Ayesha&Zayd

We first met in the moonlit courtyard of a Ramzan iftar in the old city — Ayesha carrying a tray of dates past the fountain, Zayd holding the door of the deorhi as the maghrib azaan rose over the rooftops. A shared plate of haleem and an hour of easy talk, and neither of us wanted the evening to end.

For two years we found each other again and again — over Irani chai at a corner cafe, wandering the lantern-strung lanes of Charminar at night, always somewhere the city glowed gold and the air smelled of attar.

One evening, beneath a slender crescent and a courtyard full of fanoos lanterns, Zayd asked Ayesha to walk every moon to come by his side. She said Alhamdulillah before the first star appeared.