FROM NEVER TO HAPPILY EVER!

17.

15 days later.

Mohsin Baig.

I groan in annoyance, folding and throwing another piece of paper that was faxed to me, not one bit surprised by the content. I get up from my chair, picking a cup from the table and holding it beneath the coffee machine, impatiently. I need some caffeine in my body lest my head will split into two.

This is not the first time I am working for eighteen hours straight but it sure seems like it, because of the killing headache and muscle cramp I am feeling. For a second or two, everything spins and I am not even drunk today. It has become a routine now, from the last two haunting weeks.

Heartbreak is like a snake bite. At first, you wouldn't know you are it's prey or how venomous it is. When it starts working, you realise you are about to die. It comes with a disclaimer; no escape. You either die, or die.

I chuckle sarcastically, almost sounding lunatic for my own self. The man who didn't crack up once before a stand-up comedian is laughing to himself for no particular reason. Ishq kahan se kahan le aaya.

After an inner battle for about two minutes, I finally give up once again and crouch down to pick up the crumpled paper that I had arrogantly thrown as if touching it for the last time. Oh, who am I kidding.

I place the cup of steaming coffee aside, trying to flatten the wrinkled paper as I reread the cursive words written on it.

" Dil e nadan tujhe hua kya hai.
Akhir is dard ki dawa kya hai.

Ham hain mushtaq aur wo bezaar,
Ham hain mushtaq aur wo bezaar
Ya ilahi akhir ye maanjra kya hai."
                                               ~Mahira.

I chuckle again, this time for a reason. Ghalib ki itni mashoor shayari uthakar credits khudko deti hai, pagli.

I sit back on my chair, opening the drawer where another half a dozen of of such crumpled papers are present in an order. I picked yesterday's paper, staring at it like a cryptic message to be decoded. I have cracked cases with the biggest organised crime branches yet I am a dimwit when it comes to understanding this complex woman.

"Hamko unse wafa ki hai ummed,
Hamko, unse wafa ki hai ummed,
Jo nahin jaante wafa kya hai."
                                             ~Hira.

"Jaan tum par nisaar karti hun.
Jaan tum par nisaar karti hun,
Main nahin jaanti dua kya hai."
                                           ~M.M.B

What does she want now? Hasn't she already done enough damage. She made it clear what she thinks of me. She wanted nothing to do with me anymore and left that very day. Then for a whole damn week there was no contact from her end, it was as if she vanished in thin air. The short span of time that she spent at my home felt like a dream if it wasn't for her clothes in my closet, her accessories in my locker, her shampoo in the bathroom and her wicked makeup kit on my dressing table.

Why did she leave those things behind? She should have taken them with her, but no! Mahira Altaf Khan is hell bent on making my life miserable. My own room has been haunting me like a horror movie.

And to add fuel to the fire, she has been pestering me through my office for the last week, faxing cryptic shayaris that don't mean shit.

I grab the intercom pressing it's button, the next minute a peon knocks the door.