The Moon and Her Stars

Ch. 15: Promotion

🎶"Tadpati hai teri baatein aur yaadein teri rulaati hai. Dil rote rote rukta hai, toh rooh bikhar si jaati hain. Ab kisse roothe aur kise hum ab manaye? Baithe un yaadon ko mann hi mann mein dohraye. Hairaani hoti hain aankhein jo roti hain."

"Your words torment me and your memories make me cry. Crying and crying, the heart stops, so the soul becomes scattered. Now who do I get upset with and now who do I pacify? I sit and replay those memories in my mind. I am surprised that these eyes cry."🎶

- Hairaani | Siddharth Amit Bhavsar | Arijit Singh & Sakina Khan

Ayaara's P.O.V.

I was Ayaara Saeed again.

We were in the second to last week of November. It had been six weeks since we filed for divorce and our marriage had been officially terminated yesterday.

Our lawyer handed us our divorce certificates and my family was adamant that I didn't stay a single second longer after. Faris and I silently glanced at each other before parting ways. It was all over.

I felt his stare as I walked to my father and brother who'd been waiting for me outside. They were both eager to give Faris an earful, but I managed to avoid them being able to interact each time. I didn't want any more trouble.

I don't know when or if I would see Faris ever again. It was heartbreaking and relieving at the same time.

The divorce had taken a toll on my health. Over the last several weeks, I barely ate, always felt tired, either slept too much or too little, and spent most of my time cooped up at home.

Each time the squad forced me to hang out with them (Faris had been excommunicated), I was aloof; I couldn't enjoy myself and would force smiles on my face.

I'd also been fired from my job because I hadn't shown up in days without informing them in advance since we filed for the divorce.

Everyday felt never-ending, as if they were dragging on and merged together.

I pushed myself out of bed with a sigh, immediately feeling light-headed and slightly nauseous. Sometimes, I couldn't suppress it and actually threw up, other days it just lingered but I was fine. This had become the norm the last few weeks. But I was bound to feel such weakness because of my erratic sleeping and the small amount of food I would force down.

I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror after using the toilet and brushing my teeth. I looked dull, grim, and feeble. My eyes had become hollow and I'd lost a bit of weight. I was already petite, so some of my features had become further defined sharply, but they now lacked the charm that people sought while trying to lose weight.

My eyes fell on my open hair.

"I love your hair," Faris's voice echoed in my ears as I recalled how he'd smelled and combed his fingers through it.

Next thing I knew, my cheeks were pink and had tears rolling down them, one of the drawers under the sink was open, and there were a pair of scissors in one hand and a few inches of my hair in the other. I had snipped my hair, reducing its length from my lower back to the middle of it. I was about to cut it even shorter when I realized what I was doing.

Why was I changing myself because of him? I liked my hair and its length too. I couldn't escape him like this.

I finished up in the restroom, changed, and prayed before opening my door to head down for breakfast. I bumped into Javed Bhai who immediately noticed my hair.

He took a few a strands in his fingers, "Did you give yourself a trim?"

I nodded.

He grinned and ruffled my hair, "I like it. You look beautiful with any cut, little one. Come on, I'm starving."