Samar recoiled.
The saliva pooling in his mouth went straight down his throat like bitter poison as he realised what he was about to do. This girl had escaped him by an inch last time. She was standing here again, closer than ever before, looking more stricken than she had before.
Samar took three steps back, partly to establish space between them and partly to escape the bubble of her fragrance. He was a man used to the stench of blood. Lilies were for the Khalils of this world.
“Wh…” she stuttered. “You… I… I’m so sorry…”
“I am sorry,” he stated. “We are back where we started. It is my fault. It won’t happen again. Go inside.”
She gaped at him, half stricken, half enraged. But this time, he gave her the chance to walk away from him. He had torn through her pride once. He wouldn’t do it again. Couldn’t do it again.
And as he had expected of Amaal Durrani, she hoisted her purse higher on her shoulder and whirled to open the door.
“Amaal.”
She stilled.
Samar stepped up to the windowsill, plucked her mobile and pushed it into her field of vision. She took it from his fingers, opened the door quietly, stepped inside, then closed it quietly.
For a man who was used to walking away, Samar sat down on the threshold there.
23. When did you know you were in love?
When did you know you were in love? When you wanted nothing more than to be with them, or when not being with them also did not diminish your feelings for them?
Amaal had fallen into that pit. In a matter of weeks, Samar had undone the years of vacuum that they had both painstakingly filled between them. Courtesy had broken into brutal candid hits, and now they were again here, with a rejection. This time, it had not hit as hard as last time, because this time she knew a bit of where it came from.
She was disgusted at her own actions, too. She had known he was grieving, she had seen something had flipped inside him, she had promised to be there on the sidelines, no strings attached. And then she had gone and taken that moment for herself. It was unconscious, but that did not make it right. If he hadn’t stopped, she knew she wouldn’t have been able to.
What was it about him that made her forget everything?
He wasn’t the most handsome man in the room. He wasn’t the most charismatic. He wasn’t even the most kind or the most honest. And yet, the heart wanted what it wanted.
As the Media Room around her ran in frenzy, planning KDP’s upcoming Ladakh tour, she sat with her eyes on a report on her laptop. Not reading. Just staring. At the photograph of Samar, Atharva, Adil and Qureshi headlining it. At Samar.
The man who did not smile, even if his mouth was curled for the photograph.
He had lost the love of his life, and his baby. In the military. How had this never occurred to her? She had always thought that he was the way he was because of his rumoured capture by the Pakistanis. Nobody knew much about that, except for whispers that he had been a prisoner of war. That alone could alter a man’s brain wiring. Add to itthis…
“Hey.” Iram’s voice made her look up from her laptop. Amaal smiled — “Hi.”
“I emailed you the Ladakh starters. You said it’s urgent. Do you have notes for me?”
“Oh… I haven’t gotten around to it. Give me an hour.”
Iram’s brows furrowed. She glanced around the room, then sat down on the chair beside her.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes.” Amaal held her smile. “Why?”
Iram looked at her for a second, then shook her head. “I thought you looked distracted, and a little… sad.”
“Nope. Perfectly fine.”
Iram’s eyes softened, then shrugged. “Maybe it’s me.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
