Chaos in the Canvas √

33 | dilemma

"So? If you don't think he is a murderer, why this sudden decision to carry out the plan?" Mehmal questioned, curious and bewildered.

"If I tell you something, will you believe me?" Hemayal asked.

"Always." Mehmal replied gently.

"I want it done with as soon as I can; I want to breathe fresh air without the thoughts of him and the revenge weighing me down. And after this murder, this need is more pressing than ever. I want normalcy, Mehmal. Is that too much to ask for?" Hemayal asked, voice lost and unfocused, gaze wandering.

"I get it, I get you. But I have to warn you, Hami, if you do this, things will never be the same between you two." Mehmal said and Hemayal let out a deep sigh.

"That's the thing I want - same is bad, same is killing me right now. I want things to move on, even for the worse. I just want to get out of this." Hemayal said and Mehmal finally understood.

"You should know the consequences." Mehmal warned again, a desperate attempt to protect her cousin.

"I know the consequences will be bad, but how bad can they be compared to the present?" Hemayal's pained voice reached Mehmal and her own beat skipped in ache. "I'll carry out my plan, find in me to forget him and move on. That's the only thing left to do."

As Hemayal said those words, Mehmal realized an astounding reality, this time Hemayal wasn't trying to avenge her grandfather, she was fighting for her own self, her own peace of mind. 

And this time, there was no escaping for Ibrahim Yazdani.

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Friday - 6:23pm

The winter sun had descended a while ago and now, only harsh wind and cold night seemed to sprawl across the land. Just as the weather promised rain; the silence, storm.

With call engaged, Hemayal Khakwani conversed with the man, heart gone into an arrhythmia despite the calm that had settled in her voice.

"Are you...are you serious?" Ibrahim's shocked voice fluttered her heart but she kept her cool - this was the moment all her heartache had been building towards; all her agony lead to - she wouldn't destroy it.

A week had almost passed since the night she decided to go forward with her plan - a week of plotting, tactics and plans but also a week of pain, ache and agony.

"I am." She whispered, eyes shut tightly, closed at the impending doom waiting for them both.

"You...you can forgive me?" The hope in his voice killed her a little, heart crumbling.

"I think I can." The brown-haired woman hardened her voice, refusing to let emotions sway her this time.

"I can't...I can't believe it. How?" She could feel the bewilder in his voice, the happiness and joy there.

Oh, God. What was she going to do?

"I just think it's time. I might never be able to forgive you for what happened to Dadu but at least I can give you an inch." Hemayal said, surprised at how true her words sounded even to herself.

"I can do with an inch." He whispered from the other side and a sharp breath left her lips - pained.

"You can?" Her voice was a murmur, a soft one silencing the storm brewing in her head - if only for a moment. 

"With you, baby, an inch is all I want." Ibrahim's word reached her and the organ she'd done a stupid job of protecting her whole life crumbled.

It was these words - his randomly stated, careless words - that made her heart skip a beat so effortlessly. And it always seemed ironic to her how words were his forté while she was supposed to be the one who used that medium for a living.

"Hemayal?" He asked after a long pause and Hemayal pressed her lips.

The man could shatter her resolve with every endearment out there but nothing affected her heart the way the sound of her name on his lips did.

"Yeah?" She mumbled.

"Does it have anything to do with the whole agreement thing I told you last Monday?" Ibrahim was a smart man - she could give him that - and although his better sense was clouded by his emotions at the moment, he could still see through the creaks, and it were these creaks that worried her.

"No," she went on to deny quickly. "Nothing at all. I just came to realise that all of this was taking a toll on my own health and mind." 

A partial truth; a white lie.

"Can we meet, Hemayal?" Ibrahim asked, voice anxious now.

"Now?" She whispered, closing her eyes at the thought of her plan going too perfectly, knots tightening in her stomach. 

God, the dilemma of loving and hating someone at the same time. 

"Yes, if that's okay for you." Ibrahim quickly said and she smiled sadly at his thoughtfulness. 

"It is." She responded, anxiety building in her head with each tick of the clock.

"I'm in Abbottabad at the moment, it'll take me probably an hour or two to reach your home." He said and Hemayal could hear shuffling at the other side, could feel his impatience to get to her. 

"No, don't come here." she hurriedly said, "I want to meet somewhere else." 

"Okay, where?" Ibrahim asked, as accommodating as ever.

"The Motel where you took me." Hemayal said, voice low and a deafening silence engulfed the line.

"Hemayal...I don't think that's a good..." Ibrahim's unsure voice reached her and she sighed.

"I want a fresh start, Ibrahim. Let's start where everything went wrong." She said and gave her explanation, hoping he wouldn't question.

"Alright," he didn't, and she exhaled heavily. "Do you know the address?" 

"I think I do." Hemayal responded in affirmative. 

"I'll send you the coordinates anyway but have your driver bring you here. It's a long ride and I don't like the thought of you driving alone in this weather." Ibrahim said, voice softer than silk and Hemayal choked on the emotions that rose in her. 

"Sure." She replied before ending the call.

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Friday - 8:23pm

Warmth.

Spread around her like cocoon, she exhaled heavily at the feeling of coffee in her hands, bed beneath her, darkness around her. Somehow, fighting with herself over the past few hours was effective - an unprecedented calm having settled over her soul now.

How long it would remain, she didn't know but she was going to bathe in it however long it lasted. 

It didn't last long.

"Hemayal!" Anisha Bhabi's harsh and terrified voice reached her from afar the next second and she closed her eyes, bracing herself for the inevitable.

It was time.

Pushing the covers away, she wrapped a shawl around her frame before heading towards the door but it was pushed open before she could reach it. A panting, panic-stricken woman greeted her and she knew the deed was done.

Ibrahim Yazdani had paid.

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