Finally! It's over. Gosh, writing can be hectic.

Maine puri zindagi itna nai likha jitna aaj Dani ki book mein likha hai.

I get up from my seat quickly running to Dani's room, he is sprawled on his bed with his iPad in hand. Goodness, does this working machine ever rest?

"Hey Dani! I wrote all of your notes for today. You don't have to stay awake at night to write them now", I smile placing the books on his study table. He frowns slightly, looking at the books then at me, "You shouldn't have. I need to read them anyway, I would have written."

For some reason, I don't like his reaction. He didn't want me writing his notes, did he? Of course he didn't, because I am not Zara.

My smile drops and I slowly turn back, closing the door and latching the bolt. I turn around, folding my nonexistent sleeves back up, for added effect as I take predatory steps towards his bed. He is still laying there relaxed, not noticing that I have walked closer to him. I grab his iPad throwing it across the bed and it bounces off. He looked wide-eyed with stopped breathing to see if his iPad lands on the floor or not and when it doesn't he finally breathes.

Oh, trust me my sweet Dani, worse is about to come. I grab his face, half snickering at his panicked state as he tries to take charge of the situation.

"Danish Walid Mustafa, tumhari problem kya hai? Maine notes likhe isliye itni problem horahi hai na? Agar Zara likh kar deti to pure bathees daant dikha rahe hote." I shout in his face, grabbing his collars.

He moves his legs, trying to get me off his body and that's when I realise mine were on either side of his and this position could be called straddling if not for the distance between my butt and his thighs.

He turns his face away, keeping his mouth shut. It only adds to my anger, so I pull him closer with his T-shirt, "I asked you something. Kya ab meri itni bhi haisiyat nai ki main tumse sawal kar sakun?" Somehow, there is pain in my voice that I did not mean to reveal, it was so intense that it shocked even me.

He looks at me, his hands coming to hold my waist only to pull it away from his body. Even though his rejection hurts, I don't budge. I didn't know he hates me being this close to him. Obviously he is not using his full force to push me, being as gentle as he can. But why does it have to be this way? Why is he pushing me at all?

"Ab to mere chune se bhi takleef hai? Gazab ka karishma ho tum Mustafa, ek hi raat mein itna badal liye ki meri puri duniya hilakar rakh di hai. Aakhir chahte kya ho tum?", his eyes that had been boring into mine until now snap towards the ceiling as he closed them muttering some Arabic verses under his breath.

I notice that his hands that were previously pushing my body away had now stopped any movement, choosing to rest on my skin which seems to have caught fire might I add. Tingles everywhere, racing heart, clogged brain, shivering hands, I bet I am a mess right now. While his eyes are closed and his dainty, thin lips move slightly I have this intense urge to touch them, feel then under my fingertips.

What is wrong with me? Instead of being angry with him for ignoring my existence like plague, her I am. Practically straddling him, getting high over the feel of his muscles under my hand. When did I turn into this lovestruck fool from a bratty teenager?

"Nazanin, get off of me. If you have an issue, we can talk like civilised people." His tone seems heavy, breathless even. It's as if, he is short of breath. When he opens his eyes, they seem slightly darker, there is a weird glint in them, something that I can't put my finger on.

His words don't appeal me, "Why? Why can't we talk like this? What's the problem Dani? And when did I become Nazanin from Niny? Why did you suddenly turn into a jerk", I throw questions at him, placing my butt on his thighs lest my knees get numb due to all that weight they have been bearing all this while.

But that action of mine seems to have an unexpected effect on both of us that we didn't see coming. Fuck! My clit is throbbing and I know his manhood is too because I can feel it. Slightly.

A weird thought strikes my mind, another wave of ecstacy following closely.

What if I had landed a little further than where I did? What if it wasn't my thighs grazing his bulge? What if my....

Shit. Shit. Shit. I am losing my shit. But fuck it. The moment he stopped being my Dani, the world seemed to have conspired to see me miserable.

"Dani", I whisper as my hands betray my neural command, setting off to wander around the skin of his jaw. How I wish I could trace every inch of his skin. How I wish I could feel his touch, his embrace, his love.

"Niny, this is not right. We don't share that kind of relationship. Don't you remember telling our mothers that we could never be husband and wife. That it was too hilarious to be real. Let your brain take back the control and think. You are going to regret this."

His words don't have the intended effect, instead it made me think lesser and act more. I don't know what hit me but I brought my face so close to his, my lips hovering above his and our breaths mingling.

"Haan kaha tha. Lekin sirf mai kehti rehti hun Dani. Wahi to galati sudharni hai, aaj tum batao tum kya chahte ho. Kya tum hamare Nikaah ko maante ho?", I question with bated breath. One yes from him and I am going to eliminate whatever distance there is between us. Say yes Dani, my heart wants you to say yes.

Even in this disturbed state, I haven't smiled the fact that he hasn't lost any control of his body. Not once did he touch me, not once did his eyes scream lust like mine are doing right now.

He stares into my eyes, my soul gathering whatever intel it is he needs. After a few torturous seconds, he finally speaks softly.

"Mai nai maanta is rishte ko. Mujhe lagta hai ham dono ke liye koi behtar saathi likha gaya hai. Koi aisa jo mujhe tumse behtar samjhta ho. Koi aisi ladki jise mujhe apne dil ki baat ki zarurat na pade, aur jab mai kuch bolun to vo un alfazon ka galat matlab na nikale. Koi aisi, jo meri aankhein kitaab ki tarah pad sake, jise dekh kar sari thakawat gayab hojaye. Koi itni pagal jise mujhse ishq karne mein hasi na aaye."

And something breaks that very moment, so hard that I physically tremble at it's aftereffects. I didn't know until now that Danish Mustafa solely holds the power to shatter my soul with mere words. No wonder I ran away like I had seen a ghost after that moment.