"Rajan Saxena, an epitome of 50s bombshell, often noted as the 'Blue-eyed Haley's comet' of Indian cinema may have left for heavenly abode months ago but still his charisma and charm rule the hearts of admirers and audiences alike. Not in India alone, he had drawn eyes from the Soviet Union, Turkey, Europe, the Middle East and even America. With his spell-bounding looks, unparalleled talent and mesmerizing screen presence, he yet remains the biggest star Bollywood has ever witnessed. Ironically, who ruled the whole world's heart had a hole in his own heart and left this vast fame, name and incompleteness in the iconic on and off-screen pair 'RajMadhu'. Solace to his family and Madhu Sharma over this profound loss."

Faajal deeply ran along the lines, tears obscuring her vision. At the cover page, Yusuf cast a handsome smile, his eyes glistening like sapphires cut raw. Sleek strands of hair dangled easily over his temple, shimmering in her eyes. Yet, he looked so alluring. There was something which could grip anyone's attention on his face, his smile. His signature moustache curved with his lips.

Her hand fell on her swelling baby bump. 6 months had elapsed since that horrid night. The time was 9.30. The tick of the clock still rang in her eardrums. Her temple propped against their entwined hands. His skin was freezing like iceberg. The oxygen mask on his face blurred from ragged breaths. The monitor beside beeped to every of his heartbeat. Faajal tried to stay positive but the passage of time slammed the truth in her eyes. He didn't have much time. The life they had planned would just be a reverie of the past. Death might appear anytime and snatch away her 'Yusuf'.

The rhythmic beep halted to a piercing siren. Faajal shot up and spun to check the monitor. Then, his throat. Then, neared her ears to his ribs. The steady pounding had silenced. It was over. He was gone. She hadn't lamented or clasped his lifeless frame. She had steeled at that spot with a blank mind to process anything. Everything had ended......just like the fantasies they had woven.

She let out a sharp exhale, loneliness waning her insides. Everything had withered since he departed, wearing out the hues of her life. She might not have mourned more if it fractured her only. The irony of the impending child made her curse fate more. Such a dismay, he never got to learn about it. The symbol of their love.

Faajal clicked the lamp off. The gloom of night masked over the room. The glowing orb above was the only origin of light. She slowly lowered into slumber. Limbs freezing numb.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

The peaceful slumber was punctured by rapping on the door. Faajal roused and trudged to the door. "Who-"

Mammy stood before her. "Beta, some 'Neela Devi' wants to meet you." Neela Devi, the renowned author for her spellbinding yet explicit writing. It was related to that night she declined to speak about-she knew. Slipping in a chiffon salwar kameez, she headed downstairs. There, Neel Devi sat on sofa. Upon noticing Faajal's arrival, she arose. "Madhu Sharma, nice to meet you." They exchanged courtesies and lowered onto their seats.

"I heard a lot about you, Neela Devi. You write very well."

"Heh, happy to learn that. How are you doing now?"

Faajal folded her lips. The answer was unbeknownst to her. "Fine," Her voice quivered.

"How many months are you long?"

The pregnant woman heaved a sigh. "8 maybe." A dire reminder of the widowed 6 months.

Neela swarmed in her position and bent her head. Perhaps she had sensed the agony in air. "Madhu, I-I shouldn't ask you this but by now, you may know my intention."

Faajal smiled and nodded.

"I want to hear your story. About you and Raj. How you met, the amazing bond you two shared on screen, how you maintained it off-screen, your marriage. If you wish, these recollections may have a new life amid pages. These precious memories of you two." Her tone dwindled to a murmur. Companionable silence descended over two women. The resurrection of that sensitive topic uneased both.

Faajal snorted, "You want to know of Raj-Madhu?"

The opposed bobbed her nape in anticipation. Her keen eyes fixed on her. Many tried but failed to peer over the shield she cast over these rememberings. They were things of past and better remain there than revive the burning scars of heart. Faajal never glanced at those to step farther with her child but today the moments floated in her head again.

"Look, this isn't the story of Rajan Saxena and Madhu Sharma......" Tears returned along a crushing weight on chest. She couldn't stifle the urge to disclose anymore. The rupture of her emotions guided her to release every word, every detail to put an end to these questions after this suffocating struggle.

"It's the story of Yusuf and Faajal."