05 Princess

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The heart is corrupted by the corruption of the eyes.

Ibn Al Qayyim

"Be a pain for everyone when I leave."

"How to be a pain, Afsha?"

"You tease everyone, a lot."

"Okay, but will you get me a dress like your red one then?"

"Why do you want it, shahzadgy (princess)?"

"To wear on your wedding."

Banafsha cringes mentally and stops styling Abeer's hair. She pulls away to look at her niece, her half braided bangs clutched into her fingers.

"My wedding?" She tastes the words on her tongue and cringes again. "That's far away, darling. Don't think about it."

"How far?" Abeer eyes her curiously through the dressing table mirror.

"Very, very far."

Banafsha resumes doing her hairstyle and Abeer shuffles in her seat. "But what about my dress?" she whines.

"I'll get you one when I'm back."

"But when will you be back, Afsha?"

Never, she answers in her head but smiles at Abeer, pinning her braided bangs. "Soon."

Abeer jumps down her seat and steps closer to the mirror, standing on her toes and leaning forward to observe her hairstyle closely, those irises seemingly glittering with joy. She grins and turns towards Banafsha, letting out a long, impressed 'wow'.

"I love it, Afsha!"

"Thank you, zaar."

Abeer's features slowly color from happy to gloomy as she stares at Banafsha. "Who will make me hairstyles when you leave?" She runs to cling to her legs. "Why are you leaving, Afsha?"

Her heart makes a painful beat looking at her niece. What does she tell this child? That her father is like a spasmodic gut making useless contraction to keep her restless and in pain? She sighs and kneels to her level, holding her shoulders she smiles at her. No matter her dislike towards her siblings, she can never dislike their innocent children. These two kids are probably the only humans on the entire planet she likes, despite them giving her headache at times.

"Will you miss me, jaan?" Banafsha asks softly.

Abeer nods sadly.

Banafsha hugs her to her chest. "I will miss you too. You and Wali are my only friends."

She puts her small arms around her neck. "Then why don't you live with me?"

"We will live together back again soon." Banafsha pulls away and kisses her forehead. "Zama jaan (my life)."

"Will we live in your new house uncle Aurang will buy for you?" Abeer asks and her eyebrows go up at her question.

"Where did you hear this?"

"From baba when he was talking to uncle Aurang."

"What more did they talk about?" Banafsha fishes for more, suddenly curious.

"Um, I've forgotten now." Abeer moves towards the dressing table again, reaching for the nail polishes and picking one. "Can you paint me this, Afsha?"

She smiles knowingly, realizing Abeer has lost interest. "Yes, but if you tell me what more did your baba ask uncle Aurang."

Abeer seemingly thinks now, clutching the nail polish tightly. "Um, baba asked him if he liked the food."

Banafsha sighs and stands up, letting go of the discussion. She takes the nail polish from Abeer and the child quickly crawls up on the seat, holding out her nails for her aunt. Banafsha begin to skillfully paint her small nails.

"I like uncle Aurang," Abeer says out of nowhere and she glances at her.

"You do?"

"I do."

"Why?"

"Because he has blue eyes."

Now Banafsha pauses to look at her. "Blue eyes?"

Abeer nods. "No one else has blue eyes. I want blue eyes too, Afsha."

She smiles at her, Abeer's dark orbs almost pleading with her. "But you have beautiful eyes, shahzadgy."

"But I like blue more," Abeer reasons. "Blue is more beautiful."

"Uh huh, blue eyes are cold." Banafsha flicks her nose. "Your eyes are warm."

Abeer blinks, looking interested. "Is cold bad, Afsha?"

"Yes."

"Then is uncle Aurang bad too?"

Banafsha shrugs and blows at Abeer's nails. "I don't know, zaar."

"But I like uncle Aurang," she repeats.

"Because he has blue eyes?"

Abeer nods and Banafsha suppresses another chuckle.

"How blue?"

Abeer looks around, trying to find a similar color in the room, and then points behind Banafsha. "Like the crystals on baba's ring."

Banafsha stills and slowly turn around to find Mughis standing at her doorstep. Their eyes meet and she sees the striking reflection of her father there-- no matter how loving, but always a freezing hell made to slow torture. The men in her family carry a gripping terror around them meant to scare people away, and she doesn't like it one bit.

"Lala?"

He smiles but his eyes retain the ice. Maybe dark eyes can be cold too after all, like the long dark nights of winter born cold-- like her brother's eyes. Her gaze only briefly flick to the gem on Mughis's ring-- three blue topaz studded in a platinum band-- before back up, finding him staring at her in an unsettling way. She lets go of Abeer and she runs to her father.

"Afsha painted my nails, baba." The child grins happily, holding up her hands for her father to see.

Mughis smiles lovingly and places his hand over her head. "You look beautiful, khwagy (sweetheart). Why don't you show this to your mama?"

"Okay!" Abeer rushes out of the room and Mughis slowly steps inside, closing the door behind him.

"Banafsha."

Banafsha steadies her breathing and parallels his stare, standing with her chin up. Mughis ties his hand behind his back and moves nearer to her before stopping a foot away.

"I've talked to Zoraiz," he tells her. "He'll receive you at the airport."

"Okay."

"Anything you need there, just call me and I'll arrange it for you."

She only nods.

"You've packed your bags?"

She nods again.

Now Mughis reaches to cup the side of her face. "Afsha, something upsets you?"

She exhales audibly and glances away. "I think everyone knows what does, lala."

"You've nothing to be upset about," he assures.

"I don't want to compromise my way of living," she protests. "But Aurang sounds like a terrible compromise."

"Why will you compromise? He will have to adjust to deserve you."

"If he cannot?" she points out the possibility.

Mughis's hand fall back to his side. "Then this marriage will not take place."

She silently looks at him, taking in his words as the gears in her head start to turn. Suddenly, freedom isn't a victory requiring a bloody war as she had initially expected; maybe she can win with some logic and cunningness. After all, when has she ever lost in life?

"Then it really will not take place, lala."

Mughis frowns in perplexity. "What do you mean?"

"Has anyone even asked Aurang if he is happy?"

"Why? Did he say something to you?"

She smirks ironically. "He didn't say anything. In fact, he left without saying a word to me the night of our nikah."

Mughis's features take hue of a thunderstorm. The muscles of his face contract and relax at Banafsha's statement. He stares at her in disbelief.

"He insisted on meeting you in person, said he wanted to talk to you about himself, and that it was important," Mughis tells her. "Baba gave him permission against our rules. How could he just leave you without uttering a word to you?"

Banafsha shrugs nonchalantly and crosses her arms. "Who knows? Maybe like me, he's forced into this marriage too. And if such is the case, then please don't devalue me anymore by forcing me into his life."

Mughis quietly studies her, weighing her response. Banafsha licks her lips, turning her voice and expression tender.

"Am I not dearer to you than the benefits my marriage to Aurang can bring to your politics? I'm not unaware." She smiles sardonically. "I don't think we're compatible; you knew we weren't. You've been cruel to your own blood, lala."

"Banafsha," Mughis shushes her, a bit harshly, and she bites back her tongue, refraining from saying more. "You think you mean nothing to me to marry you to just anyone?" He grits his teeth. "I'll look into the matter myself. And if Aurang is at fault..."

Mughis leaves the threat open and incomplete, but she knows the gravity of it from his tone alone. He turns around and leaves her room, but her mind keeps replying only one concern:

What if anyone finds out the truth about that night?

She being at fault doesn't sound pleasing to her, neither does her brother's warning.

The first time her gaze collides with a pair of blue orbs, she feels the blue hour of the day to be living in them. There's an instant reflection of another world in those irises, one she feels like she has never known to exist before. The contact is so brief that it pricks her like a spark before her nerves settle back to normal.

The man averts his eyes to another man sitting beside him and starts talking to him about something, leaving her yearning for one more glimpse. Not because her hearts has fibrillated in love at first sight, but because those eyes reminded her of something.

Topaz. Just like the one on Mughis's ring.

She just wants to be sure her sight didn't betray her as her conversation with Abeer replays in her head. Blue is beautiful.

The man cranes his neck and once more their gazes crash into each other's, sending an electric shock through her at the look in them. Banafsha feels paralyzed for a moment before the man blinks, once more turning away from her, his lack of interest hitting her like an iron bar.

No one goes without showing interest in her.

She scoffs and shakes her head, coming out of her reverie, and takes her seat in the front row of the airplane, the blue eyed man soon being the last thing on her mind as her departure from her family starts to settle into her conscious. Maybe the goodbye should've hurt more, but it didn't. Maybe for something to be more painful would require a deeper emotional connection with it, and she has always lacked that with her family.

She might miss Ferozeh a bit; they were friends nonetheless. And she might not miss Mughis and Parisha at all; their personalities repelled. Her parents? Maybe. But most of all, the only people who she'll actually miss are Abeer and Wali. Those two were the only people to be with her without expectations from her; their love was innocent and unconditional. The rest of everyone and everything was adulterated with ill objectives-- purposeless to her.

She rests her head back on the headrest, closing her eyes, the exhaustion of the last few days finally sinking into her bones. But the thought of her freedom from the web of manipulation keeps the adrenaline pumping in her veins.

"Soon," she mumbles to herself. "Soon I'll have all I dream of."

And sleep takes her somewhere amidst her thoughts.



Hours later when she finally lands on Dublin airport, she finds the weight on her heart that has been crushing it gone. All her worries are left back at her home in Pakistan. There, she was Humayun Asad's daughter being viewed a certain way-- expected to live a certain way. Here, she's Banafsha Humayun, and she intends to live her own way.

She quickly scans the crowd for Zoraiz, trying to find a familiar face, but finds him absent. Is he running late? What if he has forgotten about receiving her? Her mind plays a few more possibilities before she drags her suitcase after her to the waiting area, deciding to wait a few more minutes until she finds a way to her problem on her own.

She catches sight of her wedding band and remembers her intention of getting rid of it. Taking it off, she makes her way to the nearest dustbin. A child running from her right ends up bumping into her. She stumbles to catch her balance and manages not to fall, but the ring slips from her finger, rolling away on the floor.

"Wait, no no no."

Banafsha strides after it hurriedly, avoiding the rushing bodies around her, and gets hold of it before it could roll further away.

"Here," she grins triumphantly, "you belong in the trash. Floor is too good for you."

She turns around only to come face to face with the blue eyed man from earlier, his pupils fixated on hers, boring into hers. Banafsha curls her fingers around the ring in an attempt to hide it and challenges his stare with her own, arching an inquisitive eyebrow. He clears his throat.

"You're standing on something important of mine."

It takes her a moment to register his words before looking down and realizing she's standing on a photograph-- a woman's photograph. She quickly steps away from it.

The man bends down to pick it up, then wipe it clean it his hand and carefully puts it in his wallet.

"I'm so sorry," Banafsha apologizes. "I didn't realize I stepped on it."

"It's okay. Happens sometimes," he dismisses lightly with a smile and she notices a dip form in his left cheek, a mere dimple suddenly painting his features with a boyish look. But her focus still centers on color of his irises.

I like uncle Aurang... he has blue eyes... like the crystals on baba's ring.

It cannot be, she scolds herself for nurturing irrational assumptions. The possibility of two people sharing the same eye color is high enough, she consoles herself. But for her reassurance, she decides to introduce herself in hopes of getting back his name from him, if the photo of another woman in his wallet isn't enough of reassurance for her.

"Dr. Banafsha Humayun," Banafsha says with a small smile.

The man's lips twitch up, seemingly amused and having an intangible look in his eyes, before introducing himself too, "Mikael."

Hey,

I've missed you guys so much. Hope you're all doing great.

I've given three exams and left with three more. Managed to write a chapter in between and here's an update. Kindly remember me in your prayers.

Will be getting back to your pending messages/comments soon.

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All the love,
Laiba (:

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