Unrequited

  • 21 Dec - 27 Dec, 2019
  • Mag The Weekly
  • Fiction

We will remain friends but Haris, we were not meant to be together.''

She uttered these words two years ago and today, while watching Avengers: Endgame, her thoughts came back to this lousy brain of mine who has not forgotten her yet. The culprit this time is this dialogue which forced me to go back in time:

'Some people move on... but not us.'

“Excuse me, can I sit here?”

I could see a young lady clad in a chiffon dress, standing right in front of me asking for a seat beside me on the bench.

“Yes. Ofcourse.”

Indifferent to the clattering of the railway station of Lahore, I was spellbound by this subtle beauty sitting beside.

Our train delayed, my stars were supporting me. She broke the silence by asking my name: “Haris,” I said.

“I am Suhana”, she introduced.

She was confident and calm. Typically, ladies in this part of the world are not very outspoken, she was not one of them and her dominance thrilled me.

We talked for a couple of hours and she was brilliant. Our conversation roamed the streets of politics, knocked the doors of celebs and glided over books. She was a perfect individual with admirable thoughts. The announcement of the arrival of our train broke the momentum but we exchanged numbers and decided to meet again, albeit I knew we will never. I was wrong.

We bumped into each other at a bookshop, a week later. I asked her for coffee and she accepted. After that, we met several times again until I asked her to consider me as a partner but it was all her choice. Surprisingly, she said yes.

I didn't know the rules of dating hence, was frank about my attitude but at the same time I feared behaving like a jerk. All this passed too and we completely were head over heels for each other, promising to hold hands forever.

“Haris... why do you like me?”

“You're different, Suhana. You are a powerful woman who has her own opinions and who knows how to make her mark in the world.”

This is true. Mostly here, girls are meant to be seen, not heard, they don't have a say and this society has even snatched the right of choice from them: choosing their own life partner is not acceptable in this society. Yet, Suhana was different, a quality I admired most about her.

When I first met her, she was 21 and I was two years older.

On our fourth 'relationship anniversary', I decided to propose to her. Searching for filmy ideas, I spent the night with Google.

A glamourous special table was set on the beach: beads, curtains, flowers and frills made it delightful. She came dressed elegantly in a white dress with a ravishing red flower on the left shoulder. After a few minutes, I found the courage to present a cupcake. As she sliced it, a beautiful diamond ring emerged (the idea was too old but I liked it). She was flattered and her rosy lips curled into a huge smile. I went on my knees and asked “Will you marry me, Suhana?”

As she was about to reply, her phone rang. It was a call from home.

“Where are you?” Her mother shouted so loud that her voice was heard far from the phone.

“I'm with a friend.”

“Come home quickly, I told you some guests are coming to see you tonight. You must be dressed in your best. Come back quick!”

“I told you I don't want to...”

“Don't tell me your stories, come back!” And hung up.

I could see she was upset. She stood up and looked in my eyes for a long moment.

“Let's go,” she ordered.

“Where?”

“My home.”

I didn't know what was going on in her mind but I trusted her.

“Do you love me?” she asked

“More than anyone.”

“Then you have to prove that to my parents...today.”

We reached her house. It was a big one. Beautifully designed. As we entered the huge gate, I saw marvels of art in the corridor. We headed towards the lounge where her family sat. She asked me to stay and walked herself in.

'You're back, go get ready in a reasonable dress.'

Girls are considered a piece of decoration here. They must be beautifully dressed and act like robots when someone comes to see them. Whether she likes the guy or not, she must not say, because their choice doesn't matter.

“Mom...Dad, if I tell you I had a dream, will you let me pursue it?”

“Of course.”

“Do you care about my feelings?”

“Yes darling.”

“Then let me tell you today and now that there's someone in my life I cannot imagine living without, I want to marry him and...”

“What nonsense!” her mother interrupted.

Suhana signaled me to enter. I did as told.

“This is Haris.”

All eyes turned towards me. I could feel my skin burning under the intense pressure of their gaze.

Suhana introduced me. The family listened quietly except her mother who was constantly hurling abuses at her. After she stopped speaking, an awkward silence settled itself inside the room.

“Suhana...” her dad spoke softly. I could feel the love and compassion he had for his daughter palpably in his voice.

“I have no issue in you marrying Haris. I'll be happy in your happiness but...”

These buts, they always bring something bad with them.

“But...we live in a society where love marriages are considered inappropriate. Where love itself is shunned. You will marry him but the after effects will taint the reputation of our family. This society will never understand love, they hated and rejected it all along the history. Sorry beta, I am not courageous enough to let you marry him, I adore love but I cannot accept it.”

We made efforts and tried hard to make them accept our tale for two more years until one day, on our sixth anniversary, Suhana came with a gloomy face and asked me to stop dreaming about her.

“I love my father, I love my family, we could have run and escaped the hatred, we could have married in court but all this would be of no meaning unless my dad is not happy. I love you and I love him but I chose him over you.”

“You must, he taught you how to walk, you cannot run away from him.” I added.

“I am glad I met you, you're a beautiful soul... I'm getting married next month. I want you to forget everything... We will remain friends but Haris, we were not meant to be together.”

I saw a tear rolling down her cheek as my eyes welled up.

She forced me to come to her wedding and wish her luck for her new life. How could I? But she wanted me to be there, to watch her leave with another man. I had to fulfill her last wish.

I promised to come but my heart was bleeding then. It bleeds now too and her image of standing with Hashim; her husband, still depresses me.

Avengers were right, “Some people move on... but not us.”

I live in London now, far away from the land of her thoughts.

Keeping myself busy is a way to bury the thoughts hence after work I went to a long tour by train to Birmingham. I spent few hours there: walking in the streets, passing the alleys and wandering in and out of the roadside shops. Finally, I decided to head back to London. On the station, I sat on an empty bench.

The place was quite other than some people with different stories, waiting for their train which will take them where the stars lead.

I closed my eyes to relax a bit.

“Can I sit here?” someone asked.

“Yes.” I replied uninterested, my eyes still shut.

After a few minutes someone called my name. I opened my eyes to see a known face sitting beside; the one which keeps me awake at night.

“Suhana.” I whispered.

“How are you doing, Haris?” she asked excitedly.

She was still as beautiful and gorgeous as I saw her the very first day.

“I...I am...fine.” I said while the memories overflowed my mind.

After a long pause I decided to act normal and asked about her life, her family and of course Hashim.

“Everything's good. We have a small naughty child too. He'll turn one next week.” She spoke with delight.

“Great,” I said.

“You have to come to my house and see my little boy... you have to!”

I made excuses but she begged me and I had no choice left.

“Okay,” I surrendered.

She gave me her address and I promised to visit her next week.

She stood up and looking at me one last time she said, “I'll wait.”

The week rushed to wake me up on the day I never wanted to. I didn't want to go but I had to. She lived in Birmingham, hence I caught the train that would take me to her home.

I bought a figurine of Ironman for her son and walked towards her house.

As I was about to knock at the door, I heard something. As if my own soul talking to me. “Don't you remember the day she left you, she's not yours anymore!” In an instance I was back in my old thoughts.

She's a mother and a happily married one, I told myself. The bouquet in my hand with bright red flowers was facing towards the door. Red roses are her favourite, I used to bring them to her everyday and I brought them today too... I shouldn't.

Gathering all the courage, I knocked at the door and it opened in an instance as if she knew I was standing there.

Formal greetings and then she took me to the huge lounge, beautifully decorated with the pictures of the family. I gave the bouquet to her noticing the diamond ring, I gifted, on her finger.

“Oh... my favourite!” she exclaimed, “You still remember.”

Remember... you were never forgotten, I thought, giving a broken smile. The wrinkles of laughter and sadness were evident on my face. She brought her child... it was adorable, just as she was, I gave him the gift I brought.

“So, what's his name?” I asked.

“Haris,” she uttered.

Our eyes met and I could see the sparkling tears behind those dreamy eyes.

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