Faajal convulsed on the threshold. Breaths hit the base of her throat. A stilted silence pounded the air between her and Yusuf like a haunting reminder of what was about to be torn apart now. Yusuf's wide eyes were sealed to hers. Glints of disbelief shrouded them. The bright blue of his irises abated to a lifeless grey.

"Faajal," Her name on his lips rang like an omen. His feet advanced in brief, deliberate steps. The rosiness of his cheeks burned to crimson. "Tell me."

Faajal crumpled the aanchal of her saree between her fingers. Courage was running scarce in her chest. If she revealed everything, Yusuf would instantly confront Ravinder. And, his confrontation with Ravinder meant the end of the world. Faajal would not let Ravinder torture Gurbani again. Not till she remained alive.

She licked her lips, her body taut against the cool wall.

"Answer me, Faajal!"

Faajal flinched back. Her breath caught in her nose. Her lips pressed together to stop their trembling. "You would not understand, Yusuf. Not now." Her voice was strained. A crushing weight dropped on her chest.

His feet stamped a step forward. "What? What I would not understand?" Yusuf gritted out. His stare sought behind her eyes, trying to pry out the truth.

Faajal's fingers balled into a fist, her knuckles whitening. "I would have told you everything after this shooting ended. After our marriage."

"Marriage?" His mouth angled up in a sour laugh. "What is that? The thing your damn father has been postponing for ages?!"

Faajal stayed silent. Hush thrummed in the room before Yusuf started, "Why? WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THAT..." 2 drops of tears glistened down his cheeks. "That you were...pregnant?" A broken whisper heavy with tears.

Hot tears twinged the back of Faajal's eyes. She did hide the matter from him—but to protect him, to protect their relationship, to protect her ma and her sister. Her tone steadied, though her inside was an irreversible web of regret and blame. "I wanted to. I tried to. But I was forced. Believe me, Yusuf," She subtly cocked her head. "I begged him. For some time. For you to come. But, he didn't listen."

Yusuf's nose scrunched in plain disgust. "Did he ever listen to you? Did you ever try to come out of his grip?!" Yusuf crimped the clinical report with his grip. Blue veins emerged on his hand. "When, when did you find out about...." Yusuf choked. "Our baby?"

Faajal blinked back tears. Pieces of the day flooded her head when her palms had rested on the life in her womb. "The day you told me about the baby frock."

Yusuf staggered back. His eyes bulged as if he had been kicked in the gut. Silence took over them again, thicker and ghastlier. Gooseflesh scattered Faajal's skin. Tears obscured her sight.

"You could have told me on the telephone!" Yusuf grunted, his jaw hard as iron.

"I wanted to wait! I wanted to see your face. Because it's..." Faajal drew in a sharp breath. "It was a life! I wanted to reveal to you when you were to arrive! I wanted to share the news with you first!"

"But, you didn't!" His tears now melded into a river. "You didn't! You destroyed the life all by yourself! And, you didn't even bother to inform me! For God's sake, I AM THE FATHER, FAAJAL!"

His accusation stung. His anger was righteous, but his allegation wasn't. Not when she had been the immediate casualty of Ravinder's temerity. Not when she had tried her utmost to prevent the abortion. "Then, what was I?" Faajal growled back, her heels clacking against the floor. "What was I, Yusuf?" Her throat broke into a sob. "I held it." Hiccups jumped from her throat. Yusuf stilled, his face too pale.

Silence thickened again, the echo of Faajal's cry droning across the walls. "He, he beat ma. He thrashed her against the staircase! He smashed a vase on her knee!" Faajal gasped, tears streaking 2 faint lines on her face. Each fit of weep raked through her chest with feral force. "I told him that I wanted to tell you. But, he didn't–" She sniffled, her throat aching. "He didn't listen. He threatened to kill ma!"

"Then, why did you hide this?" He was inches away now. His frantic breaths collided on her temple. "After the–" He gulped. "After everything happened, you could have told me!"

"What would you have done? Confront Ravinder? He would have murdered my ma!"

"This is the same story I have been hearing for the past decade! The same excuses, the same silence, the same chains Ravinder ties around us!" Yusuf spat, thrashing his arms. "Don't confront Ravinder! Don't confront Ravinder? WHY?! Because he will torture us to death! He will do this! He will do that! Just once could you protest against him! But, you don't! You let him do everything! You cower behind! You never TRY!"

"Do you think all of this is a pretence?! Me fighting every day to safekeep you, our relationship?! Fulfilling that man's greed to put a roof on my family's head?! You think it's so easy, Yusuf?!" Faajal snarled, her spine straight as steel. "It has never been easy! Not after all these years!"

"But, it was easy for you to reject me?! Despite knowing you loved me?!" Yusuf bitterly snorted. "I would not have sent that letter on your birthday if I hadn't seen that longing in your eyes! I would not have bared my heart to you if I didn't see a mirror of my feelings in you! That night of 1944, Faajal Kaur," He stepped close. "You read my letter! You learnt my feelings! You knew you loved me, too! Yet, you? You sent me your damn letter! You lied to me! You told me you never loved me! For WHAT? FOR YOUR FAMILY?!" He shrieked, "Let me ask you one thing: Am I of any worth to you?!"

Faajal breathed, shock bolting through her at his question. "If you hadn't been of any worth to me, would I have run to you?! Would I have searched for you?! Would I have screamed my heart out to you?! Would I have bared my soul to you?!" She gripped his collar. "Tell me, Yusuf! After all I have done for this relationship, is your accusation what I DESERVE?!

"Then, why?" Yusuf wailed, shaking her by her elbows. "Then, why didn't you tell me? Why?! Don't you trust me?! We would have faced everything together! I had equal rights for the child just like you!"

"Ravinder told me not to!" Faajal mewled.

"And, you let him carry on his sins?" Yusuf's chest rose and fell violently. "If you have fought for this relationship, then I also did! I pulled you to secret corners, so we could meet again! Did your damn baba jump in the fire? I DID! Didn't I cancel my marriage and shift my entire family to be with you?! I defied every barrier people had warned me about: religion, country, families, EVERYTHING! Yet, you betrayed me. You broke my trust."

"If you don't understand, I have nothing else to say." Faajal snapped her head to a side, her cheeks scorching. "You would not understand what my ma went through."

"Of course! You seem to understand me too well." Yusuf's words dimmed to a chilling whisper. His gaze was nowhere near the one he always bore. "You seem to understand how I live with heart disease! How I pass each second! How," He panted as if he were short of breath. "How I go through the pain, still smiling every time. You will not know, Faajal. You will not. Because all you care about is your FAMILY!"

"I care about both! I loved you the day we met for the first time, I loved you when we were apart, I loved you in every second I lived, I love you still, and I will love you until I die!"

"THEN, LEAVE RAVINDER!" Yusuf pulled her closer, their eyes entwining. "Leave him, and come with me!"

Faajal shirked off his grip. "No, no, ma will not leave him, and I am not leaving without her!"

Yusuf raised his brow. "I knew. I knew." His palm crept to his chest. "Because you don't care about me anymore. You didn't care about our baby. All you care about is your family! Never me! You can not be like Chanchal! Never! Because you know, no matter what, I will stick to you!"

Faajal felt her fists tighten. Boiling blood rushed to her head.

"I see, Faajal." His voice was flat and final. "You don't love me anymore—" 

Faajal's palm soared to his cheek and collided against his soft skin. His neck cracked aside. A red imprint flared on his cheek, red and livid. Glossy beads tumbled on his eyelids. Faajal's hand fell down, her fingers drooping. She could not discern what she had done, only that agony and fury had commanded her body.

The door of the cupboard creaked. The clock ticked in a stark rhythm. The faint thrum of the slap still rang in her ears. The room stilled, as if the air had numbed.

Yusuf turned to her slowly. His face was devoid of emotion. His pallor resembled a corpse's. He shivered like the last petal of a flower, soon to die in winter. Crimson lines glided down his nose.

Something in him had vanished, like a lamp snuffed by fingers.

He eyed her one last time before stomping out of the room, leaving her in the ghost of her stinging palm.

5 minutes passed. The watchmen appeared by the door. "Mam sahab, the party?"

Faajal dabbed at the corner of her eyes. A tiny speck of mascara marked her fingertip.

"The car is outside, but sahab has left."

Faajal bit her lip. After all this, if he left without her, it would be no surprise. "I am coming."

The watchman left. He must have heard their cries earlier.

She trotted to the Ferrari and curled her hands around the steering wheel. Inhaling, she started for Mehboob Khan's mansion.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

When she entered the mansion, grim faces greeted her, instead of gaiety. She had expected open laughter and the buzz of a sparkling crowd. But rather, flat silence and a sense of dismay clung to the gathering. Anxious eyes were exchanged when Faajal arrived, some whispering into each other's ears.

Faajal scanned the enormous living room for Ravinder, assuming him to be at Mehboob Khan's side. But he was nowhere.

"You are late," Nimmi wove through the crowd, her expression nervous.

Faajal blinked, trying to grasp the reason behind this unsettling calmness. "What happened here?"

Nimmi stepped aside to reveal a view of a broken glass on the maroon carpet.

Mehboob Khan descended from the top floor, a cocktail glass in his hand. He spoke, his mouth tight, "An unfortunate occurrence has happened here, Madhu. I am afraid we should talk in private."

Faajal followed him upstairs, her pulse bouncing. Mehboob Khan led her to a balcony that overlooked acres of flower garden and an artificial fountain.

He cleared his throat and heaved a sigh. "Madhu, it is crucial for you to take over the conflict between Karan Mishra and your father."

Faajal lowered her gaze; her neck hardened.

Mehboob Khan continued, "Karan Mishra mentioned the issue of Ganga Jamuna just an hour ago. Your father heard it and they broke up a big fight. Though I don't blame your father." He rolled his eyes. "Who would have known a reputed director like Karan Mishra would work with a mere studio like..." He tried to subdue the disapproval on his face. "Sunset. Nevertheless, the party ends here. Take rest."

A moment later, Faajal muttered, "I apologize for what happened at your party, on behalf of my father."

"He was at no fault, I am afraid." Mehboob toyed with the cocktail glass. "Karan Mishra was insensible in his actions. By the way," He wiggled his brows. "Where's Raj?"

Faajal flicked her gaze to Mehboob Khan's, her pupils dilating at the name. She forced a half-smile. "He said he wasn't feeling very well." A lie, a dire lie. Faajal herself didn't know where he was. How he was.

"I see." Mehboob Khan smirked.

"Mr Khan, I shall take my leave." Faajal tramped to the exit, totally tired.

Reaching home, she caught Ravinder barking at a lawyer in the living room. A vein pulsed in his temple. He continuously slammed his fist into the armrest of the sofa. His nostrils were flared.

His focus snapped to her. "You are not filming Ganga Jamuna!"

Faajal stood like a statue, drained of any response. All she wanted now was to retreat to her room and relish the comfort of the moonlight.

Her gaze roved to the files cluttering the sofa and the coffee table. "Karan Mishra will know what it is like to plot against me!"

Faajal's eyes narrowed. "What will you do?" His intention better not be the one she was musing.

"I am filing a suit against Mishra for harassment!" He picked a paper; ugly hunger glinted in his visage.

Faajal stepped back, her breath hitching. "Don't! You can't twist lies into truths and falsely accuse someone!"

"I don't need you to teach me, girl! Your career is a fruit of my guidance."

Faajal treaded forward, her glare trained on him. "Then, I am not paying the price of your ego." She returned to her room and slammed the door, blocking the skirmishes of the outside world.

The moon cast a long streak on the floor. Her back leaned against the door and slid down. She wanted to escape the mesh of peril and live somewhere alone, where none could reach her and slice her heart into ribbons.

His words flooded back into her mind.

"This is the same story I have been hearing for the past decade! The same excuses, the same silence, the same chains Ravinder ties around us!" Yusuf spat, thrashing his arms. "Don't confront Ravinder! Don't confront Ravinder? WHY?! Because he will torture us to death! He will do this! He will do that! Just once could you protest against him! But, you don't! You let him do everything! You cower behind! You never TRY!"

"Yes, I never try," Faajal whispered to the memory, lacing her arms around her middle. "I tried to protect you, Yusuf. But, you didn't even try to understand me."

She closed her eyes and let the hum of crickets and rustle of leaves lull her.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Morning light pooled in the room. Someone shook her hand. "Di! Di!"

Faajal struggled to lift her eyelids. "Di!" Meher pleaded, shaking more violently. Faajal propped on her palms. "What?"

Meher nibbled on her lip, swallowing. She handed the elder a newspaper.

There, Faajal stood in the middle as the female lead of Ganga Jamuna. Yusuf and other supporting characters' faces hung above in vivid brushstrokes. Below her picture were the cast's names. And, a huge red cross slashed over Madhu Sharma. Shakuntala's name was under it.

The newspaper slipped from her clutch, thudding against the floor. The thunder was no longer confined to the house. It was exposed to every eye that read the newspaper.

Sunset Studio was quieter today. Timid faces roamed the set of 'Deewar-e-Ishq'. Even Feroz himself seemed more restrained.

Faajal strode to her room and sat down with the script. She could not mourn over the loss of a project that had already been tormenting her. She had to proceed to whatever future had planned for her.

She drowned herself in the forbidden intimacy of Nurjahan and Mahtab, repeating Nurjahan's lines like her own longing. An hour later, the makeup artist arrived. Faajal pulled over her artistic facet.

After getting ready in a black kameez and Nurjahan's quiet resolution, she walked to the set. There, Yusuf kneeled at a marbled corner, wearing the melancholic disposition of Mahtab. He didn't even eye her from the corner of his orbs.

The shell around Faajal's heart cracked. Her chest swelled with ailing memories.

"For every line we ever spoke, for every scene survived.....I want our story to outlive every reel, every poster....I want us to write an ending together......." His throat worked violently. Gone was his exuberant manner. Instead, Faajal was witnessing a humanoid incarnation of paradise. He looked too pristine now. Sincerity draped his expression. "Faajal Kaur, will you be my mehbooba forever?"

The promise of forever now dangled in uncertainty. How would they find their way back? How would they keep their vow of eternity?

Nurjahan trudged to the garden, where Mahtab leaned over a small podium. A candle danced in his grip.

The tangled song of Nurjahan's payals woke Mahtab from his musing. He stood up. "Saheba-e-Alam?"

"Saheba-e-Alaam nahi. Nurjahan." [Not the Lady of the World. Nurjahan.]

Nurjahan drifted closer. "Tum bas yeh tamasha dekhte rahe. Isiliye chhaya ke sahare hum idhar aaye hain, Mahtab." [You only kept watching the spectacle. That is why, under the cover of shadows, I have come here, Mahtab.]

"Aftaab ki roshni duniya ke har kone mein jaati hain. Khud aftaab ko kyu aana hain?" [The sunlight reaches every corner of the world. Why must the sun itself come?]

"Kyuki yeh shehzadi dekhna chahti thi ki uska Mahtab kyu usse door door rehta hain." [Because this princess wished to see why her Mahtab keeps so distant from her.]

Mahtab lowered his head, acute vulnerability in his eyes."Khuda keliye shehzadi ka koi ruswa na kijiye. Aap aka hain, aur main agha." [For God's sake, do not bring any disgrace upon the princess. You are the master, and I am but a servant.]

The candle cast an amber circle of light on their faces. Nurjahan murmured, "Main yeh mahal aur basti ka deewar gira dena chahti hu." ["I want to tear down this wall between the palace and the people.]

"Baith jao, Mahtab." [Sit down, Mahtab.]

Nurjahan led him to the podium and took the candle from him. Gloom shrouded his moon-kissed face, but his blue eyes twinkled at her. Nurjahan wrapped a hand around his wrist. "Main tumhare aankhon mein mohabbat ka sitara dekhna chahti hu." [I wish to behold the star of love in your eyes.] She raised the crest of the candle to his face again.

Mahtab's palm loomed over the candle. "Inhe na dekhiye, shehzadi. Inn mein ek agha ki sehmi hui hazrat ke sivay kucch nahi hain." [Gaze not upon them, Princess. Within these rests only the fearful soul of a humble servant.]

Nurjahan inched closer, her breath mingling with his."Bhul jao ki tum ek agha ho. Aur Nurjahan ko tumhare chasm mein woh dekhne do jo tumhara zuban kehte huye darta hain." [Forget that you are a servant. And let Nurjahan see in your eyes what your tongue fears to say.]

Tears glimmered in Mahtab's eyes. "Ek agha se uske ankhon ka khwab maat chiniye, shehzadi." [Do not take away the dream from a servant's eyes, Princess.]

He snuffed the candle with his palm. "Yeh agha mar jayega." [This servant will die.]

Dismay fell again, and Nurjahan flinched. "Mahtab, main inn khwabon ko haqeeqat mein badal dungi." [Mahtab, I shall breathe life into these dreams and make them real.]

Mahtab nearly dropped his head, his throat shaking. Suddenly, footsteps punctured the hush. Mahtab recoiled and gasped. "Shehzadi, koi aa raha hain! Aap abh jaiye." [Princess, somebody is coming. Please go now.]

"Aane do use." [Let them come.]

Mahtab held her hand. "Yeh agha aapka firaq bardash kar lega, aapka ruswai nahi!" [This servant can endure your separation, but not your dishonour!]

Nurjahan sighed and left, unknown to the keen eye that watched the conversation.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Eventide fell. Shadows crept to the sky. An unusual stillness had thickened in the air. Hinting eye contact and barely audible whispers flowed throughout Sunset Studio. Faajal packed her belongings for departure. There was none she would gossip with anymore. None to share her words with anymore.

She switched off the air conditioner of her room and slung her bag over her shoulder when a rapid knock on the door startled her.

She opened the door, and Feroz breathed. "Yusuf is calling for us."

"What?" Faajal furrowed her brows. Ice slithered into her stomach.

"He is calling for us in his room. Privately." Feroz cracked his knuckles.

Perspiration damped her brows. She had no idea whether Yusuf was proposing a reconciliation or something entirely different.

Faajal walked to Yusuf's private chamber, her expression blank. Feroz grasped the knob of the door, glancing at Faajal and nudged the door open.

Yusuf stood in front of the huge window pane of his room, his hands crossed behind him. The pale blue radiance of dusk coated his face.

Feroz broke the silence. "Yusuf."

Yusuf turned to them, his face blank. No starry smiles to kindle the room. No mischief-brimmed eyes to lighten the mood. Just a being of flesh and bones that resembled the earlier man.

Yusuf gestured to Feroz to sit nearby and loomed to Faajal. His shadow lengthened over her. He paused when they were inches apart, their frames close yet restrained.

A lock of her hair brushed his chin. Something ineffable crossed his orbs—part yearning, part anguish. Her heart longed to relish the buoyant chuckle of his lips. But her mind forbade her from reading too much into his expression. Her heart blanched in dismay.

Yusuf drew in a large breath, squeezing his eyes shut. "After 15 years, we deserve a life together, free of forbiddance and fear. A life that doesn't have the dread of getting caught or crossing boundaries. A life that just has you and me, together. Like any other couple." He struggled to let the words out, his pupils quivering.

A minute ticked by wordlessly. Then, Yusuf continued, "I have a qazi ready, Faajal. Let's seal our destinies together. Before the witness of Feroz, let's go and," He seized her arms. Hope sparkled in his orbs.

"And?" Faajal whispered, holding his gaze.

"Marry." A corner of Yusuf's lips quirked up—a desperate plea. The word hung in the air like thick fog. Faajal inhaled, her heart pounding.

He was too close to her now, his nose hovering over her temple. Twinkles splayed in those eyes. He was almost back to his former self, but a sense of sorrow had clouded him now.

Faajal's limbs slackened. She wanted to give in to his pleas and feel the clemency of his arms. She wanted to use the chance offered to her and elope, leaving a scarred past in oblivion. But, the past contained her ma and sister. They would be the victims of Ravinder's sadism.

If they eloped, they would have a life like Pran and Chanchal. She would not have to suppress her love for Yusuf. They would be together, withering with age. Yet, their love would be intact. They would look back to their past and bask in the memories. What a life that would be!

Faajal stared at Yusuf, but her mind was on the reverie. Yusuf licked his lips, his chest heaving shallow breaths.

She huffed in defeat. "I can't right now, Yusuf. Ravinder will torture ma and Meher."

"We will find a way! We will convince your ma to divorce him!" Yusuf pulled her closer. "Please, Faajal! It is our chance. It is now or never!" He tremored, sweat slicking the slope of his cheek.

Feroz blinked nervously and looked away for a brief moment.

"Please." Yusuf yowled.

Faajal stood still, her spine hard as steel. "It is not possible."

Her words faded into the eerie hush cloaking the room. Yusuf's hand fell to his sides.

A pang of shame attacked Faajal. She gulped to moisten her throat. Her eyes looked at the floor as she bit her inner cheek.

"Do you know what her father forced her to do?!" Yusuf grunted at Feroz. Feroz slightly flinched, still quiet.

"He, HE–" Yusuf's voice fractured. His knees buckled, and he collapsed on the floor, slapping his temple. "He ended my life, Feroz!"

Feroz hurried to Yusuf and caressed his back. "Come on, Yusuf. Get up, now."

"NO! No, Feroz! I have endured enough! I will always be second in importance to her!"

Faajal moved her gaze to her left, her orbs glassy. Her gums hurt from the gritting of her teeth. She had no option left.

"15 years! 15 years. All wasted for a single 'no'! Everything has ended, Feroz." Yusuf's glare whisked to Faajal, stabbing her with grief.

"Think again, before it is too late." He thrashed away Feroz's hand. Clasping his belongings, he stomped out of the room.

She drowned in the silence of the room, her tongue heavy and bitter.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Faajal stepped over the threshold of the bungalow when Ravinder's chilling murmurs rumbled in the living room. "Make sure he is humiliated in the worst way possible. He should be served the summons without delay."

The stout lawyer brushed back his oiled hair. "Patience, sahab. That is for the server to process." He leaned toward Ravinder's ear. "The whole city will know you mean war." A crooked grin spread on his lips.

3 days later

Faajal was riding to the studio. The Filmindia magazine was in her grip. Her eyes skimmed the front article.

The glamorous corridor of Indian cinema seems to be no longer sparkling with new releases or screen sensations. Instead, a sordid scandal is beginning to brew within the production of Ganga Jamuna. Screen goddess Madhu Sharma has allegedly filed a complaint against reputed director Karan Mishra for misconduct and grave harassment. The high court has admitted the case, and the first hearing is scheduled on May 6th. Until then, tongues sway, alliances shift, and people await the unravelling of this sensational drama.

Here she was torn between love and loyalty, and journalists were busy spicing up the matter, as if it were a spectacle.

She thrust away the magazine and folded her arms on her chest. The first hearing was 2 days away.

When she reached Sunset studios, she caught Feroz standing at the gate. His hands were shoved in his pockets. "We need to talk." Feroz led her to his office.

Faajal frowned. "What happened, Feroz?"

Feroz heaved a sigh, furrowing his brows. "Things are not turning out well. Well, yesterday..." He nibbled on his lip. "Karan Mishra has filed a counter-case against your father, I mean, you, for breaching the agreement."

Faajal could not find words to react. She wondered how many disasters awaited her in the near future. "It's over, Feroz. My career is coming to an end." Her voice was hoarse.

"No, not if you stay true, Faajal. And, there is a heavy chance you may win the case. Mehboob Khan is on your side."

"On Ravinder's side." Faajal corrected Feroz. "Will you attend the first hearing?"

"Yes. I am the studio executive after all. And, Karan Mishra needs me as a witness."

Faajal paled. Feroz would be speaking against her then. Feroz might have realized her disappointment as he consoled, "I have no option left, Faajal. I am sorry."

"It's alright, Feroz. I am used to it." Faajal left.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

"Bhai, bhai!" Suraiya scrambled to the garden where Mahtab was feeding pigeons. Mahtab gasped at her loud calls. Pigeons bounced past him.

Suraiya sulked. "Bhai, kahan kho baithe ho?" [Brother, where are you lost?]

Mahtab smiled. "Tujhe toh pata hi hain, Suraiya. Tera deewana bhai ka mann kahan rehta hain." [You already know, Suraiya, where your mad brother's heart truly resides.]

"Phir aap apke khwabon mein hi raho! Main koi fursat mein nahi hu, jo bas logon ka payam lati jaati rahu." Suraiya curled her mouth in mock rage. [Then you may stay in your dreams! I am not so free that I should keep carrying people's messages back and forth.]

Suraiya was storming out when Mahtab grabbed her wrist. "Suraiya, kya hua bolna? Unhone kya bola?" [Suraiya, why don't you speak? What words did she say?]

"Matlab ki baatein khub karte ho, bhaijaan! Chaalo main nahi batati." [You sure know selfishness, bhaijaan! Alright, I'm not telling you anything.]

Mahtab gasped, "Tujhe mera kasam, Suraiya. Varna tu mera janza uthayegi–" [I swear to you, Suraiya. Otherwise, you will be carrying my coffin–]

Suraiya pressed her palm to his lips and coyly smiled. "Woh mujhe bagh mein mile the. Mujhse puccha, ki tumhare bhaijaan kaise hain?" [I met him in the garden. She asked me how you were.]

"Tune kya kaha?" [What did you say?]

"Raat bhar so nahi paye mere bhai." [My brother could not sleep the whole night.]

Suraiya turned to Mahtab and giggled. "Phir unhone kaha ki aaj ke shaam, woh aapko bagh mein dekhna chahte hain." [Then she said that this evening, she wishes to see you in the garden.]

A shy smile lit up Mahtab's face. He kissed Suraiya's temple.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

2 days slipped by in the twinkling of an eye. Faajal sank her teeth into her knuckle as the car stopped in front of the Bombay presidential high court.

The colossal building towered proudly in the middle of an oval maidan. Its gothic arches and stained windows shimmered in the late morning sun. The corridors buzzed with chatter and anticipation. The rims of black robes rustled against the stone floor. A horde of film journalists stood ready with pen and notepad. Cameramen took positions at the sides. It looked more like a spectacle than a legal battle.

"Come on." Ravinder fixed his sunglasses in the front seat.

Faajal didn't make a move instantly. Ravinder frowned in the rear mirror. Faajal sighed and opened the door with a shaking hand.

Flashes and relentless questions flooded as Faajal finally stood before the court.

"Madhu, do you think Karan Mishra deliberately tried to sully your image?"

"What's your perception of this case?"

A journalist stumbled so close that Faajal could smell his aftershave. "Mishra claims that your father stole his money. Is it true?"

Faajal wove through the throng silently. The media had an uncanny knack for twisting things. If she even gave a single word, they would transform it into a spicy article of falsehood.

Cameras snapped as she entered the court. A female journalist piped up, "Do you fear backlash from the industry if things take a bad turn?"

Faajal's jaw tightened. Her eyes narrowed as she stated, "Today it's not about the industry, but about justice and truth."

She finally stepped into courtroom no.3. Relief loosened her nerves for escaping unbidden queries.

The spot outside the courtroom still buzzed with intrusive questions and capturing photographs.

Faajal perched on the plaintiff's bench, dread flushing through her. Ravinder joined her 30 seconds later. At their front, their lawyer, Advocate Deshmukh, took his seat with a file. He was whispering something to himself.

Others poured into the room. Some friends, some foes. Mehboob Khan was the last one to enter. Eyes spun to him as he walked to Ravinder with quiet power. His mighty presence alone could rob someone of words. A reassuring smirk tugged at his lips as he sat beside Ravinder.

"Don't worry, Faajal. Justice will be served soon." Mehboob Khan asserted to Faajal. Silent confidence oozed from him.

Karan Mishra marched into the room with his lawyer. Faajal's stomach gave a painful churn. His expression screamed ambition, a dire warning.

10 minutes later, the usher struck his staff on the floor. "Silence in court!"

Justice Rao penetrated and sat on the high bench. Lady Justice gleamed in golden, the pair of scales in her hand swung subtly. Everyone stood up. Dead hush engulfed the low chatter of the room.

Justice Rao scanned the room with a sharp glance. He leafed through papers. "Civil suit no. 211 of 1959. Faajal Kaur versus Karan Mishra for defamation. Counsel may proceed."

Advocate Deshmukh rose with a flourish and bowed. Faux dejection occupied his face. "My Lord, this case isn't about power play, but reputation, a man's true wealth. My client, Faajal Kaur–"

The door at the far end of the hall swung open. All eyes turned. Deshmukh stopped.

Yusuf walked in, his tread deliberate and slow. Yet, somehow, it was effortlessly commanding. The faint echo of his shoes wafted around the walls. The courtroom seemed to hold its breath at his presence. A sense of calm authority radiated from him. He was the utter contrast of the playful, light-hearted Yusuf Faajal loved.

His gaze paused on Faajal for a brief second, intense and surveying. Faajal stared back, realization sinking in.

He sat at Karan Mishra's side, his expression strange as if he didn't even know her.