Part II: A Letter From Leyla

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I didn't fall in love with you.
I walked into love with you,
with my eyes wide open,
choosing to take
every step along the way.
I do believe in fate and destiny,
but I also believe
we are only fated
to do the things
that we'd choose anyway.
And I'd choose you;
in a hundred lifetimes,
in a hundred worlds,
in any version of reality,
I'd find you and I'd choose you.

Kiersten White

— Kiersten White

Hoppla! Dieses Bild entspricht nicht unseren inhaltlichen Richtlinien. Um mit dem Veröffentlichen fortfahren zu können, entferne es bitte oder lade ein anderes Bild hoch.

Dear Heart,

How is it possible that some wounds never heal even though the skin over them appear alright? But beneath the surface they only grow. This organ in my bosom still mourns his loss, yearning for him like it did yesterday-- or maybe more each day. Why do they lie and say time heals all wounds when mine are only deepening in his absence? Don't they say too that memory doesn't improve with time? Then why are his memories the only thing my mind can recall?

One day Mustafa asked me what did Leyla mean. I told him that it meant night and he said how nights were scary but I was not. I laughed at that and he added that my name should've been something different, something which meant light, for it would've defined me better. I smiled and kissed his head. He is a child who thinks too much.

Gulalai still worries for him and I don't blame her. He's growing up and learning more with time. She says he asks him about his father even though his innocence at the time of his death interrupted his understanding of the situation. But looking at other children with their fathers, maybe he longs for his too and it saddens his mother. Though Gulalai is stubborn too. I've asked her to give her heart another chance but she always dismisses me with a smile. Again, I can't blame her when my own heart is stubborn. Mustafa has turned six and I think she has made her son the love of her life now; he is the mirror image of Lawangeen.

At the golden hour every day, I see the sky take shades of his eyes. That hour is really a magical hour for me. But even the magnificence of the sky pales in comparison to the art of his orbs. Some people, they say, are crafted by God Himself. I think he's one of those people. But sometimes they come as a ruination in our lives-- ruination that we are ready to go through over and over again just to taste the bliss of paradise with them.

I carry our wedding band in a gold chain around my neck. His name over it remains close to my heart all the time. Yet I don't know why can't my heart rest but still ache for his touch. Maybe this is because my mind is stuck in reverse direction, replaying everything about him all the time. Those blessed minutes when he would laugh or the arching of his eyebrow whenever something intrigued him. Or how he'd hold my hand and kiss my forehead. I remember how he'd say my name or call me qalbi, and the first time he called me habibi. Forgetting him is beyond my willpower; long before, he became the beat to my heart.

Zarbakhta asks me about him a lot. I've told her everything and she says she cannot wait to meet him someday. And I ask her how she's sure we'll meet again and she always smiles and replies that a heart of gold is for a heart of gold. Talking to her makes me feel relieved. She's my childhood friend and closer to me like a sister. After standing up against her brother in Lawangeen's murder case, her family disowned her. But she's a strong woman and chose to fight for the truth despite her family wanting otherwise. I respect her a great deal for helping me bring my brother justice.

The case ran for more than two years but Farhang is a hard-headed and determined lawyer. He not only proved his loyalty to his late friend but remained steadfast over his principles too. Without him, I don't know how I would've managed to do all this. But where there is no one there is God, so He sent me His help.

Asfandyar is in jail now. His political affiliations could only help him so much to save him from execution. In a land where the rulers put self-interest before the interest of their people, and power is used to facilitate corruption, nations are destroyed. I saw the same scenarios in the courts. And as baba used to say: when the places of justice start serving injustice, nations bring damnation upon themselves.

So I'm doing what I can to bring ease to my people. After graduating law, I had been preparing for my exam for Central Superior Services. I gave it the year after I came home and passed it. I'm serving the areas in north western parts of the country now. And I'm learning how each one of us is living with fractured feelings, in one way or another.

Spogmay will complete her education in a few months. It's been half a year since her engagement to Farhang, and in another half year they're getting married. I can't wait to fulfill my promise to Lawangeen; he passed on her responsibility to me and I'm close to completing it. I'm happy my sister has entrusted her heart to a man worthy of being trusted and chosen to spend her life with a righteous man. I'm happy to see love and respect in Farhang's eyes for the woman he has chosen to marry.

Spogmay and I talk on calls often but it's never the same as when we visit each other, although that's rare. She's staying in Auckland until she finishes her studies and goes to spend the holidays with Gulalai and Mustafa in Queenstown mostly. She refuses to come home with me to Pakistan and live here, so does Gulalai. For Spogmay, it's the ache of nostalgia she cannot bear in her hometown-- the past she doesn't want to think of anymore. As for Gulalai, I think more than the ache of losing her husband in this land, it's the nostalgia of her foreign home and her memories with her lover that's keeping her there. So I don't insist and let them do what pleases them.

Meanwhile, I shush my heart when it asks me to please it too. Life has been like the dunes of desert for me these last few years, with too many ups and downs. And he was the only balm to my sore wounds all along-- a flicker of hope in the dark. His remembrance is the only thing to keep my soul live. And my soul is yearning, and yearning, each day for him, with each sunrise and sunset, but he's not here.

And I'm yearning, and yearning, for him as if he has settled in my bones like a heavy weight, crushing me to his memories and drowning me into them-- like ships sinking into bottomless ocean. And does he know what he has done to me? Leyla Khanzada, a woman in command of her heart, has fallen face first in love with Burq Al Aziz, and surrendered to her heart instead. This is what love does to you. And this is how God teaches you: for every person has a weakness that can weaken their resolves, and my weaknesses is Burq.

Sincerely yours,
Leyla.

People, I literally have no idea myself what I'm gonna do with the epilogue. True, I had an ending for the last chapter (which was originally the actual ending of the book). But now when everyone wants an epilogue, and I still haven't written it, feel free to drop me suggestions and lemme surprise you. So, what do you want?

Plus, please answer these questions for me before moving on to the last part of the book:

a. When I started writing Hearts Of Gold, my main aim was bringing to light certain issues. Tell me what lesson(s) you've learned from this book?

b. What you like about HOG?

c. What you didn't like or would want to change about HOG?

d. Preferable POV for epilogue?

e. Your favorite book (on/off wattpad)? Tbt the book 'Peer e Kamil' has killed me with nostalgia. It's phenomenal.

See you all in the last part. Much much love.

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