Love in the Valley

 Love in the Valley 

It was mid-December. The clock had just struck 4:30 in the evening. Up in the hills of Islamabad, the sun was setting, wrapped in a veil of fog. The cold was intensifying. The mist was rolling in.

At the Valley, cafeteria was built high on the hillside, the chill felt a little less biting. A fire had been lit to warm the air. People were bundled in thick, warm clothes. Steam rose from the dishes placed on the tables.

He sat alone. Dressed in a business suit with a muffler wrapped tightly around his neck. His laptop lay open on the table. He would type something on the laptop, then immediately turn his attention to his phone. He was completely absorbed in his work with deep focus. By age, he looked about twenty-five or twenty-six. Because of the cold, he kept scrunching his nose every now and then. Tucked into his waistband beneath his coat was a pistol, secured with a belt.

“Where should I sit? There’s not a single empty table here either,” a girl’s voice rang out. The café terrace was on the second floor.

“You can sit here,” the waiter said, gesturing toward the table. She sat down and placed her bag on it.

He looked up and glanced at the girl. She was taking her phone out of her bag. She was wearing an off-white long frock. A dupatta was draped around her neck. Her hair was held back with a clip, though a few loose strands fell across her face.

“I’ve left home. Now I don’t know what’s going to happen,” she was telling someone on the phone. “No… I’m at Valley right now. I can’t take any more risks. They’ll be searching for me here.” Clear anxiety was written across her face.

“Okay, fine,” she took a deep breath and smiled—perhaps the person on the other end had comforted her. Her phone battery was also about to die.

After putting the phone back in her bag, she looked at the man sitting across from her, who was still focused on his work.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she said, starting to get up to leave.

“No… you may sit with me,” he smiled, and she sat back down.

“That works too. You carry on with your work,” she shrugged thoughtfully, rested her elbows on the table, and sat there glancing around at the people while continuously swinging one leg.

He kept working.

“Would you like something?” he asked without looking up from his laptop; clearly addressing the girl sitting opposite him.

“Umm… coffee?” she said, noticing that he was already drinking coffee. “I’ll order it myself.”

“No need,” he smiled, called the waiter himself, and asked for a coffee to be brought for her.

“Why all this formality?” she now felt as if she owed him something.

“It’s okay,” he smiled again in that regal, effortless way. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

“So that’s why you ordered the coffee?” she laughed.

“No… but you can think of it that way,” he replied, clearly enjoying her response.

Silence fell. She kept looking at him with a soft smile. He remained absorbed in his work, fully aware that she was watching him, yet he didn’t glance at her even once. The waiter placed the coffee in front of her.

“Razia. And you?” she asked after a while.

“Humayun,” he said, closing his laptop and finally looking at her. Apparently his work was done.

“What do you do?” she asked, taking a sip of the coffee.

“I’m with the Foreign Ministry,” he answered casually. She tilted her lips to one side and looked at Humayun with playful admiration. He was clearly impressed with himself too.

“Running away from home, right?” Humayun asked suddenly; meaning he had been listening to her phone call all along.

“Yes,” she laughed. “If you had parents like mine, you would’ve run away too. They’re so strict, so suffocating. They had me completely locked down.” She sighed with frustration and shuddered.

“Every kid has issues with their parents,” Humayun said calmly.

“So you had them too?” she teased, laughing, and he couldn’t help but laugh with her.

Razia stretched her arm across the table and rested her head on it, looking at him sideways.

Humayun did the same, propping his head on his arm, and finally looked straight at her.

“Have you thought about where you’ll go?”

“No.”

“What will you do?”

“I don’t know.”

“What if they find you?”

“They’re already looking.”

“That’s sad. Then why leave home at all?”

“My family wants to force me into marrying my cousin, and the way that cousin behaves… God forgive me,” she said, looking right at Humayun as she poured it out. “He wants everything exactly when he wants it. No discipline, no sense, nothing. I know it would never work between us. He’d cage my freedom. My whole life would be over. Why? It’s my life—shouldn’t the decision be mine? And I know that once I’m married, my husband will become the judge of every single decision in my life. First it was my father making them, now it would be my husband. No.” She said the last word with quiet, fierce resolve.

Humayun just looked into her eyes. He saw the grief in them, the pain. Her brown eyes were saying far more than her lips ever could, and he was close enough now to read them clearly. There was a burning hunger in those eyes—for freedom, for experiences, for everything she wanted to become and do. Tears welled up, but she forced them back. Then she fell silent and gave a small, tired smile.

“So… now what?” he asked softly.

“So what now? You tell me,” she said, resting her chin on her hand, elbow planted firmly on the table.

Her phone started buzzing. It was her father calling from home. With a flash of irritation she cut the call and switched the phone to silent.

“My life is already too busy,” Humayun said. “I never even get time to think about these things.”

“I refuse to believe there’s no girl in your life,” she teased, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Refuse all you want, but it’s the truth.” He folded his arms across his chest, leaned back in his chair, and laughed. “Though… after seeing you, maybe it’s time to start thinking about it.” His tone carried a playful double meaning.

“Oh, come on,” she said, waving him off with a flick of her hand.

“Why not? I’ve already gone from stranger to acquainted with this beautiful mystery woman,” he said, grinning.

“Humayun…” She looked up at him with a shy smile, then glanced at the sky. “Don’t build fantasies. Fantasies tend to get heavy after a while and have villains.”

“In a woman’s life, the villain is always a man,” Humayun remarked.

“And in my life, there are two,” Razia shot back.

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really.”

“But I’m not a villain. I could be the hero,” he said, leaning forward.

“That remains to be seen…”

“Seen what?”

“You should never fully trust the male species.”

Humayun burst into loud laughter at that.

“You’re absolutely right. Never trust men,” he agreed, still chuckling. “But seriously, it’s getting dark. Where are you going to go?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far.”

“A Foreign Ministry officer earns pretty well, you know,” he said about himself with mock pride.

She laughed.

“There’s only a mother and a father at his house,” he added.

“Good to know,” she said, giggling at his antics.

“He’s completely unlike some girl’s fiancé. He has free thoughts, he himself is free, and he appreciates beauty.”

“Okay then, tell him to be patient,” she said, standing up.

“You’re leaving?”

“No, I’m still here,” she said, adjusting her dupatta. “How long are you staying?”

“Me?” Humayun paused, thinking. “As long as you’re here.”

She slung her bag over her shoulder, walked to the edge of the café terrace, and stood gazing at the dense forest below. Far in the distance, the road was visible, cars speeding along it. Humayun came and stood beside her. The cold was growing sharper.

“Can I ask you something, Humayun?”

“Of course.”

“Can I trust you?” She turned toward him, searching his face.

“What do you think?” he asked instead of answering.

Razia looked away.

“Sometimes a person shouldn’t listen to their head, but to their heart,” Humayun whispered, stepping closer, his breath warm against her ear.

“But I still have so much I want to do, Humayun. You’ve already achieved everything, haven’t you? In this society, not every man who looks good is actually good. We walk around with snakes coiled around us and don’t even realize it. And everyone I’ve ever trusted has stabbed me in the back. Poisonous… poisonous right down to the core.”

Humayun gently took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. Her cheeks were wet. She tried to smile. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes.

“I’ll just go wash my face,” she said, handing him her purse and phone before heading toward the ladies’ area.

Humayun stood holding her phone in one hand, her bag dangling from his elbow. He glanced at the screen: an incoming call. He looked in the direction Razia had gone.

He closed his eyes for a second, then put the phone to his ear.

“Valley…” a voice echoed on the other end, and the call cut off.

It was ten minutes to six. The evening azaan had been called long ago. Razia’s phone had now switched off completely; the battery was dead.

Razia came back and stood beside him.

“See? I’m still right here,” he said, as if offering proof of his loyalty.

She laughed softly. “Then why did you need to run away at all? A Foreign Ministry officer… what do you need a few extra rupees for?”

“No… I was just saying it casually,” he said with a shrug and a slight back-step on his heels.

The two of them climbed the wooden stairs to the third floor. Their footsteps echoed on the creaking planks.

“You should go back home, Razia. If they find you, they’ll kill you,” Humayun said, his voice laced with worry… or perhaps guilt.

“They’ll find me anyway,” she replied bravely. “And if I go home, they’ll kill me there too. You ought to know what this society does to a girl who runs away.”  

She hadn’t really asked it as a question; she had simply stated it, but since Humayun didn’t know, it felt like a question to him.

“No… I’m not like that,” he said, almost naïvely.

“How are you not like that, Humayun? I haven’t even accused you of anything,” Razia stopped walking and looked at him. They were now standing on the third floor. Humayun was staring down at the view below while Razia stared at him. He gripped the railing tightly with both hands. Razia stepped closer and placed her hand gently on his arm. Humayun turned his head toward her. She looked heartbroken.

“You’ll save me, won’t you?” Razia asked softly.

“From what?”

“From this society.”

Humayun’s throat tightened; he swallowed hard. His eyes drifted to the distant road.

“Thank you, Humayun… for staying with me this far.”

“Have you started liking me? Fallen in love with me?” he asked suddenly, turning her to face him and looking straight into her eyes. “In such little time? But you’re the one who said never to trust men.”

“Hmm… I did say that,” she whispered. “Yet the one I love is the one I’ll call out to in my final moment. Don’t get the wrong idea.”  

She lightly punched his arm and smiled through glistening eyes. He kept staring at her with an empty, hollow gaze.

“You’re leaving now, aren’t you? So… thank you.” Her voice trembled.

“One second…” She rummaged in her bag, then took his hand, placed something in his palm, and closed his fist over it. “Open it only after I’m gone.”  

Their breath came out in white puffs in the freezing air.

“After you’re gone?”

“Yes. After I’m gone.”  

With that, she started descending the stairs. She turned once, looked up at Humayun, and waved. For a moment it felt as though she had cast a spell on him. Razia took a breath; the cold turned it into vapor that vanished into the night.

He remained standing there as he watched her walk out of the Valley. Then he looked down at his closed fist.  

Razia had stopped for a second farther down the path. She lifted her head and looked back at him. He was still standing in the same spot. She walked on, alone, her figure growing smaller with every step.

I wish I had told her I’d drop her somewhere safe.  

I wish I had taken her to my home.  

I wish I had claimed her as mine.  

I wish I had saved her life.  

I wish I could have fulfilled all the dreams that lived in those brown eyes.

A thousand such “if onlys” were tearing through Humayun’s mind in that moment.  

"Yes… I’ve fallen… in love… with Razia.  

What have I done?" he thought.  

Tears began to fall from his eyes, one by one.  

What would it have cost me to save her?

He stood there, frozen like a statue, weeping.

Then, down on the road, he saw it.  

Men were dragging someone.  

It was Razia.  

She was crying, screaming.  

She was calling his name.  

Because Humayun could have saved her.

“Humayun… Humayun…”  

She kept pulling away from the men, looking desperately up toward the Valley.  

She was far below now; he was high above.  

He watched her.  

His lips trembled.  

Clutching the railing with one hand, he leaned forward and stared at the closed fist that held her gift.

Cars rushed past on the road.  

In her struggle, both her shoes had come off.  

Her dupatta lay abandoned in the middle of the street.  

Her fiancé was yanking her by the hair.

There is no greater torment than knowing you could have done something… and you didn’t.

They had dragged her close to a Jeep.  

In the glare of the headlights, Humayun saw her clearly.  

She looked so fragile.  

White puffs of breath escaped her mouth.  

The cold wind cut through her body.  

She was shrinking, curling into herself, still trying to shake off her fiancé’s grip.  

Now he had a pistol pointed at her.

She froze.

In that blinding light, Humayun saw her lift her head one last time, trying to find him, trying to call him.  

She must have felt the iron rip through her chest, tearing out the other side.

A tremor tore through the air.  

A sharp crack.  

A high-pitched whistle rang in Humayun’s ears.  

Her body jerked once.  

At the exact same instant, Humayun shuddered as though the bullet had struck him too.

Slowly… very slowly… he opened his fist and looked at what lay inside.

“After I’m gone.”

“After you’re gone?”

“Yes.”

In the background, voices still echoed. Someone was laughing somewhere. That laughter… the feel of Razia’s fingers brushing his arm…

Crack. The second shot rang out.  

Her body jerked and collapsed to the ground.

In his open palm gleamed a tiny glass bottle no bigger than a fingertip. Inside it floated a few coloured glitter stars, swirling slowly in clear liquid.

He was running.  

Outside. Toward Razia.

He ran like a madman down the road, fist clenched, tears streaming without stop.

“Razia…” he screamed as he ran.  

He wanted to save her from the torment he himself had written for her, the fate Humayun had sealed with his silence.  

But it was too late. He knew it was too late, and still he ran.

He spotted her phone lying on the asphalt. Dropping to his knees, he snatched it up, stuffed it in his pocket, and kept running.

Then he stopped dead.

There she was.

Steam rose from the bullet wounds; the blood was still warm, just beginning to thicken in the freezing air.

“Razia…”  

He screamed and fell beside her. Gently, so gently, he lifted her head onto his lap.  

Her white dress had turned crimson.  

He touched the wounds with trembling fingertips and broke into a wail.

“Razia…”  

His voice tore through the sky.

He stroked her cheek.

“Razia, open your eyes.”  

Just once more, he wanted to see the dreams that lived inside those brown eyes.

"You really didn’t know what society does to a girl who runs away. You could have saved her if you’d wanted to."  

His mind was screaming.  

His heart was shutting down.  

She had been innocent.  

She really had trusted the wrong man.  

You truly should never trust the male species.  

Now every word she had ever said to him was echoing inside his skull.

He sat there on the cold road, cradling her body, rocking back and forth, the tiny bottle of glitter stars still clenched in his blood-stained fist.