𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐙𝐀

15. 𝗤𝗮𝗹𝗯-𝗘-𝗔𝗹𝘁𝗮𝗻.

❛Andhero mein bhi reh kar khoobsurat hai.
Chand hai tu.
Tujhe kaha taaron ki zarurat hai?❜

•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•

Target for the next chapter- 60 votes

Third Person's POV:

Altan stood up in respect for Mahoor, he snapped his laptop shut and opened the drawer, he shoved the book inside, locking it safely.

He was working on something very crucial but now that the woman of his life was demanding his attention and time, he'd prioritize her over anything.

He stood in front of her and pushed his hands back. His body language glowed with dominance yet his eyes gave away his submission.

They both were standing in the middle of his mahogany office.

Altan noticed her attire. Mahoor was dressed in white anarkali, looking all ethereal.

He averted his gaze from her however he raised his eyes to see a handful glimpse of hers again, satisfying the yearning of his heart.

'Jab bhi nazar utha kar dekhu tou pichli baar se kayi gunah aur chaar chand lag jate hai inki khubsurti ko.'

Altan thought.

He was wearing a black color salwar kameez, whose sleeves were pulled up till his elbows, revealing his veiny, muscular calloused hands.

He observed how they both were different from each other. She was wearing white, symbolizing light and portraying the role of a moon.

Whereas, he was wearing black, symbolizing the darkness which held cavernous miseries and secrets of his life.

His eyes softened, seeing her shiver under the shawl as she wasn't accustomed to Lahore's freezing temperature.

Altan moved to close the windows and Mahoor made her way to sit on the sofa.

He came back and saw Mahoor sitting on one of the chesterfields.

He arched one eyebrow perfectly at her newfound attitude as an hour ago, she didn't want his presence in her sight even for a second.

But here they are now.

Mahoor raised her eyebrows at him and jerked her chin in front's sofa for him to sit down.

And without uttering any word, Altan trudged to the couch and sat down.

Spreading his one hand over the leather sofa, he pushed his knee above the other.

Altan tilted his head and a lopsided grin appeared on his gorgeous face, "Farmaiye, Qalb-E-Altan. Kya kaam aa sakte hai hum aap ke?"

Mahoor clenched her hand, tightly. So tightly that the nails of her fingers dug painfully into the skin of her palm.

'Woh mard zaat hai. Ek baar pyar se, muskura ke apni baat kaho, dekho phir kaise woh tumhari nahi sunta.'

Seyran's words echoed in Mahoor's head, making her tight fist to loosen.

Unwillingly, against her wishes, Mahoor smiled which didn't reach her eyes.

"Ab aap hi mere kaam aa sakte hai aur koi nahi." Every word of hers was coated with sugar syrup, amusing Altan.

Each vein in Mahoor's body pulsed with rage. She was trying so hard to keep the flowing exasperation in control but the man was making it impossible.