Taabindagi (Sequel Of Sharar)

Chapter 30 is up on stck

•••

"Azrin haveli gayi thi?"

(Did Azrin go to the haveli?)

Shahnan had just dropped Azrin off at Rehnuma’s house, where Arsalan had been restlessly pacing in the front yard, waiting for her return. The moment she arrived, he had bombarded her with questions—but Azrin hadn’t answered a single one. Without a word, she’d gone straight upstairs to her room, shutting the door behind her.

Feeling helpless, Arsalan turned toward Shahnan, who still stood at the doorstep, clearly uncomfortable.

“No,” Shahnan replied honestly. “I found her on road.”

“Kaha? And what was she doing?” Arsalan asked quickly, the desperation in his voice barely concealed.

(Where? And what was she doing?)

“Yeh toh apko maloom hona chahiye.”

(You should know that.)

Arsalan parted his lips to say something, but then closed them again. How could he know anything when Azrin never told him a thing?

“Woh mujhe kuch bhi nahi batati.” He murmured, not to Shahnan, to himself.

(She doesn’t tell me anything.)

“Toh aap koshish bhi nahi karte.” Shahnan replied bluntly. “People who care about their relationships don’t just sit around waiting for things to fix themselves.”

(And you don’t even try.)

And with that, he turned and walked away. He wasn’t someone who spoke much, nor did he share a particularly close bond with Arsalan, neither as a cousin nor as a friend. And since he didn’t know much about Azrin and Arsalan’s relationship either, there wasn’t much he could say. It was better to just leave.

Arsalan stood there, watching him leave, then slowly looked up at the staircase leading to Azrin’s room. Maybe he’d convinced himself that giving her space was the right thing to do. That eventually, she’d come around on her own. But perhaps he’d forgotten that the last time everyone gave Azrin time and space, she locked herself away for years.

•••

Ishmal had just stepped out of her room when Kian blocked her path at the threshold.

“I wanted to talk to you...” he said casually, as if there was no lingering tension between them, as if they were friends.

“I don’t.” Ishmal replied curtly, shifting to walk around him. But Kian moved again, stepping right back into her way.

“Aram se baat kar raha hoon na main.” he said, his voice still measured.

(I’m talking nicely,)

“Mere raste se hatiye warna main papa ko bata dungi aap mujhe tang kar rahe hain.” Ishmal shot back, brushing past his words as if they held no weight.

(Move out of my way or I’ll tell Papa you’re bothering me.)

Kian raised an eyebrow. The sheer confidence in her threat, using his own father against him amused him. Leaning one shoulder against the doorframe, he slipped his hands into his pockets.

“Bulao papa ko, main bhi dekhta hoon kya kahogi tum unse.” he challenged.

(Call Papa, I’d love to see what you tell him.)

Ishmal looked up at him sharply, her glare cold enough to draw blood. Then, with an irritated huff, she turned her back to him and walked toward the bed, her posture rigid with defiance.