Their Last Season

Delhi

A woman was sitting in her chair, pressing her forehead again and again.

Papers were scattered across her table.

She glanced at them, but couldn't pinpoint the issue.

She looked at the wall clock. It was 9:30 p.m.

She heard a commotion outside her cabin.

She pressed the calling button and summoned her assistant.

The moment Anabiya entered, she asked,

"Who is outside, Anabiya?"

"Ma'am, there is a guy who doesn't have an appointment, but he is begging to meet you," Anabiya responded.

"Tell the guards to handle it," she said strictly.

Anabiya twisted her fingers nervously.

"Ma'am, actually, he is fighting with them but still isn't ready to leave the office," Anabiya said.

Rahila clenched her fist.

She looked at Anabiya for a few seconds.

"Send him in," she said.

Anabiya looked at her in shock.

"Ma'am, he could be dangerous," she said.

Rahila glared at her.

Anabiya left the cabin to send the man inside.

A minute later, a boy entered the cabin.

Rahila looked at him and was surprised.

In front of her stood a boy who was barely seventeen years old, dressed in a school uniform and carrying a school bag.

She gestured for him to sit.

He obeyed.

He looked terrified.

But there was something in his gaze that Rahila couldn't pinpoint.

She passed him a glass of water.

He gulped it down in one go.

She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest.

"Start now," she said firmly.

The boy looked at her.

He opened his mouth to say something, but she saw tears rolling down his cheeks.

Earlier, she had been curious about him.

Now, she was perplexed.

"Hey, calm down. I'm not going to scold you," she tried to console him.

He looked at her.

She handed him a tissue.

He took it.

After a minute, he managed to compose himself.

She raised an eyebrow, prompting him to speak.

"My Appi got married six months ago, and..."

He couldn't complete the sentence.

He burst into tears again.

Rahila stood up from her chair.

She walked over to him and gently rubbed his back.

"It's okay, bachcha. Calm down."

She knew the boy was dealing with something painfully devastating.

"She died... no, her in-laws killed her for dowry," he said between hiccups.

Rahila stilled.

She handed him another glass of water.

"Listen, bachcha. If you keep crying like this, how am I going to help you? Tell me everything in detail, okay? You came here on your own, which means you're brave. Please show a little more bravery."

Her voice was soft.

After a few minutes, the boy finally composed himself.

"My Appi got married six months ago. She was the happiest person. But a week ago, we received a call saying she was no more. They claimed she fell down the stairs and suffered a fatal head injury."

He paused.

"But I know Appi didn't fall. She was murdered."

He spoke with certainty.

Rahila looked at him.

His eyes held determination.

"How can you be so sure?" she asked.

The boy's expression hardened.

"Because I know she wasn't happy in that marriage. They kept demanding more dowry. I know it. I heard Amma telling her to compromise."

His fist collided with the table.

Compromise.

Rahila smirked bitterly.

The kind of compromise parents often ask their daughters to make.

She understood.

"What do you want me to do?" she probed.

The boy looked at her.

"What you're supposed to do. File a case against them," he said stubbornly.

"But I charge money," she replied with a slight smirk.

The boy looked at her.

Then he slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a key.

She looked at him curiously.

"It is the key to my bicycle. Appi gifted it to me. It's worth fifteen thousand. Take it. I'll pay you more later, but please fight for my Appi."

Desperation echoed in his voice.

Rahila froze.

"I'll take the case. Keep your key. I don't need it. But before that, I have to meet your parents."

Her tone was firm.

The boy looked at her for a moment before nodding.

"Well, where did your Appi get married?" she asked.

"Agra," he replied.

******

The moment they reached Betaab Valley, they were in awe.

Vast green meadows stretched across the valley.

Snow-capped mountains surrounded the area as if guarding it.

A cold breeze kissed their faces.

Sumaiya closed her eyes, feeling the cool air brush against her skin.

They gazed across the valley.

Crystal-clear streams flowed through the meadows, reflecting the beauty around them.

Sumaiya posed near the pine and deodar trees while Hamza gazed at her lovingly.

The clouds drifted around the mountain peaks.

So did his heart.

"Hamza, let's click a picture," she said enthusiastically.

He nodded and walked towards her.

They stood side by side, holding each other's hands.

Sumaiya felt the weight of his gaze.

She turned towards him.

Raising an eyebrow, she smiled.

The moment was captured by the photographer.

So raw.

So candid.

Lost in each other.

Their trance was broken when the photographer coughed.

She hurriedly broke eye contact.

Too shy to meet his eyes, she looked away.

He smiled.

So did their hearts.

The cold weather made them hungry.

The aroma of Kahwa was too tempting to ignore.

They looked at each other.

An unspoken understanding passed between them.

Hamza took her hand in his.

Together, they walked into a cosy restaurant.

The aroma of Kahwa filled the air.

The combination of hot tea and freshly fried pakoras made the atmosphere even more inviting.

Soon, a waiter approached them with a smile.

"What would you like to have, sir and ma'am?" he asked professionally.

"Kahwa, Yakhni, Dum Aloo, and Kashmiri bread," Sumaiya ordered.

Then she passed the menu to Hamza.

He raised an eyebrow.

"This was all for me.

You can order yours now," she said sassily.

He looked at her, deadpan.

"Noon Chai, Yakhni, and Shufta," he ordered.

Once the food arrived, they got busy enjoying it.

A few moments later, Hamza noticed a spoon sneaking into his bowl of Shufta.

Someone was stealing his dessert.

He looked towards the culprit.

Sumaiya was grinning.

"Isn't that mine, Sumi?" he asked, giving her a fake glare.

She gave him a look.

"Aren't you mine?" she replied sassily before scooping another spoonful of Shufta into her mouth.

He stilled.

Then slowly nodded.

"Where is the lie, Begum?" he said softly, looking at her.

Heat rushed to her cheeks.

"Concentrate on your food," she scolded.

He burst out laughing.

*****

The next day, they decided to do something adventurous.

They picked Sonamarg as their destination.

The moment their car entered the route leading to it, they were left speechless.

Profound winding mountain roads stretched ahead of them.

Around every turn, snow-capped peaks greeted them.

A river flowed alongside the road while waterfalls cascaded down the rocky cliffs.

The scenery was weaving itself into their souls, carving its presence there forever.

Snowfall had begun.

They found it perfect for trekking.

Deciding on a short trek, they set off, crossing small wooden bridges along the way.

A smile was plastered on both their faces.

Their inner children had awakened.

Their laughter echoed through the valleys.

The meadows glowed golden under the evening sun.

Wildflowers were scattered across the landscape.

"So this is why it is called Sonamarg," Sumaiya whispered.

Sonamarg.

The Meadow of Gold.

The golden glow cascaded across the valley, making it appear almost magical.

It was time for sunset.

They stood side by side, watching the sunlight fall upon the grass.

For a moment, the entire valley seemed to shine like gold.

*******

It was nighttime.

They were sitting on the balcony of their hotel room.

The stars were twinkling above them.

The sky was clear, with the moon glowing brightly.

Sumaiya felt a palm slip into hers.

Their fingers intertwined.

She tightened her hold.

"You know, Sumi, the moon goes through every phase, yet it continues to glow again and again.

So does love.

Every day, you fall in love with your partner.

Sometimes, it's their smile that steals your heart.

Sometimes, it's a habit of theirs.

Sometimes, it's their words.

And sometimes, it's simply watching them.

Love is not a one-time phenomenon.

You fall in love with your partner again and again."

He whispered softly while gazing at her.

"Do you fall for me every day?" she asked, looking into his eyes.

He smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I do."

It was barely above a whisper.

She looked at him.

"The chords of my heart are tied to yours," she whispered.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

They simply sat there, under the moonlit sky, letting the silence speak for them.

Kashmir had e

voked a new sense of hope.

A new rhythm in their hearts.

The valleys had felt profound.

So had they with each other.

Every journey has a destination.

And this journey had reached its end.

Now, another destination awaited them.

Here, they had fallen in love all over again.

Perhaps destiny had smiled upon them for now.

Or perhaps it was preparing to test them once more.