom magnified.
How am I going to face him tomorrow? Stupid idiot! What were you thinking?
She kept looking toward door; her tears fell, and she rocked herself.
In his room, Asad listened distractedly to Tanu, surreptitiously looking at the time as it got later and later into the night. Tanu talked of rebooting her life and starting over. Could he help her?
"Of course, whatever you need." Just hurry up, please!
She urged him to drink the milk and started to monotonously drone on about her business plans and to rebuild her life here in Bhopal with his support.
Because she felt so close to his family.
He nodded vaguely in agreement and peeped at the clock on the wall behind her. The seconds were ticking away. He needed to tell Zoya"---
Asad began to feel disoriented and sat down heavily on the bed. As he tried to put away the half-drunk glass of milk, she coaxed, "oh, you don't look so well, Jammy. Drink up, and you'll feel a lot better."
Not wanting to create a fuss, as well as speed the meeting along, he did. He hoped this would get her to finish sooner so that he could go talk to Zoya, take her in his arms ...
But why was he feeling dizzy ... ?
He collapsed on the bed.
Next morning found Zoya asleep on the floor of her room, curled up in a ball.
Asad woke up in his bed with a terrible headache. He looked down at himself groggily and saw that he was undressed. Surprised, he turned to the side to see a naked female back. Wide awake now, he jumped out of his skin in alarm.
God knows why he thought or hoped it would be Zoya, but he tried to shake her awake and almost yelled at her.
How could she send him that text and then do this ...?
The woman turned.
It wasn't Zoya.
Asad looked at her shocked and dismayed.
"What happened? Why"-?"
She covered herself up and promptly burst into tears. Through loud sobs Tanveer told him how they both had got carried away when she started to cry last night and he tried to console her.
He couldn't process her words.
His head felt woolly; it pounded like a jackhammer.
Carried away? What the hell was she talking about?
Her wails were grating on his shredded nerves.
"What's going to happen to me now? I'm ruined. How could you do this to me?"
Asad tried to calm her down, mortified and panicked. Why can't I remember anything? What is happening? How did ...?
"It'll be OK. It's not the end of the world. Just please stop crying so I can think."
She lashed out at him, "it may not be for you, but it's the end of the world for me! I'm damaged goods now. Already I'm all alone in the world. And now this," she continue to wail.
Asad's eyes widened. He winced. The bright light hurt. He was in a state of utter panic and horror now. This could not be happening. He could not have done what she said!
"Please don't worry. I'll take care of it. I won't let anything bad happen to you." Just please don't cry or talk.
She continued to scream, "how? How will you take care of this? What if I get pregnant? How will I raise the child all on my own? Will you marry me and make this right?
He felt shame and resentment bubble up and choke him. No! Never! But taking a deep breath, and with a heavy heart, he ceded all hope and signed away his miserable life away, "yes, I'll marry you."
She hugged him through her tears and he held her awkwardly, hollow with complete horror and self-disgust.
Squeezing his eyes shut, with images of Zoya swirling through his mind, he silently pledged, "I'm sorry, Zoya."
At breakfast Dilshad and Najma bustled around the kitchen. Zoya was in the background trying to smile as Najma nattered on. Act like nothing's happened, she kept reminding herself.
An hour at a time.
A day at a time.
It can't get any worse, can it?
In the bright light of the morning, she had felt that may be she hadn't completely ruined everything. She could fake some cheer and may be make a joke out if it. She could pretend that she was pulling his leg, he could frown in disapproval, and she'd tease him with that dumb sher of hers, "kab kahenge Jahanpanah six packs ..." Oh god, you stupid, dumb moron!
Thank you Allah Miyan! At least she hadn't said, I love you!
Tanu came in smiling, and Mr. Khan trudged in after her with a heavy tread. Zoya's heart dropped. Them coming out together like this from his room, her dressed so traditionally, just the way he likes ...
Zoya's eyes fell to hide her shame.
Asad's eyes hungrily sought her face. She did not meet his gaze, but he noticed shadows under her eyes and felt a pang.
Everyone sat down except for Zoya who lingered at the counter, cutting fruit.
Good mornings were exchanged.
Tanu excitedly proclaimed, "Khala, there is some good news to share!"
Asad swallowed hard, and looked crushed.
"Jammy wants to tell you all something. Hai na, Jammy?"
Asad was annoyed at Tanu. They had not discussed telling everyone. He had hoped that they could discretely wait and find out if she was pregnant first, before deciding and announcing anything. He hated that she'd put him in a bind in front of Amm and, Zo"
He sensed Zoya behind him as he prepared to crush her.
Asad looked up at Dilshad and stuttered, "woh, Ammi, actually ..."
Tanu's lips thinned in annoyance.
She hadn't worked this hard to have him hem and haw about this. She knew that he wouldn't be able to get the words out, and also that his woebegone expression would contradict his words even if he was able to slur them out somehow.
"Jammy and I have decided to get married," she declared with contemptuous glee.
There was a muffled gasp and clatter behind him that only he heard.
The evidence of the end of Zoya's world was quickly covered up as cheers of joy erupted from his mother and sister who rushed to hug and embrace the two. An emotional Dilshad blessed them and bustled about to ward off evil spirits.
As Najma and Dilshad continued to excitedly ask Asad how and when, a simpering Tanu walked up to Zoya, "Zoya. you're so quiet. Aren't you happy for us?"
Zoya wiped her hands on the apron and said in a soft, strangled voice, "of course, I am just shocked that's it's so sudden. Congratulations."
She hugged Tanu and blinked several times. As she parted from her, she said after clearing her throat:
"I hope you both will be very happy. Allah aap dono ko mere hisse ki bhi khushiyan de de."
Asad's eyes stung as he looked away.
Zoya removed her apron and told Dilshad that she was expecting an important call from Jeeju about her visa and that they should carry on without her. She fled to her room, raced to the bathroom, and fell down to the floor sobbing.
She stuffed her fist into her mouth to silence herself, biting down hard on her knuckles.
After breakfast, Dilshad was cleaning up and looked closely at the apron; she saw some bloodstains.
"Arre, where did this blood come from? Oh, Zoya must have cut herself when she was cutting the fruit. Allah! This girl is so clumsy!"
Asad heard this and went to his room, closed the door and leaned against it. Tears of fury and self-loathing now streamed down his face. Images of Zoya's tortured face swam before his eyes. He took out his phone and re-read her text. He remembered how she had looked when she said those things to him. He had come so close to telling her about his own feelings.
And now a door had slammed in his face forever.
Seeing her dash to her room made him want to run after her to tell her that none of this was real and that he loved her and only her.
Now you admit that you love her?
He balled his fist, close to smashing it through the glass.
He needed to go a few rounds at his punching bag ...
After a long cry, Zoya tried to compose herself. Looking in the mirror, she gave herself a pep talk.
Stop this crying. You can't let anyone see you like this. What if Phuphi found out? Do you want to dim her happiness? Then just man the hell up Zoya Farooqui! Allah miyan, please give me the strength to bear this. And please don't make me mess this up any more.
She reeled as a new thought squeezed her heart. What if Mr. Khan had already proposed to Tanu before she had gone in like a blundering baby rhino and blurted her heart out? No wonder he didn't say a word! Oh god, Allah miyan, what have I done? What was I thinking?
You weren't thinking you stupid idiot! she chided herself for the fiftieth time. How could you even think that he'd like ... love ... someone like you? Zoya Farooqui, have you forgotten who you are, what you are? A nameless, fatherless nobody! A scarred, defective misfit!
And that set her crying again.
Splashing cold water on her face, she tried to rationalize her miserable way out of a mess she had created. Tanu will be right for him. She is exactly what he wants in a life partner, someone who is good around the house, so capable, someone who has the values and cultural upbringing that he holds important. They've known each other for years and been best friends. This is the right thing. She will be good for him and take good care of Phuphi. Be a big sister to Najma. Phuphi also loves her like a daughter.
And me ...? You would have never been good for him. "Aap sirf ek mehman hain ... misfit ... "
She remembered what she'd said to him yesterday, and burst into tears all over again, all resolve forgotten.
I should go back.
Zoya splashed more water on her face and carefully applied make-up to cover up the evidence of her crying. She squared her shoulders to walk out into the living room.
Mr. Khan had left for work and Phuphi, Najma and Tanu were in there making plans.
"Oh, come Zoya, help us. There's so much to be done. They want to get married as soon as possible," Dilshad gushed.
Zoya, came up and said bravely, and much too brightly, "Sure Phuphi! Aap sirf shaadi ki taiyari par dhyaan dijiye, I'll help in any way I can."
Dilshad happily embraced her and said, "you are so sweet."
The three of them talked excitedly about the colors of dresses, flowers, menu, decorations, functions, themes, etc.
Suddenly Zoya felt left out, excluded from a charmed circle that she'd never be a part of. She saw Tanu looking at her and plastered a smile on her face.
"Zoya, what do you think would be the best color on me," asked Tanu sidling up to her.
"Umm," she pressed her fingers to her lips to keep them from quivering.
"All colors look good on you, Tanveer. Aap designer hain, aap ko behtar idea hoga. I just know jeans and tops."
She rubbed her palms down her thighs self-consciously.
"Lekin tab bhi, kya khayal hai apka?"
With hands tightly gripped, Zoya offered the first color that came to mind, "Green?"
She closed her eyes. In Mangalpur she had worn a green bridal dress.
"May be red?"
"Lehenga ya sharara?"
Nails digging into her palms, drawing fresh blood from her earlier wound, Zoya stammered, "umm, you'll look great in both, I'm sure."
"Arre Zoya, aap ke hath se to khoon beh raha hai. Here, let me help you bandage it."
"Thanks, I'll take care of it. It's a small cut, no big deal."
Getting the first aid box, Zoya quietly dressed the wound.
"Phuphi, if you don't need me right now, main thodi der bahar ho kar ayoon?"
"Haan beta, but come back soon. Bahut sare kaam hain. So much to do. So many lists to make ..."
Zoya left to go to the dargah.Edited by dixeij - 2015-06-05T13:47:16Z
Topic started by dixeij
Last replied by -jass-