[PAST......................,]

"So have you started writing your new book yet?"

"Honestly, no."

Signing her autograph on the first page of the book with a quote she gave the girl her book back, but not before passing her a beautiful smile of her own. Making the girls day.

Arzoo had came for a meet up with her readers. Since her new book was published today. The hall was full of people with different range of ages. The hall was decorated with lightings, flowers and her books. A huge line of people was waiting to get their book autographed by the author and meet her.

Another book replaced her desk, without lifting her eyes she signed her autograph.

"I am sure your this book would be a huge hit like the last one."

His rich silky voice brushed her skin like black velvet. A shiver chased its wake, born of equal parts pleasure and warning. She recognized that voice.

Her heart slowed a fraction of a beat, as her eyes bore into his mischievous one's.

Imran Bakhtiyar Sheikh.

She inhaled a small breath. Released. And smiled.

Surprise coasted through her eyes, before she could say anything, he interrupted her.

"Could you sign your autograph on this book too? One of my friend reads your book too. I am sure she would love it."

"Oh your friend." She plays along, mischievous flickering through her tone. "She probably be gorgeous."

"Are you sure, she is just a friend or maybe more?" She raised her eyebrows at him, totally teasing him.

A faint hint of pink colored his cheekbones.

Was he...blushing?

Her smile widens.

"M-Maybe..." Clearing his throat, he stole his gaze away from her and whispers, "Atleast from my side, yes. I don't know about her."

"I am sure your friend would have the same feelings for you too. Who wouldn't like a good boy like you?"

"Trust me, I am not a good boy." He smirks, as his eyes burn in hers, her skin flushed a faint red beneath his scrutiny.

"What's your name?"

"Imran."

Instead writing of quote, she wrote, 'To the lucky girl, who has a friend name Imran.'

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It was late at night, Arzoo was walking down the dimly illuminated street. She's dressed casually in a sleevless yellow floral print maxi dress. When she heard a loud scream from faraway behind her.

"Writer Sahiba!!!!"

It didn't took her even a second to recognise who it was, with a smile she turned around to look, only to let out a horrified scream.

Imran grabbed her wrist and tugged her along with him to run, he seems to be out of breath as he stated, "RUN!!!!!!"

She once again glanced back, to see several dogs were after them, barking loudly.

"What did you do?" Asked Arzoo accusingly, making him narrow his eyes at her direction.

"Why do you think it's me?"

Her eyebrow rose. Imran winced.

He swallowed before reluctantly answering, "Woh Maine Galte Se Us Kutte Ke Puch Ke Pair Rakh Diya Tha."

"WHAT????" She let out a loud scream, making the dogs behind them bark even louder. "How can you do that?"

"Kasam Se Meri Kuch Galte Nhi Thi, Waha Tha Hi Itna Andhera." He clarifies himself, gulping, increasing their running speed. While the dogs that was after them started barking loudly, making them run even faster for their dear life.

"But why I am running?" She asked perplexed.

"Because they knew you are my friend."

"They do?"

"Yeah."

Glancing back, Imran noticed the dogs weren't after them and they both stopped running.

After a few silence, both glance at each other and they started laughing out loud whole heartedly.

"That was crazy."

"That was fun, although we almost lose our life. But still it was fun."

Both said at the same time.

Unconsciously, she peek at him, he looked so good, dressed in jeans and a white sweater with a jacket over it.

Shaking her head, she started walking ahead, making him follow her.

"For a moment, I regretted knowing you." Arzoo said lowly.

"This statement of yours broke my heart." He pouted, as his both hands went to his chest underneath where his heart lays, as if he is in deep pain.

"Ab Itni Nautanki Karne Ki Zarurat Bhi Nahi Hai." She smacked his arm and said, "Pilot Sahab."

Just then a cold wind passes by, making her form shiver, which didn't go unnoticed by Imran. In a second he removed his jacket and put on her small petite form.

"You figured it out."

"Yes, I figured it the moment you left." She said, as both started walking down the street. "So why you decided to become a pilot?"

"The pilots that are my colleagues become one, because they want to fly, travel the whole world. But my reason was different. I.......... wanted to be......... closer to......... my parents."

"They are dead." Arzoo gasps, as she realised what he meant.

With a sad smile on his face, he continued, "They met with an accident and died on spot. I was with my grandparents so I survived. But when I was twenty, my grandparents left me too."

"They would be proud of you. I am sure whenever you are up there, flying an airplane, they might be smiling and waving at you from up." Arzoo said instead of saying 'I am sorry', she knew many people hates hearing that.

"So you had been born and raised here in London?"

"Yes."

"That means you never visited India."

"No, I once did when I was five years old. But I barely remember it."

Nodding, she says, "You need to visit India again. And I will give you one of the bestest tour."

His smile stretches a bit, as he decided to change the subject. "So what are you doing tomorrow?"

Something changed in her eyes.

"I had a flight for India tomorrow." Her voice is a whisper in the wind, but he heard it loud and clear.

His eyes go wide, his mouth fell open, his shock obvious. He takes a step closer.

"What?" He asked shocked. "Abhi Abhi Hi Mulaqaat Hue Hai Hamare, Aur Tum Itni Jald Chod Ke Jaare Ho Mujhe. It's not done, Arzoo."

He looks sad, hurt and............ mad.

Thinking for a while, she said, "Why don't you come with me?"

"Are you sure?" He blinked in surprise.

"What about your family?"

"They wouldn't mind. Infact they would love you."

Just then her phone started ringing cutting off their conversation in middle. She smiles widely, her eyes crinkling at the corners, as she saw the name of the caller. 'AQIB'. Her bestfriend, her cousin, Saqib Humza Khan, but she likes to call him Aqib.

She picked up the call at the second ring, but not before saying to Imran.

"Bye, Imran. I really hope you do accompany me to India."

"Bye, Arzoo." He said to her retreating form, who was now on her phone carrying on a conversation that seemed to consist of smiles and brief details, while walking down the street.

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He looks tired, completely tired. His tie has been loosened, hanging down below the top two buttons he's undone. The firm, tan flesh is visible through those undone buttons. His dark hair was disheveled. His shirt is untucked, and his jacket is strewn across the sofa.

Closing his laptop, he stood up and took a deep breath. He started walking towards his room, when he heard some noises coming from the kitchen. He checked his watch to see it was around 2.a.m. in the night. Who could be in kitchen at such late night? He thought to himself, as he walk towards kitchen direction.

But what he saw at the kitchen, had him worried and scared. Tension poured off him in waves, and the set of his shoulders was visibly tighter.

"Bas Do Minute, Imran. I know you are hungry, you should had inform me before coming to home." Arzoo says, as she put a bowl full of Mutton Yakhni Pulao inside oven for three minutes.

A laughter escapes her lips as she glance beside her and said softly, "It's as spicy as you like------"

"AARZO!!!!"

"What are you doing here?"

"Aqib..." She said, "Imran just came from work and he is quite hungry. Toh Garam Karre Thi Khaana."

Saqib built body went still, as if he has seen a ghost. Beneath those dark pools of concern, but his face softened when their gazes connected.

He walked towards her and grasped her chin, tilted it until her brown eyes met his dark one's.

"Mar Chuka Hai Imran." He said, his voice low and ragged with emotion. "Arzoo."

Her body trembled; it shuddered under the weight of his words.

The tears rushed full force into her brown eyes.

A sob tore from her throat, as realisation dawned on her. She froze. All the color blanched from her skin. A lance of pain speared through her heart.

She looked beside her, where she was having a conversation with Imran earlier. Only to find no one was standing beside her. It was all an illusion.

'Imran is no more, he is dead', Her mind reminds her heart. Moisture spilled past her eyes until his face blurred.

Strong arms engulfed her, and her face pressed against something hard and solid, his chest where his heart lay burning in pain.

Her shallow breaths and sobs filled the ensuing silence.

It's been two weeks since Imran death, but Arzoo's pain was still fresh and raw.

He didn't say a word as she sobbed out her pain, anger and heartache on his chest. He just held her until her tears dried enough for mortification to seep into the void left behind by her expelled emotions.

***

AUTHOR'S NOTE:-

What do you guys think of Imran? He is such a sweetheart, isn't he🙈??