On Hold
Love is not about making them yours but sacrificing them.
This is a story of love, of obsession, yearning, sacrifice, hatred and pain.
She was USED
She was BETRAYED
And he was ready to die... For her.
Zarah Rehman, a tough and successful...
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Third Person's POV
"Fannah, dear, get up now. Ahil and his family are coming," a sweet voice called from the other side of the door. It was her mother. The moment Fannah heard the name "Ahil," she quickly sat up in bed. "Ahil," she whispered softly. Her cheeks began to burn, her heart raced, and her lips moved without her permission, forming a smile.
"Shehzadi," she heard Ahil's voice whisper in her right ear. She turned to look, surprised, but there was no one there. She fell back onto the bed, her eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. "Ahil ji, when are you coming back?" This time, she didn't realize she had spoken loud enough for her mother to hear.
"Come out of the world of dreams, your Ahil hasn't arrived yet. But when he does and sees you like this, he'll go back!" Her mother yelled from outside.
"You go downstairs. I'll be there after getting ready," Fannah called back.
"Hurry up. You have to prepare all the food today," her mother reminded her.
Her mother's voice was firm, breaking through the dreamy haze that had enveloped Fannah. She could imagine her mother standing outside the door with a mixture of impatience and affection. The urgency in her mother's voice brought Fannah back to reality, reminding her of the responsibilities awaiting her.
She could almost hear his footsteps, imagine his presence filling the room with his characteristic calm and charm. "Ahil ji, when are you coming back?" she whispered again, this time with a tinge of longing that echoed in the quiet room. The reality of his impending arrival was a sweet torment, one that left her suspended between dreams and reality.
Fannah took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. She looked around her room, the remnants of her daydream still lingering in the soft morning light. With a determined sigh, she got out of bed and began to prepare for the day. She chose her clothes carefully, wanting to look her best when Ahil arrived.
Fannah got up and looked at herself in the mirror. She wasn't satisfied with her reflection. What if, after marriage, Ahil saw her like this? No way, she thought. I'll wake up early every day and get ready before he wakes up. What are you thinking, Fannah? Get ready, your prince will be here soon.
She went to the shower, letting the warm water wash away her worries. After taking a long shower, she came out and dried her hair. She did light makeup and chose her-no, Ahil's-favorite dress. He had picked it out for her. It was a maroon Anarkali dress, long and plain, reaching the floor. She took the dupatta and adjusted it on her left shoulder, securing it with a safety pin. Then she started combing her hair, deciding to let it fly free in the air. But she still took two wisps from both sides and tied them in a braid.
Still lost in her thoughts, Fannah went directly to the kitchen, humming a song. The excitement of seeing Ahil and the anticipation of his arrival made her movements light and graceful. Her heart was fluttering, but she focused on the tasks ahead, ready to make this day special.
When she entered the kitchen, she saw all the ingredients and utensils spread out on the counter. Determined, she thought to herself, "I will cook all of his favorite foods," and began to prepare the meal.
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"1..." Ahil's eyes locked onto the road ahead, his focus razor-sharp.
"2..." He pressed the clutch, feeling the engine's power beneath his fingertips.
"3..." He shifted gears with practiced precision.
"And..." His foot moved to the accelerator, anticipation building.
"Go..." The car roared to life, propelled into devil mode. It was flying down the road. The heavy pressure of air was exhilarating, fueling his adrenaline.
He saw his opponent's car inching ahead and, with a swift adjustment, changed gears. The engine responded with a fierce growl, and Ahil surged forward, determined to reclaim his lead. Every muscle in his body was attuned to the vehicle's rhythm, every sense heightened. This was his world, where speed and skill reigned supreme, and he was determined to come out on top.
"You're not winning this race, Aabid," Ahil muttered, his eyes narrowing with determination. Activating the beast mode of his Devil, he felt the raw power surge through the vehicle. The car on his left tried to push him off the road, but they had clearly forgotten who they were dealing with. With a swift and decisive move, Ahil jerked the steering wheel to the left at full speed, sending the opposing car rolling off the road.
"Know your place," he declared, letting an evil laugh escape his lips. For two grueling laps, he had battled fiercely with his opponents, but now, on the third lap, there was no one left to challenge him. He noticed another car to his right, but the finish line was in sight. After everything he had endured, there was no way he would let anyone take victory from him.
He pushed the car to its top speed, stealing a quick glance at the speedometer-350 km/h and still climbing. Fixing his eyes back on the road, he pressed the accelerator to its limit. The finish line loomed closer and closer until finally, he crossed it. Victory was his.
Ahil began to slow down, carefully stepping on the brakes and shifting gears. He rotated the steering wheel to the left, executing a flawless drift before bringing the car to a stop. Stepping out of the vehicle, he was immediately swarmed by a throng of ecstatic fans. They lifted him up, chanting his name with fervent admiration.
"Ahil! Ahil! Ahil!" they shouted, their voices echoing in unison.
