Forbidden Across the Border

Hania's POV

When I walked into the room that night, I was expecting nothing more than peace and quiet. Instead, I was greeted with the sight of Aapi sitting on my bed, her face darker than a brewing storm, my phone clutched tightly in her hands.

I stopped dead in my tracks. My breath hitched, my heart pounding so loudly that it seemed to echo in the room.
Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. God, please don't let this be what it looks like.

Her sharp, accusing eyes snapped up to me. My mouth went dry as I took a hesitant step forward. Before I could utter a word, she was on her feet, striding toward me like a storm unleashed. Without any warning, her palm collided with my cheek, the sharp slap echoing through the room.

The sting of her slap was nothing compared to the pain of her words.

"Hania!" she barked, her voice cutting through the silence. "What is this? What?"

I stood frozen, my hand instinctively covering my stinging cheek. My mind was reeling, a whirlwind of panic and fear. My heart dropped as she held up my phone, the screen showing my open conversation with Smriti.

"Aapi..." I managed, my voice trembling. "I..."

"Don't you dare," she hissed, cutting me off. "Tell me this isn't true. Tell me it's a lie, Hania! Say it!"

Her voice cracked with rage, her hands gripping my shoulders tightly. She shook me as if trying to jolt the truth out of me. Tears welled up in my eyes as I stood there helplessly, unable to form any coherent sentence.

"Toh sharam nahi ayi tumhe, huh? Itni si bhi sharam? You know this is a sin in our religion, Hania! You know that, don't you?" Her voice broke, her anger laced with a strange desperation. "And yet you still did it? Why?"

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. What could I say? That I loved Smriti? That she made me feel alive, whole, and seen in ways I never thought possible? How could I explain something so pure to someone whose mind was already clouded with judgment?

"And if that wasn't bad enough," Aapi continued, her voice rising, "she's Indian. And not just any Indian—she's a famous cricketer! Tumhe pata hai na, agar zara si bhi baat bahar gayi toh kya hoga? Do you have any idea? Tumhara zara bhi khayal tha?!"

Tears spilled down my cheeks, unstoppable, as her words cut me deeper than any slap could. I stood there silently, my heart breaking at her accusations.

"Wait until Ammi and Abbu find out about this," she spat. "You were their pride, Hania. Their guroor. And now you've thrown it all away! Do you even realize what you've done?"

That broke me. My tears turned into sobs, my chest heaving as I tried to form words, to plead, to beg her to understand. "Aapi, please," I whimpered. "Please don't tell them. We can talk about this—just you and me. Please, don't tell Ammi and Abbu."

"Chup!" she snapped, silencing me. "Whatever you have to say, say it in the morning. For now, I'm taking your phone with me."

"Aapi, no!" I cried, desperation rising in my voice. "Please, you can't do this! Let's sit and talk about this—just the two of us. Please, don't take my phone. Don't tell anyone, Aapi. Please!"

But she was unmoved. Her face was set in stone as she turned away from me, my phone clutched in her hand. "You've said enough, Hania. Jo kuch bhi bolna hai, kal subah bolna."

And with that, she walked out of the room, leaving me alone with my sobs and my endless stream of tears. The door closed behind her with a resounding thud, and I collapsed onto my bed, burying my face in my hands.

I couldn't even warn Smriti. She had no idea what was happening on my end, no idea about the storm that had erupted. God, what if Aapi called Ammi and Abbu right now? What if she told them everything? What if...

I tossed and turned on my bed, my mind running wild with worst-case scenarios. I imagined Ammi's broken heart, Abbu's disappointment, their anger, their tears. What would they do to me? Would they try to force me to marry someone to "fix" this? Would they forbid me from ever seeing or speaking to Smriti again?

I clutched my pillow tightly, tears soaking into the fabric as I whispered desperate prayers into the darkness. "God, please... please make this easy for me. Please, don't let this spiral out of control. Please, don't let them find out. Please..."

But no matter how much I prayed, the fear and dread remained, a constant weight on my chest. My body was exhausted, but sleep wouldn't come. My mind refused to rest, cycling through the same fears over and over again.

What if this was it? What if everything I had with Smriti was about to be destroyed?

I loved her. I loved her with every fiber of my being. And now, I was on the verge of losing her.

Burying my face in my hands. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one worse than the last. How had this happened? How had she even unlocked my phone? Then it hit me—she must have seen me typing in my password earlier.

God, why didn't I delete the chats? Why didn't I close the iMessage app?

I felt like I couldn't breathe, the weight of the situation crushing me. The shame, the fear, the helplessness—it was all too much. I wanted to run, to hide, to undo the last few hours and pretend this never happened.

But there was no escape.

I tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep, my mind plagued with worst-case scenarios. What if Aapi told Ammi and Abbu? What would they say? What would they do? The thought of their disappointment and anger made me nauseous.

And what about Smriti? She had no idea what was happening. She was probably waiting for my call, unaware of the storm that had erupted on my side of the border. I couldn't even warn her—I had no way of reaching her now that Aapi had my phone.

I prayed silently, over and over again, begging God to make this easier for me, to somehow fix this mess I'd created. But deep down, I knew there was no easy way out. Morning would come, and with it, the reckoning.

As the hours dragged on, I sat by the window, staring out at the dark sky, my tears drying on my cheeks. The stars offered no comfort, their cold light only reminding me of how small and powerless I felt.

Please, God. Please. Just make it okay.

It was the only thought I could hold onto, the only thing keeping me from completely breaking down.

Morning was here. And with it, the storm I'd been praying to avoid.