Lenses & Letters

‘love beyond love’

A novel by

Jannat Shakeel.

Daastan Publishing 2025

First Published in Pakistan by Daastan PVT LTD

House # A-41, Madni Street, Lala Rukh, Wah Cantt, Punjab 47040

www.daastan.com

www.meraqissa.com

Text copyrights © Jannat Shakeel

Cover design copyright © Jannat Shakeel

The moral rights of the writer, illustrator, and editor have been asserted.

All rights reserved

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or distributed in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

ISBN 978-969-696-996-9

To every Aline:

I hope you find your Rein,

and when you do,

I hope you never lose her.

Playlist

Invisible String

Taylor swift

Mystery Of Love

Sufjan Stevens

K.

Cigarettes After Sex

Je Te Laisseria Des Mots

Patrick Watson

The Night We Met

Lord Huron

My Love Mine All Mine

Mitski

Cinnamon Girl

Lana Del Rey

This Town

Niall Horan

Train wreck

James Arthur

Birds Of A Feather

Billie Eilish

Chapter 1

Rein

What’s a boring person supposed to do when they’re not working?

That question’s been haunting me even since last night’s conversation with Isabelle – the creative director at Maison Lévère. And no, it was not a motivational TED talk about work-life-balance. She casually dropped the news that I was getting a full week off. Just like that. A break. After two years of non-stop photography work at one of Paris’s biggest fashion houses, the idea felt…absurd.

Okay, yes, we had just wrapped three major shoots back-to-back. So maybe it was not completely out of nowhere. But come on—when you have built your entire life around your work, time off feels more like punishment than reward.

Since moving from Berlin, I never really slowed down long enough to build a life outside of the job. I mean, I have friends – but they are more the loud, party-on-a-Tuesday types. I, on the other hand, prefer the click of the camera and the sweet sound of Taylor Swift in the background.

So, here I was. 10:34 AM. Slouched on the couch. Lukewarm coffee in hand. TV remote in the other, flipping through nonsense I did not care about. My eyes landed on some news channel, but I was not really listening. My attention was on the streets of Paris showing in the background – cobblestones, little cafés, people moving with purpose.

Then it hit me. Not the news, obviously. Inspiration.

Lorraine, our shoot coordinator and a dear friend of mine, had been nagging me to try journaling. She even dragged me to buy one on the spot, but I think she forgot to mention what I’m supposed to write, and I would never ask, so the journal had just been existing on my table for days. That was until my eureka moment;

I’d take my polaroid camera, capture Paris’s charm every day, fill my journal with those instant photos along with my thoughts on them.

Sometimes, my brain amazes me.

A quirky fact about me; I’m a sucker for vintage cameras.

Alongside my professional gear, I collect camcorders, digicams, and polaroid cameras. It’s not a nice habit, and I’m not thrilled about it honestly cause, collecting cameras? You’ll be broke in no time.

I knew exactly where I wanted to start from;

The Luxembourg Gardens, just a stone’s throw from my apartment.

It’s ironic that despite living in the same neighbourhood for years, I’d never taken the time to appreciate its beauty. Today was about changing that.

After double-checking that I had my camera, wallet, phone and keys to my apartment, I gave myself a quick once-over in the mirror. A quick tweak of my bangs, and I was out the door.

I was met by the gentle Parisian breeze as I stepped out of the apartment building. The streets were their usual calm selves, with people from all walks of life hurrying to their destinations, each carrying their own stories. I let out a soft sigh, feeling at ease as I strolled towards the serene gardens.

A short walk later, I found myself standing before the gardens’ picturesque pond.

The tranquillity was balm to my soul, a refreshing respite from the demands of work. As I wandered through the gardens, I drank in the beauty surrounding me. Every corner seemed to hold a new treasure, yet somehow, nothing stirred me to capture it.

Beauty was splattered everywhere around me, but nothing made me feel any sort of way.

As I ventured deeper into the gardens, the majestic Medici Fountain came into view. I was taken aback by its unusual emptiness. Only a handful of people crossed by, which was a surprising contrast to the fountain’s reputation as a popular landmark.

The entire scene unfolded like a masterpiece before my eyes; the afternoon sun dancing across the water’s surface, with lush greenery lining both sides, and the captivating sculpture of Polyphemus surprising Acis and Galatea at its centre.

I paused to admire the tranquil beauty, my gaze wandering until it settled on a lone figure seated on a nearby bench.

The girl exuded a quiet elegance, her long, brown coat draped effortlessly around her. The hem fell gracefully as she sat cross-legged, the loose fabric of her black wide-legged trouser pooling slightly at her ankles. A black turtleneck peeked out beneath her coat, perfectly complimenting the minimalist aesthetics of her look. She was immersed in her own world with her earphones on, her hands gently holding a book on her lap. Strands of dark brown hair occasionally fell onto her face, carried by the breeze, and she gently tucked them behind her ear, yet absorbed in her reading, unbothered.

You ever saw someone, and felt some sort of familiarity with them, even if you had no idea who they were? Exactly me in the moment.

It was as if I’d stumbled into a private moment, one that felt strangely familiar. I could not explain it - I’d never seen this girl before, and yet, she did not feel like a stranger. It was as if I’d been expecting to cross paths with her all along, as if she was someone I knew in another life.

This unexplainable sense of connection was all the inspiration I needed.

I raised my polaroid camera, focusing on the girl lost in her own world. I knew it’s a bit creepy, but I could not help myself. The entire scene was too enchanting to resist – a fairytale moment, with the “princess” reading in her palace’s garden, oblivious to her surroundings. But I'm not a tall, charming prince, so that makes it reality.

As I held the polaroid, watching the colours and details slowly materialise, my gaze drifted back to the girl. A part of me yearned to approach her, sit next to her and talk about absolutely anything for hours. But she seemed too engrossed, too serene, and I couldn’t bring myself to disturb her. Slipping the polaroid into the pocket of my jeans, I let out a soft sigh, smiling to myself, and turned to walk away.

Ironically, that singular photo turned out to be the only one I took all day. Nothing else seemed to capture my attention, my mind lingering on the mysterious “princess” I came across. The rest of my day was spent wandering aimlessly, savouring a delightful meal at a nearby restaurant, and eventually making my way back to the comforting familiarity of my apartment.

As I settled into the couch, the warm, inviting scent of my little home enveloped me, soothing my senses. I closed my eyes, letting the silence wash over me, and revealed in the tranquillity of the moment.

After a minute or two of silence, I slipped my hand into my pocket and retrieved the day’s sole prized capture. A smile crept onto my face as I gazed at the polaroid. This, I thought, was perfection; Ancient architecture, lush greenery, and beautiful woman lost in the world of words.

Now that the day had drawn to a close, I could not shake off the feeling of regret for not approaching her. There was something about the girl that lingered in my mind, evoking thoughts and emotions I could not quite put my finger on. The uncertainty only deepened my fascination. I stood up, went to my desk, and finally opened the journal. Carefully, I pressed the photo between the pages.

Then I sat back and let one single, ridiculous, heart-stupid thought take root:

‘Tomorrow’s the day to know her.’

Chapter 2

Aline

11:21 AM.

The clock read the exact time when the soft morning light streaming through my window stirred me awake.

I rubbed my eyes, a habitual gesture reminiscent of childhood mornings before school. As I adjusted to the light, my gaze settled on the plain white ceiling, a sigh escaping my lips. The thought crept in; Another exhausting day ahead.

It took what felt like eternity – 10 minutes, perhaps – to muster the strength to leave my cozy bed. I stood up, smoothed out the white sheets, folded my blanket, and headed to the washroom.

I hate mornings, if we’re being honest. Each day felt like a rerun, a never-ending loop of monotony. The sameness of it all was draining, making life feel like a relentless grind.

In the early days of my career, I was invigorated by the unknown. When I began working on my debut book, Paper planes, I felt truly alive.

No one knew my name, and the lack of expectations was liberating. I was able to tap into my creativity and produce an international bestseller. Although the book had nothing to do with my reality, it still felt deeply personal.

My joy was palpable when Luminara, France’s largest English-language publishing company, agreed to publish my work. The company’s editor, Lucien Moreau, was not only a renowned figure in the industry, but also my father’s best friend from middle school. He was a frequent visitor to our home in Rouen, and his passion for literature had inspired me to pursue my dreams.

I began writing at the age of ten. I used to write poems, and I used to write about literally everything that stayed on my mind for a while. Whenever Lucien would come over, I used to read my poems to him, and he always had this infectious smile while listening to my creations. I was sixteen when I experienced an anxiety attack for the first time, and that was the time when I discovered the true cathartic power of writing. I remember not being able to sleep at night, I was so full of things that I felt as if I would burst if I do not let everything out – and  I did, on my diary. I did not write any poetry but simply poured my raw emotions on the pages.

When Lucien visited a few days later, he asked me if I wrote anything new, and I felt safe enough to let him take a look at my diary, and what he said afterwards would be crystal clear in my mind till my last moment;

‘Aline, we humans are like the ocean, and the words and actions of others are like objects thrown into the depth. We often underestimate the weight of our words and actions and the impact they can have on other, how deep they can go. We all have so much inside of us, but only a few are blessed with the ability to transform their inner world into a hurricane that can touch the lives of others, like you. Do not ever let go of this blessing’

So, every time the urge to give up becomes overwhelming, I close my eyes and recall the moments when my love for words ignited a fire within me.

Lately, that’s all I’ve been doing, trying not to give up.

The aftermath of my debut novel was nothing short of surreal. The love and adoration I received were intoxicating but also suffocating. People perceive me as an amazing romance author, and that’s the problem.

People see me as a love expert. The irony? I know nothing about love. I’m someone who writes from the depth of my emotions, but the expectations of others have created a disconnect between my art and my reality.

Currently, I’m attempting to break free from the shackles of genre expectations by working on a thriller. Lucien, ever the supportive mentor, checks in on me daily. He’s aware of my struggles and offers words of encouragement, reminding me to push forward.

The day unfolded like any other. I brushed my teeth, showered, and had breakfast before settling in front of my laptop to continue working on my thriller novel. The story revolves around a young girl’s murder, cleverly disguised as a suicide. I’ve always had a soft spot for this genre, and it’s a welcome change from the romance novels that have defined my career.

By 03:20 PM, I had completed two chapters and decided to call it a day. I stretched my neck, cracked my knuckles, and shut down my laptop. This marked the beginning of my personal time, when I could escape to my sanctuary – the Medici Fountain.

I changed into a comfortable white turtleneck and olive pants, tied my hair into a sleek ponytail, and grabbed my unfinished book and essentials before leaving my apartment. The Luxembourg Gardens were just a short walk away.

 I put on my earphones and strolled through the gardens, oblivious to my surroundings. Lucien remains my only friend in Paris, although I’ve met many people through workshops and conferences.

As I walked towards my favourite bench, I was scrolling through my phone and didn’t notice the person standing in front of me, which resulted into me colliding with them, dropping my book in the process.

 “Oh, I'm so sorry” I apologised hastily, my eyes locking onto the person who had quickly bent down to pick up my book.

As they stood up, I found myself face to face with the most beautiful girl I ever came across – black hair, bangs, and soft onyx eyes that seemed to hold a deep intensity. She wore a sweet smile that revealed adorable dimples on both cheeks.

“It’s alright, I’m glad to finally see you here.” She said, her voice a perfect blend of sweetness and maturity.

For a moment, I was taken aback by her words.

“Sorry, what?” I asked, trying to process what she had just said. She chuckled, and I watched, intrigued, as she spoke again.

“Might sound a bit creepy, but I was actually waiting for you.” Yeah. Creepy.

“Waiting for me? Do I know you?”

She shook her head at my question, and held out her hand for me to shake, and I did, hesitantly.

“I’m Rein Bernard.” Her name perfectly suited her features I must say.

“Rain?” I struggled with the pronunciation, earning a soft chuckle from her.

“Not rain, Rein. I get it, most people struggle with that.”

I nodded, feeling a shy smile spread across my face. “I’ll stick to Rain, then.”

Rein’s smile hinted that she’d heard my mumbled comment.

She gestured towards the bench I usually occupied. “Shall we continue our conversation there?”

I nodded, and we walked together, the tension dissipating.

If Rein weren’t so captivating, I might have fled the scene.

As we sat side by side, Rein began to explain.

“I’m a photographer. Yesterday, I was capturing scenes around the gardens. I saw you sitting here, and I thought I'd stumbled into a fairytale.” Her cheeks flushed. “I took  a polaroid of you. I know, creepy again, sorry.”

I listened, entranced, as if I was listening to my favourite music, my eyes watching her hand gestures as she spoke, and how she scrunched her nose whenever she apologised, and I swear her smile could light up the entire garden.

“I wanted to greet you, but I did not want to disturb your reading. Later, I regretted not talking to you... and here I am.” She tilted her head a little as she finished.

Her words, though a bit unsettling, were also heartwarming. “My introverted self could never.” I said, earning another chuckle from her.

“I’m relieved to not get slapped.”

Nah, too pretty for that. I thought.

“I’m Aline,” I said, now more at ease.

 Rein’s eyes sparkled. “Aline, means beauty?”

 I nodded, watching her eyes soften further.

“Perfect.” She murmured, her voice barely audible.

I felt my face flush, and I turned away, trying to compose myself.

 ” Anyways,” I said, attempting to sound casual.

Rein smiled, and I swear, I was at the verge of tears at the sight of how adorable she looked.

In this moment, I was taken aback by how quickly I felt at ease with this little stranger. It had taken me an eternity to let my guard down around others. I was so fearful of abandonment, I never tried letting anyone in. Yet, there was something about Rein that felt familiar, safe, and comfortable.

“So, what do you do?” Rein asked, leaning back on the bench with her eyes locked on mine.

“I’m a writer.”

Her eyebrows arched slightly at my response.

“Really? Have you written any books?”

 I nodded, my gaze drifting to my hands in my lap. “It’s called Paper planes.”

Rein’s jaw dropped, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at her reaction.

“Oh…Oh! You’re that Aline?! I’ve read that book thrice!” She exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious. “I should’ve known; you do have the lover-girl vibes.”

 I playfully rolled my eyes, accustomed to this reaction.

“I’m really not,” I clarified, “I have no idea what love is like. That novel was just my idea of love, how I imagined it to be. I’ve never experienced any sort of love.”

Rein’s face fell, and I burst out laughing, covering my mouth.

Her smile returned, and she asked, “My whole life was a lie?”

I laughed again, feeling carefree.

 “No, but really, how did you write such a pretty love story without knowing love?”

 Rein’s question made me shrug. “Since high school, I remember everyone obsessing over love, it was the only thing people cared about. The book was just what I thought it’d be like to be in love.”

 Rein nodded, her focus making me feel heard and understood.

It was a rare sensation, one I savoured. As someone who never really felt heard, I’ve always been the listener, making sure no one else has to feel that way. But here’s Rein.

Our conversation flowed effortlessly, spanning hours. We found so much in common, turns out we were practically neighbours.

It felt as though I’d finally found someone who understood me, someone who’d removed the thorns that had been stuck in my throat all these years.

Chapter 3

Rein

I never had a boyfriend, or even a crush, but since last evening, I’ve been acting as if I’d met my Flynn Rider.

Earlier when I was brewing my morning coffee, I received a text from Aline, asking if she could expect to see me again at ‘the spot’. It made me chuckle, considering the fact that she lived just a floor above.

I was quick to reply with a yes, and for the first time in a while, I decided to put efforts into my outfit, inspired by Aline’s perfect looks every day.

I opted for a crisp white collared shirt, paired with a loosely knotted black tie and a black cropped sweater layered over it. I tucked the ensemble into sleek black denim pants, which I paired with black platform shoes.

Aline turned out to be a lot more soft-spoken and adorable than I’d anticipated. But I’m not even the one to blame, from afar, she does seem like someone tough and aloof, nearly impossible to befriend.

At first glance, her resting face might lead anyone to believe that she’s stern or unapproachable, but that’s only until she smiles. Her entire demeanour transforms, and hearts would inevitably melt. Her chocolate brown eyes sparked every time she smiled, a detail I’d noticed in the few hours we spent together. I’d also caught the endearing way she scrunched up her nose cutely from time to time, and how her voice shifted in tone depending on the conversation.

The sense of familiarity I’d felt upon seeing her the first time now made perfect sense.

As we began talking, I felt an instant sense of comfort, as if I’d known her for years. It was as if we’d slipped into an effortless rhythm, our conversation flowing without any awkwardness that often accompanies new acquaintances.

I could not help but wonder if it was fate that had brought us together — perhaps the ‘invisible string theory’ was more than just a myth. The idea that an unseen thread connects those destined to meet resonated deeply with me.

And I could not shake the feeling that Aline and I were tied together by one of those invisible strings.

As the elevator doors slid open on the ground floor, I was greeted by the warm smile of Madame Marie.

Her kind hazel eyes sparkled with delight, and I could not help but mirror her warmth with a smile of my own.

“Oh, my dear Rein, it’s so lovely to see you!” She exclaimed, her voice tinged with excitement, as she gently caressed my cheek with her soft, slightly wrinkled hand.

“Marie, how have you been?” I asked, holding her hands gently.

Marie was a petite woman in her late sixties, with soft silver hair always impeccably tied in a bun or tied with a delicate scarf. She lived on the floor above mine, or as I just discovered yesterday, the same floor as Aline.

Our paths crossed frequently when I moved in here, and she had always greeted me with warmth and kindness. She had a special affection for me, often telling me that I reminded her of her granddaughter, who was around my age. As she always liked to put it, she saw a similar warmth in my eyes, and over time, we had formed a strong bond.

As we chatted, Marie’s eyes sparkled with interest.

“I’ve been the same as always, dear,” she said with a loving smile. “But what about you? What have you been up to?”

 I grinned, barely containing my excitement. “Guess what? I made a new friend!” I exclaimed, my enthusiasm infectious.

Marie’s eyebrows rose in amusement, and her face lit up with delight. “Did you? That’s a wonderful news! Who is it?”  Her happiness was palpable, and I knew she was thrilled that I was finally socialising more, just as she had always encouraged me to do.

“You might know her, Aline Herbert, she lives on the same floor as you.”

 Marie’s eyes softened as the name escaped my lips.

“Oh Aline, what a beautiful young girl she is,” she said, her voice filled with warmth.

I nodded in agreement. “She’s gentle, a bit reserved, but truly adorable. I’m so delighted to hear you two are bonding.” 

“I have to go meet her now,” I said, glancing at the time. “I’ll make sure to visit you later.”

 Marie nodded, beaming with delight. “Bring Aline with you, I’ll brew some tea for the two of you.”

I smiled, bid Marie farewell, and stepped out of the building with a feeling of excitement and anticipation.

Anyone who knew me would have been shocked by my uncharacteristic enthusiasm as I strolled towards the fountain, like a kid walking out of the classroom after acing a math test. However, my excitement was short-lived, as I scanned the area and couldn’t spot Aline anywhere.

 I assumed she wasn’t there yet.

I settled onto our usual bench, tapping my feet impatiently, watching the fountain and the surroundings as I waited for my new friend to arrive.

“Hey! So sorry for making you wait.”

My head snapped instantly to the voice, and a smile spread across my face at seeing the girl who settled next to me with two steaming brown disposable coffee cups in her hands.

“Nah I just got here.” I replied.

“Here, coffee for you.” I smiled, taking the cup, she held out.

“That’s so sweet, thank you Aline.”

I heard her say ‘you’re welcome’ in a voice barely above a whisper, her tone adorable, almost childlike.

“You seem to be in a good mood today.” I observed, and her eyes met mine, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“I enjoyed our time yesterday, so I was excited to see you.” Her words sent a warm flutter through my chest, and I'm quite sure I blushed a little.

So relieved to know I was not the only one hyped up for our meeting.

“Honestly, same.” I replied, feeling a sense of ease with her. “I’ve been acting like a kid since I got your text.”

And with that, our conversation flowed, from our favourite movies to our hilarious middle school mishaps, we talked about everything that crossed our minds.

“Should we take a walk?” I suggested, and Aline nodded, taking a sip of her coffee.

My heart skipped a beat as she took my hand in hers, her gentle touch sending a wave of warmth through me. We strolled around, our conversation flowing as we walked hand in hand. As the evening unfolded, Aline invited me to her apartment for dinner, and I gladly accepted. She cooked up a delicious cheese pasta, and I sat on the counter watching her with a sense of adoration.

That was the day something profound shifted between us.