The weight of the Sultan Haveli's secrets felt heavier than the emerald silk draping over Almara's shoulders. As the laughter of her cousins echoed in the corridors, Almara felt a strange, suffocating distance from it all. Her heart was still back in those golden fields, trapped in the orbit of two piercing black eyes.
"Grandma, I... I think the travel has finally caught up with me," Almara whispered, forcing a weary smile. "I should head to my room."
Grandma's sharp eyes lingered on her for a heartbeat too long, as if she could see the phantom of the white haveli reflected in Almara's pupils. "Go, child. Rest. The air of Lahore takes time to settle in the lungs of those who have been away too long."
Almara didn't wait for a second invitation. She hurried up the grand staircase, her footsteps muffled by the thick Persian rugs.
Once inside her room, she leaned against the closed door, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She didn't turn on the lights. Instead, she walked toward the large arched window that overlooked the sprawling gardens.
In the distance, partially hidden by the ancient trees, the silhouette of the White Haveli stood like a ghost. But it wasn't the building that haunted her; it was him.
She stood there, her fingers tracing the cold glass of the window. That boy. Those eyes. The weren't just eyes; there were a vortex of darkness and secrets. Almara knew, whit a terrifying certainly, that she would never be able to erase that gaze from her memory. It felt as if he hadn't just looked at her, but through her_ reading chapters of her soul she hadn't even written yet.
Who are you? She wondered, her heart thumping a frantic rhythm. And why do I feel like I've been waiting to see you my whole life?
Determined to find answers, she tried to act normal. She sought out Rehan, find him in the library.
"Rehan bhai," she started casually, "that white haveli beyond our fields.... who lives there?
Rehan didn't even look up from his phone. "What white haveli? Almara, there are dozens of old houses around there. Most are empty or owned by families who stayed in England. Don't go wandering of; the fields can be tricky."
Disappointed, she found Zoya in the courtyard. "Zoya, do you know anyone who wears pure white? A boy, maybe our age, with very dark eyes?"
Zoya laughed, her bangles clinking. "Almara, half the boys in this city wear white kurtas on Fridays!
You're the overthinking the 'village' charm. Come, help me pick a dress for tomorrow's brunch."
No one knew. Or perhaps, no one wanted to tell.
The night descended like a heavy velvet curtain, but sleep was a stranger to Almara. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the boy standing on that porch, a silent sentinel in the moonlight. The silence of the mansion was deafening, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves outside.
Unable to bear the restlessness, Almara threw off her covers. She needed air. She slipped out of her room and climbed the narrow stairs leading to the room.
The roof of the Sultan Mansion offered a panoramic view of the estate. The air was cool, carrying the scent of jasmine and damp earth. Almara walked to the edge, her eyes immediately darting toward the White Haveli. In the pale moonlight, it looked even more ethereal, its marble glowing like a fallen star.
"Are you there?" She whispered into the night. "Are you real, or am I losing my mind?"
She stood there for what felt like hours, her searching for a flicker of light, a moment, a sign. She wanted to see him_just once more_to prove to herself that she wasn't chasing a mirage. But the haveli remained silent and dark. The disappointed was a sharp pang in her chest.
He doesn't know, she thought sadly. He doesn't know that someone is standing here, beneath the same stars, shivering with the need to understand why a single look from a stranger has set her world on fire.
As the first grey streaks of dawn began to bleed into the horizon, Almara finally gave up. Her eyes were heavy, her spirit exhausted. She began to walk back toward the stairs, her head bowed.
"BOO!"
Almara let out a piercing shriek, her foot slipping on the smooth tiles. She stumbled back, her heart nearly leaping out of her throat.
Shehriyar and Daim were doubled over with laughter, clutching their stomachs.
"You....your face!" Shehriyar gasped, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "You looked like you saw a ghost!"
"I almost become a ghost, you idiots!" Almara yelled, her face flushed with anger and embarrassment.
"What are you even doing up here, little fairy?" Daim teased, ruffling her hair.
"Planning and escape back to Malaysia? Or waiting for a prince to climb the walls?"
"None of your business! Go away!" She huffed, pushing past them.
The brothers shared a knowing look, their laughter following her all the way down to the dining hall. Breakfast was a blur of parathas and chatter but Almara barely tasted anything. Her mind was a chaotic mess of black eyes and mysterious message.
After breakfast, she retreated to her room, seeking solace in the silence. She was sitting on the edge of her bed when the door opened softly. Sozein steeped inside, her face etched with that quiet, maternal intuition that Almara could never hide from.
Sozein closed the door and sat beside her, Almara into a warm, lingering hug. "Almara.... my brave girl, what is troubling you?"
Almara froze. How does she know? She looked into her mother's eyes_ the eyes had watched her grow in a land that wasn't theirs.
"Nothing, Mama. I'm just.... it's a lot to take in. The house, the people.".
Sozein stroked her hair, her touch a soothing balm. " You were always the most sensitive of my children. You feel the Shadows of this soil more than the others. But remember, Almara, you are my child. Your blood is strong. Don't let the whispers of this house frighten you."
Almara nodded, burying her face in her mother's shoulder. She felt a momentary peace, a sense of safety. But as soon as Sozein left the room, the peace vanished.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Almara picked it up, expecting a text from Zara or Kevin. But the screen showed an Unknown Number. Her heart skipped a beat as she opened the message.
"Little fairy.... come again today. I will wait for you. Just for you."
Almara's breath hitched. Her hands began to tremble so violently that she dropped the phone.
"I hope you will come, right? After all you spent the entire night to catch a glimpse of me...so you weren't the only one watching, were you?"
The phone slipped from her hand, thudding onto the rug.
He knew.
He had seen her on the roof. He had felt her gaze just as she had felt his. The realization hit her like a tidal wave, making her blood run hot and cold at the same time. Her cheeks burned with a deep, crimson flush. She felt exposed, vulnerable, yet strangely.... electrified.
He was watching me, she thought, her pulse thundering in her ears. All the time, while I was searching for him in the shadows, he was already there.
A strange, uncontrollable emotion began to war within her. She wanted to be angry, to be terrified of his stalker-like precision. But deep down, in a place she was too afraid to acknowledge, she felt a thrill.
Does he really think I'll come? She asked herself, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted in a silent gasp. Does he think he can just command me?
She tried to tell herself she was furious. She tried to tell herself that this was dangerous. But she knew the truth. She knew the reason her heart was trying to break out of her chest.
She didn't want to admit it, but the "Shadows of the Fate" had finally spoken her name. And she was already walking toward them.