Chapter 30.

❝the author well and truly understands she is on a break from this account, but it's best that we got the epilogue out of the way no?
Enjoy your Sunday with this, and let us part ways for a time, limits? Unknown.❞

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Ehaan Arham (14)
meaning : Full moon

Ehzan Arham (12)
meaning : soul of the moon

Mehroz Arham (12)
meaning : piece of moon

Aruna Arham (06 months)
meaning : rising sun

Bright attention gripping sunlight on the moor underneath the sky tipping mountain tops was a sight, indeed, for sore eyes. Gold, flossy gold painted the lush grass, the thin strands of it free — yet anchored. Drops of tropical sunshine on the dandelions planted behind the fields of Hydrangea's, kept the moor from dying. Life buzzed, everywhere. From the petals, where rebel bees buzzed, to the tall trees where squirrels munched on nuts. Gum drop sized dew drops held on to the leaves of the firs. The pines lined the curving driveway, the birds hovered above, singing to the tunes. Across the grange cattle and livestock grazed the land, shepherds running behind them with their large dogs on their heel. An innocently romantic affair, it was. The onslaught of spring — in it's full force, arrived.

Fifteen delightful eons had traversed between the folds of time in a fast, splendid show. As the misery had at last dwelled into a throb underground — forever, they had been filled with the sight of the sun's. Fertility. Growth. Grandeur — it had become the signature of the clan, their green thumbs painting the land of Mushkpur with seniority and scrutiny of success. Anything they touched, or their breaths kissed — bore fruit. An economy, a micro level one, it had boomed with the years. Everything was at an all time high. It would remain there for a long time — the former minister had ensured. Opulence from the trunks dripped into the still waters of the sil-sil. It's icy waters had replenished ten folds. Honey crips apples, with their sweet cores poisoned the daily life with generosity and heart. Mushkpur had indeed — turned into the safe haven, a cocoon it's founders once made it out to be. Only this time, there was facts and numbers to prove it.

That of course was not the only feat under the man's belt, whose name wrapped in thick glass was embossed outside the museum of artifacts. The Khan family whilst holding on to the land and estate, felt no more need to hold on to their fragmented past. Almost losing a daughter had made them realize the adverse affects of holding on to it. So whilst the honorary titles still carried on, all documents and artifacts had been installed into the privately owned museum. Arham Alamgeer was the entitled hero of the land. People of all financial grounds adored him. Under his pen, things had sorted themselves out. It was no surprise when, the way they worshiped him and his wife, was how they treated their children too. Fifteen years — ones full of love and divinity, had blessed them both with four kids. Their hearts happy and sated. All they could ever need. Their three son's and a daughter.

Underneath the warm sunlight, his tanned skin basked in, the tips of his curling hair turned shades of gold. A grin on his face set the tone for the picnic in their large backyard. The garden going on for days, their families loitering about. Basking underneath the golden sunlight. Arham sighed in content, reaching towards the sky with the cusp of his nose. He grinned wildly, adding into the now wizened hazel orbs that tinge of youth he still possessed. Fine lines had begun to creep up his cheeks, the prowess inside his body still intact. Even in mid - forties, Arham was young as ever. An evergreen rose. Her evergreen rose. He cooed in the direction of his wife, her face full of red blush and cream smearing the sides of her lips.

Dressed in a flowing chiffon dress with a straw hat on top, stilettos wrapped around her leg with their sharp claws — Filza looked ethereal. Her hair curled away from the face, fought with the grip of her hat against the soft breeze. Their son's, the eldest of them now fourteen, indulged in a game of hide and seek with their younger cousins. His wife, and siblings seated on to the soft linen cloth, munching on the many delicacies Filza had slaved on herself. With his throat tight with emotions, he slid into a spot beside her, his hands wrapping around her waist. She sighed too, leaning into his embrace, their eyes venturing down to the hungry babe in her arms.

Six months old. With honey comb, compassionate eyes and soft pouty lips. Pudgy hands and cheeks tinged pink on the fair skin that had been kissed lightly by the gold gates of heavens, their daughter, Aruna — like her name suggested was a rising sun. She was their heart. Their everything. The baby snickered, drool dribbling down her heart shaped chin. Arham grinned as he wiped it softly, seeking her out of the arms of his wife, he sniffed her to his heart's content. In more ways than any, Aruna reminded him of his mother. They shared the same features, and if his grandmother spoke the truth, then the two had similar tempers too. The baby was spoilt, even now, her ears that had been pierced on brith, twinkled with the sapphires her elder uncle had gifted her with. A thin gold chain, with a heart shaped ruby dangling inside her dress — a gift from her aunt.

"How's my little sun?" Arham cooed.

Raising her into the air, he smiled at her giggles. Doing it until her hair flew out from under the silk band, spilling around her face in soft curls. She had thick luscious locks, darker than any he had ever seen with soft curls that cropped up her back. Her hands smacked his face in reply, the apples of her cheeks pressed against his face in calmness. Arun's soft knees sunk into his built chest, eyes, expressive like the sky, filled with tears as they hit a sore spot.

"What happened baby? Everything okay?" He whispered, seating her down on his lap, holding her to his chest.

"Is she okay? Aruna do you want to come to mor?"

Filza kissed her daughter on the head, worried — naturally. She was a natural. No role suited her more than that of a maternal one. It had gifted her with a soft glow, or so her husband raved. Her body had changed over the years. The insecurities of the youth had shown ugly head when she was carrying their twin sons over thirteen years ago. She had slipped in and out of self hate and self doubts. Still, the marks on her thighs and hip bone disgusted her. Though as her husband kissed them each night with confidence, she felt better, like someone was handing her back what belonged to her, a day at a time. Nevertheless, Filza knew she would never give it up. Her children meant everything to her. They brightened up her day with their cries and were her peace at night.

"She's fine. Just a little fussy, after all she's never met all her family at once."

Lyana's warm voice from behind them calmed down they anxiety the two felt. Despite having three sons already, having a daughter felt like a process altogether new.

"I know that look Arham. Your dad carried it all the time after Lilah was born. Don't worry, hand her to me and eat something. I've been dying to hold my princess." Lyana grinned, wrapping her arms around the baby protectively.

Dressed in a gold tissue dress, Aruna looked the part of a proper heiress. She smiled at her grandmother, recognizing the familiar face. Her lips pressed against her cheek in a still line, the curve of her neck stretched out as her short hands found her favorite man — her grandfather. Alamgeer grinned, carrying the child away, the two whispering secrets of grave intensity to one another.

"Filza eat something." Arham's warm voice brought her out of the reverie of her thoughts.

"I am. I've already devoured seven out of those ten waffles." She replied, the rebellious grin dancing on her face.

"They're to die for good! You must tell me how you got them so good Fiz!" Barekhna beamed, palming her bulging belly, at nine months pregnant she was still as youthful as ever.

"'Course I will," Filza spoke between munches, thanking Arham as he wiped the jam from her cheeks, "I'll let Aliyaar bhai know!"

"Looks like everyone knows that I'm the one that cooks." Aliyaar teased her.

"Oh hush! I make the best tea that can rival all your food!"

"Mama!" The voice of their twelve year old son from across the fields caught their attention, the two fleeing to his side at once.

An azure blue sky painted the horizon with hundreds of tiny clouds sprinkled across. Sweet sounds of the deers finally peaking through the woods caught attention of the young ones, who were seeing this sight for the first time. Butterflies danced along, their wings brushing the faces here and there, spilling fits of giggles throughout the space. Drenched in peace, finally alone the young couples sat together in silence, at distances to maintain privacy. An intense smell of her lavender perfume defeated the hydrangea's by leagues, his head dropping to her bare neck, lips puckering and landing on the skin softly.

"Finally got you alone." Arham hummed.

"You have me every night jaanana. Don't tell lies, bad thing."

She warned, her finger pushing against his nose as if he were one of their children.

"I miss holding you in the day. Without someone interrupting us."

"It's your work mostly. My children are angels!"

Filza laughed. Angels was a far-cry from their reality. Their eldest born, Ehaan was more into physical sports than into the theory of his classes. He turned every room into a ground, fighting his young brothers like pro wrestlers. He was a spitting image of his father, tanned skin and hair that spiraled along his long neck. Naturally built broader and taller, he could easily defeat anyone in a game of cricket and chess — his two favorites. Ehaan was in fact, part of the provincial team that played on a national level, for the under eighteen tournaments. Things were looking bright for him in the world for cricket, his parents loosening the noose of being an all rounder student. They just wanted him happy, even if it meant he would at one point wish to not go to university and instead try out for the national team.

Ezhan and Mehroz resembled her, in every sphere of life. Imaginative and creative like their mother, the twelve year olds had been proud like no other when her debut book hit the market three years ago. Their green eyes and skin rosy in the sun and moon, was the envy of many. Tall even at their young age, almost reaching their father's abdomen already. The two were quiet figures who wrecked things in the dark. If you woke up in the middle of the night to creepy music playing, it was probably them. Pranksters. Like their father's younger uncles everyone said. Like her own younger uncle — her father added. Ezhan was still the serious one, his heart in the infirmary of their resident doctor, where he spent hours mapping out the human body. Meanwhile, Mehroz basked in his mother's attention, learning how to make pasta from her. He was an amazing cook, and had been so since he was but three.

"They're growing up." Filza whispered, staring at their three son's playing and their daughter smacking her grandfather's face.

"We did too once, you know. I'm excited for them to become what destiny has in store for them." Arham said.

"We'll have a cricketer, a doctor and a chef," She pressed a hand to his face, smiling with warmth, "what do you reckon our daughter will be?"

"She can be anything, more than that she will be our princess."

"Hmm that's very accurate. I wonder if she'll want to be a politician like you."

"She's welcome to. I'd support her with my life." He puffed his chest with pride.

Ripe strawberries in an alabaster painted bowl, ceramic with ridges that reminded of the fancy columns inside the main estate sat in the centre of the picnic cloth. Leaves green with freshness, sparkled under the sunlight with undefeated prowess. Bright red in color against the pastel aesthetic and beige tones of the pastries brushed with simple syrup, like jewels on a gold necklace. Pert sausages wrapped in puff pastry baked slow, sat beside the sharp cheeses, imported straight from France and Italy overnight. Crackers and chocolates on the wooden board melted with the heat, leaving behind streaks as people fisted them against their mouth. Glass covers kept the bees at bay, thin steel scissors made with fancy riveting blades sat amongst the purple grapes, ripe and fresh.

Chives grew in the land of the private estate and ivy's climbed up the side of the cottage — it's size increased over time as their children's needs did too. Red roses struck underneath the windowsills, landings covered in spruces of leaves, popping in and out of the stone, wrapping all the way to the top of the chimney. As wind pushed against the roots and the shoots, the hydrangea's in fool bloom danced, their polled sprung out of their tiny star shaped holds into the air. Reddened cheeks and the sneezed that escaped the mouth of Aliyaar's son, a good enough testament to that. They whistled under mirthful tones and spread far and beyond as the deer with its soft gait approached, not at all scared from the eyes of the humans and instead, filled its bony mouth with a few strawberries.

The deer sank it's legs into the grass, pressing its delicate chest into the cloth as it ate. The short stubby tail pushed into the warm air, its spotted skin, and light caramel coat danced with joy. A button nose with eyes larger than the moon on a full night, the deer picked at the fresh fruit, using it's hoofs to push the glass covers away. However, from behind the trees large hissing sounds alerted the poor animal, a raven cat, strolled towards it in leisure — the green eyes of Luna, pushed at the deer. Forcing it to move out of her territory. The rest giggled at the reaction of the fifteen year old cat, who had been passed down to their eldest son — the only one who held a fondness for cats after his mother.

"Ehaan get Luna away from the poor thing!"

Filza raised her voice a few notches, still in the arms of her husband, her head on his shoulder. The attentive lad nodded, running to the cat, his athletic legs faster than Luna's claws as he picked her, pressing her against his chest. She sighed in content in the familiar arms, resting her claws on top of Ehaan's arms.

"Seeing Ehaan run is like watching someone walk on water." She spoke with pride to the air, walking towards the young teenager.

"Come 'ere Luna, let's get you to Star."

Lifting her out of his arms, Filza freed the cat in the direction of their home. A grey cat in the entrance waiting for her. Star, Luna's formidable lover and husband of twelve years led her in through the trap door, following in behind her with the arch of his back ram rod straight — a man in all aspects. She ran a hand through her son's hair, his arms still twig like despite the amount of exercise he did on the fields wrapped around her waist, a tired sigh escaped his lips as he rested his head against her bosom. Filza stroked his hair, not minding the sweat on the back of his neck as she massaged his shoulders loosely, her own parents talking to the rest of the elders in silence.

"You okay Ehaan?"

She whispered softly, her eyes filled up with an anxiousness, the feline eyes pushed together in worry. He nodded his head, although the strain his powerful voice went against his actions. Ehaan in silence held her hand, pressing it to his eyes feeling the tears of frustration prick them. A throbbing headache dulled in her soft lavender scent, the feeling of her arms around him brought the misery lower — only he had no idea for how long.

"Ehaan jhut nahi bolo, kuch tou huwa hai." She warned.
[Ehaan don't lie, something has happened.]

"It's nothing — nothing mor." He shook his head.

"Fine then. I'll ask your father to have a word with you."

Arham was a strict father to his son's anytime it came to being vulnerable. The importance of talking it out was firmly held in high opinion by them all, and so it was no surprise when he pushed his children to speak what they said. Reason why they feared him. With their mother they knew, excuses could get them a clean card out of the problem.

"Not him."

"Then tell me," she pinched his cheek, "what bothers my prince."

"I think I'm going to fail my exams this year again."

There. He had said it. Ehaan breathed in through an open mouth, feeling the pressure against his chest relax a little. It had begun to ache, keeping him up all night as he thought of ways to explain the situation to his parents. He had been blessed, in the sense that they allowed him freedom — however, having two younger brother's that constantly were top of the class pushed him into a world of insecurities.

"Why? Your father helped you out this year. Why still Ehaan? Is there something else that bothers you?" Worried, she walked him towards her husband, whose eyes widened in surprise as the two stepped forward, reduced to tears.

"Is everything okay?" Arham whispered.

"He says he's going to fail this year too," Filza spoke through tears, brushing a hand against his slick forehead, pain burning her alive as she continued, "I know he tries so hard Arham. Ehaan we know okay? Why does he then struggle each year Arham?"

"I— Ehaan —" Arham said.

"Abu can I say something?" Ehaan looked at him with tears filling his eyes.

"Of course."

"I've been doing my research. I asked a few doctors with dado's help. They have reached an evaluation and it feels so good to know what's wrong with me."

"Go on then speak." Arham nodded.

"Dyslexia. It's a unanimous diagnosis. I'm sorry — sorry I'm such a burden." He said.

"Pagal nahi bano Ehaan. My sister has autism and we've never let her feel bad about it. You're my son. No burden. We'll help you every step of the way." Arham reprimanded.

"And don't be foolish. We love you because you're our son. I don't want to hear those words ever again." Filza clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth.

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"Utho!" Ehzaan pressed his hands on his twin's face.
[Wake up!]

"Kia masla hai yaar? Sonay do!" Mehroz sunk deeper under his sheets.
[What is your problem man? Let me sleep!]

"Par mujhe dar lag raha hai!" He tried again.
[But I'm scared!]

"Go to Ehaan's room. I've got to catch up on my beauty sleep." Mehroz turned his back over.

Ehzaan shivered with fear, sliding off of his twin's car shaped bed, his feet sliding into the slippers beside his own. Blindly in the dark, as the air conditioner whizzed inside and rain poured harshly outside, he felt under his bed for his flashlight. Bingo! He grinned. Pushing himself up, he slid out of the room. It was dark — his first observation about the corridors. Even the magnificent window covered in a thin metal frame failed to let any light pass through. Ehzaan felt his blood rush in his veins, energy diffused into every part of him — he should not have eaten all those cookies he sighed. Almost on the verge of tears as the lights failed to turn on, he lunged across the hallway. His body crashed into the tall copper table, a thick glass ball tumbling down. He bit his tongue, relief filling him only when he saw it fall safely on to the thick carpet.

He crawled rest of the way. Pale moonlight on his back that managed to peak through the furious clouds. He trembled under their rumbling, his knuckles tirelessly pressed against the door of his elder brother's room. Ehzaan gulped nervously, imagining a witch crawl closer to him from under the abyss. He pushed himself into a ball, counting down his seconds. Stale breath pressed and fogged against the wood of the door, his rapping ceaseless, his gaze focused behind his shoulder.

"Ehzaan?"

Glee unlike never before filled him at the sound of his elder brother.

"Ehaan bhai can I sleep in your bed?" He shifted from one foot to the other.

"Why?" The teenager groaned.

"We— the both of us are scared!" Mehroz spoke sheepishly from behind his brother.

"Alright, come in."

Ehaan opened the door wider, tucking his brother's under his duvet before getting in between them. His hands wrapped around their frames, pushing the two into his chest.

"Bhai?"

"Hmm?"

"Let's play some games on your console!" Mehroz whispered.

"We have school. Sleep!"

"Bhai we'll convince mor for a day off!" Ezhaan grinned.

"And I will make sure you guys go to school. All save for Ehaan. The other two, be prepared to go with a run on your father."

Filza spoke from the entrance, her husband beside her. The two grinned at their crying children, rushing towards their bed as they tickled them wildly, laughing at the top of their lungs.

Blissful. It was blissful as life finally came full circle.

Pain oft washes the heart
It brings anew some tart

Joy is but a moment away
In between do not stray

It gets better and love is found
Let's go take a dance all around

A Garden of Hydrangea's had been planted fifteen eons ago
Glee and pain — to and fro