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Mr. and Mrs. Imperfectly Perfect~

🇵🇰_Pika
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Synopsis
What happens when you are famous but no one has ever seen you? Then you can be anyone and anyone can be you. Aliza Kaif is that unfortunate name owning every headline, every news chanel, the star of all gossips. But where is she now? Has she really died as people say..? No one knows. A heiress to unending wealth, Aliza Kaif, a reclusive sensational painter skyrocketed to fame only to disappear abruptly overnight after her mansion is raided, paintings destroyed, and lawsuits filed. But what did a homebody, with no family, no friends and zero connections with the world, did to rage everyone like this? How did a person no one even knew existed till yesterday became the most hated person of today? Did really the tragedies of her life and depression drive her crazy and she did as the news say? Or is she being framed? Lawyer Momin is desperate to find out. Momin is a social butterfly. He has lived a fairytale life. He is everything Aliza is not, got everything the other doesn't. And is desperate on taking the loosing case of Aliza. Momin is hellbent to find Aliza and tell her that she is his wife. But how will Aliza react to it. How will one react if you loose all you have and then some stranger tells you he is your husband.. A childhood marriage. But things doesn't add up for aliza who is also hiding many secrets and a baby. She has no recollection of her childhood memories anymore, making Momin's words the only evidence to his claims. To Aliza, Momin's words not just sounded crazy but also warm like sun. To have someone to call family, a person to stand by you when everyone defies you. Although his bubbly nature saved the suicidal Aliza, but she can see though his perfect facade, she knows this man belonging to the perfect world is not as happy as he seems. His smile may be a lock to the darkest corner in his heart. She is afraid he might not like her as much once all her secrets are known. Entangled together in an unimaginable serendipity by fate, their two hearts gradually approached, understanding and healing each other, finding salvation, and hope. However, questions linger: What fueled Aliza's success and downfall? Is Momin's claim genuine? What secrets lie beneath his charming exterior? The brutal truths and secrets of past blur the lines between reality and deception, as Aliza and Momin confront their demons. They must decide: will their love prevail, or will the secrets of their pasts destroy their future? The tale of Aliza and Momin and the magic that connects all dots in their lives.
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Chapter 1 - Prologue

I saw a dream. Ironically that day too I thought it all was a dream. A nightmare to be precise. Everything was dark and cold, and the drench of blood was nauseating. I think I zoned out for a long time, perhaps a whole night and when I came to be I heard loud sirens. I don't remember anything that happened. Or perhaps I do, just don't have the courage to look back.

They say I was in a state of shock. Till I came around I was already deemed as the murderer of own kin, couldn't be arrested as I was only thirteen and was proven psychotic and was sent to an asylum. There, for a whole year the doctors tried everything to prove some point but I just wanted to die that's it! What do I live for!?

All I could remember was some fragments of happy memories. Nothing else. I was a total lost case. The sadness inside me was evident that what people say was perhaps true. But if that was it, then killing my own parents and my three years old brother, did I really deserved to live? My answer was no. For five months straight I did all that I can to die. But GOD just wasn't on my side. Each time I was saved and then a routine of torture from nurses at the ward will start but it was nothing compared to what I felt inside. Empty. Broken.

The only memories of that night were dark room, smell of blood and ambulance and police sirens. Everyone wanted me to remember what happened except for two people. One myself and one was my nanny who called the ambulance and then police that day.

I woke up all drenched in sweat. My lungs fighting for more and more air. "What the f***!" I swore hyperventilating. No, I wasn't swearing at the dream but the dark room.

I was still not accustomed to it, often ending up frightening my soul out of me. I looked around for my cell phone and water only to remember I wasn't at home. No such luxury as water by bed. I checked time and it was almost 3 am in the morning.

"Gosh.." I muttered plopping in the bed, again, swearing all over. Straightening my breathing I swallowed my salive n closed eyes again. I was in no mood for walking to the kitchen.

There was no sound, not even the sound of the night. And it was so dark. I slowly let the tears fall, no one could see them here anyways. I truly had never expected this from the life. So many things had happend. Not that I ever planned life or had any expectations from it. But definitely never even thought about all this.

These dreams of past aren't ever gonna let me live. People out there hate me and also are not gonna let me live. But I have a reason to live! I'm not dying! I won't die!! I wiped my tears and got up to get some water. That night too like any other night, I didn't sleep.

It had been six months, a whole half year. But people were not forgetting me. I thought they'll forget over time. I thought I would be able to return to my house again but perhaps this extremely dirty-to-the-point-of-everything-being-black, smelly and nauseating begger colony was all I'd got.

"Perhaps, I can give the baby to some rich family to raise? Or maybe an orphanage and can get them out when I have earned enough?" I muttered to myself as I laid back in the bed.

Caressing my swollen abdomen, I whispered chimingly; "my dear you will certainly not live like me, don't be afraid." Oh, how I wish I could kiss the unborn.

"I don't even know if I wanna live or not. I want to see you grow. I want family. But I'm not sure if I wanna live anymore." And I started laughing under my breathe. "What if you grow up to be like your father!? But what if you don't? No one knows na. What if you love me. But what if you don't. I don't wanna live to see that day. I think that will be the most brutal death for me.. How about I give birth to you, leave you to rich doors and live a happy after life? Yea.. this seems like a plausible plan for me."

I started to hum to myself a lullaby and eventually, of course didn't sleep, but, the sun rose up. I didn't do anything to earn a penny. I would only lay around changing poses. Begger community was although beggers all but also kind hearted. They'll let me have something. Sometimes a piece of bread. Somedays the old lady here gets me a full loaf of bread, it lasts me days. And one day a child dropped his lollipop near me, I tasted sweet in a long time.

Back at home, I had everything at command. I just needed to say the words. What was it that I didn't have. Now what was it that I had. At least these people didn't recognise me. Safe place to be hence.

Six months ago, I divorced my husband. I was sick and tired of him. The very day a news broke out:

"Famous no-face painter Kaif turned out to be a drug dealer."

"A famous painter had been hiding drugs in their paintings. Police is investigating, and has not announced anything yet."

"Painter hiding drungs in paintings taking advantage of no one knowing their identity. Public demand for justice."

"People burning billions of paintings on streets. Paintings all tested positive for harmful drugs."

World spinned so fast under my feet. Drugs? What the hell!? What drugs? I ran to my studio and half of my paintings were gone.

My knees gave in before me and I fell to the ground. What was happening? I called my agemts but their numbers were off. My both agents were nowhere to be found. I ended up calling police myself and that was the worst mistake of my life. My address got out from there. My identity. My personal space became public property.

Some weird videos of me surfaced where I was walking stumbling and talking muffled and hence was deemed as a druggy. Some more people came up to give their testimonies against me not just calling me a drug addict and drug dealer but also a painting thief. Saying it was their work that I stole. All my sketches were in their hands telling world it was theirs. And I had none when asked. I was robbed of everything.

And then my agents and ex-husband gave their interviews to media calling all accusations true. That was when I realized I was tircked by those three. They were the ones how hammered the last bolt in my coffin. Police came to my house with warrent and arrested me. Public entered my house ransacking and burning everything. My maid got me a lawyer who got me out. But then a new news surfaced.

The news of my family. How I murdered them all in cold blood and was in a mental asylum for an year.

They were coming prepared.

Well it's not like I could lose anything more. I left home. Disappeared. I was disappointed in him. He wasn't like this in the beginning. But he met wrong people and totally lost his marbles.

That day when I left home, I walked and walked and walked. Not really sure where I was going. Perhaps I was looking for what I was scared of the most. Dark. Perhaps I wanted to be in the darkest corner of this world. Once again I found myself zoning out.

When I came to be I was in a hospital. The staff was looking at me with pity.

"You can't do this. You can't kill yourself! You blood results are all clear you can use these to fight back!" A doctor said holding my hand.

I looked at her once before turning my head sideways.

"I know what happened to you was wrong, very wrong. But you can't be like this. It wasn't you then why torture own self?" She said after a pause.

Soon another woman entered. She was a psychiatrist. My heart skipped a beat. Fear rushed my face for a moment before I got a grip of myself. She knew i didn't like her coming. Saying some words of comfort she left with my doctor. The talked for sometime at the door the they left.

I sat up, my head spinning. I pulled the needles out of me. Walked to the window n jumped. Not looking down once not realising it wasn't that high gor me to die at most I'll only end up in hospital bed like before with broken bones. And that actually happened.

I broke my right slbow and collar bone, and was restricted to the hospital room with a nurse keeping gaurd 24/7.

I stayed confined for a week, and then I locked myself in the bathroom. There was no sharp object to bleed myself to death. But I could just starve and suffocate myself. I was already not eating and was totally on IV diet. But this time they found my maid.

'Gosh!'

She disarmed me single handedly by just calling my name. She has technically raised me since I was sixteen. Calming me down for some hours, she laid my head in her lap and caressed my hair softly.

"Lady, you know na you are daughter to me? Am I not like mother to you..?" She asked utterly softly.

For the first time I felt so ashamed of myself. I nodded. Of course she was.

"Then why all this. I'm right here by my lady! Please don't be like this!" She was crying. She took my hamds and kissed them. And that was the first time I cried. That day I cried so much. So much so that I passed out crying, holding her.

When I woke up next day, she had prepared a hefty meal for breakfast.

"Mariyam apa*, I'm not hungry.."

But she didn't listen, she forced everything down my throat. She combed my hair, cleaned me up. And she was genuinely happy doing all this for me. Like always. She is home to me. Her presence made me feel so safe and better. A week more passed, I had recovered better. In here, I almost forgot the world outside. Everyone was so nice to me. No one talked about anything. I was in a better state of mind.

But then I got discharged. And when she took me to her house instead of my, I had suspicions. Something must have happened. Living with her for two three days I heard her neighbours talk. My mansion was burnt to ashes. All my stuff everything was burnt.

Mariyam apa was being bad mouthed because of me. People were hating her. Some said my paintings cause many children diseases as they contained drugs and other harmful chemicals. They said I used those to mesmerize people to buy my paintings. I was a public enemy. I couldn't live with her. She'll be deemed an accomplice.

I left her house, wandered. People hit me with rocks. Drug isn't a small issue in this country. You can be anything but a druggy. I ran and ran and at one point I just stood there and let everyone hit me. 'This is good, I can bleed to death this way. Finally peace!' I had thought.

But I woke up again in a hospital. And they broke a news so wild I couldn't believe. I was pregnant.

"Impossible!!!" I yelled.

"You can get yourself tested as many times as you want! But you can't do that again what you did the other day!!" The doctor yelled back. He must have been frustrated by my tantrums.

How can I be pregnant but.. unless.. he drugged me. So that was the blood report he was showing to everyone. So it was a true report after all. So not-so-surprisingly, I was raped by my human-trash husband.

As the truths dawned on me I started laughing maniacally.

"What the f***!" I swore laughing.

And I've been laughing to this day. Sitting in dirts of this begger community, all I do is laugh.

Soon that day came when I was brought to a small hospital and gave birth to a little human. But I had decided what I'ddo. I'd end my sufferings. I didn't want to live anymore. The moment I was discharged. I began hunting. I went to the society I used to live in and I was dressed so trashy and was looking so dirty no one realised it was me. And I silently left my little human on a door and left.

I wait till someone comes out. A middle aged man did. He was shocked to his core seeing a baby on his doorsteps. He quickly brought the baby inside as it was chilly outside.

'Done. Baby is safe. Now I can leave here.'

I went to my house. I wanted to end everything there. It was yes all black from ashes. But someone had cleaned it inside out properly. I guessed ut was Mariyam apa. All the furniture and my stuff was gone what was left of the house were blackened walls. I took a bath and washed those smelly clothes. Now that I was looking at them they were making me puke. Once clean and dried I wore them again and hung myself to the ceiling fan of my room.

Literally, ironically, as always, I woke up again.

Words I used, that you don't know:

Apa = Use to address an older sister who is quite older than you. Can be blood related and can also be not.