Dear Love
Dear Love By Anoosha Aarzoo
(Originally Named Janam In Urdu)
Translated By Inky Whisper (Translated from Urdu-To-English)
Chapter Two
She had come up the stairs, intending to take a walk along the corridor. Unconsciously, she turned and glanced once at the door of Za’im’s room, then shook her head and moved toward the balcony. This had been her favorite place since childhood. Whenever she felt sad, she would stand there and surrender her suffocation to the open air. There was a strange sense of familiarity attached to this place.
Perhaps she had come here today for the same reason.
But why her heart felt heavy today….no one knew. And she herself did not wish to face that truth.
Let me shield you from every gaze that harms,
Let me tuck you deep within my heart,
If such a way exists,
I would weave you into my very soul…
He had seen her from afar. She was wearing a red frock that touched her feet…perhaps it was her favorite dress. Since he had come, she had worn it for the fourth time.
Her open hair, boldly spread across her back, was a deep brown. Could someone look this beautiful all the time? Or is it love that makes someone appear suddenly beautiful?
He slowly took steps forward so that he could admire her fully, without her noticing. Otherwise, if she caught him staring like this, she would surely scratch him like a wildcat.
“Fierce little meow…” he murmured softly and then laughed.
She was walking ahead in the corridor while he watched her from behind the wall. She turned toward a room, and a soft smile spread across Za’im’s lips because it was his room. But the next moment, his smile faded, and softness on his face was replaced by hardness. Just as he thought she was heading into the room, she moved forward and stood at the balcony instead.
Za’im’s anger reached its peak. He strode toward her in fury and grabbed her by the elbow, pulling her sharply away from the balcony and letting her go. She wasn’t ready for this sudden action; she stumbled for a moment and nearly fell, but then steadied herself after he released her.
He looked at her with burning, furious eyes, the veins in his clenched jaw clearly visible as he struggled to control himself. Maham also stared at him with anger. Who does he think he is?
Za’im was trying to suppress his anger and bring himself back to normal.
“I had forbidden you from standing here,” he said, struggling to control himself, his teeth clenched.
“And I have already told you I am not bound to your orders!” she snapped back angrily, like a wildcat.
“I am not in the mood for any discussion,” he said, raising his finger. “I don’t want to see you here again.”
“I will stand here,” she said defiantly, stepping toward the balcony.
Za’im immediately grabbed her hand firmly and pulled her back to the same spot.
“I will not repeat myself again!” he shouted.
Maham, despite her fear, stood her ground stubbornly.
“Go to your room,” he ordered.
“I won’t go,” she replied firmly.
“Go to your room now!” he stepped forward and pointed toward the stairs, raising his voice.
“I won’t go! I will stand here….do you understand?” she shouted back.
He moved closer in anger, but she stood her ground, chin raised.
“Go to your room,” he said again, this time in a low but hardened voice.
She stepped back, then suddenly turned toward the balcony again.
That was it…Za’im lost control.
He grabbed her left hand and dragged her back, and in the next moment, his hand struck her soft cheek with a loud slap.
Maham froze in shock. Her blue eyes filled with tears.
When Za’im saw her teary eyes, something inside him broke. He stepped back at once, regret washing over him.
Maham held her burning cheek and ran toward the stairs.
Za’im stood frozen…his brown eyes wet, his face heavy with guilt.
Day had passed, and night had fallen, but Za’im had not seen Maham again. She had stayed in her room the entire day and had not even come down for dinner. Her door remained closed.
He stood there, burdened with embarrassment and guilt, unable to gather the courage to face her. If he went to her, she would ask why he had reacted so harshly…why he had stopped her from standing on the balcony, and why he had raised his hand on her.
He carried too many secrets in his heart. Secrets she knew nothing about. No one in the house had ever told her, and she herself remembered nothing.
Za’im and Maham had been childhood friends, deeply attached to each other. They had grown up together. Later, Za’im’s father, Sultan Muhammad…who was a close friend and childhood companion of Maham’s father, Baba Farid Alam…took Za’im with him to Lahore.
All of them had once lived in the same house in Islamabad, because Alam Sahib’s late mother had adopted Sultan Sahib when they were children.
Za’im moved to Lahore, completed his higher education at a university there, and later began working in an office. The elders of the family knew all of this, but Maham did not.
Maham was four years younger than Za’im. When Za’im had started working, she had just been entering university.
After she completed her degree, her father arranged her marriage. She had been happy in her married life…but then one day, an accident changed everything. She lost all her memories.
Now she only remembered her parents…her father and her mother, Nafisa Begum. Everything else had vanished from her memory, including her husband… and even her childhood friend.
He was a prisoner of his own heart. Maham’s tear-filled eyes kept replaying in his mind again and again.
Unable to endure his frustration any longer, he walked toward her room at one o’clock in the night. He knocked on the door in his usual manner.
He was wearing black trousers and a sleeveless black shirt, his fair, toned arms clearly visible. His brown eyes were rimmed with redness, and his fair face carried the weight of guilt and embarrassment.
He knocked again…but there was no response. Now anxiety began to rise within him. He slowly turned the handle. The door opened silently. The moment he stepped inside, the sight before him felt like it could shatter his heart.
Maham was lying unconscious in the middle of the room. Everything was in place…except her phone, which lay fallen beside her.
Za’im rushed toward her, calling her name in panic. Without thinking, he lifted her into his arms.
“No… not today,” he kept repeating, as if fighting an invisible memory. Tears streamed down his face as fragments of a forgotten past flashed through his mind. The house was asleep, but he carried her swiftly to his room.
“Za’im…” she murmured faintly in her unconscious state. He placed her gently on the bed. Her lips kept calling his name. Tears slipped from the corners of her closed eyes.
He sat beside her and softly caressed her cheeks, his own sorrow pouring out without restraint. His tears fell onto her face again and again.
Maham slightly opened her eyes and saw him crying over her. Then she closed them again.
“I’m sorry… please… Maham… my love… please…” he sobbed. “I was afraid… I am afraid of that place. I lost you once there. That place is dangerous for you… I’m sorry.”
Silence followed his broken words. Then Maham moved slightly. Her hand, resting in his, gave a faint twitch. Za’im leaned forward, his forehead resting against her hand.
He looked up. Maham was watching him….weakly, silently. And then she closed her eyes again. Her fever had worsened.
Za’im gathered himself, quickly bringing a bowl of cold water and a towel. He cared for her the entire night.
Every now and then, she would open her eyes slightly and find him still beside her…sometimes placing cold compresses on her head, sometimes holding her hand in the water, sometimes gently tending to her face.
The night passed like that. But Za’im did not blink even once.
To Be Continued…
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