Lut Gaye || لٹ گۓ

EIGHT | The Night Ends

"O aankh uthi."

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ENTERING inside the apartment, Zain flipped on the switch and a course of light instantly flooded the space, illustrating the interior.

Standing on the white-oak hardwood flooring in the living room, Iman's eyes took in the details of the bright and cozy three-room apartment. Painted lily-white, the living room was alit with recessed ceiling lights and covered with luxurious yet elegant décor. Tying into it was the open kitchen with and eat-in dining area. The aphotic grey cabinetry and countertop of the kitchen matched with the living room furniture and she loved the complementary details. There were twin bedroom doors by the side and the space was tolerably clean.

A bumping noise disrupted her assessment and her eyes fell on the exhausted form of Zain crashed on the tufted couch; his eyes sealed, head tipped back, and hands stretched out.

"God, I'm so done with this abnormally long night. I can't do this anymore," Zain grumbled.

He unfolded his eyes after a moment and found the bride standing in front, staring at him narrowed eyes.

"Why are you standing there? Please sit and give your feet some rest," he proposed.

Iman quietly padded ahead and plopped down on the small sofa adjoining the couch.

"Why were those men after your life so bad? What did you do?" she hissed, reaping a disappointed sigh from him.

"I fucked up."

"What?" Iman gawked at him, not flinching at his blatant swearing anymore. In the very few hours she had spent with him, she had concluded that this man had no filter.

Zain straightened himself and crossed his leg over the other. "Forget it. It's a long story. Aren't you uncomfortable in all that?" he asked, motioning to her attire with his head.

"I am." He had no idea what she would do to get out of this dress and change into something light and warm.

"Go into that room." He pointed his finger at the first door. "My friend lives here with his wife so I'm sure you'll find something comfy to wear in the closet."

"I-Is it okay if I do?" she asked hesitantly.

"Totally. Now go."

Rising to her feet, Iman carried her frame to the bedroom and gingerly started inspecting the closet while Zain stood up from the couch and made a beeline for the open kitchen.
Opening the refrigerator, he scanned through the items inside, trying to find something to satiate his growling hunger.

He, then, swanned around the living room and started going through the chest of drawers to find a med kit and he thankfully did find it after a minute of scouring. With a relieved smile, he fetched it and was waddling past the bedroom when the bride suddenly emerged from inside with distress marring her features.

"There are only jeans, tees and sweatshirts in her wardrobe," she informed him like she had found porn magazines in there.

"So?"

"I... I don't wear such clothes."

Zain rolled his eyes. "Unfortunately, I can't take you on shopping right now."

She opened her mouth to retaliate but stopped when he spoke again, "Just please adjust for tonight, yaar. Please."

Iman clamped her mouth shut and after few seconds of contemplation, she nodded and crawled back into the room. Picking out an oversized blush pink hoodie and same colored trouser from the closet, she reclined on the bed and started unclasping her dupatta.