Her eyes were lifeless.

Struck.

Not blinking.

Not moving.

As if she was in a trance. Lost and wandering.

The grey of her eyes complemented with her thick lashes as she kept staring at the window,

only able to see the clouds surrounding her as the airplane ripped apart the air, propelling

forward.

Beside her sat Shehryaar, who was busy typing something on his laptop. His eyes were fixed

on the laptop screen. She supposed it might be a response to one of his emails. He was Mr.

Workaholic. He ...