The Longest Autumn

The roughness of the golden floral leaves pricked her heart and scratched her fingers. The shine of the crystals were contrasting the dullness of her face. The redness of the dress reflected in her eyes. The scent she used for the last time was still present in this dress, unlocking many more memories unknowingly. 

Some memories are better to be buried under the soil of time but today while supervising the deep cleaning of the cupboards she laid her hand on something she wanted to forget for the rest of her life. 

A bridal attire that had once represented the wedding she had dreamed of, only to become a silent witness to one rejection and one unplanned marriage.

Momina had always been afraid of letting Fayra wear her old bridal attire. In her mind, a dress that belonged to a woman whose husband was no longer alive carried a superstition she didn't want to risk on her granddaughter's wedding day. However, back then Fayra did not trust all those myths. Now suddenly she was questioning the truthfulness of those myths. 

Did this dress truly bring misfortune to her life just like Momina warned her?

But how could a dress be more powerful than the blessings which she got from Momina every now and then?

Seeing the beauty of this old sharara one more time  closed her eyes. A tired tear died on the edge of her long lash. The poor drop didn't know the reason for its existence. Her eyes savoured the richness of the fabric. Ears listening to random songs without understanding the lyrics, just to suppress the noise inside. 

Unaware of two pairs of eyes seeing her condition she was completely lost in another world present in her head. 

One of the pairs of feet moved towards the bed, stepped in the middle of the room for a moment and looked towards the maid who was eyeing a crying Fayra.

“Go downstairs," The whisper didn't distract the girl, who remained lost in her thoughts. The maid left the clothes she had been folding for the last one hour. 

The very next moment, Fayra felt a bounce on the bed. She lifted her gaze, their eyes met, her heart clenched with pain. So is his.

"May I know the reason behind this cry?” He asked in a hushed voice. She sensed his lips moving up and down. Brows furrowed, hand lifted towards the left ear and removed the airpod. 

“Hmm?" 

“Why are you crying?" He repeated the question. 

“I'm not. Why are you asking?" She wiped away the tears and put the airpods in the case. Not looking towards him, she started folding the red dupatta spread on the bed. 

His heart skipped a beat, he had seen the only few photos of their wedding a thousand times, he knew when she wore it. 

She was his bride in this attire. 

A smile crawled to his lips but hid it. 

“Fayra, I’m sorry." Danish noticed her tears and apologized again to make her cry. Shifting her eyes away from the wedding dress she looked at his face. He was still one of the most trusted men for her, but there were some invisible walls present between them. 

“Sorry bolne ki zarurat nhi hai. Galti to meri hi thi, mujhe nhi pta tha aap mujhse itni nafrat karne lage hain… mujhe laga tha aa ab bhi wo pehle wale Danish hi hain jo mere liye hamesha… khair… jaane dijiye. Aap mujhe maaf kar dijiye, main hi aapke peeche aa gyi thi. Kya zarurat thi mujhe aapke liye khana lane ki? Pagal hu main… aap to jaante ho hain na.” She rolled her eyes with a mocking smile tucked in her lips. 

What can one do besides mocking herself after being hurt by a loved one? But once, she had also hurt that person deeply!

(No need to say sorry. The mistake was mine only, I did not know that you have started hating me so much… I thought you are still that same old Danish who always… anyway… let it go. You forgive me, I only came behind you. What was the need for me to bring food for you? I am mad… you know that, right?)

“Fayra, Pagal to tum ho, tab hi to meri feelings nhi samajh paati. Main tumse nafrat nhi karta.” The softness of his voice mingled with the harsh heartpang. Fayra looked away, seeing his face for more than a few seconds would invite new tears, and crying was the last thing she wanted to do in front of him. 

(Yes, you are crazy, Fayra. That is why you cannot understand my feelings. I do not hate you.)

“Leave it, Danish. Things can't be altered now. Better to part our ways forever. Now I won't ever talk to you.” Folding the dupatta neatly she put it in the big box, and now it was the turn of sharara. 

“Sirf idli sambar ko mana karne ki itni badi saza?" He slowly grabbed her hand which eventually forced her to look up towards him. She couldn't control her tears anymore. 

(Such a big punishment just for refusing idli sambar?)

"Aap bhuke the isliye aapke liye home cooked meal layi thi main, lekin aap… aapne kitna suna diya mujhe. Galti kya thi meri?” thought Danish could make a long list of her mistakes but he shook his head. 

(You were hungry, which is why I brought a home-cooked meal for you, but you… you lashed out at me. What was my mistake?)

“It was all my fault. I'm sorry." She glared at Danish and pulled her hand away from his hand. He couldn't help but smile. This was the typical Fayra who used to be on his throat even when she was at fault.

“Go away, let me do this work." Another scolding for him, and he suppressed his smile.

“At least take this." Passing a big chocolate he apologized in his signature way. Fayra was unable to understand what to do, but she shook her head while abruptly wiping her tears. 

"I can buy myself some chocolate, now I'm not a little girl. Thank you.” she jerked her head.

“You could buy yourself chocolates even when you were a little girl. Bade baap ki ek lauti beti ho." Farya glared at him. He smiled and narrowed his eyes, requesting without words to take it and she huffed while snatching it away. 

(You are the sole heiress to a massive fortune.)

"For how long will you stay angry just because of that damn sambar?” he smiled and Fayra opened her mouth to argue with him that he didn't praise her cooking but suddenly a wave of realisation hit her hard. She looked directly in his eyes, it clenched his heart, resulting in his smile being lost. 

“Aaj aap itni achhi tarha baat kar rhe hain kal dobara ajnabi jese ban jaynge. Kya fayda hai ye sab kar ke? Rehne dijiye… jab faasle aa gye hain to… accept kar lete hain na." 

(Why be close today just to be strangers tomorrow? Let it go. The distance is there, let's just accept it.)

“Nhi karna mujhe accept. Tum hi to keh rhi thi na kya ham pehle wale Danish aur Fayra nhi ban sakte? Chalo ban jaate hain pehle wale Danish aur Fayra." She couldn't help but sobbed. This is what she wanted. Danish was her safe space and now he was again hers? Was it a dream?

(I don't want to accept this. You were the one asking if we could go back to being the old Danish and Fayra, right? Fine, let's go back to how we used to be.)

“Aap badal to nhi jayenge na?” just like always, she needed reassurance from Danish. 

(You won't change, will you?)

"Main kab badla tha yaar? Tum badal gyi thi. Tumhe main bura lagne laga tha.”

(When did I change, yaar? You were the one who changed. You started finding me bad.)

"Aap mujhe kabhi bure nhi lage Danish. Kabhi bhi nhi. Maine aapse zyada trust kabhi kisi par kra hi nhi. Bas aapse shadi karna meri list me nhi tha.” 

(I never thought badly of you, Danish. Not once. I trusted you more than anyone else. It's just that marrying you was never in my plans.)

"Chalo ab jo bhi hua use bhul jao, us waqt hamare ghar wale bhi kya karte, unhone wo hi kar diya jo unhe theek laga. Us middle period ko bhul jao, wahi se shuru karte hain jaha ham dono ek dusre ke bina nhi rehte the. Theek hai?” He asked and she nodded while wiping her tears and smiled like a cherished cat. 

(Anyway, forget whatever happened now. What else could our families have done at that time? They just did what they thought was right. Forget that middle phase, let's start over from where we couldn't live without each other. Alright?)

"Lekin main aapse naraz hu.” 

(But I'm offended by you.)

"Kuch naya batao, saal ke 365 din me se 360 din to tum mujhse naraz hi rehti thi.”

(What's new in this? Out of 365 days of a year you stay offended for 360 days.)

"Haa to? Galti bhi to aapki hoti thi na.” Poor Danish was unable to defend himself for doing nothing wrong but he joined his hand in front of her, then joined arms till elbows. He looked at her, a fake egoistic expression never leaving his face. 

(So? Because it's all your fault.)

“Is se zyada hath nhi jud rhe, maaf kar dijiye Saheba, gulaam sharminda hai. Kaho to pair bhi pakad lu?" Fayra laughed out loud, she nodded while shifting her feet in front of Danish just to fulfil his second offer and pushed her feet away. 

(I cannot fold my hands any more than this, please forgive me, My Lady, your servant is ashamed. If you say so, should I hold your feet as well?)

"Fayra Aapi, Fayra Aapi..” 

"Fayra aapi…” 

Before Danish and Fayra would spend some more time together the loud calls came from the corridor followed by two pairs of footsteps running towards her room. 

“Fayra aapi, let's wat…" Zunera and Zinia broke into the room like tufaan express but they both were surprised to see Danish and Fayra sitting together laughing wholeheartedly. They looked at each other then at Fayra and Danish. 

“Ladayi khatam ho gyi?" Asked Zinia, Fayra shrugged with a smile and Danish nodded. 

(The matter is sorted out already?)

“Yaaaayyyyyy…. Isi baat par party!” 

Zunera grabbed Fayra's hand and dragged her towards the door while Zinia pulled Danish along from the other side.

For the first time in months, Fayra's laughter filled the room without hesitation.

Danish watched her for a moment.

This was the Fayra he had missed.

And somewhere beneath the relief, a dangerous thought quietly settled in his heart.

Maybe this time, he wouldn't let her walk away again.