Of reflections, shards and broken hearts

He loved her.

Her curious way of kneading her glossy black hair in an elegant knot, her lively hazel eyes ever twinkling brightly with a relish unseen, her fair complexion slightly tinged with rouge – all these attributes being but few things that made him love her so intensely, so irrevocably.

Her beauty was of the rare sort; not one that awes, but one that courts the eyes of the beholder and upon doing so, pleases one immeasurably. Her countenance was, however, not entirely bereft of any imperfections; a blemish on the right cheek, could have looked unseemly on some other face – but, for her, it only served to accentuate her beauty.

Who could not love and admire such beauty?


She was happy and that made him happy.

The cheerful jittery manner in which she knotted her hair, her skipping in sheer happiness now and then and of course, the radiant smile that she shone upon him – it made him feel as if the intense love he felt for her was being reciprocated. That she was happy and even though, he was unaware of the cause of her happiness, the fact that she chose to share her happiness with him despite having countless other friends, ascertained him that he held a special place in her heart.

Yes, one might point out that since he was hopelessly in love, he deluded himself by imagining his affection for her was being returned subtly through happiness.

But, then, love does render one helpless.


She was angry and that made him curse his inability to calm her down.

She raved and raged and gesticulated fiercely; only moments back she had smashed her cell phone in smithereens – the sad pieces of the martyred phone now lay scattered across the already cluttered floor of the room. He wanted to reach out, hold her in his arms, and soothe the upwelling of rage that so dangerously attempted to break her down very much alike the cell phone she had smashed a couple of moments ago.

All his life he had watched her in the moments of solitude she spent in her room – and so he knew. He knew she was incredibly vulnerable; that inside her beat a heart that had been so battered down by failed relationships, so utterly stabbed by betrayals – that it couldn’t possibly weather another bastard dumping her. You can start hacking away at a tree of huge girth and ultimately it would fall down. You can have waves eroding away at a stubborn outthrust of rock and ultimately it would crumble away. But a heart … is just a heart: nothing as momentous as a gargantuan tree or as obdurate as an unyielding rock.

And, it had happened again. Another break-up had come into place. Her heart was broken and it pained him.

His heart ached – but what he dreaded the most was grief that followed the rage.

… and nothing is so shattering as the grief of a heart that has been broken many a times.


In the last moments of her rage, she broke him too.

The ornament thrown in anger hit him squarely in the median – and fragile as he was, he shattered.

He, who had reflected her happiness, her grief, her rage; he, who had been her companion when pangs of loneliness struck her; he, who had loved her irrevocably – was shattered by her in just a matter of seconds.

All that loyalty, that devotion, that concern went down in a smoke – for, he was, but a mirror. An inanimate object that had dared to love the animate; an inanimate object worth zilch, thought incapable of any emotion; an inanimate object that could be obliterated in few seconds.

Yet, love lingered. Even as his shards cascaded down into a heap of debris, his love for her lingered.

She had shattered him, yet he stayed true.


She clutched at him and wept; as if he was the only one capable to save her from the burgeoning darkness of oblivion and self-hatred.

Yes, he was just a shard; a remnant, a pitiful fragment – but, she clutched him. She clutched him, despite his jagged edge, his cracked visage … yet she clutched him.

It was acceptance. His love had been accepted.

Euphoria erupted inside him and he snuggled against her wrist. Her sobs ceased.

Ah, she is comforted. At last. She is comforted by my closeness. He thought.

Her eyes darkened. But, in his happiness, he forgot everything.

Her grip tightened on him. He enjoyed her being so close to him.

She raised him slightly. He felt uneasy, yet thought it unwise to dispel the moment he had longed for, since such a long time.

She did not hesitate. He did not respond.




Image courtesy of: http://www.dreamstime.com

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15 thoughts on “Of reflections, shards and broken hearts

  1. Hijab says:

    Lol. I had been waiting for the twist from the start. And voila! There it was! About the mirror. It was epic I must say. I was totally into it. And Masha Allah you have a very cool vocabulary. I envy you-the good way. Keep mesmerizing.

    • Anas Shafqat says:

      Hahaha, you were waiting for the twist? 😀 Great! :’D
      Thanks alot, Hijab! :’D
      Keep visiting 🙂 🙂

  2. Hira says:

    quite a turn of events. never saw it coming dat it ws a mirror. imagnatv as ever i c 😛
    it ws a nice story in a sad way! keep it up 😛
    and also as alwaz written beautifuly! =)

  3. Did I ever tell you that you write beautifully?
    Well now you know! if you didn’t before! 😛

  4. Khanum says:

    slash death ah ! Beautiful peace. end a bit depressing though. : )
    I have jus the right ‘reply’ to this one also, been lying in my drafts since months, should I dedicate it to the girl u just made to do the slash cut ? …lol..

    • Anas Shafqat says:

      Loved the dedication 😀
      I’m honored once again 😀
      Thanks alot for liking 🙂

      • Khanum says:

        Nothing intentional, just happens.
        I was jus wondering why we murder the heroine of the stories always. Lol. You killed this girl I murdered Rose. tsk tsk…
        Buh anyways, nice work. I enjoy ur writings. All the best. : ))

  5. […] Rain.. ! by Khanum Anas, a fellow blogger wrote this beautiful piece Of reflections, shards and broken hearts ! I had this piece written months ago, I am publishing it to compliment his write […]

  6. mahlaqa says:

    had the beloved been animate the cut would have been far deeper far lethal and the girl would still have managed to pull through 🙂
    so i do like ur mirror better 🙂

    • Anas Shafqat says:

      You liked the mirror because it helped her kill herself? :p
      But, yes, she chose the easy way out 🙂 Wounds heal.

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