Lut Gaye || لٹ گۓ

TWENTY FIVE | Your Light Burns Me

"main shauq se de doon saugaat mein."

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THE last time Zain had worn a suit was when he had been presented a medal for his participation and performance in a security operation against terrorists.

It was a not-much-publicised ceremony held by the police department to honour the grit and valour the officers of the security and investigation units had depicted while fighting off the militants―who had attacked an embassy in his city―and successfully thwarting the incursion.

A moment of pride but he couldn't relish in it because in that battle to protect the lives of others, two policemen, his comrades, had given their lives. The air of mourning had smothered the triumph he otherwise would've felt upon receiving the honour.

But today, donning a sleek, charcoal black three-piece suit cut in a tailored fit that snugly sat across his broad shoulders and created a debonair outline―teemed with a grey and white striped necktie, matching pocket square and cufflinks that added an accent to the ensemble―for his and Iman's reception ceremony, he felt wrapped up in utter joy and contentment.

Standing in the lounge, he was waiting for the love of his life who was getting ready in their room and it had been quite a while.

Maybe he should just go and fetch her-

His heart leapt when his eyes fell on a silvery silhouette.

Upstairs, on the first floor, Iman showed up like she had walked straight out of one of his dreams.

He held his breath, marvelling at the sight with awe shining in his inky eyes, and then he placed his hand on his heart―feeling the throbbing sound of his heartbeat―and sighed.

A smitten sigh. A lover's sigh.

Keeping his eyes locked on her, he joined his thumb and index finger into a circle with the remaining three held outstretched, and a tiny grin hovered on his lips as he sent the ring gesture her way.

She burst into a smile.

A wide, effervescent stretch of her lips, showing her pearly teeth―a smile like a bullet he couldn't dodge and it went straight through the centre of his heart.

She took a step forward but before she could glide down the stairs, Zain held up his hand and stopped her―beckoning with his finger that he was coming to get her.

Captivated, in the thrall of her lunar radiance, he began his ascend, slowly making his way up and letting his dark eyes drink in her appearance.

The surmayi gown embellished with white pearls and crystals beautifully encompassed her sylphlike frame, cinching at her waist―that he loved to wrap his arms around―and flowing to her feet. Crowning her head was a diaphanous net dupatta and above the wide neckline of her dress that exposed her divine collarbones sat a Constella necklace.

Her eyes astral, lips roses and jet-black tresses pinned back with few wavy tendrils framing her heart-shaped face―she stood there like a shining moon.

And he made his way up to her, moonstruck.

The stairs soon ended and so did the distance between them as he stood before her―his entranced eyes smouldering into hers.

"You look..." He trailed―a thousand words arising in his mind, conjoining into phrases, composing into poems that he could recite in her praise but what came out of his mouth was just one word, two syllables, a mellow whisper;