When you visit our website, if you give your consent, we will use cookies to allow us to collect data for aggregated statistics to improve our service and remember your choice for future visits. Cookie Policy & Privacy Policy
Dear Reader, we use the permissions associated with cookies to keep our website running smoothly and to provide you with personalized content that better meets your needs and ensure the best reading experience. At any time, you can change your permissions for the cookie settings below.
If you would like to learn more about our Cookie, you can click on Privacy Policy.
25 Nasrin “You have to eat something.” As if prodded by my younger brother’s command, my stomach growled. “See? Starving yourself won’t bring you any joy, Nasrin. Eat,” Imran said, taking a piece of my favorite sweet kunafah, and twirling it across my face. “Stop it,” I grumbled and shuffled on the bed. The same old white-washed, simple bed in the Maahnoor palace. “I don’t want to eat anything right now.” Imran sighed. His warm brown eyes had lost the gleam they had since the news of my father’s crime. “You have been saying that for the past three days. Look at yourself in the mirror, you look worse than Sadiq did when he woke up after Hussain pranked him with the laxatives in his food for his thirtieth birthday.” I cracked a small smile, remembering that day. Hussain was a year old