A/N: Graphics of domestic abuse and clinical procedures ahead. It may cause unease to those who are sensitive to such.

2 months had passed. Faajal and Yusuf had to shoot 'Deewar-e-Ishq' 5 days a week, 2 more days extra. New projects had been piling up. So, Feroz had to move the shooting schedule to noon.

Faajal practised her dance steps three times in a row. They were to film the first song sequence, 'Mohe Panghat Pe.' She twitched her limbs to boost her flexibility, but silently, exhaustion was gnawing at her. For the last few days, she had been experiencing morning sickness and unpredictable fatigue. No one had noticed yet, but her frame had also bulked slightly despite rarely consuming heavy meals. A change was living inside her, but she could not name it. A while ago, Yusuf had sipped chai, and the smell of malai immediately churned her insides. She had reached the verge of spurting out her lunch.

Yusuf strummed the strings of the sitar summoned for his character. He had to master the essentials of sitar playing for the last 2 months.

"Were you serious then? Were you really about to vomit from the smell of malai chai?!" Yusuf probed with playful incredulity.

Faajal swallowed, still discomforted as a lump lodged in her throat. Water was the only thing she had without hesitation nowadays. "I have also gained weight... a bit when I barely get to eat something." Her voice dropped to a whisper.

He paused for a second, his giddiness faltering. "I think you ate rasgullas behind my back. That's why you are gaining weight." His mouth quirked up, but his attempts to enlighten her went in vain.

Faajal sipped water the last time before the dance sequence. Drinking too much water was said to have caused stomachache.

A clapper boy emerged at the front. Cameras glared in full preparation. "Scene 19. Take 1. Action." The slate clicked.

Nurjahan kneeled on the rotunda of the darbar hall, encircled by a tangerine ghagra made of brocade silk. Her golden muslin veil spilled down like sunshine on water. Mahtab perched with his sitar at a near corner, his gaze nervous. Beneath the veil, Nurjahan stole a glance at the moon-faced servant, her heart hammering her ribs.

The musicians commenced, and Nurjahan began harmonising. Courtesians filled behind the princess, frozen in an elegant stance and mild smile. Nurjahan slowly rose up and twirled. Her Hyderabadi ornaments whisked along with her deft spin.

"Mohe panghat pe nandlal chhed gayo re..."

[Krishna teased me at the riverbank and left.]

"Mori nazuk kalayian marod gayo re..."

[He twisted my delicate wrists and left.]

She coursed parallel to Suleiman and peeked at Mahtab by the side of her eye. "Kankari more maari, gagariya phode daali." [He threw a stone and broke my water pot.]

"Mori saree anari bhigoye gayo re, mohe panghat pe." [That novice drenched my saree and left, at the river bank.]

She spiralled across the darbar hall, her movements fluid and precise. "Nainon se jaadu kiya, jiyara moh liya." Her kajal-rimmed orbs now sparkled with yearning. [He did magic with his eyes and stole my heart.]

"Mora ghunghta nazariyo se todh gayo re," [he lifted my veil, saw me with his eyes and left.]

Nurjahan wore a teasing grin now. "Mohe panghat, aji haan." [Yes, at the river bank.]

"Mohe panghat pe nandlal chhed gayo re...Mohe panghat pe."

[Krishna teased me at the riverbank and left...At the riverbank.]

The finale of the song pealed in the porcelain walls, and Nurjahan kneeled on the rotunda once again. Her chest heaved in quiet grace.

Suleiman quirked a brow, pride evident on him. He scooped a handful of pearls and hurled them at the courtesians and musicians. Nurjahan's face lit with an appeased smile. She blinked her eyes to seek permission for gifting someone special, someone who did magic with his eyes. Suleiman approved. Nurjahan yanked her necklace and tossed it to Mahtab. The servant flinched back, but embraced the offering. Unspoken gratitude and shrouded tenderness fleeted his immaculate countenance.

"CUT!"

When background dancers arose, Faajal could not. She propped herself on her hand, her vision a blurry mist. Her legs did not have sufficient strength to lift her. Faajal squinted her eyes to revive her sight, but dark clouds covered the edge of her eyes. Her surroundings swirled into vague dots scurrying to her. Keeping her eyelids open was an effort now. Her brain seemed drained of anything that could anchor her. Yusuf's voice echoed through the fog, muffled and faraway. Gloom engulfed her eyes, and then, silence.

"Will she be alright? Does she need something? Saline or any medication?" Someone urged next to her. Faajal cracked her hefty eyelids open. Splashes of light swamped her view. Vague noises rambled through her hearing. Eager faces unfurled. "Where....am....I?" she rasped, trying to arouse.

A gentle hand supported her back as she steadily got up. Darkness still clung to her orbs. Light flashed in, and she unlatched the hood of her eyes. Her brain still felt light to catch anything. "What-what happened?"

An elderly man with a stethoscope gave a slight smile. "You passed out. But, nothing to worry now. It happens due to malnourishment. I heard you haven't eaten anything these days." He jotted on a notepad.

"Umm..haah, I feel like throwing up.....When I see food." Yusuf's warm arms encircled her back. She glanced at him and stroked his supportive hand.

"Well, things like these might occur for indigestion or other problems." He tore a page from the notepad and handed it to Faajal. "Here are some medications to help with nausea. Still, I recommend you visit a doctor."

Yusuf's embrace tightened. Faajal nodded, still debilitated. "I have asked Feroz for a day off." Yusuf caressed her shoulder.

"Why?"

"You need rest!"

"I am fine!" She whined, kicking off the covers of the bed. "No, Faajal–" Yusuf tried to protest, but Faajal snapped. "If you can work hours with a heart ailment, why can't I? It's just a simple issue!"

"It's just a guess." His voice dwindled to a calm murmur. "Do you think I can live this long with a so-called heart disease or whatever?"

Faajal fixed him with an intense stare. Worry shuddered her mind like an unbidden storm.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

3 days later

Faajal rubbed her elbows in the backseat. Her car wove through roadways to reach the catholic orphanage she had funded. She visited the orphanage thrice a year and spent her leisure in frisking with children. Feroz had postponed shooting because he was travelling to Hyderabad to fetch more custom jewellery from a specialised atelier. Yusuf had gone to Pune to fix another contract. And, Faajal had no shooting for 5 days, to her relief.

"Dada, come when I call." She alighted from the car and strode toward the white building that many stray souls called home. They were either forlorn or orphaned. A bleak sigh slipped from her. Whenever one grew tired of life, they should visit such places. Their rigidity would dissolve within moments.

"Oh, what a pleasure to have you, Faajal!" A British nun hastened to Faajal. "Oh, Sister Mary, the pleasure is all mine." Faajal's lips parted in mirth. "How are the kids doing? It's been such a long time."

"Please come inside." Sister Mary led Faajal into a classroom and told her not to show up until announced. It better be a surprise. Sister Mary entered the class and cleared her throat. "Today, the class ends here." Hollers rained in the room, and children crammed their books into their satchels. "But, but," Sister Mary tilted her gaze to the corner where Faajal was standing. "We have someone special for you all!"

"Who might that be?" One of the kids piped up.

Sister Mary stepped aside, and Faajal entered. Gasps echoed, and wide eyes were exchanged. "YOU?! THAT PRETTY LADY WHO HAD GIVEN US CHOCOLATES?!"

Faajal widened her smile. They still recalled her after months. "Yeah, it's me!" She snickered.

"Have you brought those chocolates again?"

Faajal pursed her lips in pretended guilt. "No." Sad glances roamed across little faces.

"Because we will be making a chocolate cake here!" Faajal showed them the bags of ingredients she had brought along. They whooped and hopped in touching bliss. Their joy smeared to Faajal too.

The nuns and children marched to the kitchen with Faajal. Her lethargy had vanished by then. Cauldrons were positioned on stoves. Flour, sugar, cocoa powder, eggs, gallons of milk and many more ingredients were blended in suited portions. The stench of eggs provoked her stomach again. She stuck her tongue to the roof of her mouth, willing down bile. Kids dusted themselves with flour and cocoa powder, some even dipping their fingers in cocoa powder and licking it furtively. Faajal tied a bandana around her head to protect her hair and stirred alongside, with occasional aid from nuns.

Within an hour and a half, a massive chocolate glazed in the middle of the dining room. Desirous stares traced every inch of the thick layer of chocolate on the fluffy cake. "Shall we take a bite?" A boy chirped.

"Oh, my dear," Faajal hunched to his face level. "Let's wait for our dear nuns! They are coming in a minute."

The boy nodded and joined his peers. Nuns arrived and distributed pieces among the younglings. Faajal fed them spoonfuls with her hands. Gaiety filled the air. The orphanage was not a refuge for the ill-fated anymore. It became a harbour of serenity. Along with laughter, whispers scattered the hall. Many spoke in undertone, "Do you know she works in films? Isn't she beautiful? She's like the fairy godmother of Cinderella!"

The Mother Superior offered Faajal a slice of cake. Her mind reverted to the stench of egg, and gall surged in protest. She concealed her repulsion. "No, Mother. I have no appetite for now."

A gracious smile tugged at Mother's lips. A breath of silence passed. Mother surveyed Faajal head to toe. A strange twinkle flickered in her eyes. "Praise the Lord, He has gifted you with a face and a soul equally beautiful."

Faajal smiled back. "Thank you very much."

"Albeit I must say, there's another heart beating inside you." Mother's palm rested on Faajal's stomach.

Faajal's heart stalled. Her mind processed the words again and again before their meanings formed a whole piece, something she didn't expect stumbling upon."Uh-huh–" Speech ran scarce in her tongue. "I am not pregnant, Mother. I would have known." She was half-flustered herself.

Mother removed her gold-rimmed spectacles. "I have been a midwife for 35 years, my dear. I know this kind of glow when another life is growing inside a woman."

Faajal's delight morphed into fret. A cold wave crashed through her. Mother's palm still clung to her abdomen. "I can sense it." Her fingers grazed the skin. "Perhaps, 7 or 8 weeks."

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

"How can she tell with a naked eye?" Gurbani braided Faajal's locks. Faajal sighed, seated on the floor. Her knees were curled to her chest.

"But, I still want to check." Her mind bustled in turmoil. She could not shun the surmise, not when likely symptoms were showing. "I have also missed my menstruation this month."

The next day, she visited her personal doctor and gave blood samples while Ravinder was out to prattle with studio executives.

"Faajal di?" Meher asked, a bulk book sprawled on her lap.

"Hmm?"

"If you are truly pregnant, throw us a party." The younger grinned. Faajal would have chuckled along if potential threats had not been so immense. Her stomach knotted at the thought of Ravinder's outburst if she was actually pregnant. A child out of wedlock—he would go to any length to destroy it. And he was not the problem alone. Faajal's career, relationship with Yusuf, all were at stake.

The test result would come within 48 hours. How could she live in those hours? She had long severed ties with food and now, her peace of mind had also disappeared.

"Bring us some good news." Meher bit on an apple on the kitchen counter. Faajal wore her heels, sighing. Every second stretched like a blue moon. Her heart was raging against the hedges of her ribs. A shiver sank into her stomach.

The white-walled clinic smelled of Dettol and iodine. Sun-warmed files clattered on her personal doctor's oval desk. Her fingers budged against each other in a mute battle of nerves. Her heels bounced on the sterile floor. At a far corner, a pair of pale blue baby shoes were displayed on a shelf.

The gynaecologist penetrated, a clipboard tucked in her arms. Faajal stood up.

"Oh, Faajal. How do you do now?" The gynaecologist greeted. Faajal bitterly smiled. "You know already, doctor."

"Well," The doctor exhaled. She set down the file and sat. Her expression was gentle, yet firm. "Your reports have arrived." She uncapped her pen and flipped a page. "I have news for you."

Chill seeped into Faajal's bones. She leaned to the edge of her seat. "Yes, doctor."

A sincere smile tilted the doctor's lips. Her fingertips clicked. "According to the blood sample, you have a low iron level. That's concerning. And hormonal levels have oscillated a lot. That's causing your menstruation to stop." The doctor paused, her stare glued to Faajal.

Faajal licked her lip, her pulse taking a gallop. Her head recited one prayer again and again: Please don't let another tragedy unfold.

A beat of hush palpated. "Congratulations, Faajal. You are pregnant."

Faajal's heart quailed. A lump clogged the back of her throat. Dread flushed in her stomach. The revelation rang hollow in her ears, a deafening sound that surpassed her awareness. The world had meandered in a split second. She couldn't tell if it was fate's ruse or the creator's blessing.

"Doctor," she mumbled in vain. "I-I am......I am going to be a mother?" Her body trembled despite her best effort.

"Yes, Faajal." The doctor's tone was gentle yet measured. "7 weeks."

Faajal could detect a strong rhythm playing inside her. But, she didn't know if it was hers or the life's blooming in her womb.

Reaching home, Faajal barged through the door and bolted past Gurbani to her room. "Faajal, kya hua?" Gurbani furrowed her brows. [Faajal, what happened?]

It was left unheard. Only the echo of those 3 words haunted her eardrums: You are pregnant.

She slammed shut the door of her room. Her back slid down the door, and she thumped on the hard floor. Sweat glistened on the edges of her temple. Uneven breaths whistled from her mouth. There is no woman, but would dance over the moon if she learnt of such news. She could not. A strange medley of inexplicable emotions roiled within—fear, joy and many. Her knees pressed close to her middle, and her hands wrapped around them. Her heart thrashed her breasts in a violent cadence. What would she do now? What would Ravinder do upon knowing? Could the life in her womb survive the weight of his wrath? How would she tell Yusuf? What would people say to a child out of wedlock? When she, herself, struggled amid the adversity of camera flashes and sacred bonds, how could she nurture a child? Could she let the demons of the world taint an innocent?

The telephone pealed. Her hands seized the receiver. Her lungs drew a large breath before she picked up the call. "Hello?"

"Already missing me, mehbooba?"

Other times, she would have giggled. Now, her delight was snowed under a grim mountain of ghastly probes. "Still in Pune?" Her throat could barely make out words.

"Hmm. How's my favourite actress doing? Still wanting to vomit seeing malai chai?" Yusuf's chuckled, bright as ever.

"Better."

"Are you sad? You seem so off."

Faajal sucked a shrill gasp. Tears stung her eyelids. She choked on countless words to convey to him, yet a feeble wince emerged from her vocal cords. Her teeth chomped the inside of her cheek. Her fingers crawled to her lower abdomen and dug her nails into her skin, as if anchoring herself to the tiny warmth inside.

"Faajal?" Worry edged his voice.

That night flashed back in her eyes, the tender memories they had written together, the fiery kisses that still scorched her blood. Her palm pressed down on her stomach. A torrential flood of tears welled in her eyelids. "Haan?" [Yes?]

"You know what I have seen today?"

Her side was utterly silent. She brought the earpiece of the telephone to her stomach.

"The cutest baby frock in the local market! I have even bought one! I will show you on the set, okay?!" His notes vibrated against her stomach like a spry breeze.

"Okay, rangrez." She lifted the mouthpiece to her lips and managed in an undertone. "I love you."

"Same to you!"

The phone slipped off her hand. Its faint beep pricked the hush of the room. Faajal's gaze lowered to the place her palm was on. "Hey, little angel. Can you hear me?" Queitude answered her. She grazed her abdomen, all her affection and care poured through her fingertips. She wondered if the tiny life could sense her touch.

"You and your father mean a world to me, my miracle. I must have done something great in my previous birth to have you two." Sun rays bleached the balcony. Her chiffon dupatta fluttered over her stomach. "I can fight a thousand devils, just for you, dear angel. Don't be scared. I shall protect you," Her molten honey eyes were locked on the brilliant horizon. "As long as my heart beats." Her tresses fanned in the fresh gust of day. A promise was made. As a lover. As a mother.

Faajal opened the door. Gurbani stood against her. "What's wrong? What did the doctor tell you?" The elder cocked her brows.

Faajal gulped, her breathing still brisk. "Nothing, ma. It is just some deficiency."

"Is it?" Gurbani stepped in. Her questioning look gave Faajal a pause. "Yes, ma." The lie tasted sour on her tongue. But she would reveal everything once Yusuf arrived. He deserved to know the truth first.

"Lunch is ready. Freshen up and come downstairs." Gurbani left. Faajal released a breath of relief.

Having lunch, Faajal grabbed her old diary and slumped on the rocking chair. Her limbs relaxed and calm washed over her. Her hands instinctively rested on her stomach. Moments ago, terror had clung to her like a second skin. Now, affection coalesced with it. How would she tell Yusuf? What would be his reaction? 

He always loved children. So, what would his response be to having his own baby? Feroz had not finished shooting yet. How might she handle filming like this? It was only a matter of time before her belly turned visible. What if they had to pursue the hard way? Faajal shook her head in denial, brushing off the cruel thought. Instead of a grand celebration, the baby was being weighed against foul contemplations. 

"Hey, don't you worry for now." She caressed below her naval. "We will face this together. Just let your father come." She lowered her gaze to her abdomen. "Many storms came in my life, but I withstood them. And, you, you are my miracle, little one." She tittered. Her finger drew little circles on her tummy. Yusuf had once said that he had dreamed of a house filled with the tiny feet of little Yusuf and little Faajal. "Whatever happens, you will always be our little star." Her words faded into a whisper. She flipped to the page where the rose rested, plain and fragile. A photo slipped from the diary, Yusuf's photo, back in 1946. It had been captured in Bombay Talkies' photobooth. Washed in sepia, he wore a candid, crescent-shaped smile on his lips. His eyes sparkled like young lotuses.

Faajal grasped the photo, heaving a sigh. "Look what we have created in the season of love." A life, the symbol of their love, whose veins had their essence, in whose blood the whispers of their devotion coursed.

She lifted the photo to her chest now, her heart crashing against the wrinkled paper.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Ravinder had returned home by eventide. "Ganga Jamuna is happening under Sunset. Do you know?" He perched at the dining table and took spoonfuls of rice.

Faajal handed Meher the bowl of curry. "Yes, Feroz has told me. Fortune is opening doors for him, at last. Having Karan Mishra is a big deal."

Ravinder seemed to be in a light mood tonight. His demeanour was casual, and his general tight lips were replaced with a faint curve. Rare as it was, Faajal wished he smiled more often.

"It is. Mehboob Khan has already named this 'Glamorous Folly'. He says all this opulence will be wasted on telling the same old tragic love story. I told him to wait and watch. I am no less experienced than executives. Feroz has potential." He grinned. It required Faajal seconds to register the grin on his mouth. Meher even paused for a bit, wide-eyed.

"Yusuf has signed the contract in Pune, I heard. When he returns, some adjustments need to be made. Shooting there is risky. We won't be going there."

Instead of 'that boy', Ravinder was referring to Yusuf by his name. This day was made for miracles indeed. Faajal nodded, chewing. When fried eggs were served, she stifled the urge to throw up. She tried her utmost to mask her unease. Bile raged in her stomach, bubbling toward her throat.

Gagging, she bit out. "Please remove this for now."

Ravinder lifted a brow, suspicion sketched on his face. "Why?"

Her stomach spasmed again, threatening to spill out all its contents. "It's-I can't stand its smell."

Ravinder passed the dish to Gurbani, who kept it on the kitchen counter. "You eat way too little now, fainted on the set and now this." His eyes narrowed, dubeity shimmered in them like an alarm. "Have you visited a doctor?"

Faajal stayed mute, aware of his imminent fury. Meher replied, "Yes."

"What did the doctor say?" His glare was pointed at Faajal, his palm half-lifted to forbid anyone from answering but Faajal.

She could not reveal everything until Yusuf returned. He was the father, and he deserved to know first. She swallowed back bile and responded, "Well, she believes I have an iron deficiency. That's why these episodes are happening."

Silence echoed between them. Gurbani halted behind a chair. All focus was on Faajal now. Danger thrummed in long waves from Ravinder. "I believe some random deficiency wouldn't cause these issues for weeks. And, you usually eat quite well. So, there's no chance of deficiency." Faajal didn't dare stare back, her eyes trying to be blank, not to disperse any doubt in him.

"Faajal, look at me." An order, an alarm from the tyrant's mouth. He loomed closer. She wielded her gaze up to his, driven by both courage and anxiety. Her face was taught, but fear raked under her skin. "The doctor is a specialist in such cases. Of course, she would know better than us."

"LIES!" Ravinder's fists slammed the dining table. Porcelain plates jumped onto the table. Faajal quailed back, her bravado wavering. Gurbani scrambled to them, terror engulfing her.

Ravinder pushed back his chair and towered above Faajal. His shadow approached like a hawk. Faajal also stood up, covered in an illusion of indifference. Her eyes aligned with his, fierce and undaunted.

"What is it, Faajal?" He hissed, hungry for an answer.

Faajal shifted her weight from heel to heel. "Baba, I told you already. Besides, work has taken a toll on my health. That's it!"

"That's. A. Lie." Ravinder was to stomp forward, but Gurbani held his arm back. "Please, if she is saying it's a deficiency, then it is." She pleaded.

His prying orbs flicked to Gurbani. "You have so belief in your daughter, huh?" He bit out.

"She is an adult now. She can handle her own matters."

Ravinder yanked her braid and twisted it. Gurbani shrieked and closed her eyes. His fingers clawed into her scalp and tugged the roots. "Did that bitch named Chanchal lend you her tongue?" His jaw clenched. "Baba, what are you doing?!" Faajal gasped.

Gurbani squirmed in visible agony, panting. Ravinder whispered, "I am asking her, so let her answer, okay?" His words were coated with venom.

"Faajal, reveal the truth, and you will have a lesser price to pay."

"What price?! I am telling the truth, baba." Faajal tried to speak in composed a voice she could. Ire seared her flesh and ate on her patience.

"Are you really?" He twirled his hand around Gurbani's hair and yanked again, this time harsher. Gurbani wheezed, her face scrunched. With each moment of her mother's agony, Faajal felt guilt raze her bones and cut through her heart.

"You have time, girl....." His focus shifted back to Gurbani, and his nails dug into her shoulders, unforgiving. Gurbani cringed, now writhing in his grasp. The spot his nails had driven into blazed red.

Faajal tightened her chin, tears prickling her eyelids. Heavy breaths fumed from her nostrils. She had to save Gurbani now. And the only way was unravelling the secret, the very secret upon which another life hinged.

Silence rang, hollow and formidable. Meher trembled behind her chair. Ravinder glowered, his expression greedy. Gurbani gulped beside him, perhaps already sensing the truth.

"I am pregnant."

The words echoed within the walls of Kismat like an abrupt lightning charging the earth. Faajal stood, stiff and bitter. Ravinder's grip on Gurbani slackened. He stepped forward, his treads clacking like a herald of the foreseen doom.

"I see," He paused in front of her, an acrid smirk shaded his lips that devil itself would fear. His eyes didn't even blink now. "Setting you off for a day would result in this!"

Hush descended over them. Meher emerged beside Gurbani. Shock mixed with fear on her countenance. Two drops of tears fell on her cheeks.

Faajal's fingers crept to her abdomen, channelling all the protection she could garner. Ravinder's pupils traced her hand. His mouth curled in resentment. Malice sparked in his bulging eyes. Cold stillness brewed, save for Faajal's frantic pulse.

"You will abort."

Faajal winced at the words. She shook with disbelief, ice clamping into her spine. The hard way she had feared. No, no! The life in her womb was hers! It was not the tyrant's choice to make. It was theirs.

"Do you realise what you are asking for?" Faajal rasped, gnashing her teeth. Gall seethed in her throat, her eyes burned red. Hot tears pooled in her eyelids. "Do you know its cost?" She gritted out, fists forming at her sides. "It's a whole life!"

Ravinder clamped her forearm and thrust her off. She landed on the table, her stomach knocking against a chair. Pang bolted through her. A gasp tore from her lungs. "Ugh," She moaned, inhaling deeply to subside the pain. Meher rushed to her and held her back. "Faajal di! Owh, Faajal di!" Faajal gripped the younger's arm, still hunched over in pain. Her palm clutched her stomach.

"I am not letting anything block my way to money! This child will destroy our reputation." 

"Baba, for heaven's sake, please stop! Let Yusuf bhaiya come and discuss with her." Meher begged, on the verge of sobbing.

"I am paying for your damn tuition, which earns me nothing but a waste of money! So, you better stop unless you want to be locked up!" Ravinder spurted, veins ticking in his neck. His glare darted to Gurbani, disgust flaring bright. "You! IT'S ALL HAPPENING JUST BECAUSE OF YOU!" He flung a plate at Gurbani. The porcelain plate shattered by her knee. Studs of blood trickled below Gurbani's knee. "It's all because of YOU! HAD YOU GIVEN ME A SON! FOR WAHEGURU'S SAKE, IF I HAD A SON, MY LIFE WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN LIKE–" He seized a flower vase and hurled it at her.

"BABA, STOP!" Faajal roared, struggling against Meher's restraint to save Gurbani. "Baba, DON'T DO THIS, PLEASE!"

Gurbani scooted away from Ravinder, her leg leaving a bloodied trail on the white floor. Ravinder folded up his sleeves and planted the first slap on her cheek with the back of his palm. "BABA, NO!" Faajal erupted in a hysterical bawl. She thrashed Meher's arms to reach Gurbani, but the younger seemed too strong. Meher's silent sniffs melded with Faajal's violent cries. Their childhood was on repeat—Ravinder beating Gurbani in pent-up frustration, after being taunted by borrowers for stealing their money. He had one reason to beat her then, not giving birth to a son. To him, girls had been a burden.

"MY MOTHER, MY FATHER, MY BROTHERS! EVERYONE TOLD ME TO LEAVE A BITCH LIKE YOU AFTER SAIRA'S BIRTH!" He spat on Gurbani, as if Faajal had provided him less than a son. Gurbani heaved, saltwater stroking her cheeks.

"IT'S MY KINDNESS THAT I LET YOU LIVE WITH ME STILL!" His nails pounced on her arm and abraded to the point where blood bloomed. Gurbani screeched, trying to be free from his grasp.

"Baba, no, no, baba, I beg you! Please!" Faajal lamented, collapsing on her knees. Her arms laced around her stomach. Meher hiccuped behind her, her sounds muffled in Faajal's rumpled hair.

"And, NOW! NOW ALL OF THIS!" Ravinder's teeth ground like a hungry monster's. He clawed Gurbani's hair and dragged her to the staircase. Gurbani wiggled as her body squeaked against the ceramic tiles. "No, let go of me, Ravinder!" He snickered sourly. "Let go, huh?! LET GO?!" Then, with every ounce of vigour, he slammed her forehead into the spindle of the stairway. "FOR THE DISGRACE YOU HAVE BROUGHT TO ME!"

He struck her head again, growling. "FOR THE BURDENS YOU HAVE GIVEN ME!"

Gurbani stopped moving. Faajal's blood chilled. Her vocal cords hurt too much to form words. She slouched toward Gurbani, her body shaking uncontrollably. Tousled locks of hair veiled half of her face.

"FOR THE TAUNTS I HAD TO ENDURE FOR YOUR ACCURSED WOMB!" Blood splashed the spindle. Red streaks glazed the edge of the staircase.

Faajal mewled, now at Ravinder's feet. "I will abort the baby." Her hands encircled his knees.

Gurbani's head dropped from his grip. She landed on the floor, streaked with blood and dishevelled locks of hair. A few strands stuck to Ravinder's palm. No trace of life remained in Gurbani. Meher bolted to her and wrapped her dupatta around Gurbani's head.

Faajal lifted her gaze at Ravinder, appealing. "I will abort the baby, but you won't hurt her anymore." The words tasted like poison. But he left her with no choice. Her child had to be the sacrifice to save Gurbani. Otherwise, Ravinder would surely kill her tonight.

"You dare throw conditions at me after getting pregnant by that Muslim boy?" Ravinder snarled.

"You won't hurt her anymore," Faajal repeated, her tone barely above a whisper. She was the worst mother, a mother whose doomed fate would cost her child's life. Faajal broke into a weep. Ugly, raw yells burst from her. Her stomach clenched in protest. Did she even deserve to live like this? Her joy died the day it was born. She was furious at herself, at fate for its undeserving cruelty to her loved ones.

Ravinder kicked off her hands and drifted away. "Early morning, girl. Sharp 7 am! The earlier, the easier to adjust! And," He seized her by her chin. "If you ever dare reveal it to your lover," He whispered, his lips warping into a sinister smirk. "You will have your mother 6 feet under the ground."

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

The pale yellow light above her swung back and forth. A nurse put an oxygen mask on Faajal's face. Her legs were spread apart. Horror seeped into her bones, cold like ice. Her heart crumbled into myriad pieces and crashed into her stomach. Fiery teardrops stung her cheeks.

"Now, Faajal, count 1 to 10 in reverse." A doctor said.

Faajal's vision dimmed. "10." Faces hovered above her, obscured. The back of her eyes ached with an ocean of torment. "9." Her voice cracked. Her momentary euphoria would die within moments. Yusuf would never get to learn about the bundle of joy they had created. "8." Her womb would be empty again, the second heartbeat would be silenced. "7." Grief engulfed any remaining light of her life. How would she pay for this sin? "6." Her fingers twitched a bit, a futile attempt to touch her stomach, to feel her baby one last time. "5." Blood seemed to freeze in her veins. Shadows scattered her sightline. "4." She totally lost sensation in her muscles. She could not discern if she would ever wake up again. "3." She whispered, the black curtain over her eyes beckoning her to give in. "2." The dingy abyss in her vision welcomed her like an old friend, cleansing her from worries and chafes.

"1." The world faded into oblivion. 

A/N: Do vote and comment if you liked this chapter, pretty people! I am traumatised myself after writing this one, honestly.