"Love is like a fathomless trench, Shabnam. Once you dive in, there's no rescue, no return. You have to obey the trench where it takes you." Yusuf as Rehman whispered in Faajal's ear, who played Shabnam, gliding a thumb down her hand. "And I am a victim of this whirlpool. It has sucked me in, only to fracture me later." His words trembled as he gulped down tears. Shabnam jostled in denial. "If Allah wills, our love won't go in vain, Rehman!" She clutched his wrist, locking her gaze with his glossy one.

Their first lead roles were in a movie named 'Dastan-e-mayoosi' was a tragic romantic tale revolving around Rehman, a needy poet appointed as the tutor of his lover's younger sister and Shabnam, the hopeless girl who fell for the dainty couplets he weaved.

"CUT!" Asad yelled to the speaker in his hold. "You two step down, now! Others will shoot here!"

Yusuf and Faajal walked afar, followed by Ravinder's narrow stare. Faajal stiffened uncomfortably. Since they commenced shooting, her distress lingered about delivering the intimate scenes with Yusuf. She had no concerns playing with him, but when your baba is watching constantly, you couldn't help writhing tentatively. But she was grateful for the unexpected space she received from Ravinder. At least, he allowed Yusuf in his sight.

Yusuf and Faajal perched on chairs near the set. He fetched his bag and brought out a postcard and pen.

"Whom are you writing to?" Faajal asked.

He unleashed a sullen sigh. "Ammi. She sent a telegram again yesterday. Abbu asked of me. I don't know what to do, Faajal. My brothers are still in school. Shifting here would make a sudden change in their studies."

Faajal pursed her lips. Their studies were hinged on Arabic, Persian and Urdu mainly, unlike here. She knew as Meher attended a secondary school. Meher's study was based on mostly Hindu culture. Partition wasn't even announced, and people already started splitting into two clans- Muslim and other religions. Other religions meant Hindu and Sikh. Muslims settled in Pakistan and Hindus, and Sikhs settled here. Britishers were fleeing, ending the government of 200 years, only to cause a civil war. People were blind to see their foremost identity— Indian. They warred among themselves in the name of religion and race!

"The shooting will take estimatedly, 3 weeks. You should immediately head out after that. Convince them of your plans." She slid her hand into his. He finished scrawling and inserted the postcard into an envelope. "If I don't return, find another boy, then," His mouth quirked in a wry grin. She swerved his earlobe. "I will bring you back like this, if you don't return."

"Why have I fallen in love with someone like you?" He tutted in mock disappointment. "Pran calls you, my Laila. But, Laila never hit Qais like you do." He sulked.

"People like you deserve someone like me to teach you lessons for the mischief you cause. You—" She was to spit another lash when Asad's call echoed in their way. She threw a glare his way before they walked to Asad.

"I have got a schedule to attend, now. So, your scenes will be filmed after lunch. Then, we will directly shoot till the end of part 2, okay?"

"So, we are free for now?" Yusuf excitedly questioned.

"No, go revise your scripts." Asad instructed tersely, deepening the space between his brows. Long gone was the youth they had met in Devika Rani's office. Asad was a dedicated novice, craving for a solid title in the film industry. His devotion towards his work not only entranced others with swiftness, it also drove him to unexpected sternness sometimes.

Yusuf swirled his eyes and returned to his designated room. One and a half hour was left until lunchtime, meaning they would be idle till the rest of noon. Faajal glanced at Ravinder, assuring her path was clear to accompany Yusuf, but Ravinder stared back and beckoned her near him. He seemed taut with a mask of vexation.

"I will head for Chandigarh in an hour. Your uncle called me. Tejo's marriage has been fixed." He muttered, pulling her closer.

"Then, who will be here with me?"

"Your ma is coming. Be good and disciplined till I return. I don't want to hear any complaints that you fled from work to waste time with that boy. I shall return, maybe a few days later. So, never cross a line, just because you're given a bit of freedom." He thundered against her ear, sizzling her temper. How dare he assume she should be grateful because he approved of their relationship? Faajal nodded without words. At least, the burden on her chest would lighten for the days he wouldn't be here.

10 minutes later, Gurbani emerged, wobbling nervously. Anyone would for their first time, in a highly-equipped studio. Ravinder lectured her on the rules Faajal was to follow and left.

"MA!!" Faajal squealed, hopping on her feet.

"Shh, everyone is watching. Let's talk in your room."

Faajal dragged Gurbani to her room. "Here's my room, jaan-e-jaana!" Faajal curved in a graceful bow to Gurbani, unfurling her arms to her sides. "Welcome to Madhu's room. Kya pienge? Chai? Coffee?" She plopped beside her mother. [What would you like? tea? Coffee?] Gurbani smiled, a sheen of pride and bewitchment glazed in her almond eyes. "Yeh kamra toh hamare ghar ke kamre se bhi bada hain." [This room is bigger than our own room.] Gurbani rotated her gaze across the room. For artists, it wasn't considered spacious. But, for someone leaving with limited means, it was large with good ventilation.

Faajal removed the curtains of the window, letting sunlight filter through and showcase the magnificent view of the backyard garden. Faajal hauled Gurbani to the window. "You see these chameli trees. They bloom in massive packs, and the scent is so strong that even from the street you can smell it! Sometimes, I even pick some from here." She chirped, gesturing towards the thicket of trees. Tiny white flowers either blossomed on the branches or rested on the ground carelessly.

"Stealing is bad, Faajal," Gurbani warned, though her tone was tender.

"I stole because Yusuf loves them."

"Arrey, huh, Yusuf kaha hain? Uss din ke baad mulakat hi nahi hui." [Arrey, where is Yusuf? We haven't met since that day.]

"Yehi hain. Shayad kucch drawing-vawing bana raha hoga." Faajal and Gurbani strode to Yusuf's room, but it was locked. [He is here. Maybe drawing something.] "Shayad araam kar raha hoga. Chaal abh pareshan nahi karte. Badme mil lugi main." [Maybe he is resting. Let's not bother him. We shall meet later.]

"Arreyy, badme kyu?" Faajal whined and pounded on his door. [Arreyy, why later?] "OYE! Khol darwaza!" She continued banging despite Gurbani's insistence to halt. [OYE, open the door!]

The door clicked open, revealing Yusuf from inside. His gaze widened as he caught Gurbani smiling beside Faajal. "Aunty ji?! Aaiye aaiye," He backed to let them enter. [Anty? Please come.]

"How are you doing, beta? Long time since I met you at the hospital." Gurbani sat on a sofa. Faajal rummaged through the sketchbook he had been working on. An unfinished depiction of a heart remained on the latest page, flowers bloomed from it. His skills were quiet yet graceful like an aged artist, leaden by the childhood passion for drawing. Faajal had seen many of his sketches, doodles, and ink works—the subjects simple yet carried a poignant sense.

Her fingers trailed onto the pencils and charcoals while Yusuf and Gurbani chattered on matters. When Faajal was to pick up a pencil to examine her gaze fell on the handkerchief stashed beneath his pencil bag. She peeked around to ensure their attention wasn't on her and dragged it out. Crimson sprays of red sprinkled all over the white handkerchief. A shiver sank into her stomach. It was blood. Dread strangled her to voice out a question to him. Was he alright? When did he get hurt?

Faajal awaited their conversation to halt, having little interest in gossiping. "Yusuf, aaj tu hamare yahan khana khane keliye aaja. Vaise tera....uncle bhi aaj nahi hain." Gurbani offered. [Yusuf, come eat at our place today. Besides... your uncle isn't home either.]

Yusuf stole a glance at Faajal. "Kya hoga? Chaal." Faajal said. [What will happen? Come.] "Baba kaka ke ghar gaye hain kucch shaadi vaadi ke kaam se." [Baba has gone to uncle's house for wedding-related work.]

"Thik hain phir. Aaj hume khud se khaana nahi pakana parega." He chortled. [Alright then. At least today I won't have to cook myself.]

They finished lunch together and headed back to shooting.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Night had splashed over the Shabnam's household. Everyone was in profound slumber except for Shabnam, who paced across her room. Rehman's face only shone in her mind, not letting her rest since their last meeting. His painful dismissal of love towards her, his restraint from the potential relationship, all revolved in her head, evoking a clawing longing for him. He sheltered on the ground floor of their house for her father's kindness. Having no shelter in the city, Shabnam's father permitted Rehman to stay here.

She resolved to meet him again, in the hush of night. She jumped down two stairs at a time and galloped to his room. There he sat, beside the lustre of the candle, humming words. She knocked twice, her eyes fixated on his surreal countenance. He snapped to her, astonished to find someone late at night. "Aap? Koi taqleef hain kya?" He rose from his seat. [You? is something troubling you?]

"Aapke jhooth se bada taqleef kya ho sakta hain?" She slowly neared. [What greater pain exists than your lies?] "Itni raat mei bhi aap padhai kar rahe ho? Janne ke khwaish se yah neend nahi aa rahi?" A faint smile crept up her face. [Studying even this late at night? Is it the hunger to know that keeps sleep at bay, or sleep isn't coming to you?]

"Ek kahani padh rahe the. Ek prem dastaan." He mumbled softly. [I was reading a story. A tale of love.]

"Hume sunaenge?" She sat on his bed. [Would you tell me?]

"Aap abh jaiye. Aapke abbu bohot naraaz honge agar unhone aapko yahan dekh liya. Agar neend se uth gaye toh?" He urged. [You'd better go now. Your father would be very angry if he sees you here. What if he wakes up?]

"Chahat ke pukar ko aapne thehra diya, abh iss ko bhi na bologe?" She fetched the candle holder and lifted it between their heads. [You silenced love's call—will you now deny my request too?] The gentle cast of yellow light illuminated their faces, their eyes bore into each other, twinkling.

"Ek gaon mei do aashique rehte the. Son pari aur Jagjeet. Dono ne ek dusre se ishq ke bohot waade kiye the." His eyes turned elsewhere. [In a village once, lived two lovers—Son Pari and Jagjeet. They swore each other countless vows of love.] "Ek saath zindagi guzaar denge. Ek dusre ka haath kabhi nahi chhodenge. Phir ekdin, Son pari ne gaon chhod diya. Jagjeet ne pure gaon ko tehes nehes karke dhoonda. Par Son pari nahi aayi. Jagjeet pagal hogaya uske khoj mei. Phir ekdin paata chala, Son pari ne ek bade admi se nikaah karke sheher chaali gayi. Usne Jagjeet ke qalb ko ghayal karke chaali gayi." His voice fractured as he took the candle holder from her. ['We'll spend our lives together,' they vowed. 'Never let go of each other's hands.' Then one day, Son Pari left the village. Jagjeet turned the entire village upside down searching for her, but Son Pari never returned. He went mad in his quest. Until the day he learned the truth: she'd married a wealthy man and moved to the city. She walked away, leaving Jagjeet's heart bleeding in her shadow.]

"Phir kiya hua?" This time, Faajal spoke with her emotions churning in her heart. [Then what happened?] The way he rendered the expressions nestled a poignant sense of heaviness in her. She let her eyes put on a gloss of tears, to bring out the fitted expression.

"Son pari hamesha keliye chaali gayi aur Jagjeet aapne ishq ke toote tukro mei aapne marg likhli." Rehman's palm smothered the crest of flame in his hand. The flame dabbed into a wisp of smoke. [Son Pari left forever—and Jagjeet carved his path through the shattered fragments of his love.]

Faajal could notice the hiss of pang from Yusuf's palm, given his vile experience with fire. But that didn't make the slightest change in his expression.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

At night,

Gurbani rapped on the door. Yusuf and Faajal stood behind. "Saira?! Harleen?!" She pounded on the door furiously, having waited for minutes without response. Finally, the door clicked open, revealing Meher.

"Itni der kyu lagi tujhe?" Gurbani wheezed, stepping inside.[Why it took you so long?]  Yusuf relucted to enter but Faajal assured him. He perched on the sofa when Chanchal scrambled to the spot. "Oh my!" She gasped, widening her eyes.

Yusuf cast a smile at her and glanced at Faajal, questioning with his eyes if it was Chanchal. She nodded with a grin. "She is the reckless girl."

"Aap se mil ke hum toh fidaa hogaye." Chanchal moaned playfully, swerving on her toes. [Meeting you has utterly ruined me.] "Behena ke khaat aur boli se jaanti thi, aap koi afsaane ke shehzade honge. Par aap toh mere khayalon se bhi jyda khubsoorat nikle." [Your letter's ink and words hinted you were some prince from a fable—but you've turned out fairer than even my dreams.]

"Itni tareef karne keliye shukriya. Aapke didi ne jaisa kahan tha, aap so usse bhi jyda chulbuli hain." He flared a teasing politeness. [Thank you for such praise. Though as your sister warned—you're even more mischievous than she claimed!]

"Chaalo tum log baatein karo, main aati hu." Faajal strode to her room. [You guys talk, I am going now.] Removing clothes and freshening up, she gave a Gurbani a hand to prepare dinner. Gurbani hastily stirred rice in a pan, glazing it with a spoonful of ghee. Faajal warmed up the vegetable curry and daal from lunch and kept the pot of yoghurt Gurbani had bought on the way secretly inside the fridge. Minutes later, Harleen joined them in making salad and set the table.

Faajal placed the bowl of curry on the table and trailed to the living room to check if Yusuf was alive from the endless blabbering of Chanchal and Meher. "Jab se aap aaye hain tabh se hamari daam kat gayi." Chanchal's voice echoed. Faajal paused her walk and hid behind a wall to hear the full thing. [Since you came, my value has decreased.]

"Lo, maine phirse kya kiya hain?" [What did I do again?]

"Pehle toh di ke munh se sirf hamara naam mikalta tha. Jab se aap aaye hain, tabh se bas unke hoto mei ek hi naam hain 'Yusuf, Yusuf'. Khwabon pe bhi aap hi ka raj hain." Chanchal mocked. [Once, only my name passed my sister's lips. Since you came, her whispers chant just 'Yusuf, Yusuf.' Even her dreams bow to your reign.]

Faajal stomped inside the hall. "Jyda zubaan chalana acchi baat nahi hain! Ma tujhe bula rahi hain. Dekkhe aa!" She roared, startling them. Chanchal hurried off, tittering. [Running that mouth too much isn't good! Ma's calling you—go see what she wants!] Faajal swerved her glare to Meher. "Tujhe bhi–" The youngest dashed out behind Chanchal. [You too,]

"You shouldn't have chided them. They were fun!" Yusuf wheezed, moving aside for her seat.

"At least, better than my elders. By the way–" She was to question about the bloodied handkerchief, but Gurbani's call punctured in.

They walked to the dining room where a strong fragrance of desi ghee wafted around, along with the spicy flavour of curries. Saira adjusted the chairs while Chanchal arranged the plates. "This many things! I wouldn't have pained you all had I known this-"

"It's nothing at all, Yusuf. Wash your hands and begin your dinner." Gurbani said.

They sat at the table. Gurbani insisted she ate later, but couldn't spurn Yusuf's request.

"This is so good! Like the dishes ammi used to make." Yusuf chewed on sizzled carrots.

"Think it your home, baccha." Gurbani smiled.

Chanchal jabbed Faajal on the knee, leaning nearer to her ear. "Di, dekho ma kaise aapne hone waale damad ko abhi se hi kitni khatirdaari kar rahi hain?" [Look how Ma's already coddling her future son-in-law—and he's not even married into the family yet!]

Faajal huffed at her. Meher offered him a spoonful of each dish. "Arrey le bhi lo, bhaiya. Roz aise khaate ho kya?" [Arrey, take it, brother. Do you eat like this every day?]

"Itna khaunga toh phul jaunga." he chortled. [If I take this much, I will explode.]

"Itna sa khaane se kya hoga? Tumhara husn toh vaise hi mashallah hain." Saira frowned, picking a glimpse of Faajal. [What will this tiny bite do? Your beauty's already blessed as it is.] "Hamari behena bohot khush nasseb hain." Her mouth angled up in such a way that churned Faajal's stomach. [My sister is truly blessed.] The one who carried a thread of envy towards her now praised Yusuf. Till the rest of the dinner, loud chirpings revolved across the table. Everyone laughed at his jokes and learned about his familiar background.

"Do it as fast as you can. House rents are hiking fast." Harleen suggested as he revealed his plans to shift his family here.

They finished their desserts and gossiped more till the clock hit 10 of night. "I must go, now. Thank you for the amazing feast!"

"Come again soon. We had a great time with you!" Meher piped up, bouncing on her feet. Being the youngest in the family, she was mischievous and often played pranks in the unlikeliest of situations. Chanchal was her sole company. But, as Chanchal stepped into adolescence, she lacked the dose of naughtiness Meher demanded for her partner. Tonight, Yusuf truly had filled that gap.

After everyone bid farewell, Yusuf dragged Faajal outside the gateway. "The day after tomorrow is Sunday, and a fair will be held at Shivaji Park. Will you come?"

"Uhmm, but tickets? I heard you had to grab them a week before."

"I have them. Pran gave me as he couldn't go with his other friend."

"Only us? Alone?" She furrowed a line between her brows.

"Come on, we are adults." He moaned. "I will wait for you by 5." 

A/N: The fair moments will have a separate chapter because it will be so fun! Stay tuned, loveliess and if you loved, please don't be silent reader. Show your love by voting and commenting.