Chapter 142. Panic Attacks

"No! No! Please no! Don't tell him anything," She vigorously shook her head and stood up, turning towards the make-up artist, the shock in her eyes transforming to pleas, "Don't tell him anything."

All the color from her face had flown away as her hand rested on her heart, which began to palpitate wildly at the mention of apprising him.

"Don't worry. We won't. Shabaash ab aap baith jayein aur aansu saaf kar lain," The beautician suggested and she obediently nodded her head and immediately sat down.

(Now please sit down and clean your tears)

She cleaned her tears with both her hands as the make-up artist started doing her work, and Sheharzaad stared at her face in the mirror, which was being painted with different colors and shades.

But for whom?

It was the first time she wasn't dressing up for herself but for someone else. So her look and attire could please him. Her face could please him.

The beautician was applying heavy and dark shades to