He dragged me up with his hand tightly holding onto my wrist. The car ride was filled with silent tension with car going above the speed of hundred and forty. My heart kept thumping fast. My body twitching.

The sweaty palms clutching on front of saree. Eyes wide open.

I was nearly assaulted or worse was going to. My head couldn't think. It was cloudy with different emotions. Anger over everything, Jealousy of seeing the model with him, Fear of what could have transpired and depression from all these days. It was all I could feel.

I was dragged in to our room and he loosened his grip throwing me on bed before he locked the door.

"Tumhara dimag kharab hai. (Are you out of your mind?)"

I felt rage. So much anger that it was difficult to hold it in. I leapt on my feet.

"Mein pagal hogaye ho. (I have gone mad.)"

I yelled at him for the very first time.

"Apne mujhe pagal kardiya hai. (You have made me mad.)

I jabbed my index finger on his chest. He didn't react too shocked with my behavior to recover immediately. The anger was easily drenched as it came leaving helplessness in it's wake with tears clouding my vision.

I clutched the collar full of his shirt in my fists and shook him violently.

"Q? (Why?)"

I lowered my head down looking at floor suddenly feeling vacant of all the energy. The movements softened until they completely ceased while my one hand still clutched on his shirt while the other fell down tired.

"Mujhe pe to apne naqsh chordeye hai. (You have left your imprints on me.)"

I looked at him with unnerving gaze. A yearning so bad gripped my heart and my eyes mirrored ever bit of it. It felt like my heart was closed by a palm with fingers gripping on it keeping it encaged.

"Phir mujhe q ni chorne date. (Then why don't you let me.)"

"Main q ni ho yaha pe. (Why am I not here?)"

I pointed to where his heart rested. My voice hoarse. His brows were furrowed looking at me with searching gaze.

He took my hand and placed it on left side of his chest.

"Ap hai haha pe. (You are here.)"

I pulled my hand instantly like I was burned. The anger again raising again.

"Jhoot, jhoot jhoot bs kare ab. (Lie, lie lie. Stop it now.)"

"I have never lied to you."

"Acha agar ap jhoot ni bol rahe. To phir woh Kon hai? (All right if you aren't lying then who is she?)"

I clutched his collar again looking straight in those honey brown eyes. He had a dumbstruck look on his face.

"Kon hai Sara aur uska naam q neend me pukarte hai. (Who is Sara and why do you call her name in your sleep? )"

I whispered softly like I was scared to even know the answer. My finger quivered barely holding on to his shirt.

His lips parted but no words came out.

"Bataye na. (Tell me.)"

"Wo meri biwi thi. (She was my wife.)"

I could hear him clearly but at same time why it felt like I couldn't or that I didn't want to. Can you unhear something you heard?

I didn't even know why I even asked when there was this obvious remorse in his gaze. His hesitation. It was a tell tale that whatever it was. I wouldn't like it.

I didn't know when I moved down or when my hand stopped gripping his shirt or when I got on this floor. I just knew that I was there with my head in my hands crying softly holding on to the whimpers.

Suna tha k bewafai mar date hai aur aj ye mahsoos bhe karliya. (I have heard that infidelity kills you but today I felt it too.) It now felt like those fingers were embedded in my heart as the palm kept sequeezing it again and again.

His placed his hand on my head and I slapped it away not wanting to feel his touch. I could hear him walk away leaving me alone as I slapped my head repeatedly realizing my foolishness.

Mein eik bewafa see muhabbat kar baithe. (I fell in love with a bewafa.)"

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I pulled a cigarette pack from back of my pocket. I took a cigarette out placed it in between my lips and torched it with the lighter.

I started taking long drags trying to pull as much smoke in my lungs as I could. It was the second time that the cigarette wasn't exactly doing the job of ridding me of the stress but I kept taking slow long drags.

Nothing could have prepared me for her question. Every single explanation felt inadequate. It wasn't enough comparing the state that she was in. I expected a reaction but I never expected it to be this bad.

Sara. How could I explain her? I looked at the cigarette in between my fingers. If I could then I would have smoked Sara away just like this cigarette.

This night suddenly felt more long and darker then any other?

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My flight was in three hours. I had just placed the last bag in the trunk of the car. Abu pulled me in a hug and told me to keep working hard.

Ami kissed my head. I expected her to advice me to eat, to not overwork and to just take care of myself but what she asked was totally unexpected.

"Jahan Do you remember what I told you when I brought Noor in our home for very first time?"

The memory was still embedded as a sweet childish one in my head even through it had been ten years.

It was weeks after Auntie Zulehas death that Ami came home carrying a infant in the bundle of blanket. My small feet padded across the floor as I walked to my Ami who now set at sofa with a small baby girl in her arms.

She was beautiful with her mostly fair but a little tan skin. Her round chocolate brown eyes looking at me with wonder. Those small pink cheeks glowing. She was so small that she looked like a doll.

"Ami. Is this babydoll my sister?"

My eyes sparkling with excitement to have a little sister.

"No, she isn't."

"Oohh. So we can't keep her."

I felt disappointed and it couldn't be hidden from my childlike voice.

"We can for sometime but then we have to eventually give her to her father."

"Ok. Can I kiss her cheeks?"

I asked as my Ammi has explained to me that as a Muslim boy I wasn't permitted to touch or kiss girls. It wasn't permitted by Allah.

"You can for now but not later when she grows old."

At her reply. I instantly placed my lips on those reddish cheeks. She tasted really sweet like honey.

"But I would like to. They are so soft."

I grazed my small thumb where I kissed her.

"Why can't I keep her as my babydoll?"

I pouted not liking the idea of her going away or not kissing those sweet apple like cheeks.

"You can but for it you have to marry her like your Abu married me."

"If I marry her then would I be able to keep her?"

My mother nodded and I felt extremely happy. I wanted to keep her badly. She was really cute.

"Then I will marry her just like Abu married you."

I was pulled out of the vivid memory but not exactly understanding why Ami actually remained me about it.

"I was just a kid back then."

"Jahan. I want to make her my daughter officially and you know that even Zuleha wanted that. She would be so good for you. So you aren't permitted to like anyone Jahan Sikander."

"Okay Ammi. I promise."

I agreed not wanting to upset her. She was just a ten years old kid and I didn't know how to make Ammi see that. I hope that when I get back she would be more reasonable.

My first semester passed swiftly. I kept an excellent GPA which helped to be in favour of professors. They would usually recommend me as a tutor to students with bad grades. In this way I became independent being able to afford my living in London.

I wanted to earn the right to be take the head chair from Abu. I had a full mind to do it.

The second semester came with transfer student in our class. Sara. A girl wearing a knee length dress with brown shoulder length hair with blond highlights, pale skin and dark blue eyes.

I had a schedule which I kept to. I spent the evening after my tutoring mostly in library getting some work done.

It started a week after her transfer that she started sitting there staring at me. I didn't give her much attention thinking that eventually she would stop like every other girl. I knew people found me very hard to approach especially the female population. I was sure that it would be the same with her too.

Months passed. She grew more bold and started sitting next to me with a canned cold coffee that she would place on my table. The coffee that I wouldn't touch and leave it there after my work was done.

Another semester went with same routine. Until at last she opened her mouth for very first time.

"Hey Jahan. I am failing in my subject and Professor Hilton recommended you for tuition so when should we start?"

She placed the books on the table with the same canned coffee.

"If you don't like latte. You know you could simple say it?"

She pointed to the can of coffee that I still didn't touch. I knew she was nervous. Her stiff back was a dead give away.

I turned on my chair and looked straight at her face keeping my eyes there. Ami taught me in my early age to respect woman and to never let my gaze sweep away from their face and I kept to it.

"I can't tutor you. I don't have time."

I wasn't lying. I was doing an internship in one of best companies in London. I actually didn't have time and even if I had I would never tutor her knowing very well about her infatuation.

She was beautiful. Ibad recommended me to date her as she was interested. I couldn't as I promised Ammi and secondaly even if she was beautiful but for me she was like another face in crowd and nothing more.

"It's Sara you know."

This was actually how I got to know her name. I didn't gave her any reply and stood up pulling my things in my bag.

It was close to our graduation. We were done with our finals. Ibad made a plan for us to celebrate our last year at dinner. We remained close friends even through we weren't in same University nor we were working in the same company.

I recalled being standing in the corridor just after having a conversation with one of my professors when Sara approached me.

It was the first time after that day that she approached me.

"I like you. No actually I love you Jahan. I don't understand why you aren't able to see it or consider my feelings."

I watched as crowd gathered around looking at the show. I really didn't want to disrespect her in front of everyone but she wasn't leaving me with a choice.

"I tried for years for you to finally notice me but you still don't. Can't you just give my feelings a chance?"

I sighed thinking about words that wouldn't be much harsh but still make her understand.

"I am not interested. You should use your time doing something productive instead of wasting it here."

I tried to walked away from the crowd. The tears that were gathered in her eyes didn't concern me much.

"You are really cold hearted and rude as they say Jahan Sikander Ali Shah."

There were gasps from the crowd followed by the gossips circling around. I didn't stop for a second after that and kept walking straight out in the murmur of crowd.

It was last time that I saw of Sara until years later.

I came back to Pakistan five years later with a good experience by one of famous Enterprise in London.

It didn't take a month for Abu to give me the position of C.E.O. I worked hard flourishing our export and import company to another level. I made some deals with Chinese Enterprise and Saudies and Turks.

It was start of a great height of your company. Our Enterprise became Pakistan's leading one company. The work didn't stop. I made millions in a year. I started investing in other smaller project including buying an news channel which also became successful.

The business was good and I decided to open an branch in London. I remember returning from a flight from London late at night.

I reached home with my jacket hanging from my left arm with other tugging on my tie. I felt a sudden need to have a cup of a coffee.

I was surprised to see some light coming from kitchen. Thinking it to be Gulbano or Khan baba. I entered in but my eyes landed on a figure that I didn't expect to see.

Noor. She was sitting on the kitchen slab with a novel in her hand whose title I couldn't tell from this far. Her black silky hairs were in a down bun leaving her swan like neck bear for my eyes. Some tenderils falling on her face. The other hand holding on to spoon which occasionally dug into the bucket of ice cream by her side.

The red cheeks reminded me about their softness. I suddenly had itch to know if they were still that soft.

"Babydoll."

The word unintentionally slipped from my lips in a whisper.

"Uhmm uhmmn."

I cleared my throat intending to let her know about my presence which she was still unaware to.

She suddenly jumped down looking at me with full wide open chocolate brown eye covered by long black lashes.

"Jahan Bhai ap."

She hurriedly took her dupatta and pulled it on her chest. For the very first time my gaze swept down from a women's face. The chubbiness was long gone replaced with proportioned curves. She looked beautiful then any other women without even showing skin.

I pulled my gaze away scolding myself mentally for letting my eyes wander.

"Can you make a cup of for me?"

I suddenly had the urge to taste the coffee made by her hands.

"Sure."

While she made the coffees. I studied the book on the shelf. It was a book by some writer "John Green" with a tile "Paper towns."

"Coffee."

She pulled the cup toward me. I took the cup from her hand grazing our finger accidentally in process.

"Thank you."

I walked out of kitchen going upstairs to my room. It was first long conversation that we had after years. In the last two years. I was so busy expending the business mostly out for foreign work trips that I didn't saw her.

I knew now what gift I should give her for her seventeenth birthday which passed a month ago. I knew I was forgetting something and now I remembered it.

I sipped the coffee liking the bitter taste and also suddenly liking the idea of marrying the girl who made such a good coffee.

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