Blissful Ending

“You know, you need to stop doing that?” Rabail’s eyes turned to slits as she saw the person responsible for “sneaking”.

A light chuckle waved through the room. “Well, I can't help it.” Shrugging her shoulders, Afra turned her head to see the previous view of the lawn. Everything was peaceful, quiet, and steady. A greater contrast to the people dwelling in this ambiance. Both sisters, in silence, watched the world for a few moments.

“So, I saw Bakht running away from your office” Afra stated to the woman.

Rolling her eyes, Rabail twirled her chair, taking one of the files in her hand, she started reviewing and answered, “That man is just dramatic with his entrances and exists.”

Afra nodded and sipped her tea, which she had brought along with the coffee. The flipping of the pages was just heard. Afra knew Rabail was stalling her; however, she didn’t push. One thing about her sister was that she preferred to handle things on her own- made sure everyone had everything, no troubles, and lastly, no one was hurt. She admired Rabail for it. Despite being a woman made and built of steel, she sometimes wished she could let that heartbeat beat once again, for someone who could be an addition to her World.

“Maham, make sure that the files Bakht send tomorrow are in your hands. You are to receive it and give it directly to me. Only me. No one in between.”

Hearing her, Afra solemnly nodded hearing the crisp tone. Her sister always called her by her middle name. Well, the name was given by Rabe sis. Afra Maham Khan.

Tidying up her table, instructing Afra about the projects and files, Rabail leaned back in her chair. The day was still there, so were her hands filled with work and mind with the nagging nerves.

“They are saying something is happening” her voice, so low that it could be easily missed if not for the stillness of the room. Afra’s hands stopped writing her notes. She did not fail to notice the unsaid “again”.

Suddenly everything was too closed up. The room, the windows, the walls, the shelves. Her hands trembled for the umpteenth time in her twenty-three-year-old life. Everything flashed across her. Every single moment she lived in.

“Are they coming back?” her voice expressed her vulnerability to Rabail. Rabail’s hand clenched seeing her sister like this. However, she wanted her to be strong, indestructible when, no if, things went out of hand. They can not afford to lose it all again. She definitely cannot.

“Might. And if they do so, they won’t be able to crawl back again” clenching her hand, she vowed.

Afra’s heart eased a little yet the looming doom was still there. She trusted her, more than anything and anyone. Afra was protected by her and her family when others were ready to claw her.

“I wish life was a little like a book” her words hung in the air as Rabail offered her a little smile. Melancholic smiles were exchanged between them.

“Me too, sweetheart. Me too.” Rabail sighed as she added further “And that’s what makes me sad at times”

“Why?” Tilting her head to the left, Afra’s eyes held the curiosity. Hazel with tints of green. A forest, so deep and warm that one could get lost in them. As if compelling her companion for life to annihilate himself in her love.

“Life and books are a thousand oceans apart. Wish life were to be the same as books- simple, logical, and organized.”

“Yet what is life without a hint of sadness and misery experienced” hearing the infamous line of Grandfather being quoted, Rabail’s lips quenched.

She won’t deny that sentence, yet won’t agree as well. Everyone had their share of sorrows, grief, and sadness. One learned from them and Rabail felt that she and her family had already learned theirs to last a lifetime.

↫∣↬

Her hands trailed along the spines of the books as her feet dragged along the library. In the absence of clouds, the moon shone brightly. Her glossy sheen silk robe swayed with the slightest movement. Her healthy olive skin and thin frame were complemented by the carnation shade, which hugged her curves—the ample bosom, vulnerable waist, and handsome legs. She had a short frame, an average height of 5’4”; with some distinct exoticness. Mediterranean shade for skin, high cheekbones covered with mischievous dimples, plump full lips, and fragile clavicles that stood out.

She was an old bottle of wine. The first sip piqued your interest. The second, third, fourth, and so on slowly, steadily, and intolerably intoxicated you. One sip was insufficient to satisfy the ecstatic pleasure it provided.

Slender fingers stopped dancing on the covers sensing the familiar surface. Her hazel orbs glowed with a fading echo. Pulling out the book, her gaze is drawn to the soft leather-bound cover. With the moonlight filtering through the windows, the gold calligraphy on the cocoa-colored leather glimmered. She sat in the regal maroon armchair, enveloping herself with cushions.

Her lips curved up as she trailed the words.

Romeo and Juliet.

Rabail knew the play by heart as the millions did. Everyone loved it. Everyone gave examples of it. Everyone wanted, prayed, craved for a love like that. However, she never wished for that kind of love. She wanted a love that stayed with her, picked her up, and just be with her. She didn't crave for the “setting an example” kind of romance, yet rather for a simple one that lived on in the heart of her beloved.

A plethora of nostalgic pasts hit her as she kept caressing the cover.

(Flashback)

“You know R&J is not a love story.” her grumbling voice vibrated his eardrums. He shook his head at the antics of Rabe, without lifting his eyes to see the glare of the woman on the very book he was reading.

“And why do you say so, my lady?” his husky voice questioned her as he sensed her pacing in front of the shelves in hunt of a book. Hearing her soft footsteps behind his sofa, he knew what she was going for today. “So Rumi it is”

“To start everything is rushed. The love, the marriage, the feelings. I mean, look back, did they even confess properly?”

“Well, Juliet did.”

“Exactly, Juliet did. A thirteen-year-old did, no offense to her age or anything. But, she just saw him for once and then when she did confess in the ‘not so empty’ balcony, Romeo suggests that they should get married” she exasperated and slumped, with “Masnavi” in her hand, on the sofa perpendicular to him.

“Love is blind, Rabe. It goes to people without seeing them. Without knowing who they are, where they come from, what they did or are doing for that matter. It comes naturally to the lovers.”

“Won’t disagree, Zee. Surely, love goes to people, regardless of who they are. Yet, that does not mean that the lovers are blind, are they? I mean, you love someone, want to be with them; however, that does not mean you will lose all your family, your values, and your life as well. Instead of hiding your love, take the courageous path, step out and fight for it. Do not let your family condemn your love, nor let others. All in all, don’t hide because it just degrades that pure feeling that you have for your beloved.” Rabail let out a breath as soon as she was done with her part. Hearing her, made him stop reading and take a look at her.

A pale cherry hue painted her jugular muscles and the tips of the ear cartilage. One would easily miss it, if they did not observe her, keenly like a hawk at that too, or knew her for a very long time. He belonged to the latter group. He could tell she was nervous to say anything and even more so to hide that shade on her skin.

“However, a day without your love is a nightmare to the lovers,” he stated as he saw her pushing her glasses on the bridge of her button nose. Oh no, she was fired up right now.

“Obviously, but dying is not the answer. People say love is strength so let that be the light that illuminates the darkest hours. So instead of a love story, I think tragedy suits it more. Love should not make you weak, it should be the potion that makes your heart beat a thousand times even when love is not there beside you.

Moreover, when you think of R & J, what is your first thought?”

“Their death” he answered

“Exactly, it’s their death and later we sympathize with the love they had. Not the other way around, Mister.” Being able to state her point, Rabail gave out a grin. Oh, she loved it when they went overboard discussing the most bizarre things in the world. This was a natural occurrence for them. ‘Question, argue, learn, apply.’

“Both families thought they were protecting themselves, but their ancient rivalry did nothing except kill young and innocent children” he concluded. Nodding her head, she added, “What makes it so famous is due to the setting and characters. Characters who are teenagers, family rivalry, defying teenagers fighting for love.”

“Love is a journey. Not the destination. A journey where you take the hand of the other and pass through times, in sickness, in health, in love, in desperation, in highs, and lows.” He voiced out.

“Point. It is a journey where companion should not be the destination.”

“So basically Shakespeare manipulated his play.”

Cocking her head to the left, Rabail’s face depicted the question mark of the century. Now, where was this going again?

Chuckling and pointing his finger to the other side of the room, “Well, see ‘Hamlet’ or ‘Macbeth’ over there, they were painstakingly slow with the tragedy; however the greater contrast to R & J is the exalted rush to the death of the lovers.”

“So, in the end, it might have been to depict the harsh reality of feudal rivalry that could lead to potential deaths of their children, when in fact, their reason of rivalry was for the protection of their said child”

“Kind of, Rabe.” Leaning forward, while balancing his elbows on the armor of his knees. The honey in his eyes twinkled while the edges of his iris enclosed its boundary with the chocolate shade. Thick eyelashes kissed his prominent cheekbones when he blinked. His lean jawline was covered with a trimmed beard, giving a rogue look to his much delicate honey-dripped eyes.

His thin lips opened, “What if love was to bring people together?”

Rolling her eyes, “You might be forgetting that Romeo and his lover, Juliet gave up their lives, rather than being together in the living world. If you are talking about reuniting after death, that is another matter.”

Shaking his head, “What if, now that is a very piquing possibility I must say, that Shakespeare wrote love as a force which could end all great wars, regrets, rivalry. A medium, not only for lovers but for the families; because in the end, both families embraced each other, regardless of the tragic ending of the ‘star-crossed lovers’. Nevertheless, love could reunite two worlds apart.”

“So their death was worth it in the long run, where others of their family didn’t die.” her voice echoed in the octave.

“Sometimes happy endings are not everything.” he solemnly said. “Some stories don’t necessarily need a happy ending. The fact that they are finished is bliss itself. No matter if the ending was devastating or joyous. The ending is blissful or not.” His eyes were still on her hazel orbs. He knew he had her complete concentration on every syllable that he uttered, so softly and slowly he continued.

“However, it equally doesn’t mean that as one ended, another story cannot be penned. Clutching onto the past is useless. You learn from it, experience it, feel it; but never keep dwelling in it, for you would never know what it was to live in a better present than a fairly good past.”

“Just like Romeo and Juliet’s family did?” she asked.

Smiling a little, he repeated with conviction,

“Just like Romeo and Juliet’s family did.”

The memory reel ended, yet she never stopped caressing the cover. She did not open the book. Neither turned it over. She simply trailed her soft fingertips on the calligraphy.

“One day, Zee,” she whispered so softly as she pulled her chaotic mind to sleep.

“One day, I will settle in the present.”