HEART ACROSS THE BORDER (ON HOLD)

FIFTEEN

IMPORTANT NOTE!!!

FIRST READ IT AND THEN PROCEED

I don't know why you guys are not voting, comments to door ki baat hai. You know it really breaks my heart and even pushes my morale down💔💔

Except for few readers some of you don't even bother to comment or even vote.

I'll stop working on this story if you people want. Please tell me if you are tired with this one. I don't want to waste my time anymore.

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Bechain Bebas Khud Se Rootha Main Ghoomun,

Tujhpe Main Cheekhun Ya Phir Maathe Ko Choomun ?

THIRD PERSON'S POV

Coming back from the washroom, Mariyam's gaze landed upon Musa who was sitting on the edge of the bed. His back was slouched down in an uncomfortable position and the way he was clutching his head showed how tensed he was.

He looked disturbed. Too disturbed.

But why was he disturbed ? Wasn't he satisfied enough after snatching away all her peace ? Or there was something more left to shatter her more ?

If he had planned something then she was in for it. He couldn't shatter her more than he already did.

Yes! He had no power over her.

Passing a small glance towards Musa's direction, Mariyam turned herself towards the dressing table to pick up the bandage she asked Samaira for.

Her moments alerted Musa who instantly looked up hearing shuffling near him. He knew it was her. He desperately wanted to reach her and tend her wound himself. His legs were itching to go to her. It was because of him, all his fault, but refrained himself knowing about her reaction, deciding to watch her silently and intervene when needed.

Mariyam was able to feel his piercing gaze upon herself and it irritated the hell out of her, but she chose to ignore it and focus on her wound which had now started to ooze with blood. Her hands trembled as she touched the antiseptic closer to over wound.

"Ahh..." A painful whimper escaped her lips even before she could stop it. The cut had stung so hard that she was feeling afraid to reapply the ointment again.

But she knew it was necessary for the cut to be tended properly. It was pretty deep and could worsen if not treated. A small tear leaked out of her eye remembering her father. How he used to tend to her wounds knowing about he super sensitive self.

But now it was all her. There was no father of her who would.....

"What are you doing, Mr. Kirmani ?" the trail of her thoughts broke when Musa snatched the bandaid away from her hold. His eyes were fixed over her neck, over her wound, looking all distressed.

The way his eyebrows were knitted together, his forehead creased, showed how stressed he was.

He looked like he was the one in pain and she was almost caught in his fake concern act... but then she was smart enough to know that he was faking.

She was sure he was.

"Sit, I'll dress your wound." A soft chuckle passed her lips, hearing his strained, painful voice. It was definitely a pathetic attempt of coaxing her to let him dress her wound.