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بہت دنوں بعد ملے ہیں ہم

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graphics credit: romslafz
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THE NIGHT WAS still young but Mahin Arsalan was royally done for the day.

Having walked around in her five-inch stilettos for the past two hours had taken a toll – fingers screaming, sole burning by now. If it had not been for Alara's beseeching eyes standing in her way at her every attempt to leave, Mahin would have long ago left the room.

"I'm already bored, Al." Mahin whispered to her friend, for Allah knows how many times that day, eyes moving across the room filled with people dressed to their absolute finest, conversing about topics that failed to stimulate any cell of interest in her.

"You're not trying to enjoy, M." Alara glared at her as she waved to someone, the smile on her face relaxed and at ease.

Unlike Alara, who always seemed to own these gatherings, Mahin Arsalan never enjoyed being at one. For her, unwinding at home by watching a movie carried more thrill than dressing up for a party; enjoying a cup of coffee at her balcony always pulled her in more than entering a room full of people she hardly even knew.

"Trust me, I couldn't even if I wanted to." Mahin rolled her eyes, beyond drained by now. "And, how could I? The room is filled with artists and designers and models. Not my kind of people."

"You can go hang out with Burak, you know. Save some random girl tonight from getting heartbroken tomorrow morning." Alara said, wiggling her brows in that typical suggestive way that she'd seen her brother do a little too many times.

"Heartbroken?" A voice interrupted from behind – a smooth, silky sound that filled a smile on Mahin's lips as she turned around.

"Burak Bey, busy breaking hearts again?" Mahin said, the crispiness of her tone not dead on her two best friends who threw their heads back in a laugh at her greeting.

"The only thing I'm breaking tonight is a few bones if I'm not allowed to leave. The party's fucking boring," the man said, extending a hand which Mahin shook with a small laugh of her own. "But Allah Allah, don't you look something tonight?"

Dressed in an off-shoulder, belted white jumpsuit with a large bow stitched to the side and lace curving towards the neck, Mahin Arsalan exuded class and elegance at the moment. Pairing the dress with red Christian Louboutin's and pearl studs, she was a vision tonight and every person in the room seemed to fully appreciate it.

"Don't I always?" Mahin replied, all but playing with words.

"Are you fishing for compliments? Because Allah knows I can go on all night." Burak replied in an undertone, dipping his head and Mahin only smacked his bicep just as Alara excused herself.

"Keep your flirtatious innuendos to your chases. Leave me alone." Mahin glared with mischief, brows shooting up in warning.

"You know you're still my number one girl, M," Burak said, taking her with him and coming to stand in front of a painting, observing the coats with a tilt of the head. "Which reminds me, Ferit was asking about you again. What should I say?"

"No, always a no. I don't even consider friends as potential dates." Mahin replied without even thinking, shrugging casually while observing the oil splattered across the canvas.

"Why? He's a good man and he obviously cares about you a lot." Burak said, negotiating with her in much the same way he was used to do in boardrooms but Mahin Arsalan was no deal.

"Doesn't matter. Friends are a no-go area," Mahin scoffed before murmuring to herself. "Been there, done that."

"How can –" Burak began but was cut off mid-sentence, Mahin turning to him suddenly with fierceness lacing her brown features, lips thinning into a frown.

"Burak, no. I value his friendship and if he doesn't give up on his idea, I'll even end that. You tell him that." Mahin said, her large, brown eyes widening to showcase the man in front of all the ways in which this would be wrong.

"Is it because of some past relationship?" Burak eyed her narrowly, his gunmetal blue eyes and pale skin focused on every reaction the woman made.

"Yes, and I'm not getting into any details with you about it. But, please, just know, I can't get in a relationship with him and risk our friendship like that." Mahin beseeched, every bit of desperation coming to rest in her voice as she eyed her best friend of nine years.

"I understand," Burak replied, nodding in compassion. "Don't worry, I'll send him on his way."

"Thanks. I appreciate that." Mahin nodded, letting out a sigh before moving to the next painting.

Tragedy happens when first love survives, it ruins you for every other – she knew from experience. Past scars sting in the day, memories haunt at night and despite all attempts to stay above the waters, sometimes there is nothing one can do but drown in the miseries of their life. When Burak finally excused himself to attend an old colleague, the woman took a long second to sew old wounds and pull on her best smile. For the show, Mahin.

Alara, like always, sensing her pain appeared beside her out of nowhere, confused eyes registering Mahin's forlorn smile. "What happened?

"I'm getting bored. I should go, I think," Mahin murmured and the panic that swept across Alara's face at her words made a chuckle tumble out of Mahin's lips – dimming the effects of a heartbreak for now. "He's still not here?"

"Just a few more minutes, M. I think he'll be here any moment." Alara said, losing her focus on her friend, her eyes wandering again as she looked for someone in the crowd.

"Why are you not telling me who he is? Do I know him?" Mahin asked, turning her friend around to face her, eyes probing.

"Of course, you know him, he's from your country. And I don't want to ruin your surprise, that's why." Alara repeated the same words, except for a new knowledge, and Mahin stilled for a second.

"Salahdir?" Mahin mumbled, biting her lower lip in confusion.

"And exactly how many countries are you from? Of course, Salahdir, dumbass," Alara shook her head. "Anyways, I have to go, there's a few people I want to meet before he comes. You'll be okay?"

"Yeah, go. Just be quick about it, okay?" Mahin shrugged her shoulders, giving the sleek black hair now curled into waves a little flip as she turned. "But I don't think your artist is coming, though. The party's going to end soon."

"The royalty is always late." Alara boasted and Mahin only chuckled before heading towards the display wall, five-inch stiletto syncing against the marble floor as she finally stopped in front of a large painting.

The man really must be something in his profession for Alara to regard him with such titles, but what confused Mahin was the fact that she'd never heard of such a famous artist from her country. True, she hadn't been the most up-to-date where it concerned Salahdir, but she would have still known if the man was remotely as famous as Alara had made him out to be.

Thoughts about Salahdir brought back memories – so many of them she almost doubled over in the aftermath. Her country. Her home. Turkey was beautiful, she'd always known but, in her heart, nothing could come par with the land she'd spent eighteen spring in. At twenty-seven right now, it has been exactly nine years since she'd last set foot on the soil but sometimes, in her dreams, she swore she could smell the saltiness of ocean waves crashing, feel the desert heat slapping across her face. Khodaya, sabr.

"Mahin!" a voice from behind pulled Mahin out of her reverie as she turned around, the familiar face of a colleague putting her heart a little at ease. "Never thought I'd see you here."

"It's just my friend, she drags me to these events," Mahin answered, shaking her head to push back the memories one mention had opened. "But it's good to see you here, Mert."

"Yeah, likewise," his smile was polite and professional, the same one she was used to seeing in office all day. "You look ravishing, though."

"Thank you," Mahin replied politely. "What brings you here?"

"I'm here on behalf of a client. Mr. Alkan, you know?" Mert said and Mahin nodded her head in understanding.

"Oh, yeah. The art collector." She said, uttering the name of the person she was had just reached a settlement for.

"Yeah, he wanted a few items. Guessed that the demand would be high so he requested that I make it here tonight." Mert explained, in what Mahin deduced, was a reserved description for she knew as well as he did that Mr. Alkan wouldn't have requested.

"He wants this one." Mert added, motioning towards the painting Mahin stood behind and that made the black-haired woman turn and finally notice the art.

What was painted before her was an autumn day in a bustling, old city, from a far-off view of some mountain. Mahin was never an art admirer but the painting really was striking – be it the colors of the day or the expressions she could so easily see on every face – the painting was ethereal. Scattering her gaze, she attempted to find the signature of the artist and it wasn't hard to locate either.

Signed at the bottom-right corner with an intricate Persian word she couldn't quite understand, Mahin admired the painting once more. Maybe this one belonged to the artist Alara had been talking about, the Persian signature on a painting of a man belonging to her middle-eastern country. If it was, Alara hadn't been bragging his talent.

"He has a good eye," Mahin commented, turning to face her colleague. "It's the only one that has caught my eye, honestly. No wonder so many people are looking."

"Yeah, an absolute masterpiece," Mert agreed, obviously knowing a lot more about art than Mahin did. "It's all about the simplicity in this one and yet every stroke is an added detail. Pure joy."

Just then, when Mahin was beginning to ask the price, a commotion erupted behind her, causing a startled gasp to leave her lips as she turned. Mert's own eyes widening infinitesimally as he followed her vision, just as silence fell on the room for a second too long before hushed whispers and excited talks pierced through it once again.

Turning over her shoulder, Mahin peered across the room in confusion, meeting only with backs of the people who seemed to gather around someone. Puzzled, Mahin turned to her colleague to find him looking at the same commotion – his eyes although filled with panic and excitement.

"What's wrong?" Mahin asked, turning to look once more at the gathered crowd.

"I...I have to go, Mahin. I'll catch up with you later..." Mert hurriedly added, dashing past her into the sea of people whose energy cracked the roof at the very moment.

I should find Alara.

With that thought in mind, Mahin circled the audience but with so many people huddled together, the task at hand was impossible so it wasn't long before she was giving up and making her way to the counter, in desperate need of some water. Maybe the artist Alara was mentioning had come, Mahin mused. And judging by the reaction he had managed to evoke from the people, he really was a royalty.

Half an hour later and only when the crowd had started to disperse a little, did she vacate her seat and attempted to find her best friend again, plotting her murder with every step. This time, however, luck was by her side and her brown eyes registered her friend walking – no, skipping – to her, with absolute joy resting on her face.

"Mahin!" The excited cry of her best friend made a smile spread on Mahin's lips as she shook her head, dropping the murder intents for some other time.

"Your artist came?" Mahin asked, smiling.

"Yeah, and man, he's perfect. God bless those Persian genes," Alara sighed and Mahin only chuckled. "Come, I'll introduce you to him."

"At least tell me who he is now." Mahin said, all the while being dragged by her energetic friend towards a crowd.

"I thought you would have guessed by now." Alara laughed, her energy too vibrant right now for Mahin to compete with

"Does this look like the face of someone who had guessed?" Mahin asked, Alara's contagious smile and energy rubbing off on her.

"No, this looks like the face of someone whose world is about to get rocked."

"Tell me by now, Al." Mahin said, the crowd around the man in question in hearing distance now when Alara stopped.

"Dameer Esfendyar al-Badr." Alara said, the grin on her face wide, and the whole world around Mahin Arsalan shook.

Coming to a sudden halt with heart in her mouth, the smile from her face slipped, beginning to be replaced by horror – absolute, sheer, mortifying horror. In that moment, her heart refused to pump blood, instead pumping agony and pain through the vessels which bled profusely.

"I knew you'd be surprised. Meeting the royalty of your country should be..." Alara was saying something but the only thing Mahin could register was that name.

Dameer.

Meer.

Her Meer.

He was here. Two feet away from her. After a decade. Khodaya!

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... and he's here.

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till next time,
salam.