#microblog

2 years. 730 days. 730 glances. 730 kisses. 730 smiles. 730 promises. The earth revolves around its sun twice in that frame. He, however, stood stagnant for the first time in 730 days– for he had lost his sun all together.  

Uzair couldn’t grasp when he had started taking her for granted but god, oh god, would he offer his bleeding heart at stake just to keep her. 

Month 18 [9:45PM] Baloch Haveli, Lyari – Karachi, Pakistan 

Y/N sat impatiently on Uzair’s bed, draped in a simple black saree dusted with faint gold flecks that caught weakly under the bedroom light. It was her mother’s saree; Uzair’s favorite. Tonight was supposed to be theirs. Y/N had finally completed her third year of medical studies, Rehman bhai’s years of labor within Lyari had finally begun bearing fruit, the kind sweet enough to let Uzair breathe on his own terms for once.

Yet somehow, he still couldn’t.

The room sat heavy beneath the suffocating heat. Lyari was notorious for its clammy nights, but this felt different… artificial… as though the resentment Uzair held was seeping into the hot air locked within. Uzair paced slowly-footsteps uneven against the floor, phone pressed tightly against his ear while the veins on his arms protruded, hinting at his agitation during the call. One moment he was still by the window, the next he turned sharply again, dragging frustrated fingers through his damp, humidity-clung hair before snapping at the voice on the other end.

His jaw remained locked, grinding his teeth to halt the frustration threatening to spill out of him. Each exhale grew sharper than the last. Y/N followed every movement from the edge of his bed, hands fidgeting on her lap. At first, she watched him with concern. Then slowly, quietly, she sank into herself in understanding.

She had lost him to someone else yet again.

Three weeks. Three weeks since they had been allowed uninterrupted time together, and even tonight, when the world had finally slowed enough to hand them a few hours of peace, she sat waiting for him to finally look at her.

His kurta clung to his back with sweat as he halted by the window once more, completely consumed by the conversation refusing to end. The pale light from his phone sharpened the exhaustion beneath his eyes. He never noticed her stand as she pushed herself off the bed quietly, her saree brushed faintly against the floor tiles as she walked toward the bathroom in resignation.

The flickering bathroom light stung, highlighting the taunting reality of her state. She stared at herself in the mirror. Her curls had long since fallen loose, softened by the stuffiness and hours of waiting. The glitter around her eyes no longer caught light the way it had earlier. Her lipstick had faded nearly two shades lighter than before-applied carefully in hopes of leaving traces of herself across Uzair’s skin. Maybe behind his ear; across his jaw if he was lucky enough.

But only her efforts remained visible and this time she didn’t bother fixing it. 

Quietly, she reached up to remove her jhumkas. The metal clinked sharply against the marble sink, the sound mocking her hope. Y/N paused for a moment, trying to find a sliver of light in the enclosing darkness that had started to grow over their bubble. Then her fingers drifted toward the delicate سُکون (sukoon) necklace resting against her neck. Her fingertips paused against the clasp. Uzair had fastened it on her birthday, fingers fumbling slightly while he avoided looking directly at her afterward. Safe haven. Security. That’s what he had accepted her as in his life.

Tonight, the chain felt sturdier than whatever held them together. She unclasped it slowly, wincing faintly when a strand of hair caught against the hook before slipping free.

From outside, she heard his curt “Khuda hafiz” followed by the rustle of fabric and the dull sound of pacing resuming almost immediately after. He was probably dragging his hands through his hair again, trying to regain control over whatever had stolen him away this time.

Y/N looked at herself one final time in the mirror. Less adorned now, easier to disappear into the night.

She stepped back into the room softly, and Uzair still hadn’t looked up. She made her way quietly toward the bedroom door, fingers wrapping carefully around the handle, hoping to slip away without interruption.

“Chalo. Waise hi time kaam hai.” Uzair directed, his eyes still fixed on his phone while his thumbs moved hurriedly across the screen. The collar of his kurta had darkened, a sign of his weariness, fabric wrinkled heavily around his forearm from how long he had held the phone there.

Y/N said nothing. Her fingers tightened around the handle again hoping to disappear. Only then did he finally look up.

“Y/N?” agitation still lingered beneath his voice.

“Hm?” she answered softly, turning toward him.

His gaze dropped immediately toward her hand curled around the handle.

“Kahan jaa rahi ho?”

“Ghar” she admitted quietly.

He looked at her. Really looked. Her hair, once curled neatly down her back, was now dull. A few strands frizzed around her face. Her lipstick had nearly disappeared. The glitter around her eyes no longer caught the light in his periphery.

Then his gaze shifted lower. Her neck was bare. His necklace was gone. Something about its absence irritated him even more.

“Tum kahin nahi jaa rahi ho.” The firmness came slower now.

“Uzair, main-”

“Hum dono bahar jaane wale hain.” He adjusted his damp collar absentmindedly while stepping toward her, as though the night could still be salvaged if they simply continued where they had left off.

“Der ho gayi hai…” 

“Kya?” he halted at her mutter.

“Der ho gayi hai.” a pause.

She pulled the bedroom door open not wanting to explain herself further, but Uzair reached it before she could leave, pushing it shut with a sharp thud against the frame.

“Yeh kya befazool ka natak kar rahi ho? Jaa rahe hain na bahar?” he snapped at her, frustrated, as though she were the difficult one.

Y/N finally broke “Nahi jana mujhe bahar! Samajh nahi aa raha ya phir behre ho?”

“Kyun nahi jana? Huh? 5 minute kisi se baat kya kar li kaam ke baare mein, tum apna chehra mukaar logi?!”

“5 minute?! Yeh sab 5 minute ki rukawat thi?” She flailed her hands around the room to highlight their disheveled state.

“To agar mera kuch kaam aa gaya, usme kya masla hai tumhe? Abhi bhi jaa sakte hain bahar… yahi chahti thi na tum?” His voice rose in agitation, reminding her that this had been her plan.

“Ehsaan mat karo mujh pe. Bheek nahi maangi thi maine tumse… waqt guzarne ka mann tha, lekin tumhe fursat kahan hai humare liye?!” she countered, matching his level, yet shocked by his nerve. How dare he?

“Fursat hai, issi liye tumhare saamne abhi khada hua hun.” He stepped closer to her in defiance, narrowing his eyes, daring her to continue this fight.

“Mat khade raho phir! Waise bhi kya haasil-”

“Minaat kyun karwa rahi ho?! Raat khatam nahi hui hai–tumhe samajh nahi aa raha?! Thodi si der kya ho gayi… main nahi kar sakta tha isko ignore.” His tone rose while he attempted to bargain weakly.

“Kar sakte the, Uzair.”

“Tumhe zyada pata hai?” He snapped at her audacity.

She blinked, wounded by his insinuation; This conversation was spiraling.

“Nahi… mujhe kuch nahi pata hai, lekin itna zaroor bol sakti hun ki tum humein…” she pointed between their heavy souls, “…prioritize nahi karte.”

“Ky-” He faltered at her accusation, eyebrows drawn in disbelief. “Kaam sambhal raha tha– isme mujhse kaunsi galti ho gayi? Batao.” He seethed.

She knew he wouldn’t listen to her words; far too prideful to engage, so she retreated. As always.

“Kuch nahi hai batane ko. Main…” she sighed and nodded apologetically, “main jaa rahi hun apne ghar…baad main baat kar lenge… khayal rakhna.” She crossed past his shoulder and reached for the door handle.

“Zyada nata-”

“Uzair, bas!” she cried “Bohot ho gaya. Nahi hota mujhse ab intezaar.” admitting agonizingly, blurry eyes meeting his unfocused ones. “Zindagi ruk gayi hai meri tumhare peeche bhaag bhaag ke. Thak gayi hun main!” She finally faced him, pleading for relief.

“Y/N-” he tried calling for her, shocked at her outburst.

“Aur kitna wait karun main…” Her lips trembled, hoping he’d understand her plight. 

Something flickered across his face at her admission: worry, fear. What did she mean? Red tinted his gaze as he stared at her worn-out frame, struggling to make sense of the pain she was insisting upon. Wait? Wait for what? He had always been there for her- day and night. Whenever she needed him. What more could she want from him? Everything was hers already.

These thoughts ached inside him, fueling his growing animosity for the wasted night even more.  How could she dismiss his efforts so easily…especially when he was trying to make up for their lost time. Before his heart could make sense of anything, his ego took over, twisting her words into a misunderstanding he no longer wanted to address.

“Theek hai. Jana hai to jao. Main nahi rokunga.”

She finally took a breath in relief. He heard her for the first time.

“Lekin tum aaj gayi, to phir wapas aane ki jurat mat karna.” He shrugged detachedly, hiding his trembling hands in the cold pockets of his kurta.

Y/N’s eyes widened at his ultimatum. Did he just…He did not mean that. He couldn’t have. 

“Uzair tum yeh k-” she tried to amend but was only met with his averted gaze and taut shoulders. 

Uzair couldn’t have cared less to hear her out. 

Her posture stiffened at his uninterest. He was far too old to be playing these games with her but if he wanted to end it right here-right now…so be it. 

“Theek hai. Behtar hoga,” she agreed curtly. This was it. “Ab tumhe apna keemti waqt mujh pe zaya nahi karna padega…” she noted while exiting his room without turning back.

Uzair felt paralyzed at those words. He hadn’t expected her to concede… shit.

The door remained slightly ajar, swaying faintly as the sound of her heels faded farther into the distance. He simply stood there, eyes foggy yet fixed on the spot where she had stood seconds ago. His heart recoiled-feet scrambling past his barricading bedroom door, hoping to catch the glimmer of his favorite saree and drag her back to him- beg for her forgiveness, but he was met only by the flickering candlelight decorating the haveli hallways.

His body had moved too late.

She was gone.

Y/N had left…and he had let her.

Month 19 [Day 30] Lyari – Karachi, Pakistan

A month had passed by since that night. A month since he had seen her. heard her. held her. Uzair hadn’t been functioning well since that hour. Restlessness clinging to his nerves- eyes frantically searching for her in everything he did. 

Walking through the market with his bhabhi? He would lead himself astray–stopping at the shops she was a regular at. 

Driving past any hospital? He would slow down his jeep, hoping to catch her walking home after class. 

Playing football with Faisal? He would miss the goal. Body unmoving; convinced she was nearby because he was being drawn by her perfume–lillies.

Uzair’s descent to madness didn’t go un-noticed. His friends found him taking detours during their drives- conveniently driving past her streets. Rehman bhai often caught him writing scattered syllables on work order receipts: her name etched in his conscience. Ulfat bhabhi noticed his worst: when the jittery tremors tugged him to her college. Every Wednesday. 6:30pm. Sharp. Making him wait outside the rusted metal gates–a make shift hurdle– just for a glimpse of her. A fleeting chance to have her back. Yet when his drunk form was dragged back into the haveli on those nights…Ulfat knew he had lost himself again. 

Most nights he’d settle in his balcony, after the familial commotion had hushed. A cup of chai rotting cold on the table as two cookies lay limp in the tray–as though the accessories were chosen to lure her back to him. He’d wait. Patiently. Succumbing to his guilt. Legs crossed on the sofa, cushion hugging tightly against his gnawing heart like a hopeful kid–fighting sleep in fear that he would miss her in case she did come back, to him the peace offering, during the silent hours. But she never did. And by dawn the chai and cookies were cleared–as was his himmat. 

Uzair was running desperate. Her untouched jewellery glimmering under the dull bathroom light haunted his every sleep. How had he said those words so easily? Why didn’t he take them back? What else could he do? He would give her space - he would give her anything, dammit, if only she would let him. If only he could find her again.

He had left no stone unturned in his search across Lyari, seeking her warmth like a shivering puppy, but it was as though she had vanished. Where was she? 

He needed her.He needed her.He needed her. 

And if there was a god kind enough to answer his every waking, pitiful prayer, then Uzair’s sukoon would be brought back to him.

Month 20 [Day 18] Lyari- Karachi, Pakistan

Wednesday [7:30PM]

Uzair sat on the veranda floor, his back pressed against the couch for support. It was the first Wednesday he hadn’t rushed to her college…His energy had long since faded. He nursed his second glass of whisky (a surprisingly small amount for him these days) while mindlessly turning her necklace between his fingers, its engraving mocking under the setting sun. Another month had passed without her. He wondered if she missed him as much as he did. Did she lie awake at night, haunted by their words? Maybe she had stood outside the guarded haveli gates, unable to make herself step inside.

Rehman bhai and Ulfat bhabhi exchanged quiet whispers behind him, glancing wary looks in his direction, but Uzair remained lost to it all. He sat numb to his surroundings, deciding that his sorrows were worth more than reality. 

The haveli gates creaked as Donga’s entrance boomed across the open area where the family was dispersing. He whispered short salutations across while making a headway straight towards Uzair, settling on the couch against which the lonesome boy was frozen. Donga tilted his head in curiosity as he took in his friend’s unmoving state. He gave a quick, unamused, glance over to a retreating Rehman before grabbing Uzair into a chokehold and vigorously shaking him around.

“Ullu ke pathe, nikal iss dukh se-kitna rona dhona kaarega tu?” he loudly complained while giving Uzair a slap against the back of his head. Uzair just sat there, allowing himself to be swayed. Donga let go of the chokehold at Uzair’s lack of resistance with a sigh.

“Aa jaye gi bhabhi… chinta mat kar…” his voice softened. “Chal, bahar chalte hain.” He nudged while peering down to meet the wilted gaze staring blankly ahead. “Woh angrezi mein kehte hain na…‘my treat.’ Waahi hoga.” he coaxed further, forcing a cheeky grin and clapping his back in encouragement , hoping to break Uzair’s trance. Uzair reluctantly nodded and stood up. Maybe going away from Lyari for a bit wouldn’t be too terrible. Maybe his luck would finally shine. Maybe he’d come across her.

“Waise bha-” Donga continued, helping Uzair stand up when he was interrupted. Hamza stumbled through the entrance–wide-eyed. Breathless. panicked. His chest heaved violently beneath his kurta as he tried to find Rehman bhai, but Uzair barely noticed any commotion. His eyes locked onto the small red-tinted card crushed tightly in Hamza’s fist.

Something inside Uzair was unsettled.What happened? Did Hamza find her? Was she finally back? Was that a note from her?

He slowly stepped toward Hamza, unable to quiet the frenzy building inside him. “Woh kya hai, Hamza?” he asked softly.

Hamza instinctively tried hiding the card behind his back. Unmissed. Why would Hamza do that?

“T-tere li-”

“Hamza.” Uzair stepped closer. “Haath mein kya hai?” His voice came quieter this time.

Hamza looked toward Donga for help, subtly shaking his head no, as if warning him the conversation waiting ahead was not meant for Uzair to hear. Donga immediately picked up on it. Uzair stood between the two scheming men, eyes still glued to the red-colored paper hiding in plain sight.

“Uzair bhai, iska chhoro na, hum cha-” The glare Uzair shot at him was enough. Stay out of this.

“Mu band rakh.” Uzair snapped, gaze never leaving Hamza’s.

Hamza’s grip tightened around the now-crushed card, palm growing sweaty beneath it. Uzair continued stalking toward him slowly, hand extending out.

“Bhai, meri baat sun le-” Hamza retreated backwards. One step. Then another. Trying to create space between them.

“Kya chhupa raha hai tu mujhse?” Uzair’s agitation heightened with every step forward.

“Tere liye nahi hai, baat samajh” Hamza insisted weakly. But Uzair had reached his limit.

He grabbed Hamza by the collar roughly and shoved him against the nearest brick wall of the veranda. Hamza’s breath hitched. Uzair stared into his dilated eyes, already knowing his best friend was hiding something pivotal. His grip tightened against the collar as he tried snatching the paper away, but Hamza quickly hid his hand behind his back.

That only enraged Uzair further. “Hamze.” His jaw clenched. “Haath dikha.”

“Main nahi kar sakta… tere liye nahi hai yeh.”

“Yeh kya bakwaas laga rakhi hai tune?!” Uzair barked, shoving him harder into the wall. “Itni jaldi mein kyun bhaga andar aur card kyun chhupa raha hai?!”

Yet Hamza remained still. “Rehman bh-”

“Nahi hai yahan. Ab bol.”

“Uzair, please meri-”

“Dikha mujhe!”

Uzair pressed him harder against the wall, forearm tight across his neck before finally snatching the godforsaken paper from Hamza’s hand.

Hamza immediately tried grabbing it back. Too late.

Uzair stepped back slowly, letting go of his captive as he unfolded the crumpled red card. Donga glanced toward Hamza, ready to intervene, but Hamza widened his eyes sharply at him. No.Not now.

“Uzair, woh Rehman bhai ke liye ha-” Hamza tried again desperately.

“Bol m-” Uzair’s words died the second the card opened fully in his hands. Gold lettering sewn delicately across the center.

Y/N

Weds

Fawad.

Y/N. His Y/N. Weds…

The world went silent. Uzair stood frozen. Chest tight, breath hitched, fingers gripping the invitation for support. His heart had stopped, yet his mind ran rampant trying to make sense of the horror before him. Short breaths pulsed unevenly through him as the growing hollowness slowly spread through his being.

The card trembled faintly in his hands as his eyes dragged over the gold lettering again. Slower. Frequent. Burning. As if the words would disappear if he stared hard enough. Hamza noticed immediately, stepping forward to steady him, but halted the second he met Uzair’s ruined eyes.

“Y-yeh…” his voice cracked softly. “Kab?” ache carried through his tone.

“Aaj…” Hamza swallowed.

Uzair felt his nerves tremble violently beneath his skin, mind incapable of accepting that his sukoon could ever do something like this.

Two months. Two months of waiting. Aimless drives. Bloodshot eyes fixed on empty roads. He had mapped out the entire land for her. Had not slept for her. Had barely lived. Only for the hope he followed to lead him here?

No. Nononononono. He wouldn’t let this happen. 

Before either of them could stop him, Uzair shoved past Hamza and stormed toward his jeep. “Uzair!” Donga shouted after him.

The engine roared through the haveli grounds as Uzair tore into the streets, every thought leading back to her.

She would not walk towards that nikkah. Not unless it was him waiting at the altar. Not while he still had so much left to say. And not before she listened.

[8:45PM]--Karachi, Pakistan

Y/N sat before her vanity, wrapped in a soft maroon joda embroidered with gold that caught beneath the warm wedding lights. The scent of fresh lilies lingered around her as she adjusted her dupatta over her head, dark mehendi staining her hands, his name hidden within the patterns only meant for him.

For a moment, she truly looked at herself in the mirror. Adorned like every bride. Beautiful. Ready. Yet the ache settling deep within her chest didn’t let her believe that she was truly getting married.

Every vow, every prayer, every promise she had ever held carried his name. The card should have said the same, but it couldn’t. Not after that night. She hadn’t spoken his name in a long time now, choosing instead to bury every memory of him somewhere deep enough that it wouldn’t haunt her- because acknowledging him meant accepting that she had truly lost him.

Still, she remembered his words clearly. Spoken so easily. So dismissively. And no matter how desperately she tried to erase them, her rooh still ached for his warmth.

The realization tightened painfully around her chest as guilt slowly began to set in. Everything she had spent so long trying to build with him was now just an illusion- an alternate reality where she never reached.  

A shaky breath escaped her lips. Her fingers curled tightly around the edge of the vanity as her thoughts spiraled faster than her mind could contain. The room suddenly felt too congested, too loud despite the silence ringing in her ears. Tears blurred her vision as panic settled beneath her skin. Maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t destined for this night because she was losing herself again…to him. 

Her bedroom door slammed open, the sound tearing through her thoughts and making her flinch in surprise. She glanced her teary gaze toward the mirror to check who had barged in—only to meet a dark pair of eyes staring back at her.

His eyes.

Uzair Baloch.

Her breath hitched. For a second, she could only stare at his reflection, her chest heaving beneath the heavy jewelry resting against her skin. He looked almost unreal standing there, like a manifestation of every thought she was trying to forget.

Her grip loosened from the vanity. She squeezed her eyes shut, covering them with the heels of her palms as she shook her head in quiet dismissal. The faint tingling of her bridal jewelry echoed softly through the room, grounding her just enough.

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

She sighed, hoping to clear away the tricks her mind was playing, but when her eyes flickered back to the mirror and caught his, she knew this wasn’t her imagination anymore. Her eyes widened at his looming frame, hair longer now, shaggy, as if a testament of his chaos. She tracked her view back to his tired face, eyes unrelenting of their storm. She hadn’t moved, couldn’t bring herself to, just stared at him through the reflection.

“U-”

“Tum shaadi kar rahi ho?” The suffocating silence shattered between them, his voice rough and breathless.

Y/N remained still, not trusting herself enough to stand, so she merely nodded meekly.

He stiffened at her confirmation-unbelievable. “Nahi.” he ordered

Y/N’s  breath caught, brows furrowing in confusion.What was he talking about?

He sniffled softly, shaking his head as though trying to reject the reality in front of him before taking another step closer. Y/N slowly turned in her seat, watching him stalk toward her, confusion deepening with every uneven breath that left him.

“Uzair?”

“Chalo, ghar chalo…” he beckoned impatiently. “Tum yeh shaadi nahi kar sakti.” He still refused to properly look at her, his gaze restless, avoiding hers entirely while Y/N sat frozen, unable to process the absurdity of what he was saying.

“Yeh kya-”

He finally looked at her. Eyes fierce. Unafraid

“Sunai nahi deta? Uttho, ghar chalo.” He pointed at her yet she didn't break, irritation washing over her

“Kya bol rahe ho tum? Kaunsa ‘ghar’? Andar ghuse kaise tum?” she retorted in agitation 

His jaw tightened instantly, tension coursing through his nerves -not appreciating her accusations as though he hadn't just given up everything to take her back- why was she turning this whole ordeal against him?

“Humara ghar…” he reminded firmly. “Haveli.”

A humorless scoff left her lips. “Wo mera ghar nahi hai.” Her voice hardened. “Na kabhi tha. Na kabhi hoga.”

“Kya bakwaas kar rahi ho-”His tone sharpened immediately at her declaration. Because in his mind, the haveli had always belonged to her.

“Pagal ho gaye ho tum?!” she finally snapped, pushing herself to her feet and stepping toward him. “Kamre se bahar niklo.” she pressed, not in the mood to deal with his bullshit. 

“Mein pa-”

“Bahar!” she yelled at him, grabbing his arm to force him toward the door, but before she could move him, his hand wrapped tightly around her wrist, pulling her back until barely inches remained between them.

The fire in his eyes was long gone, replaced with something unidentifiable. “Kyun…” he whispered looking down at her glossy eyes- dropping his heated guard. 

“Kya kyun?!”  she pressed immediately, searching his face for the arrogance he had walked in with, but she couldn’t find it anymore.

“Kyun kar rahi ho yeh shaadi?” His hand still burned against her wrist.

“Meri maarzi, rishta aaya tha, acha lad-”

“Jhoot..”

“Kya matlab jhoot?!” she snapped, yanking against his hold. “Tumhe kya pata hoga?! Uss raat tumne mujhe nikala tha!” She tried pulling her wrist free again, but his grip only tightened.

“Do manhiney…puri layari ukhardi tumhare liye ki pata nahi kiss kone mein tum mujhe wapis miljaogi” he admitted painfully, his grief stricken eyes never leaving hers

Her words died in her throat, anger simmering down as she witnessed him surrender. Why was he telling her this? Why would it matter now?

“Galti ho gayi thi…” he whispered hoarsely. “Maafi mangna chahta tha-”

“Bas, Uzair.”

“Mera sukoon cheen liya tumne jis raat tum chali gayi.” Y/N’s face twisted instantly.

“C-chali gayi?” she repeated in disbelief. “Tumne mujhe jaane ko bola tha!”

“Ho gayi galti mujhse!” he snapped suddenly, his voice rising again. “Mujhe pachtawa hai uss baat ka! Har roz kosta hoon apne aap ko!”

“To apne ghar jake pachtao, meri zindagi aur maat kharab karo!” she tugged her gripped wrist again, finally setting herself free

He blinked at her audacity- her insinuation that he was the reason for her short-falling life, that it was him for all her failures

“Apni zindagi tum khud kharab kar rahi ho!” he fought harder trying to make her realize that this marriage would ruin her even more

“Tumhe kyun fikr hai?!”

“Mohabbat karta hun tumse.” he admitted angrily, inching closer towards her.

She scoffed. “Kaisi mohabbat? Woh mohabbat jisme tum mujhe apna waqt nahi de paate the? Ya phir woh jisme tumne mujhe kabhi suna hi nahi?”

Her lips trembled, eyes welling up, as she took a small step back. “Nafrat ke layak hai tumhari mohabbat…”

His heart seized. The tears gathering in her eyes hurt far more than her words ever could. Because for the first time, he realized she looked at his love and saw nothing worth fighting for.

“Aise maat bolo. Kya nahi kiya tumhare liye maine, hm? Apna pura wajood tumahre saamne rakh diya tha maine” he emphasized “Chalo mere saath, tumhari haar bat sununga, tu-main-” he stepped closer, unable to pour his feelings into words frustration bleeding through. 

He grasped her mehndi clad hands again, placing them right above his staggering heart. “Mere dil ki dhadkan ho tum…yeh kya rahega tumhare bina?..” tears spilled through her eyes as she took in his every confirmation, his every loyal word, hand clutching his creased kurta as he continued “main wada karta hun…baas tum he kush dekhna chahta hun– aapni sukoon ko wapis lana chahta hun”

“Kya faida iss wade ka?!” she cried. “Jab main roz tumhara intezaar karti thi tab kahan thi yeh mohabbat?” Her hand tightened against his kurta. “Kaise khush reh sakti hoon main tumhare saath agar tum mere saath rahoge hi nahi?” The words struck him harder than anything she'd said that night. Because her anger had been replaced by fear. Years of it.

“Aaj ho...” her voice cracked. “Kal nahi.”

Uzair froze. Y/N shook her head, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Kya guarantee hai, Uzair?” she whispered brokenly. “Kya guarantee hai ke tum mere saath hamesha ke liye hoge?” Silence swallowed the room. And suddenly he understood. This was never only about the missed time. It was about every conversation that felt like it could have been their last. 

Y/N let out a tired broken laugh. “Main aisi zindagi nahi bita sakti.” Her fingers loosened against his kurta. “Tum gaye toh mera kya hoga?” she questioned- trying to make him realize that his promises fell flat in front of their crumbling reality. 

Uzair’s anger showed his rational yet again this night- not willing to negotiate her loss “ek muka to do-”

“Muka tha! Pechele do saal se muka tha! Tumne wo gawaya-” she jabbed her finger against his rising chest “aur kya chahate ho tum mujshe- kya hai mere paas tume dene ko?!” 

“Maat karo yeh shaadi.” he begged harshly, eyes frantically searching hers. 

“Uza-” she tried to call in exhaustion

“Marr jaunga main!” The room fell silent at his pain and vulnerability. Uzair's chest heaved. “Nahi jee paunga apne aap ke saath...” he whispered brokenly. “Khali hoon main...”

She looked at him with a hard-stare–why now? Why had he chosen to say this now? 2 years. 730 days. 730 opportunities he was given to reassure Y/N that she was his for life. Why? now. 

Anger. Hurt. Remorse bubbled as she struck back “Marro.” The word left her lips in a whisper. Then louder. “Jao. Marro phir!” Her palms slammed against his chest. again and again and again “Kyun khade ho mere saamne?!” Another shove. “Jao na!” The lilies slipped from her haath phool one by one, scattering across the floor. Glass cracked beneath their feet as part of her chooda shattered from the force of her movements, but she didn't stop. Couldn't stop.  Her tear-filled gaze never met him as she kept pushing him. Kept hitting him. Forcing months of grief, years of disappointment on to him with every hit.

And Uzair let her. He didn't stop her. Didn't grab her wrists. Didn't move away. He simply stood there and took it. As though he deserved every blow.

“Aab batane ka kya faida?! Gaya humara waqat! Nahi wapis aayga-” she rambled as she continued to trash against him, tired–her light dimming.

Uzair inhaled sharply before finally catching her moving wrists, gently lowering them to her sides. She didn't resist. Didn't have the strength to as she sobbed helpless.

His arms wrapped around her before he could stop himself. One hand cradled the back of her head, pressing her gently against his chest while the other rubbed slow circles across her back.

And Y/N broke. She wept into his warmth–mouring what could have been tonight. 

The duo remained frozen, unable to move from each other's grasp, longing for this moment for months now. Uzair held her tighter as though keeping her close would maybe make her feel the true essence and worth of all the words he had confessed tonight. 

The heavy silence stretched between them. Resting his chin on top of her dupatta-covered head, Uzair glanced down at the destruction surrounding them. Her makeup ruined. Lilies scattered across the floor. The scent of them slowly fading with every shaky inhale. Broken pieces of chooda glinting beneath the wedding lights.

Uzair swallowed hard, maybe in guilt, maybe in exhaustion. Maybe because for the first time in his life, he had no idea how to fix something. He let out a deep sigh and whispered a final plea in the air “Y/N…” the words lost in defeat

Y/N hiccupped against his chest. The night that was meant to celebrate her future had instead forced her to mourn the one she had always wanted.  Her throat burning raw from all the words. She didn't fight his hold. Didn't fight his plea. She couldn’t. He had taken her very last breath. 

“Nahi hai aur himmat.” she whispered hoarsely 

 “Please. Jaane do mujhe.”

Uzair shut his eyes…knowing it was his time to retreat. He could not believe that loving him had become a burden to her; not when he had spent every waking moment of the past two years trying to brighten the only life that fueled his own. How could he let her go though? After everything…

He pulled away, looking at her streaked face intently. God, even now, looking at her face brought back his sukoon. He gently wiped her face, erasing their history one tear at a time. She let him. He tucked the fallen pieces from her bun which framed her anguished face behind her ear. She let him. He lifted her chin upwards, moving her face to meet his, both of their gazes bare of all their burdens. 

Y/N was a bride but not his bride…

Uzair took hold of her now-empty wrist, his touch cold, as he led her towards her bedroom door, his steps crunching over the glass of her broken bangles.

Y/N looked at him warily, panic settling at his unknown movements. She tugged at his hand to free herself, but his grip only lingered.

“U-uzair” she called out, continuing to tug as he led her through her home’s hallway.

“Y-yeh kya kar rahe ho tum, Uzair… mera haath chodo” she repeated as he weakly dragged her down the stairs, through the awaiting crowd.

Her fear grew as he remained silent—passing the staring aunties, passing Hamza, who had followed his best friend, helpless, unable to stop him either.

“Uzair! Pl-” her words stumbled as he finally released her hand, placing her at the edge of the embroidered carpet that led to her mandap.

“Main tumhara hoon. Hamesha tha. Hamesha rahunga” he reminded her, broken. And she couldn’t do anything but stand in the weight of it.

“Jao. Karlo nikaah. Nahi rok paaya tumhe…” he whispered as Hamza stepped in, trying to pull him back faintly, “lekin yaad rakhna… haveli ke darwaze hamesha khule rahenge… aur main intezaar karta rahunga.”

“Ghar hai woh tumhara.” he declared in finality, glancing down at her deeply stained mehndi hands, as Hamza pulled him away.

Y/N followed their every last move… until his presence disappeared behind the lavishly decorated gates.

And he did not look back. Not once.

Not knowing Y/N’s mehendi had hidden his name all along.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

goodnight guys, im seriously hibernating after this phew