#yks27

“Tumhe Zubiya pasand hai?” When Asfandyar turned to him - the moment of acceptance and recognition. That yes, he might be just in love with her and this moment; this very moment is when he realised, that what they have isn’t just their reality but others as well.

1 am. The authority and with sheer haq she talked to him. How could Asfand not consider it her love and care for him? He even explains himself; shows her that she means something to him, that he’ll answer her every query, every worry. “Pur sukoon bhi hoon.” He’s sharing his demons, his feelings with her. Under the blanket of stars and darkness around him, they’re their most vulnerable. Bearing their most vulnerable self for the other. “Zahir hai.” And the way he laughs, damn! He was finally getting what he deserved. What he wanted. Justice. Love. Happiness.

“Zubiya jaisi aap ko nazar ati hai, jaisa aap usse samajhti hein wo waisi nahi hai, Aunty. Wo Asfandyar ko deserve nahi karti.” This internal monologue was a peek into what Zubiya goes through everyday. People have ruined her image of herself for one adolescent mistake of hers. They’ve ruined her belief in love for herself. They’ve ruined her to an extent where she doesn’t even imagine that she deserves someone like Asfandyar. That goes to say a lot about our society, doesn’t it? People became the judge and the executioner. Years later, she still carries the scars of her execution.

“Tumhe hi yaad karraha tha. Kiya haal hein?” This time around he didn’t push back his chair and be professional and attentive. No, he was perfectly content with their informality. He stayed the way he was; didn’t push back his chair or change his posture. His body language says a lot about his comfort with Zubiya and how he has already accepted her as an integral part of his life. “Mein hum donon ke baray mein baat karne ayi hun.” And his shy smirk, the way he looked down and smiled this small smile of his. He just doesn’t take his eyes off her; he stares at her without any restraint, as if she’s already his.

“Mein aapko wajah batane ki paband nahi hun.” The stammer. The hesitation. Looking away. “Lekin, Zubiya, kya masla hai? Mujhe batao. Mere saath share karo. Agar meri koi baat buri lagi hai, meri family ki koi baat buri lagi hai tou mujhe batao, mein sab kuch theek kardunga.” He’s just so hopelessly in love with her. And he wants it to work out. This is the old Asfi. Asfi who expresses and shares and talks it out. Asfi, who expresses his emotions without any regard for anything. This wasn’t Asfandyar. It was Asfi, the whole time. Asfi, who didn’t know tragedy. Asfi, who was beginning to believe in love again.

“Hum donon aik dusre se mohabbat karte hein. Mein tumhe pasand karta hun.” And there we have it; the simplest, subtle and an absolutely stunning confession. The way she swivelled her eyes around. Avoiding his gaze. Avoiding his crestfallen expression. Avoiding the emotional display he had unknowingly put on for the love of his life.

“Attraction or infatuation hojati hai.” Apparently, synonyms for true love have been invented by Zubiya Khalil. Zubiya didn’t just break his heart; she destroyed hers as well. In the vicinity of herself, she couldn’t hold it together. She knew what he said was true. That she was in love with him. But she claimed to be undeserving of Asfandyar. One can fight against people; how do you fight against yourself? How do you fight your deepest scars without making it worse? She needs to bleed before she can heal. But for that, Asfandyar needs to be there. To give her the assurance that it’s only human to bleed and to break down. And that he’d be there for her. Always.