Chapter 5.

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Arham looked at the clock inside his bedroom. It was midnight. His parents strictly followed the rule of heading to bed at ten on weekdays, so the path was clear. He cheered himself mentally, his phone vibrating under the sheets. It was a text from his good friend, he was waiting for him outside. It was comical that even at his age, he was scared of his father's stare and his mother's disapproval. Those were the two things he avoided as much as he could but the occasion today called for it, he reminded himself. He tip toed his way to the door of his room, sliding out from behind it, stuffing the blanket with pillows just in case.

The night outside was clear of it's usual noise. The animals and insects had all taken refuge under the foliage, no sounds made their way to the ears of man. The skies were clear, starry and bright. Against the charcoal black canvas the twinkling little dots that were the only decoration, beside the thin crescent moon. Deep shadows fell on to the walls of the home, the window sills covered the stair cases, light falling in from the clear glass windows.

It was peaceful. Serenity and calmness covered the vast span of the home. Everyone was deep asleep and save for the nightlights nothing burned. Arham slid down the bannister as if he were in his teen-ages again. His eyes twinkled in the darkness, blindly looking for the car keys inside the fishbowl against the door. One of the keys were missing, someone was out. His breath was stuck inside his throat, he gulped with pain. Eyes were looking at him from the seating arrangements made in the foyer for the guests. Praying hard under his breath, that it not be any of his parents, he closed his eyes. Pivoting, to find a woman seated on the sofa in the sheer darkness.

"Mama?" He coughed out.

There was only one woman who would sit in such darkness with here eyes focused on the entrance. He could recognize the way the hair was tousled on her shoulders that it was his mother, and no one else.

"Mama what are you doing over here? Shouldn't you be asleep?" He whispered, stepping closer to her.

He sunk down to his knees, grasping one of her sweaty palms, resting it against his bearded cheek.

"Everything alright?" Suddenly, he felt worried.

"Yes Arham everything is alright." She nodded her head.

"You're lying to me. Did abu say something? Do I have to fight him?"

"Oh my precious son! Your father would never hurt me, and you know that, as well as I do," she took a deep breath, "I am just worried about Aliyaar. He still isn't home".

"He's an adult my dear mother, he will come home, you go to bed".

"You don't get it. Aliyaar hasn't answered our calls, he never does this. I'm worried for him, he always let's me know if work will hold him back!"

Arham sat still for a second, taking a deep breath. This worried him too. His brother was the son famous for caring and looking out for everyone. He would never show such irresponsibility, ever in his life. It was mostly expected from him to go on long expeditions without informing anyone in their immediate family, it was Arham's version of thrill and not Aliyaar's.

"Who don't you go to bed? I'll wait up for him".

"More like you'll sneak out for street racing with your friends. Go back to bed Arham, you're going to a rally tomorrow you need all the sleep you can get!" Lyana pulled his ear.

"These are the days of my youth. Let me enjoy". He whined in defense.

"If it puts your life at risk? Never. Go Arham, don't worry me. I'm already beyond my limits waiting for Aliyaar".

Arham stared at her. Her forehead was filled with tiny little frowns and creases, her relaxed face was for the first time contorted in worry. Her shoulders were hunched against the seat, her hand sweaty as they brushed the long strands of hair from his forehead away, the tip of her nail toying with the ear piercing he had gotten as a dare by his friends last week. He still shuddered at the thought of his mother being furious at him for getting one without asking them. Although, he was old enough to make decisions, he had never made any without consulting her and it had hurt her beyond any measure.

In the imminent bleakness of the night and life, Arham texted his friend about the change in plans, stretching his legs out in front of him. His head rested on one of Lyana's kneecaps, a yawn escaping his lips as he forced himself to stay awake. Their father was out of town, he would return around six in the morning, at least until then he could not leave his mother alone to deal with this level of stress and pain.

"Arham call your father!" His mother hurried him, her voice coming out in short pants.

"Mama atleast wait until three, Abu will be stressed out knowing he can't be with you. How about you sleep in my room okay? I'll take my sofa, come on, let's go!"

"Mera dil ghabra raha hai, jab tak uski shakal dekh nahi leti sakoon nahi ho ga mujhe!"
[My heart feels a bit worried, until I see his face I will not be calm!]

"Shaadi kardein uski. Phir apki bahu legi tension keh kahan reh gaya. Ap ki neend kharab nahi ho gi," Arham teased.
[Get him married. Then your daughter-in-law will be worried for him. You're sleep won't be sacrificed.]

"Even if he gets married I'll still worry for him. He's my son, nothing can stop me. Oh Allah! Please send my son home to me!"

Those words had no sooner escaped her lips that the door of the home creaked open. Aliyaar's frame filled the entrance, his shoulders hunched as if he were tired, the jacket of his suit carelessly rested inside his arms, his hair messy. He did not look like the well put together brother Arham had grown up with. Instead, he seemed to be like a young student who had just returned home after a wild fight. Getting up from their places, the two walked towards his calmly, his mother wrapping her arm around his bicep, a soft groan filling their ears.

"Aliyaar!" The both of them called his name in worry.

He groaned, raising his head to look at them, his eyes were bloodshot and some dried blood covered his forehead. Their mother gasped, pressing her veil against the bruise on his forehead. It was then that Arham's eyes ran over his frame, noticing the blood that had seeped through his dress shirt, staining the salmon pink shirt an ugly shade of red.

"Mama we need to take him to the hospital!"

"Ha-an!" [Yes!]

Arham need not be told twice. He rushed to the garage, driving the first car he saw towards the door, helping his mother in seating Aliyaar in the back seat. He drove like a mad man, his skills of street racing coming in hand as he whizzed through the heavy traffic. Cutting from between heavy trucks and sliding past motorbikes with the hair breadth of distances. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he tore through the main roads, honking at every car that seemed to be ready to block his path. In the back he could hear his elder brother's cry of pain and the sobs that escaped his mother's lips. He had never seen her like that, and he hoped he would never have to ever see her in that position again.

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Their father came to the hospital as soon as he landed. Aliyaar had gotten into a road rage, caught in the cross fire of an accident. His head had slammed against the wheel hard, and shards of glass had punctured his lungs. He had been lucky, in the sense that he managed to walk the remaining ten minutes to their home. He had limped, as people ignore the struggling man. The doctors said that he had gotten extremely lucky on reaching the hospital when he had, otherwise they might not have been able to save him. While his twin was under the operation table, Arham felt like he was losing a part of himself. He would never admit, but a tear or two had left his eye as he rushed in and out.

With Aliyaar in the hospital his father was needed to support both his mother and sister, leaving him all alone. He dressed up inside his bedroom, wearing a starchy white shalwar kameez. He slid on his green waistcoat, placing the tiny flag on top, slightly crooked albeit. As the cologne sprayed on to his skin, sticking to it like second skin, he fought a burn of tears. He missed his parents. It was the biggest day of his life, the first time he was going to address a crowd but no one from his family would be in attendance.

In silence he sat in the back of the car, not deeming himself well enough to drive just in that moment. He took deep breaths, fiddling with the worn out pages, going back and forth over the slightly messy ink. His father had written these pointers down for him. To keep him a step in front of the journalists. He breathed through his mouth, his heart was brandished in pain, nothing gave him happiness or peace — despite those being the two things he craved most in that moment.

The car fought through the heavy traffic in front of the minar - e - Pakistan. Crowds had gathered already, a thick entourage of security maneuvered the venue. In their hands were rifles, their bodies alert. Their eagle like gazes looked at the faces, making sure that no one had suspicious intentions. They saluted his car as it drove in, the respect was all for his father — he had yet to make name for himself. Arham took a sip out of his water bottle, dust flurrying around the car as it came to a halt at the back side of the stage. Posters with his father's face covered the place — the crowd would be disappointed that the man had failed to attend.

"Arham this way, the makeup artist is waiting." His assistant guided him into a white tent.

Inside the place was calm. There was no loud chatter unlike the world outside. Hands tapped themselves away at his face to hide any blemish, cameras would be sure to catch any sign of the dark circles and worry inside his eyes. He fisted the already wrinkled paper in a death grip. Reciting all the Arabic verses he had learnt as a child. His lips barely moved, a gentle smile was on his face but underneath was a turmoil, a storm building up larger and louder, and it would roar sooner or later.

"Naeem?" He called for his assistant with a stern voice.

"Ye-yes sir?"

"How many people in attendance?"

"Surely more than there were in the rally held by the opposition party."

"I asked for numbers," Arham clenched his teeth.

"We'd say by the way they're pouring in that by the time you take the stage atleast ten million people".

"The park cannot hold that many people!" Arham was alarmed.

"We-know sir. We got permission to block the roads, the people were informed two days ago," Burhaan sighed.

"Does Alamgeer Ahad know about this?"

Rule number one of politics, keep your relationships away. Familial ties and titles would always remain behind doors, not for the world to marvel at.

"He agreed, although he was disappointed."

"How many people before me?"

"There were four but now three, as Alamgeer sir pulled out." He gulped.

Arham nodded, pinching his brow in worry. The media had not been informed of his brother being in a critical situation. His father would be questioned for not canceling the rally. Who could explain it to the keyboard warriors, that the show must go on?

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Eid Mubarak meri jaans
May Allah accept your sacrifice, may He shower His blessings on all of us for the rest of our lives and keep us from harm's way. Ameen

Here is your eidi — the chapter a bit early.
Almost thought of a double update but not yet 🥺.

Drop thoughts and prayers here.