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bakhtawar accompanies  mahin on morning  walks  , one  day  sitting  on the  bench  she  hears  mahin talking  to herself  as  she  collects  dead  butterflies  buried  in the  heap  of  fallen dry  yellow  leaves, in autumn  the  dried    leaves  separate  forever  from their  trees  and  the  air  is  filled  with a feeling  of  pathos, then bakhtawar heard  mahin saying  she  was  in love, she  wanted  to  share her  feelings  and  experience  but  on their  way  back home  bakhtawar  did not  let  her  speak  again