𝐏𝐚𝐚𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧 | 𝟏𝟖+

باب چار : حروف تہجی

محبت کرنا چوٹ لگنے کا خطرہ ہے۔

𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙠 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙩.

•••

It had been two days since Zafar had seen her.

Two days had gone by, and still he couldn't stop thinking about her. Her hair, her nose, and her lips. Everything.

She had consumed every bit of him, leaving him unable to do anything properly.

"Ki gal hai saab, aj kal baray door door renday o." His worker teased him. ( What's the problem sir, you been a lot distant these days.)

The nawab let loose a drunken smile, which was the complete opposite of his usual behavior. But he blamed it on the alcohol he was drinking.

The clock struck two in the morning, but that's when the fun started.

Zafar took his last sip of the alcohol and got up. A plan forms in In his head.

He got up and adjusted his clothes. Running a hand through his hair, he walked toward the plan that he was about to execute.

Blaming his actions on his drunken self, even though he wasn't a light weight and barley had two bottles.

Yelling at the driver to take his car out, he got into it and drove away.

•••

Standing in front of the Kohti, his heart thrummed, excited to meet her again.

The street was full of life; this is where the night lived. Everybody seemed to be enjoying themselves as they roamed around; the atmosphere seemed warm.

Walking in, he oozed authority. He walked with confidence; no one could deny him anything. He looked like he owned everything.

There stood the woman in charge, Raheela Bibi. He rewinded their encounter last time in his mind.

The woman looked shocked to see the nawab, a person of rank. Disbelief clouded her eyes as she saw him walk towards her.

The nawab nodded in acknowledgment, and the head of courteousness stuttered out a greeting.

"Salaam Sahab, yahan kesay ana howa aap ka?" She said. ( Greetings sir, what brings you here?)

"The girl I saw last time. Where is she?" He demanded it, oozing confidence.

The courtesan was quick on business. The nawab, familiar with the look in her eyes, pulled out a thick wad of cash.

The brothel keeper took the cash greedily; all she saw was the money. She quickly led him to the room that held her.

She had been refusing visitors and acting irrationally at the sight of them. she threw fits just to keep them away.

But Raheela would make sure that it didn't happen this time. She won't let her ruin her dhanda. Blinded by the money, she led the nawab.

As Zafar passed, giggles and cat calls could be heard everywhere. Women went crazy at the sight of him.

"Idhar to ayiye zarra!" One particular woman shouted at him, giggling. But the nawab paid no attention. ( Visit us too!)

His heart burned with anticipation as they stood in front of the door; it was on the top floor, which seemed to be the private sector. This seemed to be the residence area of the Kohti.

Without knocking, Raheela went in, and sounds of hushed whispers and protests came to his ear.

Soon, Raheela came out and ushered him in as soon as he entered. A sound of clicking rang through the room.

The room was lit with a dozen candles, making it look all the more peaceful and warm. A curtain seemed to surround the bed.

He ran his eyes in search of her. As soon as they met in the desk area, he passed.

The woman Zafar sought was found in a room adorned with candles, her presence as enchanting as the flickering flames. She stood before him, her veil adorning her body and head.

She wore some kind of silk shalwar kameez; the white color suited her. White was really her color. He thought.

"A-ap?" She stuttered, not believing her eyes. It was the same man she met two days ago. (y-you?)

He looked as handsome as ever, though she'd never admit it.

The man stalked towards her slowly, as if examining his prey.

Her breath hitched as he stood in front of her. He assessed her face. She looked as beautiful as the day he saw her for the first time. Even more beautiful, he thought.

Keeping his cool, he asked. "What are you doing?" Trying to keep her comfortable and not making a bold move at her. Although he wanted to.

"H-huh? W-wo mai." Her eyes went towards her desk, where lay her work. These days, she was learning how to read and write. (t-that I ..)

Although it was no use now at this age, it made her feel more productive. Other than the dance classes she took, she had better things to do.

The nawab hummed as he got a hold of the paper that she'd been writing on.

The lines of the Urdu alphabets seemed a bit off. Some were crooked, and some had the shape completely wrong.

"Ye kiya kar rahein hai aap!" She panicked as she tried to take the paper away. (What are you doing!)

She was embarrassed because her writing looked like that of a two-year-old. Hell, even two-year-olds write better than her.

The blood rushed to her cheeks as a soft blush rose over her face. Zafar seemed mesmerized by it.

"Tuadi likhai bohat khubsoorat hagi aa." He complimented her. Now, her cheeks seem to be turning even brighter. ( You're writing is very beautiful.)

She tried to take the paper from him again, but he moved it away. "I can teach you if you want." The nawab suggested wanting to spend some more time with her.

As the night waned, Zafar and the woman found themselves drawn together by a bond that transcended their initial meeting.

He offered to teach her and guide her in her literary pursuits, and in return, she shared her world with him-a world of dreams and unspoken desires.

•••