ASYA FF - "Zindagi Dhoop, Tum Ghana Saaya" ON HOLD

Hello lovelies! 

Beginning of another new year on horizon and so are the ff's ❤️

This announcement is janhit main jaari : I am experimenting with this storyline, (it is show based as usual) but I randomly thought of this episode and started writing. So, even though I have written a couple chapters already, I couldn't tell you where it is going to go, so please be patient as we figure it out 🌼 

Also, it is the first time I'm writing from single character pov and not in third person, so that's a little different for me but still fun. 

 As always, Happy Reading ✨

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"Zindagi Dhoop, Tum Ghana Saaya"

Preface 

Although the cold marble floor provided relief to the body's heat - Thump. Thump. Thump - the heart ran relentlessly. 

He found his eyes closing as the voices intensified. It was like some great weight had been put on top of them and he just couldn't keep his lids open. Heavy and sweaty; there was an incessant ringing in his ears. Slow numbness spreading throughout his limbs; his mouth gurgled with blood as he heard a scream. 

 It was a familiar voice.  

His Ammi.  

"Asad" she called out. The voice was so loud her throat must have hurt. It was followed by another, then other, and another. 

The cellphone slipped out of Najma's hand as she wildly tried to punch numbers in the middle of tears. Zoya caught it and called the ambulance. And the police. 

She stood pained on the spot, disintegrating into anguish, her fingers aching where she'd clutched the phone. 

A gruesome scene unfolded as the white of the floor slowly got drenched with his blood taking him into unconsciousness. 

"ASAD" 

1.

"Dil hai Kahin, aur dhadkan kahi"

Zoya 

How could one be so heartless, so self-absorbed, so egotistical in one's own right, that they can't see the world around them. That they can't feel the emotions of those hurting.  

That they can't feel. Period.  

The more I think about it, the more it boggles my mind. Being in Mangalpur was an outer body experience and the trauma associated with it hasn't even begun to unfold itself. Clearly. My hands still shiver every time I think back on it.  

I occasionally still wake up bathed in sweat, wondering if I am still under the ground. Shovels in face. Cruel triumphant smiles in the air. 

It messed me up, in all different and special ways.  

Especially the aftermath.  

It wasn’t much of a surprise he had come back. I know him enough by now to know that he would do that. He may be the rigid moral police, but he is also responsible and looks after people in his family, however heartless he might get towards the ‘outsiders’.  

It made sense that he came back. Something had to be done about the guilt; afterall living with oneself knowing that you drove someone's fate to a final end on this planet must be the hardest weight to bear. At least for people with conscience. And I don’t imagine anyone wants to live with that.  

But it was in the way... the way that he came back. The way he had held me to his chest and kissed the top of my head like I belonged there. That he would have lost his mind if not for finding me.  

It scares me more than I’d ever been scared.  

Mangalpur changed us. Whatever dynamics he and I had prior to leaving, they are no longer there. Whatever boundary we had is no longer present. He pretends often that I’m invisible and there is a wall separating us, but the truth of the matter is that there just... isn’t. He is lying to himself, and he is lying to me.  

We have changed, Asad. 

But it had to take my death for him to take me seriously?  

Seriously?! That is some other kind of non chalant. And stupid. And khadoos. 

What kind of person does that make him?  

And now adding to the injury, what kind of person does it make him to avoid Miriam at the moment. Someone who is so in need, of food, of shelter, of protection, of everything. 

True, he is looking out for his family; Phuphi, Najma, maybe perhaps even me. 

But there are rules to humanity and no amount of fear should trump those rules. Those are the beliefs that I was brought up with. 

And looking at Phuphi, it seems like he was given the same upbringing, but he just never wants to follow it.  

It is sad, his small heart and small mind sometimes. 

"Wouldn't you have helped her, if she was Najma?!" I’d screamed at him last night.  

"Exactly, you need to get it in your thick skull, that I have a Najma to look after. An Ammi to look after. A family to protect, cater for. And...” he’d run a frustrated hand through his black hair “And I can’t believe you are the one saying all these things. Do you have no self - preservation? How irresponsible are you? Do you not remember anything?! Do you really think they would leave us alone and not come after every single one of us if we play hide and seek with those criminals. They are hardened criminals, Miss Faaroqui and you are NOT living in a fantasy world. Wake up and face the reality. You will get yourself and all of us killed if you continue down this path.”  

His fingers had dug into my shoulders then, as he lightly shook me as to wake me up. His speech became progressively fierce; eyes stormy and more intense than I’d ever seen or imagined.  

My shoulders ached for the touch of his fingers now, as I stood outside the hospital door watching doctors take him away. 

I took a step inside. It was the saddest step I’d ever taken.  

I wish I’d listened to him. This was all my fault. All of it. As apathetic he could be at times, he was not wrong. 

I just... I’d never believed they would shoot their own nephew... 

I was a firangi, a modern woman who challenged their beliefs and so their sane minds thought to bury me with my provocations. 

But Asad, why him? And why Phuphi? Why was the man pointing the gun at phuphi? 

My legs tremble and ache. When there is no more strength left, I slide down onto the hospital floor thinking how we’d even gotten here.  

How the afternoon became the ugliest afternoon of my life. 

.

.

.

I had heard a male voice – bleak and harsh – as he argued with Phuphi, stepping into the house even as she protested. 

Coming out of my room, it happened in seconds. The appearance of a gun, adrenaline shooting down every nerve cell, fight response kicking in.  

Asad was closer and he had leaped in front of his mother. I would have done the same.  

But he was a little too late. He saved his Ammi but couldn’t save himself from the bullet. It had hit his shoulder blade propelling his body with force onto the marble floor. 

I had never seen a man, as strong and as muscular as him, thrown about the wind like that. It was a horrifyingly surreal vision. 

The next thing I knew, I was running towards the shooter. He was pointing his gun at him again; I couldn’t let that happen. 

I ran with all my might, cussing my feet that they didn’t know how to fly. A war had ensued between me and the demon, and I had ripped his shirt in the exchange. He fled knowing the longer he stayed, the longer the chance of him being caught. 

And then the screams came... 

The mind numbing, skin crawling screams.  

Screams of a mother who was watching her child bleed out.  

Screams of a mother who wished he’d never saved her.  

My only wish is this day be evanesced. Dispersed and dissipated from existence.  

Sitting on the bleached white tile floor, my head on the metal bench, the tears flow quietly as I stare blankly at the wall.   

Waiting. 

Waiting. 

Waiting. 

*** 

It was a couple hours after the bullet had been removed and the doctors had stated he was out of danger. 

Was he?  

I let the grief flow through me creating new channels.  His words echoed in my mind, 

“...Do you really think they would leave us alone and not come after every one of us if we play hide and seek with those criminals. They are hardened criminals..." 

I was hawk-eyed now that the disturbing thought had made its arrival in my mind. What if he came back to fin...  

I took a deep shaky breath but couldn’t stop the ache from my eyes to slip out. I looked over at Phuphi and Najma curled up together on the sofa of the private room we had moved Asad into.  

I stood guard at the door not daring to step in lest I had to look into his mother’s grief-stricken eyes. All we knew was that he was out of danger, but what effects did the bullet have on his body? What were his movements going to be like once he woke up? 

We tried not to talk about it. 

I wondered about Miriam. She had left with her brother this morning. 

Such a sensitive, young woman, exposed to such blasphemy. It made me angry, outrageously mad and inevitably despondent what women were subjected to in this day and age.  

Objects for male satisfaction. 

Raised as obedient daughters to become compliant wives.

Following all and every direction. 

Maybe that was the reason I never listened to Mr. Khan even when he spoke logic.  

Snapping out of my woman rage, I looked at the person who had tapped my shoulder. It was Najma.  

“Bhaijaan is up” she said meekly through a red nose and swollen eyes. My heart broke seeing what I’d done to her. And more so seeing what I’d to the man that lay on the hospital bed.  

He was attached to a million tubes, his eyes barely open. I wondered if he could even register any of us with the amount of painkillers that had been injected in his system.  

As I moved slowly to enter the room, he muttered in his drugged state, “Ammi” 

*** 

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Chapter 1 ladies and gentleman. What do you think is a good chapter title? Suggest one for all the chapters as we go ;) 

Edit: 

🥀Song in title: Kyun main jagoon 

❤️Title credit: DBaranwal 

2. 

"Tu mera rog, tu hi dawa"

Asad 

Nausea swarmed my senses as I forced my body into consciousness. There was a static beeping to my left and numbness to my right.  

A heavy presence sat on my ribs and made every breath a piece of sharded glass.  

I found myself fighting a similar fight of keeping my eyes open, my head above water so I don’t drown. 

It was a little easier this time. They eventually opened wide and invited bright lights, pale white sickly walls and faces of the only people I loved in this life.  

“Ammi” I tried to voice but no sound came out. 

“Shh now, I am here. No need to say anything. Sab thik hai, main thik hu, Najma, Zoya, ham sab thik hai Asad.”  

A name from her sentence caught my breath and attention. 

“Zoya” I whispered.  

 It wasn’t a soft whisper, nor was it filled with concern. Her name filled my veins with unbrewed anger and frustration. And sadness. Intense sadness. 

Because I knew she had tested my last nerve, because I knew a decision had to be made.  

I closed my eyes again. The weight on them pressed for darkness. But the darkness wasn’t comforting, instead it was confining. Claustrophobic. 

“Asad?” I heard Ammi say “Lagta hai phir behosh hogaya.” 

How many times did we play this game, I wondered. 

I exhausted all my efforts to not play it this time. 

“Ammi, look” I heard tamatar exclaim. 

“Asad, can you hear me beta?” 

I tried to nod my head unsuccessfully. I blinked a slow blink instead. I could hear a sigh of relief from both the ladies. 

“I’ll go get the doctor.” Ammi nodded, indicating a yes to Najma.  

“Where is she?” I muttered, trying to keep the anger out of my voice.  

“Asad” her voice careful. 

“I need her gone; she almost killed” I winced with pain resurfacing from breathing “us.” 

“I almost killed us” Ammi said, her voice laced with shame and regret. She hurried to get the words out as if she taking a huge load off her shoulders.  

But before I could make sense of anything, the blanket of darkness enveloped me again. 

. 

. 

. 

The hushed voices were indistinct, almost as if there was a wall between me and the rest of the world. I could feel the pulsing of blood in my neck. The noises grew louder and closer as my eyes took in the room one more time. 

“He’s up. Ammi, jaldi ayie. Zoya, doctor” 

“Yeah, on it”  

I heard receding footsteps as my psyche became more and more aware of where I was. 

I remembered the gunshot, the blood, panic, doctors with masks, Ammi’s face and her last words. 

I almost killed us... 

***  

She stood in the far corner of the room as the doctor checked me over. I was fully awake now, sitting upright on the bed. Her expression cracked. 

“Asad” I took my eyes off her when Ammi called my attention. 

“Jee Ammi”  

She gestured towards the doctor. He had been asking something. 

“Can you move your fingers for me, Mr. Khan?” 

I tried it to the best of my ability. The next four weeks were deemed extremely hard and uncomfortable as I processed the wound, both physical and emotional. There would be a lot of rest and physiotherapy involved. But the good news was, the bullet hadn’t affected my mobility. So far.  

I looked over at Zoya standing in the corner again. She refused to look at me, her head bent down, stance worn out. 

“So far so good. You can take him home tomorrow morning after the checkup. But please make sure the wounds are dressed up and taken care of properly.” Dr. Prasad said in the direction of my mother. 

“Yes, I have already talked to a nurse. Under normal circumstances, I would keep him here, but I think combined with police protection, it’s better at home. No unknown faces around us.” 

“Of course, I completely understand” he said empathetically as he stood up “Take care, Mr. Khan. I will see you tomorrow.” 

“Thank you doctor.” My eyes trained towards Miss Farooqui with a life of their own. 

“Zoya?” She looked up at Ammi. I looked away afraid of being caught.  

“Yes Phuphi?” 

“Can you give us a minute please?” 

She left the room at once, not gazing my way while Najma followed her out.  

I looked at my mother, waiting.  

“How are you feeling?” she asked careful. 

“Awake” I had no idea how else to describe it. Did I prefer the darkness? I would have to make peace with the realities of my life now that I was awake.  

“Kuch kha lete toh acha tha” 

“It’s okay. I’ll have something shortly” I let the sentence finish, we needed to get to the topic. I had a million questions swerving in my head making me dizzy. 

“Zoya ki koi galti nahi hai Asad” she started picking up on my silence “Miriam ko waapis main lai thi”  

The shock of her statement ironically brought a quietness within, the claustrophobia slowly dissipated.  

My emotions changed gear and focused on what was about to come next. “Miriam bilkul akeli thi beta, she was walking on the street all by herself, how could I leave her be? She told me all that happened in Mangalpur and I just couldn’t leave that young girl out to fend for herself. And before you blame Zoya, please know that she told me all you had instructed her. And I recognize why you put that boundary in place, but Asad, I couldn’t... I couldn’t and now look what I’ve done to you.” Her miserable tears fell onto my hand. 

“Ammi please, aapki koi galti nahi hai. Aap toh bas kisi ki madad kar rahe the.” It pinched me how hypocritical I sounded in the moment.  

But then again, my mother wasn’t irresponsible every day like Ms. New York. 

“Asad what if...” she was unable to complete, hysterical in tears. I attempted to move to comfort and solace. 

“No, no, stay where you are” Drying her tears with her dupatta, she laid a loving hand on my head. “Bas ab ghar jana hai aur thik hona hai” 

I nodded teary-eyed too. 

“And don’t worry, Zoya called the police and talked to them while you were recovering. They know who they are looking for and bahut jald sab jail main honge, where they deserve.”  The repulsion and disgust in her voice was indistinguishable.  

The flashbacks of Mangalpur left me seething just the same.  

“She saved my life” I whispered having an epiphany suddenly; remembering her attack on the shooter. 

“And mine, and Najma’s” Ammi echoed, putting a gentle hand on my left shoulder. “Who knows how many bullets that monster was capable of.” she shuddered. "It... surprises me the fierceness and bravery this girl possesses. Anyone normal person would have fled away in that moment, even the people you consider family. But she didn’t. She called the ambulance, called the police, even made sure me and Najma were eating well while we waited for you to wake up from your painkiller induced sleep. She hasn’t rested for a minute since she got here. I’ll never be able to repay her debt” she completed lost in deep thought. “I sometimes feel she has come to India specifically for us. Like she is the lost part of our family.” 

I tried not to let the tears of my soul become the tears of my eyes. I couldn’t fathom what this girl had done to me. And my family. Despite all that I thought were her shortcomings, she’d waved a magic wand and made her own place in the hearts of everyone.  

Everyone.  

Each tick of the clock was strengthening the ocean of sentiment arousing within me. I had the realization after Mangalpur, that I was inching towards irreversible. And I couldn’t put a name to it. I shouldn’t put a name on it. Her eyes told the same story but there was no way her innocent girly heart held it all the same as mine.  

It seemed to me she was infatuated.  And well for me... I was leaving at calling it utter madness.  

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Let's play name the chapter again❤️

Edit:

🥀Song in title: Tu hi hai aashiqui

❤️Title credit: DBaranwal 

3. 

"Humme Tumme, kuch toh hai"

Zoya 

I watched him talk on the phone, tense and stiff.  

It wasn’t them.

The inspector had called us to inform that the morning of shooting, his uncle had already been in jail with his accomplices. Some of his minions had confessed to their crimes and nowhere near those confessions was shooting Mr. Khan. 

My hands clenched the wet cloth I held, as my knees buckled. I gave into their lack of action and sat down on the green settee in Asad’s room.  

The nurse had been terribly late for her appointment. When I walked over to check on him, I noticed his bandage bleed and helped him up to change it.  

His body had retreated as if shocked by my offer, he was unwilling I could tell, but gave in for fear of further infection happening. Phuphi and Najma were fast asleep from two sleepless nights at the hospital.  And who knew where that unreliable nurse was.  

“Unless you want to trouble phuphi with your stubbornness Mr. Khan, sit still” I’d chastised him as his phone rang. He was stubborn though. As always.  

As I handed him the device, I’d walked back to the table beside the small sofa to clean the cotton cloth I’d used to wipe his bronze skin.  

That’s when the bomb dropped.  

“So, you mean to tell me that it wasn't them?” his voice was quiet with unrestrained anger. 

Stillness surrounded him as he got the unexpected answer. If I didn't know he was a fast-moving, fire-spitting man on a normal basis, I would have thought he was carved out of marble. 

I couldn't blame him though; my knees had given out a while back.  

"Then why don't we figure out who that is then" he said in an eerily calm manner. I could see the nerve in his forehead bulging, ready to explode. The concern for his health put life back into me and I moved towards him.  

There were no words to describe the panic in either our bodies, hearts, souls or mind. So, I relied on lightly squeezing his uninjured shoulder.  

He closed his eyes at the touch of our skins and inhaled a deep breath, disconnecting the phone.  

A few minutes passed before he spoke, "I have no trust in them. Aaj phone karke bata rahein hain, the people they were looking for two days ago were in their own remand."  

He looked at me then, eyes dreadful and boiling. It was unspoken that I was with him. But I told him, nonetheless. 

"Then we can figure it out ourselves. I am not putting you in danger again" Something in his eyes flickered. I caught myself in time. 

"I mean you, phuphi and najma, and well me" I tried to chuckle but it sounded more like i was dying. 

He sat up straighter, flinching at the pain. My hands butterflied around him helplessly.  

"Ms. Faaroqui, did you see him? I remember when you were" he stopped and took a breath, like he was calming himself "fighting him off. did you manage to see anything? We can call a sketch artist...and we can...we can talk to a private detective. I can have all business rivals listed and when we list them, we can go through them and then maybe it's them, maybe it's those vile siddiquis; after all they are the biggest rivals but ammi why ammi,i don't under..." 

I felt the panic and worry seeping out from him make way into me, he was stuttering on his words and it felt like he was closing himself in thick panic induced walls. 

My hand found his as I kneeled on the floor to look up at him "Mr. Khan, we will find him and the person behind him. You are a successful businessman. Maybe he was here for some money. Maybe there is no one behind him nor is there any mastermind. Before he could get a word out, we were onto him; maybe he panicked and... shot." I had to tell myself not to lose composure. “We will figure it out, but if you spiral and then fall sick, our chances will reduce. Please calm down." 

He listened to me at once. To my intense shock and pleasure. 

His back hit the pillow; as he leaned, he let his eyes close and took a couple calming breaths. 

When he opened them, I saw resolution. 

*** 

We had decided to keep the information to ourselves. There was no way phuphi and najma would be open to this horrific development. As far as they were concerned the criminals were locked behind bars. Of course, the family was instructed to be still on high alert just in case more avenging was to happen, the fact of which wasn’t far from truth. 

 I was also painfully aware that if I hadn’t walked in on him while he received the call, he would have swallowed the dreary knowledge himself and worked alone. Protecting everyone from it all - as always.

Whatever his reasons maybe, it wasn't hard to decipher that the man had a soft corner for me. No matter how much fire he spit and breathed my way, his eyes often softened at our very closeness. 

I felt like I was carrying a secret with me. The secret that we no longer hated each other. The secret that the fear for his wellbeing was so great, I hadn't cared for myself when I had jumped in front of the danger.  

It was my secret.  

It was his secret.  

It was ours. 

I mean I was fully aware that he still very much hated my guts at times, agitated by my presence like I was with his. But it wasn't the... same. 

It wasn’t the same hate that channeled between us weeks ago. This hate was different.  

A caring hate, I liked to call it.  

*** 

It was the day's end now. 

The nurse had finally showed up in the late afternoon and Mr. Akdu Khan had simply told her off. I didn't fight it. We needed an excuse to work together on the case. And me volunteering as his dress up nurse simply gave us that. His mother had looked at us in pure shock, slipping into the emotion more as Asad agreed with me. I couldn't blame her.  

I'm pretty sure she thought I was doing this because I felt guilty. Which I did. Keeping Miriam could have ended in the same result. Maybe it was their accomplice or some other crazy villager pyaasa for revenge. Who even knew at this point?! 

Mr. Khan on the other hand had been painfully explanatory about his action "You don't have to do anything. I just thought it would be easier than sneaking around at night. It would give us more time to work on the case" 

I had stopped listening to him. 

He lost me at sneaking around and night. Did he choose those words on purpose?  

Desire for him burned. I was human after all. Duh! 

You could hate someone and still think they are hot. Especially as they sit in front of you only half- dressed with their glorious self on display.  

I tried to shake my sinful thoughts away. The poor bird was wounded, and I was concentrating on doing my mating dance.  

Allah Miyan, why him? Out of all the people I could have been attracted to.  

I sure knew how to pick them. 

"Mr. Khan, I will happily call the nurse back if you keep up with this. Do you want to get hurt again? Your poor stitches are screaming. Itna first aid aata hai mujhe. Chill!"  

He was trying to bandage himself. Correction. He was trying to put a bandage around his right shoulder with his left hand, his face contorted in pain as he did. "Look I can call phuphi, if you are uncomfortable with me doing it" 

"No" he screamed out. I looked on taken aback trying to gauge his aggressive response. 

"Ammi feels guilty as is, seeing me in pain would cost her health" 

And just like that, the 'hate' for him disappeared for a few moments.  

He let his arm rest on his thigh as I took over the daunting task. I was farthest from being 'chill'. His muscles bunched underneath my shaky fingers as he breathed to keep himself sane.  

I had a mind to blow on his wounds but feared I would cause myself and him embarrassment by getting too close.  

So, I stayed technical. Clinical. At least to his face. There was no way he could tell that my heart rate had gone through the roof and tingles appeared everywhere his skin touched me. Strong muscles bunching underneath the bandages were giving me visions.  

It was a weird mix of emotions. An emotional and infatuating blend. 

He couldn't tell. I hoped he couldn't. 

After my YouTube learnt attempt at effectively bandaging his wound was over, I handed him a shawl to drape himself in.  

I needed to concentrate.  

It turned grim in the room as we realized what was about to come.  

It was my turn to freak out.  

His fingers lightly brushed mine where my hand rested on the bed. 

"Just take a deep breath and try to remember." I had revisited the incident a hundred times throughout the day unable to get his besahara injured image out of my mind. How could I remember details when my mind was trying to save itself from those very details.  

His touch helped me believe he was here, and he was okay. I held on to that feeling and attempted again. 

Stay. Clinical. 

"When I saw you on the floor, I ran towards him, he was pointing the gun again. I panicked and attacked him." 

"Who was he pointing the gun at?" Asad interrupted "Me or Ammi" 

I thought hard. Phuphi was on the floor where Mr. Khan had pushed her. After he intervened and fell victim to the attack, the shooter pointed the gun again. He was pointing at... 

"Phuphi" I whispered horrified. 

 ***

Edit:

🥀Song in title: Pyar Kar 

❤️Title credit: DBaranwal 

4. 

"Ujhdo se lamho ko aas teri"

Asad 

Even though I couldn't hear what her lips whispered, her frozen stance told me the answer.  

My mind was spinning from the unknown fear and a million questions. I had told myself pretty solidly that Siddiquis were behind the catastrophe.  

They were ‘the original low lives’ anyway. When they couldn't get control or hold of my success, they tried to thwart it.  

But Ammi?  

That part didn't quite add up. Why her? Targeting Ammi seemed too satanic, even for them. 

Was it like Zoya suggested? Was it still my uncle's gundas who had cleverly locked themselves up in jail and then sent another man out to redeem their izzat? It was entirely possible that an inspector was in on this and was bribed heavily as we sat here and tried to decipher the answers.  

But they were broadcasted on the news in daylight, weren't they? At some point the bribery gets out of hand and it gets too hard to control who you can protect. There was only so much money that could clear their name once their faces had been flashed over all the news channels. 

It made me sick. All of it.  

"His shirt" Ms. Farooqui yelped. I didn't how to react to her. "His shirt Mr. Khan" she implied as if I was privy to her thoughts and knew whatever that meant. 

She read my eyes then and explained.  

“When I was fighting his attack off” my jaw tightened involuntarily “he realized he wouldn't be able to shoot again and so he started escaping. I tried to stop him, to see his face, reveal his identity somehow. He pushed me off him and I landed on the ground. I latched onto his leg in the craziness; he violently jerked my hold off him and said and I quote "bloody bi*ch." My head spun more than it already was. 

She confirmed what I was thinking “That confirms he was not a Mangalpur accomplice, since they would not know english well enough to holler curses like that. And most importantly Mr. Khan..." she leaned over and looked into my eyes deeply, coming close face to face "...when I got up on my feet and chased him down the hallway again, his shirt collar tore off and dropped on the floor. If he is a hired hardened criminal, which seems the case, we will find a file on him. We have his DNA!” she jumped ecstatically and ran towards the door. I tried to follow suit calling her out to slow down and lower the volume button while she was at it.

"Miss Farooqui?!...ahh" 

“Allah Miyan!” she gasped and ran back to where I now kneeled on the floor. The sudden move had sent shocking waves of agony throughout my spine and shoulder blades.  

“Oh God, are you okay?” 

The phrase sent me down memory lane when I had seen her face for the first time up close and asked her the same question when my car had almost run her down. 

 ‘Are you okay?’  

I had voiced with my words curiosity then, her words now voiced worry and maybe a hint of pain. Her big brown eyes looked at me with such perturbation I forgot my own for a second. 

Why was it that her concern for me fanned feelings of unexplained validation. Even though the mind fought tooth and nail for not falling, the heart found ways for reassurance. I hated the fact that I felt deeply for this girl. I could never give her what she might expect from me.  

And yet every touch full of concern sent my heart flying. My sane brain said she was an empathetic woman, and this would be anyone's logical response, but I liked daydreaming in the middle of a crisis. 

As she helped me up to the bed, her patient hands tucked me in diligently. Her stance and voice carried a mild warning as she left the room “Stay put here, I will go look for it and then bring it back if I find anything. Okay?” I nodded helplessly. I didn’t want to push my agony to its extremes and end up becoming useless altogether.  

“Allah miyan, madad karna” I heard her whisper as she closed the door behind her. 

*** 

I looked up at the ceiling, waiting for the seconds to pass me by. The clock on the wall moved in its own melody, it ticked like the nerves in my head. 

Please God, let there be something! 

The door cracked and I saw Zoya’s figure enter.  

Oh, that’s not good.  

She wasn’t jumping for joy at the discovery of first clue. It only meant... 

“Okay, so good news and bad news” she said as she faced me, shoulders wound tight. 

“What’s the good news?” 

“Oh wow, you really like to end at a depressing note, don’t you?” I raised a brow at her. 

“Says a lot about you as a person, I don’t know” she shrugged casually. 

My hand moved to its original spot; the bridge of my nose. “Ms. Faaroqui?” 

“Right! Right, so the good news is we know we have a piece of evidence.” 

I queued in her silence for the opposite news and braced myself.  

“The bad news is people in this house work way too hard and they cleaned up the little pathway where I chased him, most likely dumping the collar.” 

“Dammit” my fist hit the bed before I noticed. I winced as the blaze of torment shot up my arm. 

Zoya cried out loud “Asad”  

I looked at her surprised through my crumpled face. 

She only huffed at me “Puri baat sun ne ka kya lenge aap? I was going to add to our list.” 

“Add what?” 

“The househelp did clean the house but all the garbage went into the main bin outside, near our adjoining walls to the back street. I looked from the terrace, and it hasn’t been emptied out yet. We might still have a chance.” 

The thought of me stepping into garbage with a milllion bacteria and germs gave me a panic attack. The OCD I refused I had, kicked in.  

She must have seen something on my face when she said “You can't go in there, remember we have to keep your wound sanitized. I’ll go” she added bravely and continued “You are my watch out. Since we are not informing that policeman outside our main door what we are upto.” 

She was right, until we figured this out, even the police were a hazard to our secret investigation. 

I nodded feeling sorry and extremely grateful to her. This was our only chance at a fast revival of facts. 

“Let’s go.” 

*** 

“Careful Ms. Farooqui. Make sure there is nothing sharp in there first.” I said as quietly as I could. The useless police guard was passed out at the main gate. They hadn’t even put a patrol at the back of the house.  

Our safety was in our own hands.  

I saw her butt wiggle in the air as she attempted to set foot in the bin. 

Curse my biological male brain to make its appearance at the worst time possible.  

*Crunch* 

Yuck, that didn’t sound good.  

“Allah Miyan, why do people throw out half eaten food in the trash?” 

“Are you sure, it’s not one of your pizzas” The words were out before I realized. 

She glared at me. Halfway inside the dumpster now, standing on whatever the crunchy sound was, she stood facing me with hands on her hips.  

“Are you kidding me right now?” she said with such annoyance, I couldn’t suppress the smile that passed my face. 

She blinked surprisingly but couldn’t keep the disgust off her face for long as she bent down to look for the object of our desires. 

Thank God she was wearing gloves. It wasn’t easy to convince her. Only after I had reminded her that she was supposed to help me dress my wounds, she had quietly taken the gloves from my hand and put them on. I also discovered she had changed into a faded pair of jeans and a white top with various haldi marks on it.  

“I am a messy eater. Why do you look so surprised? In any case, I’m dumping these clothes after my trash diving” she had retaliated to my silent look after I’d gazed at her questioningly up and down.  

As she dove through the mess, a few strands of her hair escaped from her messy bun and stuck to the sweat that was forming on her neck.  

I never would have thought that I would be looking at a girl digging through trash surrounded by the funkiest of smells and thinking she was... cute. 

I would never understand the mystery of male brain. I used to think I was logical. That thought went out the window after we came back from Mangalpur. The ina.... 

“Milgaya!” Zoya’s boisterous voice interrupted my inner monologue. 

Her eyes widened as she panicked; she might have been too loud. She was about to put her hand on her mouth as a reflex when I screeched “Don’t” 

She realized what she was about to do and dropped her hand to the side. 

“Milgaya” she whispered at me triumphantly. 

***

Edit:

🥀Song in title: Noor- e - khuda

❤️Title credit: SoulfulDreamer117

This is a really good alternative story. I love it. Zoya is so adorable.

I like the POVs changing. Its nice and refreshing. Giving us their thought process. You really understand Asad and Zoya well

Originally posted by: hgjkjhgfjfj

This is a really good alternative story. I love it. Zoya is so adorable.

I like the POVs changing. Its nice and refreshing. Giving us their thought process. You really understand Asad and Zoya well

Thank you  Glad to know you liked it!! Will update sometime next week :) It's always nice to take a trip down qh memory line, cant believe its been 11 years

Hi, 

So happy and excited that u again came up with a new exciting #Asya FF, it's very interesting and different. Do continue soon and keep writing

OMG I READ THIS ON WATTPAD BUT GONNA LEAVE A REPLY HERE BECAUSE I LOVE YOU 😭

Originally posted by: ruma_kolkata

Hi, 

So happy and excited that u again came up with a new exciting #Asya FF, it's very interesting and different. Do continue soon and keep writing

Hi!!!!! So happy to see you back active on forum. I'm so glad you enjoyed it, Thank you for the comment Update soon