13. LIES

"Whispers and dark, long claws pushing me,

They say my fate is cursed and is piercing me,

You told me to let it go and hold your hand,

Promise in your eyes and sand in hand,"

__

He sighed softly gazing at her soft yet bold features. Her words revolving in her mind. As he dialed her father’s number.

"Assalamualaikum, Waqas. Its nice to hear from you again." he heard her father's excited from the other side. But, he didn't miss the underlying questioning tone in his voice.

"My pleasure sir-"

"Oh shush! Call me dad, like Zohra. I am sure she will be happy to hear it from your mouth." her father exclaimed as his wife tried to snatch the phone from his grip.

"Let me talk to them first. You are just wasting your time."

"Ah yea, like you would talk all about-"

"Who talks about business to the newlyweds. I am so disappointed in you. Tch. Tch. Tch." their banter was stopped by his chuckle. Making them turn their attention toward him.

"Waqas, I am sorry about my husband. He always has something to divert his mind from the main topic." his wife apologised making him sigh.

"After all he is an old man." she continued and ran away as her husband gaped at her audacity.

"Anyways. Waqas, is Zohra there?" He asked reading the newspaper, his eyes searching for the answer he could never find in the newspaper. Brows furrowed together.

Waqas scratched his neck and padded out of the room.

"Um, no she is asleep. I actually want to talk about her,-" he confessed pinching the bridge of his nose. His own eyes searching for something in the air.

"Yes?"

"She told me last night about it all. She had a nanny and she died a very tragic death."

"Uhmm and?" Clearing his throat he asked sitting straight on his bed, a cunning smile growing up on his lips.

"She witnessed it all by her own eyes. And the nanny was murdered by her cousin." he opened up to him about her truth making him gasp, a horrifying and pitiful gasp.

"She never really told us about it. How is she?" Concern laced over his voice as he asked about his daughter.

"She is fine right now. Sleeping. But I am afraid, about something else," leaning over the couch his gaze jumped from the bookshelf to the table filled with her favourite flowers kept in vase.

"What it is?"

"Her mental health has been worsening and I-"

"Waqas?" her soft voice startled him making him snap his neck so fast, he thought he heard his neck break.

"Who are you talking to?" She asked as she neared him and leaned over his arm.

"Your father." he gestured his phone towards her.

A wide smile made its way onto her face and she made herself comfortable to talk to her father.

"Assalamualaikum! How are you?" He chirped behind the phone as his wife fought for it.

"Wa'alaikum assalam! I am good, how are you?" They talked for a while laughing and reminiscing.

His father said something and suddenly the carefree manner evaporated in the air. He sensed her shoulder tensing on her father’s words. She said a small good bye and hanged up.

"You told it all to my father." it was not a question but a statement. Her voice strained with emotions.

He doesn’t know what to say so he just nodded his head as the gears of confusion rolled inside his head.

"Why? I trusted you with everything to only keep it till us and you, you just blew it up to my father!" anger and shock echoed with her voice in the empty balcony.

"Flower, I think you are taking it in wrong way. He is your father and he cares about-"

"No!" she screamed cutting his words off. Her body shook with rage or sadness or something, it was hard to say.

"They don't care about me. They don't, you don't know what I know. You will never know!" she screamed as tears streamed down her face. Her body shaking like a leaf.

"Flower," his soothing voice made her broke into a painful sob.

"He deserves to know."

"He doesn’t. He doesn’t deserves to know. Because he already knows about it." she confessed falling limp on the couch.

His brows went up high, as he replayed their conversation again in his head. It seemed like her father didn't knew about it, from the way he questioned.

"I am not understanding, darling."

He rubbed her back soothingly as she leaned in his warmth. Her uneven breath getting even.

"He knows, and when he got to know about it he admitted me in rehab saying I am mentally ill. Waqas. I am not mentally ill. I can give proofs. Please trust me." she begged to be trusted. She thought he would leave her saying she is too mentally ill to fit for any human relationship. But, what she didn't know was she was never too ill for any relationship.

Zohra

Beg and love, perfect fitting. I don't know if I am begging to be loved or am I loved to be beg for, and all the stars in the universe knows the latter one cannot be even true if the world is seemed to be ending tomorrow.

The cage was open for me, again, its arms fell out trying to either hug and take me back in its arms or cage me inside for a life time. I don't know if it felt nostalgic, because it was just yesterday I left it.

He is confused. Wrinkles formed near his eyes and his forehead and I wanted to erase it with my every touch.

"Believe me, Waqas. I am not ill." my words died.

By telling his features I knew he will never believe me but something changed. His eyes softened and met mine and I knew instantly, flowers do bloom on moon.

He believes me. He does. I know it all. And this time I cannot be wrong even if I wanted too.

"I do believe you. I believe you. I do." the octave in his voice fell by each word and I don't even know if it was the right time for my butterflies to be let free.

His arms took me in his embrace as I breathed out shakily. My hands shook finding his tee in my fist. His cheek rested against my head as he rubbed my arm up and down, setting it on a fire which I can't extinguish but strangely it quenches my thirst of begging for love.

I don't know how he always knew how to handle me. He barely knows me, I barely know him. But, we know the world in which we are leaving. The stars, the moon, the sun, the universe; they know it all. And it feels like, we were tied together long, long before when the world was not there to witness our story.

"It’s all lies," my words came back with a gasp as my chest heaves up and down.

"I know and you don't need to worry about anything. Just know I trust you like child does on fire. Like blind person walking without a stick. Like a lost person in the desert in search of water. I have trust in you like a falling apple." his magical words didn't only soothes my uneven heartbeat but also but made my heart pulse rate increase. His words will give me heart attack someday.

"Just forget about it and get yourself prepare for your day. Are you excited about it?" His husky voice is surely gorgeous. And I want him to never speak to any other female.

"Yes, old man I am excited." I joked falsely being excited.

"Let me show you what this old man can do," saying he hovered me making my heart beat rise again. My palm pressed against his chest. His heart beating at uneven pace. Blood is surely my enemy as it rushed up to my cheeks.

His lips lifted into a smirk as his fingers tightened over my waist.

"I need to get ready." the words were followed by a yelp as I pushed him. Don't ask me how the confidence comes from when all I want is to gaze his face, but never look in his eyes, when I am with him.

His eyes, always piercing my heart. I don't know if his eyes work properly or not because he always happens to wear those circular, fat glasses.