Zara Muskura Mere Gumshuda Novels & Stories

⸻ LEVI The morning chill hugged the air, and the city hadn’t fully woken up yet. My car cruised down the road in silence, music low in the background. Two blocks from school, I spotted a familiar sight. A busted motorcycle parked at the side of the road—and crouched beside it, her figure unmistakable—Zara Carter. I slowed, pulse steady, calculating. She looked furious—tugging at something under the frame, her helmet discarded beside her. I couldn’t hear her, but the way her lips moved told me she was cursing under her breath.

Morticia's stomach growled, and she thought about getting something to eat first. As she got her burger, she spotted Zara-the girl from the pool the other day-along with the guy she'd met there too. "Hi," Zara grinned, revealing braces on her teeth and her short, red-dyed hair. "You're the girl I met at Klaus's place, right?" Morticia cleared her throat, trying to hide her discomfort. "Yeah, I am." "Nice to see you again, swi... what's your name?" Zara asked.

It breaks instantly over the counter. Silence. Then laughter. We all burst into laughter. Then comes the flour. And disaster. Zara accidentally tosses a handful straight into the air. A white cloud erupts. The powder lands everywhere. On me. On Liam. On herself. For one second, silence fills the kitchen. Then Zara points at us. "You both look like ghosts!" The room explodes with laughter. We begin cleaning up together. Brush flour off clothes. Wipe the counter. Mix again. Work continues like that.

she announces, pulling off her flats and leaving them by the door. “Remember that boy Nash? The one who thinks he’s the God of marketing?” I nod my head to agree. "Well, he dyed his hair. Green. Bright, fucking neon green!!!” “And somehow he thinks it makes him look good enough to approach me again, when he actually looks like a moldy avocado! Uurghhh!” I can't help the loud laugh that bursts out of my mouth. The image is just too ridiculous. “No, he did not.” “I swear on my life!” Zara says, as she marches straight to the kitchen, and in two seconds she’s back with a bottle of chilled water.

said Zara, angrily. “Mum, I am already grounded for three days,” she said sadly. “I don’t anything, I am still angry Hania, you could have injured yourself while driving yourself or worst, dancing with those senior boys, you could have been harassed or raped,” Zara was angry. Her father, Adam Ibrahim Kardaar was reading a book relating to species of animals, he is a Herpetologist, something she got from him in her genes. He works in the army in the position of top researcher at the Pakistan Army Medical Research Institute for infectious diseases. Her mother, Zara Adam Kardaar (nee Khan) is an epidemiologist at the Centre for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC).

He took a bottle of water from the table and handed it to Zara. "Morticia is a girl I grew up with—oh, thank you," Zara said as she gratefully accepted the bottle. She drank only a quarter of the 75 Centiliter bottle and closed the cover. "Morticia is a girl I grew up with back in the neighborhood, so she knows Kelvin and me well. She knows Kelvin and I are dating plus I used to work at Delarosèê Peak with her!" Zara exclaimed. “Is that it?” Oliver asked surprised at how something so minute caused Zara to worry so much. He wished there was more to the worry than what she had just said.

My heart hammers against my ribs, a frantic bird trying to escape, but I lock my jaw. We reach the center of the room, near the bar. A woman steps into our path. Zara. She’s wearing a leather skirt that looks painted on and a bikini top that leaves nothing to the imagination. Her dark hair is wild, her eyes rimmed in heavy black liner. She holds a bottle of beer loosely in one hand. Her other hand rests on her hip. She doesn't look at Drakon. She looks straight at me. "Well, well," she draws out the words, her voice shrill in the quiet room. "Look who crawled out of the grave."

The particular trust of a woman who had decided something and was acting on it without requiring reassurance that she had decided correctly. Zara crouched in front of the rosemary. She looked at it seriously. “Can I touch it,” she said. “Yes,” Sera said. Zara put her hand into the rosemary. Not grabbing. The careful exploratory touch of someone who understood that living things required a particular kind of contact. She pulled her hand out. She put her fingers to her nose. Her eyes went wide. “It smells like the chicken Mummy makes,” she said. Sera looked at Elliot.

DAHLIA “Oh, come on, you look gorgeous!” Zara, my best friend said. She had forced me to come with her to a club and although I don’t mind a drink here and there, I wasn’t really in the mood. Not since she had left me at that club all by myself right after I had broke up with Warren. Zara herself, was dressed in a gorgeous deep purple silk dress and it was clear she was happy to be here. “Zara… I look like a high-end hooker!” I said now looking down at myself. All I could see were my breasts! She shook her head.

Agent Vernon chuckled. “She was a good fighter,” Agent Jane said while trying to stop herself from giggling. “They said she had quick hands and she could usually put down her opponent in just a few seconds. She was a vicious fighter. They called her The Gunmetal Mama. Sometimes she would come out holding a gun that wasn’t loaded. Every time she’d come out to fight, they would play music by her favorite rapper, Tupac Shakur,” Agent Jane explained through her giggling.