❝ I know. I could be happy until midnight if I wanted to. But what about after midnight? What about two AM? What about four AM? What about months and even years later?
I don't want to let him in knowing sometime in the future I'd have to let him go...
I'm so sorry for the delays in updates, I promise I have the story written down to the last word but I have to edit before I post so it's hard to find the time. Also, please be gentle with this chapter🥺
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As soon as Daneen moved towards the door of Ammi Jaan's bedroom, Tabish got to his feet as well.
"Wait," he spoke, coming to stand right before the door and blocking her way. He needed answers. And if they'd come this far, he wasn't just going to throw everything that happened between them under the bus and let her leave.
"For you? Why wait for something that's never going to arrive?"
"Mama can-"
"Never change her mind."
"Look, if Mama is the only reason you're being this way-"
Daneen sighed. "There's a lot you don't know about me."
Obviously he didn't. He could never know the extent of what she was.
But people weren't made to be known. They were made to be loved.
"I live with you, Daneen."
Daneen's hands trembled. Whether it was the cold or just the uncanny atmosphere, Tabish couldn't tell. "You do but barely. Look at your status and look at mine. I can't even breathe the same air as you without being called out for it."
"Money goes as soon as it comes," Tabish snapped. "And it isn't any more important to me as you are."
Daneen shook her head. She could tell he was being incredulous. "Wait till you spend your life in a two-room shack. Not even a flat or an apartment. A shack."
Tabish looked away.
"Is that a price you're willing to pay, Tabish?" Daneen peered at him. "You and me, servant and master?"
Ammi Jaan stared at the two, ticking beads off her tasbih.
"I'm literally just any other servant girl you'll see around this rich neighborhood," Daneen continued. "Just because my skin's fair and my clothes cleaner than most, you've distinguished me from my kind? You've sentiments for me?"
Tabish tapped his bare foot against the floor. "Fine. Maybe I don't. But you do, don't you?"
The question caught Daneen off-guard, and she turned her head towards him, a blaze in her eyes. "You eavesdropped."
"I said I'm sorry."
"I don't need it."
"Were you ever going to tell me?"
In the moment when Daneen met his gaze, Tabish saw it. A war. She was fighting so hard against herself, her walls drawn up into fortresses and her figure recoiled. Daneen wanted to, but she couldn't. And Tabish knew why. He knew this was a war they couldn't win.
"We both come from broken homes," Daneen started.
Her eyes shined under the ceiling lights. The only sounds in the room were those of the synchronized, labored breathing of two people powerless against odds that kept them apart.
"And we both know we can't rebuild those pieces into something new without cutting ourselves in the process."
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