شرر Sharar

Fifty-One

𝑊𝑜ℎ 𝑗𝑜 𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑞 𝑡ℎ𝑎, 𝑤𝑜ℎ 𝑗𝑢𝑛𝑜𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑎
𝑌𝑒ℎ 𝑗𝑜 ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑗 ℎ𝑎𝑖, 𝑦𝑒ℎ 𝑛𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑏 ℎ𝑎𝑖.

•••

There are some people, who came in your life as a blessing, and then, there are people like house-fly. Buzzing in your ear, not leaving till you notice them or give them attention. Azar was from other category.

One week passed without any inconvenienc. Azar didn't message her again, or bother her. Shyra seem to forget about him but then he re-appeared in her life.

It was a Friday morning, Shyra decided to skip her morning lecture and went to library as she had to submit assignment by the noon.

Picking a book from a shelf, she turned to go on a seat when bumped into someone. She didn't know when a person stood behind her, without any noise, like a wind. Taking a step back, she looked at the person, it was Azar. Without saying anything, Shyra went to other side to leave, but he blocked her way.

"Yeh kya...? Mere raste se hato." No matter how many times she tried to dodge him, he would come in front of her. If she goes to left, he goes on his right and stood in front of her, too close for her liking. At last, Shyra told him off, irritatedly.

(What-? Leave my way.)

"Hatt jaunga, mujhe bas apne na ki wajah batao." Stubbornly, Azar said.

(I will, just tell me the reason behind your no.)

"Yeh kya badtameezi hai? Main tumhe koi bhi jawab dena zaroori nahi samajhti. Hato mere raste se." Pushing him away, Shyra was about to leave but Azar hold her hand and pulled her to himself.

(What is this indecent manner? I don't think it is necessary to give you any answer. Get out of my way.)

"Azar!" Shyra almost shouted as she looked at the empty library with expanded eyes, at this time, classes were going on, maybe that's why no one was there, but she was shocked how come none of the faculty is there?

"Agar baat tum hum dono mein rehne deti toh koi problem na hoti, Saba ko kyu bataya yeh sab? Sabit kya karna chahti thi?"

(If you would have let it be between us, then there would have been no problem. Why did you tell this to Saba? What do you want to prove?)

"Mera hath chorho?" Shyra put all her strength to get her hand free from his grip, only for his grip to tighten and hurting her. Her eyes started brimming with tears.

(Leave my hand.)

"Tumhe pasand karta hoon, iske liye tumhe itna bhav khane ki zaroorat nahi."

(I like you, but you don't have to show that much attitude.)

"Mujhe tum... tum nahi pasand." She said it with difficulty.

(I... I don't like you.)

"Achha? Achhe se janta hoon tum jaisi ladkiyon ko, pehle apni khoobsurti dikhake ladke ko pagal karogi aur bhav bhi khud khaogi apni value badhane ke liye." Touching her face, he whispered. She felt as if his touch burned her, although, his touch was soft, Shyra thought her skin pricked.

"Chorho mera hath warna shor karke sabko bula lungi." Pulling her face backward, Shyra warned him.

(Leave my hand otherwise I will scream.)

"Achha?" Arrogantly, he raised his eyebrow. "Karo shor, huh?" Leaving her hand, he took a step backward and challenged her.

(Really?)