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*

Hania

"Papa, is Mama home?" I spoke on the phone.

"Yes, she should be. Why, are you planning on visiting?" My father asked.

I stared at the front door of my parents' house, frowning a little. "Something like that."

"Okay, let me know the plan. I'd promised Hina that I'd get her ice cream the next time I see her, so if you're here, I'll pick some up on the way."

"No, Papa. The kids are not going to come. Hamza and Daniyal Uncle are taking care of them today." I smiled.

"Okay, next time In Sha Allah. Hani, I have to go, but take care, beta."

"Okay, Papa. Allah Hafiz."

"Allah Hafiz."

I ended the call and pressed the doorbell again. I had been here for almost fifteen minutes now, repeatedly pressing the bell, but no answer. I had tried using my key, but the key was inserted into the lock from inside, so I couldn't open it.

"Mama?" I called out. Sighing, I glanced towards the living room window, but the curtains were drawn. I dialled her number again, but no reply. Frowning, I pulled my phone away from my ear, while the bell rang on the other end. I pressed my ear against the front door, and I could faintly hear the sound of her phone ringing inside. "Mama!" My heart began to pound harder in fear. I then dialled Hamza's number. 

"Han, missing me already?" His cheerful voice came through.

"Hamza, I think something's wrong. I have been here ringing the doorbell for the past fifteen minutes, but Mama is not opening up. The key is inside the lock from the inside, so I can't even use my key to go inside."

"Don't you have a key for the backdoor?"

"It's the same case with the backdoor. The key is inside the lock." My voice was starting to tremble a little with panic. "Hamza, I don't know what to do. I'm freaking out."

"Okay, relax, I'm coming." He paused. "But I think you should call the emergency services."

****

Hamza pulled into the driveway on his motorcycle less than ten minutes after the phone call. I was leaning against the doorway, praying that she was okay.

If anything happened to her, I won't be able to survive.

"Hania." He came over and wrapped his arm around my shoulders as we watched the police officers pick the lock to get the front door to open. There was an ambulance on standby, in case of a medical emergency.

"Hamza..." I pressed my face against his chest. "I'm scared."

"In Sha Allah, she'll be fine." He wrapped his arms around me, kissing the top of my head. "Have faith, Hania."

Finally, the door opened, but a policeman held out an arm before I could run through. "We need to make sure everything is okay." He told me and Hamza, before the officers headed inside. 

It was procedure, and I understood that, but I was feeling beyond impatient. This was about my Mama! I looked up at Hamza, tears filling my eyes.

"They have to follow these steps, Hania." He whispered.

"Miss?" A policewoman came out and called me. I followed her inside. I hadn't noticed but she had also gestured for the paramedics to come inside, until they barged past me. I slowly stepped inside and then my heart almost stopped.

My mother was lying unconscious on the floor, her hair covering her face, looking too pale.

"Mama!" I screamed, rushing towards her.

"Hania, let them have a look!" Hamza held me in his strong grip, not letting me go to her.

"No, this can't be happening." I shook my head. "Mama..." 

"She's your mother?" One of the paramedics turned to me. "May we have her name and date of birth please?" 

I was too numb to reply.

"Jasmina Fawad." Hamza answered, before giving her date of birth. I looked at him, surprised. My shocked mind was focused on the fact that he had remembered her full date of birth.

"Her husband is a doctor at St Michael's hospital actually..." Hamza continued speaking to them. 

"Papa. I need Papa." I muttered. "He'll make everything ok. He won't let anything happen to her."

Hamza held on tightly to me, but continued chatting to the paramedic. "Is she...okay?" 

"There's a faint pulse, but my colleagues are just doing their checks and will tell you what needs to be done next." 

Hamza glanced down at me, his face etched with concern. 

I looked up at him, helplessly. "Mama..."

*

Time seemed to have stopped. We kept waiting, and waiting, and waiting, but nobody was telling us anything about Mama's condition. She had been brought to the hospital. I'd come in the ambulance along with her, while Hamza had come on his bike.

My gaze kept repeatedly studying the posters on the wall: signs of stroke, support groups for cancer, advice on mental health, etc.

"I can't get through to Papa. He must be busy." Hamza sat down beside me, running both hands through his hair.

"Did you tell Mani?" I asked, softly. I had been mad at my little sister for making my mother worried, but I convinced myself that she must have had good reasons. Iman was no longer that rebel who needed just an excuse to clash with Mama; even back then, she would never have intentionally done anything to risk our mother's life or health. "Actually, I'll call her and tell her." 

I was just about to dial her number, when I heard the sound of running footsteps and I looked up to see Iman heading towards here, her face pale and her eyes wide.

"What am I hearing?!" She panted. "Appi! Mama was brought in?"  She was closely followed by a worried looking Taif.

I stood up and walked over to her. "Iman." 

Her facial expressions broke my heart.

*

Iman

I remember when Papa ended up unwell, and Appi had accused me of causing the decline in his health. She had even said that she wished that my parents hadn't chosen to have a second child. Seeing her tear-filled eyes, and the extreme worry blanketing her face, I felt that she was going to repeat her words. I was responsible for this. I had done nothing in my life but caused misery and problems for my mother.

To my surprise, Appi pulled me into a hug. "Mani."

When Taif had told me that he had heard that my mother had been brought to the hospital, my heart had almost stopped. I'd also automatically assumed that it was linked to the severe anxiety I'd caused her by basically avoiding her all this time.

I held onto my sister tightly, as if my life depended on it. "Appi. I did this. I caused this."

"We don't even know what happened." She took my hand and led me away from the guys, and into the separate waiting room, which was more private.

"I'm sure this is caused by anxiety."

"Iman..."

"I've done nothing but cause her problems." 

"Sit down." She made me sit on some hard chairs, close to the window. In the almost suffocating-warm room, the gentle breeze from the slightly ajar window felt like a cold glass of water in a heatwave. "Listen, meri jaan, none of this is your fault, okay? Mani, she's your mother. Why would you ever do anything to risk her health?" 

"Don't call me meri jaan. It's weird." I muttered. "Sisters are biological frenemies, not jaans."

She rolled her eyes and sitting beside me. "I don't care what you say. You're my Mani doll." She pinched my cheek.

"Appi, stop it!" I moved away, but inside I felt better, having her around. "Just because you're a mother, doesn't mean you need to be maternal with me. I have my own mother who is maternal enough..." My lower lip quivered and I felt tears in my eyes again.

"You're absolutely right, Mani." She wrapped her arms around me sideways. "In Sha Allah, she'll be fine." 

"Hania?" Hamza Bhai appeared in the doorway.

"Did you manage to get through to Papa?" Appi asked him.

"Yes, he is on his way, but the doctor just came out..." 

Appi jumped up and raced outside.

"You coming?" Hamza Bhai asked me when I didn't move.

I nodded, swallowing hard, and followed the two out into the hallway.

"...her blood sugar level was very low. Has she not had anything to eat or drink the whole day?" The doctor was speaking to Taif, as we approached.

"Is she okay?" Appi gasped out, looking at the doctor, who glanced at her questioningly. "I'm Mrs Fawad's daughter." 

I stood aside, hugging myself. Taif glanced my way and walked over, placing a calm hand on the small of my back. 

The doctor nodded. "Is your mother on any medication? We have requested the GP to send over her medical record anyway, but can you tell us anything until then?"

"She suffers from anxiety, and she has medication for it."

"History of diabetes within the family?" 

"Not that we know of, but I need to check with our father." Appi replied. 

"Is she okay?" I asked, barely loud enough to be heard.

The doctor glanced at me, and recognition dawn on him. "Dr Iman? Right, you're Dr Fawad's daughter." He nodded. "Look, I don't even need to tell you this, but she really should not be neglecting her meals. My colleague had some tests done on her, including her weight measurement, and currently her weight is below the healthy weight for her age. Plus, as your sister told me, she suffers from anxiety. These are matters of concerns. Her health should be monitored more carefully."

*

Fawad

"I am so mad at you right now." I strode into the hospital room, closing the door behind me.

"Why?" Mina was sitting on the bed, blinking at me confused.

"Why?" I sat down beside her. "Because you promised me that you'll take care of your diet, and eat properly. I'm away for such long shifts, and I trusted you to keep that promise."

"I didn't feel hungry."  She glanced down at her hands.

"All day? Is that really my Lahori foodie wife talking?" 

She looked up into my eyes and I saw the sadness filling them, the worry, the never-ending anxiety that seemed to be eating away at her from the inside.

 I placed a hand over her cheek. "I told you, Iman is fine. Alhumdulillah. Don't you trust me?"

She glanced away, her eyes filling up. 

"I don't want to bring up the past, but you didn't even worry about Hania this much, even though Hamza had certainly given us plenty of reasons to worry." I grabbed her hands.

She shook her head. "I don't know, Fawad. I've been repeatedly getting some strange and scary dreams relating to Iman, and I have been imagining the worst possible scenarios..."

"Have these dreams started since you started to feel that Iman is avoiding us?" I guessed.

"Don't psychoanalyse me, Fawad." She looked irritated. "She's in a difficulty, and she can't seem to talk to us about it."

"Mina, have you thought there are some things that married daughters just cannot discuss with their parents? Look, if it was something worrying or serious, I know she'll come to us. We've had so many issues of our own, but you didn't go around involving your parents, did you?" 

Her gaze dropped on her lap, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

"She's not a child. We need to trust her to be able to handle things as an adult, with Taif by her side. I have spoken to her, and I am satisfied that this is something that you and I don't need to get involved in."

"Taif is treating her right? Her in-laws?" 

"I have no reason to doubt that they are." I squeezed her hands. "And if you trust me, you'll let it go." 

There was a knock on the door.

"Can I come in?" Hania's soft voice came from the other side.

I grinned at my wife. "Prepare for another lecture." She rolled her eyes. "Come in, Hani."

The door opened and Hani walked in, closing the door behind her. She walked over to the bed, frowning at her mother. I struggled to control a smile.

"I'm not going to eat all day tomorrow. And I'm going to stay at your house to make sure that you know that I'm not eating." Our firstborn threatened her mother.

I burst out laughing and even Mina couldn't control her smile.

"You don't laugh." Hani turned to me. "You had one job."

"This isn't his fault, Hani. I'm not a kid." Mina sighed, placing a hand on my upper arm.

"Well..." I began.

"Don't even start. This isn't anyone's fault but my own." Mina warned me, before reaching her hand out for Hania. "I'm sorry for scaring you guys."

Hania took her hand, and sat on the other side of the bed. "Don't ever do that again. None of us can afford to lose you." She took a deep breath. "Hamza and Taif are outside, giving you their regards. They'll see you once your home, as they feel it's more appropriate there."

"They are such sweet, respectful boys, Ma Sha Allah." Mina whispered softly. "Where's Iman?"

"She went to the bathroom." Hani replied, but the way she looked at me, I knew that something else was the matter. "By the waiting room."

I got up, and glanced down at Mina. "I'll be back in a few minutes." Leaning down to kiss the top of her head, I turned to go.

"Where are you going?" 

"I need to speak to a doctor." I replied before opening the door and walking out of the room. 

Hamza, who was in the hallway, immediately came over to me. "How is she doing?" 

"Alhumdulillah, she's fine." I patted his shoulder. 

"Taif got paged, so he had to go, but he said he'll be back as soon as he can." 

I nodded. "No problem." I glanced around, distracted. "Excuse me, Hamza." 

"Sure." 

I walked down the hall to the waiting room, and stepped inside to see Iman sitting on the chair at the other side of the room, her head tilted against the wall. She had taken her shoes off and had pulled her legs up, her knees against her chest.

"Your mother is asking about you." I walked over and sat down beside her.

She didn't say anything for a few seconds. And I just sat silently beside her until she was ready to speak. When she finally did, after a few minutes, her words surprised me, "You must hate me."

I looked at her, surprised.

"Your Mina, your wife, ended up in here because of me."

"I think blaming yourself for everything is an inherited trait, so I can't blame you for it." I patted her head lightly. "Go and see Mina."

"What, no speech of samajhdari?" She raised both eyebrows at me.

*Samajhdari: wisdom.

"There's no point." I shrugged.

"What do you mean there's no point? It's basically your duty to reassure me, to calm me down! You always do that!"

"And what would I say to you to make you feel better? For you to stop blaming yourself? What can I say, Mani?"

"You'd say that I'm her daughter and I would never intentionally or even negligently do anything to risk my mother's life or health!" She stood up and started pacing around. "And it's right, I won't. She's my whole world, no matter how I have behaved. And you know what? I was only trying to do the right thing myself. My heart was in the right place. I only wanted something good, and maybe that's why Allah has rewarded me by saving my mother's life."

I listened to her monologue. "You know, Mani, I can be held responsible more than you. She wasn't eating or drinking properly. As her spouse, it's my duty to ensure that she takes care of herself. It's not just her duty to look after my needs."

"Are you joking? You can never risk her health and safety. You made her promise to take care of herself, because that was one way to ensure that she would. You would never, ever do anything that would risk her health." 

"So, what you are saying, that I, as her husband would never risk her health, but you as her daughter would?" I raised both eyebrows at her.

She opened her mouth, then shut it again. "Did you just use reverse psychology on me?" 

"Did I?" I asked, standing up. "You tell me, doctor sahiba." I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Come on. She wants to see you." 

"Papa..."

"No arguments. This discussion is over. Either you and I are both equally responsible, or none of us are. You decide." 

"You are not responsible for this."

"Then you're not either." 

"You'd never risk her life."

"You won't either."

She looked up at me. I smiled and led her towards her mother's room.

*

Iman

I just held onto Mama wordlessly. I held her tight, never wanting to let her go. I had so many things to say to her, but I had no idea where to start. I want to apologise, I wanted to cry, I wanted to tell her everything that had been burdening my heart, but sometimes words are not necessary.

She didn't have to speak either to make me realise that she understood me.

"Are you okay?" Despite being in a hospital bed herself, she was concerned about me.

I pulled away, grabbing her hands. "I'm happy, I'm healthy, I'm loved, I have a roof over my head and I get three meals a day. Alhumdulillah. Isn't that enough for my parents to feel relaxed?" I leaned closer and kissed her cheek. "I'm going to speak to Taif. I will be coming over to stay with you for a while, and I will be monitoring your diet personally. Hani Appi will be there as well, so when I'm not around, she will be monitoring. Any negligence will be reported back to Papa." 

Speaking of the man in question, he was just walking Appi and Hamza Bhai out. Since Appi was going to be staying with Mama and Papa, the kids were going to have to come as well, and she needed to go and get her things ready.

"You married a very smart and wise man, Ma Sha Allah." I smiled at her.

"He got his wisdom from me, you know." She smiled back at me. "But seriously, yes, Alhumdulillah."

"Mama, you keep telling us that for you wealth and materialistic things don't matter, right? That you'd be happy anywhere, as long as you have Papa by your side." When she nodded, I continued. "Well, it's the same thing for me. I can adjust to all kinds of situation with Taif by my side. He takes care of me, and he supports me. Alhumdulillah. Yes, the circumstances are different, but we are happy. Trust me."

"That's all I want- for you and Hania to be as happy in your married life as I am in mine. I want happiness and good health for all of you." 

"And we have that, Alhumdulillah." 

"Then why were you avoiding us?" 

"Because, as I said, the circumstances are different in a way that might seem worrying on the surface, especially for parents. And I didn't want you to unnecessarily worry, because there's no reason to worry." 

She looked at me thoughtfully for a few seconds.

"But if you keep doing this to yourself, you're making all of us worried. Do you want that? Do you want the people you love the most to be constantly worried about you, unable to focus on their daily routine?" 

"Of course not."

"You are irreplaceable in our lives, Mama. Look after yourself. For our sake. For the sake of that lovestruck doctor who would move mountains just to see a smile on your face."

"Are you Iman or Hania? Where did you come up with that romantic novel dialogue from?" She seemed amused, as she tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear. "I missed you, Mani." 

"Of course you did. I'm the raunak of the family." I grinned.

*Raunak: liveliness.

*

"Are you okay?" 

I looked up and saw Hania Appi standing in the doorway. I was taking out a packet of frozen chicken from the freezer, ready to make lunch the next day. "Yeah. Why are you asking?"

"Are you going to make lunch?" She was holding her baby son, Hassam, in her arms.

"I've had a little practice...kind of. Using YouTube videos." I shrugged, standing up and closing the freezer door.

"Why don't you take care of this little guy and I'll cook?" She suggested.

"Good idea." I automatically agreed, because who refuses a good offer. I placed the packet on the counter, washed my hands with warm water and dried them before taking my nephew from my sister. "Come, Khalla ki jaan." I kissed his adorable little cheeks, and took him out.

Hani Appi and I were staying with our parents for a few days. We wanted to take care of our mother while Papa was working. And when I was working as well, I was satisfied that at least Hani Appi was there. 

Hassam was a complete copy of his father, including the cheeky smile Hamza Bhai usually gave when he was teasing someone. Even at this young age, Hassam already had that smile, which also ended up making his eyes light up. Ma Sha Allah.

The doorbell rang and I walked to the foyer to answer it, talking quietly to my baby nephew. When I opened the door, I was surprised to see Taif on the other side. Wearing jeans and a grey hoodie shirt that was now dotted with the raindrops from the light drizzle, he gave me a warm smile as he saw me. "Assalam Alaikum, Taif!"

"Walaikum Assalam!" He stepped inside, and I closed the door behind him. He was carrying a bag, which he raised up. "Ammi Jaan made some soup for Aunty."

"Oh, she really didn't have to! But it's so sweet of her." I could smell the delicious chicken sweetcorn soup that was actually one of my mother-in-law's speciality. 

He walked down the hall to the kitchen, and I followed with Hassam gurgling in my arms. "Assalam Alaikum, Appi."

"Walaikum Assalam, Taif Bhai." She smiled at him.

"This soup is for Aunty." He set the bag down onto the kitchen table. "Is she awake?" 

"No, she just slept after medication." Appi replied. "But she'll definitely be having this soup once she wakes up." 

"Is Uncle home?" Taif asked.

"Yes, he's in the study. You can go and see him there, if you want." I told him.

Taif went into the downstairs bathroom to wash his hands, before returning inside. "How's this little guy?" He came over to me and gently tapped Hassam's little nose with his fingertip.

"Ma Sha Allah, getting cheekier every day." I smiled fondly at my sister's youngest child.

"So, also like Khalla, like his siblings?" Taif asked me, teasingly.

"You know it. Kids admire awesomeness." I said.

"Modest as usual." Appi shook her head.

"What are you making, Appi?" Taif asked. 

"Just a simple chicken dish, nothing special." She replied, as she began to gather up ingredients.

"Would you mind if I make it?" Taif offered.

I looked at him surprised, and even Appi looked taken aback.

"See, I make this very simple chicken salan, nothing special, but it has always been praised by everyone who has ever tasted it." Taif said, almost bashfully.

"Mama will not like the fact that her damaad is being forced to cook."

"I'm not being forced to do anything. In fact, I'm happy to." Taif shrugged, putting his hands in the pocket of his hoodie shirt.

Appi looked at me.

"I'll help him. Why don't you go and relax?" I told her. 

"Sure, why not." She surrendered, taking off the apron she had tied around herself. "The kitchen is all yours." 

"I'm just going to greet Uncle first. I'll be right back." Taif nodded at me before leaving the kitchen.

*

Taif

I have no idea how, but I suspected that Iman was avoiding her family because of the financial status difference. Maybe she doesn't want me to feel bad? I mean, there are countless of men who would develop an inferiority complex if they were in my position.

"What's cooking, bro?" A hard slap on my back almost made me jump.

I turned and saw Hamza Bhai standing there, curiously glancing inside the pan.

"I just entered, and Hania just simply said, 'Taif Bhai is in the kitchen'. I suppose it means that I am meant to help?" He grinned. "Why not? The other day my father was unwell, so I made khichdi for him by watching a YouTube video as I cooked."

"You want to make the salad?" I asked him.

He shrugged and headed to the fridge after washing his hands.

"How's your photography going?" I asked him.

"Cool. But I miss travelling. These days, I often find myself taking artistic picture of toys." He chuckled as he pulled out tomatoes and cucumbers.

"Wow, what an inspiration!" I grinned at him.

"Tell me about it, man." He grabbed a knife from the drawer. "How's your doctoring going?" 

"Bloody." 

He burst out laughing. "That's a nice play on words, bro. I think we'll get along just fine." 

*

Jasmina

I had barely fallen asleep, when an intense fear had woken me up. My chest felt tight, as it used to when I used to wear very fitted, heavily embroidered outfits on special occasions. Repeatedly, a voice kept whispering in my mind, 'Iman'.

I gave up the idea of sleep, performed wudhu, and started reciting quietly from the Quran. A few moments later, a tear drop fell onto the pages as I read.

Ya Allah, I'm scared. My family thinks I am being paranoid and overemotional, but something doesn't feel right. Please keep my family, all my loved ones safe and happy. Ameen.

After around half an hour, I placed the Holy Quran back into the cupboard, before walking over to the window. 

The sound of the door opening made me turn and I saw Fawad entering, trying to be quiet for my sake I guess. But when he saw me standing by the window, he looked surprised. "I thought you were asleep!" 

"I couldn't sleep." 

He opened the wardrobe, and started rummaging through some files he kept there. "You want something to eat?" He asked, even as he looked for whatever it was that he was looking for.

"Not yet." I walked up to him. "What do you need?" 

"Just some case file I left here a couple of days ago." He muttered. 

I pursed my lips to hide a smile. "What colour?" 

"Red." He frowned. "Where did I leave it?" 

"When did you last see it?" 

"This morning, when I was sitting on the..." Realisation dawned on him and he turned and, indeed, the file was on the bedside table, where he had left it early. "Bed." He looked at me. "Thank you."

I neatly adjusted the items that he had been rummaging through before closing the wardrobe door. "Hmm." I walked back over to the bed and sat down, taking my dupatta off from around myself and setting it aside.

"You okay?" 

I forced a smile on my face as I looked at him. "I'm fine."

He came and sat down beside me. "Talk to me." 

"It's nothing, jaan."

"Mina." 

I shrugged. "Doesn't matter. My concerns are just brushed aside as me being overemotional."

"What concerns?" His eyebrows furrowed. "About Iman?"

My jaw clenched and I didn't look at him. 

"Mina..."

"I know!" I almost snapped at him. "I'm thinking too much. I'm just emotional because my daughter has just started a new life. I get it. This is exactly why I didn't want to say anything."

He placed his hand on mine, but didn't say anything until I looked up and met his gaze. "What do you want me to do, Mina?" 

"I want you to take me for Umrah." I whispered, almost pleadingly. "Both our daughters are married off, Alhumdulillah. This is the perfect time. And I feel like I need to be there to get rid of the fear in my heart. I feel that the peace and sanctity of Makkah and Medina will help me."

He nodded, pulling me quietly against himself. I sobbed silently, praying endlessly that I was just being paranoid and overemotional, and that these weren't just my maternal instincts giving off warning signals.

*

Iman

"Are you going?" 

"Yes, I have to. Ammi Jaan and Baba Jaan must be waiting." Taif turned to face me in front of the front door.

"Take some of your delicious salan." I said.

"You haven't even tasted it yet." He narrowed his eyes at me.

"If you are saying that you were praised for it, then I believe it. It must definitely be good."

"Well, you praise yourself all the time, but..." His eyes glinted mischievously.

I gasped. "Oh my God! Taif! How could you?"

"That's how you are with everyone else. This is just a taste of your medicine, doctor." 

"I will not stand here and be insulted like this!" I crossed my arms over my chest, feigning anger. 

"Fine, then you can move into the living room and I can continue!" He laughed and pulled open the front door to rush out. But he stopped at the threshold as he saw the heavy rain. "Dammit."

"This is nature's way to remind you not to mess with your wife." I giggled, sliding my arm through his. I lowered my voice. "Get a cab."

He pulled his hoodie over his head. "It's okay. I'll run to the bus stop."

"Are you kidding me? You're going to catch a cold!" 

"I'll be fine." He waved his hand off dismissively. 

My eyes widened as an idea occurred to me. "I'll drop you off in one of my parents' cars. Wait here." 

"Iman, it's fine." He insisted, grabbing my wrist before I could run off. "I'll take an umbrella if that makes you happy." 

It didn't, but I couldn't lift him up and belt him down into the front passenger seat of the car, could I? "Fine." I pulled open the closet in the front hallway, and took out a black umbrella. "Here, but don't blame me if the wind blows it away." 

He stepped towards me. "I love seeing this soft side of Iman." 

"Why don't you make a video because it's not going to last much longer." I narrowed my eyes.

"It will last a lifetime. Because that's who you are, Iman." He turned and began to head down the steps, opening the umbrella. At the bottom of the steps, he looked up at me as raindrops dripped from the edges of the umbrella. "And don't worry. I won't develop an inferiority complex, and your family won't let it happen." 

I walked down the steps, surprised by his words. I found myself being drenched by the rain, but I didn't care. "What makes you say that?" 

He held up the umbrella to cover us both. "I've basically loved you for seven years, as well as worked with you for many of those years. Iman, people start to get familiar with characteristics of their colleagues, so how could I not start to notice things about you? You were discreetly trying to protect me from this." He nodded towards the house.

"I'm sorry, Taif. I was just trying to do what's right."

"Don't apologise." He gave me a smile. "I love you for what you were trying to do, but your family is genuine. They are down-to-earth, loving and caring. Trust me, I've never noticed their wealth. It's impossible to see anything beyond their absolutely wonderful personalities. Ma Sha Allah." 

I was starting to shiver, wearing only a loose navy blue long-sleeve shirt with my grey sports' trousers. 

"Go inside. You'll catch a cold." He whispered. I smiled. "What's so funny?"

"You. You were careless about your own health, and now that I am shivering, you're getting all worried."

"Because love is about caring about someone more than yourself." He stepped closer to me, and under the shadow of the umbrella, he pressed his mouth against mine and kissed me deeply. 

I wrapped my arms around his neck, not caring about anything or anyone. This man had won my heart in his sweet and discreet way. While he wasn't straight out, full-force romantic, he had his own ways of showing his love for me.

"I love you, Iman. Take care." He pulled back a few minutes later, breathing hard after that wonderful kiss. 

"I love you too. And you take care as well." 

He turned to go, but I pulled him back by tugging on his hoodie. He turned to face me and I grinned cheekily at him. "Ya Allah! What is that cheeky mind of yours thinking, Iman?" 

I stepped towards him. His eyes widened slightly, and he backed away. "Iman." I kept moving closer, pressing my hands against his chest. I could feel his heart pounding hard under my hands. 

"W-We are literally outside your parents' house. Hania Appi is also in there." He glanced upwards. 

"My family knows better than to interrupt someone's romance." I shrugged.

"You know what? If I miss this bus, there is no bus after that for another hour, so I will be making my way now. Keep the umbrella." He practically shoved the umbrella handle into my hand and turned to race away.

"Taif!" I chased after him. "Okay, fine! Take this stupid thing." 

"Yeah, I'm not coming closer now." 

"Good God." I shook my head. "I'm serious, take the umbrella." 

"I'm fine. Allah Hafiz!" He ran off into the darkness.

I couldn't help laughing. He was so cute! Ma Sha Allah!

I was still smiling as I entered the foyer and closed the door behind me. I stopped when I saw my sister and mother in the living room doorway, almost identical amused expressions on their faces. 

My cheeks warmed up. "What? I just went to give him an umbrella."

Appi glanced down at my hand. "You mean that one?" 

"He'd...already gone..." I glanced away from them. 

Appi giggled, and even Mama smiled, her eyes sparkling with genuine happiness.

"I should go and change before I catch a cold, right Mama?" I walked past them and headed towards the stairs, shuddering suddenly with cold as I walked past the slightly open window by the stairs.

When I was in my room, I leaned back against the door, smiling again. My adorable dork!

*

I woke up in the middle of the night with a fever, and lots of sneezing.

Dammit!

I turned the lamp on and sat up, feeling irritation in my throat. Getting out of bed and groaning lightly, I headed out of my room and down the stairs. A tablespoon of honey and a couple of drops of lemon juice always ended up soothing my throat.

As I grabbed the honey from the cabinet, a loud clap of thunder made me jump and I dropped the-thankfully plastic-bottle onto the floor with a shriek. Shaking my head at my own silliness, I picked up the honey bottle and set it down onto the kitchen counter, before looking for the lemon juice. Once I'd swallowed the mixture, I sank down onto a chair at the kitchen table, and began to gently massage my temples.

"Mani, are you okay?" 

I jumped again and looked up to see Mama standing in the doorway, a concerned frown on her face. "What are you doing up?" 

"The thunder woke me up." She admitted. "I hate this weather after that night..." She ran her fingers through my hair. "What's wrong?" Pressing the back of her hand against my forehead, her worried frown deepened. "Mani, you're burning up." 

"Blame Taif." I couldn't help joking.

"Did you take any medicine?" She asked me.

I shook my head.

"Oh, Mani. As a doctor, you should know better." She helped me up. "Come on, I'm going to take you up to your room. Shall I heat up some of the some made my Mrs Bukhari?" 

"Mama..."

But she didn't listen to me. She didn't just take me up to my room, but she tucked me in as well before heading out to get some medication. As she made me swallow the tablets, she sat beside me, looking me as tenderly as if I was little small Mani, instead of Dr Iman Fawad.

"Stop mummying me, Mama. I'm fine." I whispered.

"That's for me to decide, not you." She said, firmly, putting the bottle of water away once I'd used it to take my medicine. She made me lie down on my pillow and then began to massage my head. "Close your eyes, Mani."

I didn't even have the energy to protest. I partly dozed off, but I muttered a few words incoherently, "I don't feel so good, Mama. Please stay with me. Don't go."

"I'm here, meri jaan. I'll stay here with you, don't worry. Go to sleep." Her soft voice lulled me into a deep and dreamless sleep, her hands gently caressing my hair, the way she used to when I was a kid.

And when I woke up in the morning, she was right there, asleep beside me.

*

"I want to talk to you." Mama brought be breakfast in bed the next morning.

"Mama, I am meant to be looking after you, not the other way around!" Feeling much better now, I realised what a dummy I was for making her stay here with me the whole night.

"Oh, hush. Being a mother comes first. I'll always put you and Hania above myself, whether you like it or not." She sat down on the bed. "Eat up. Have you brushed your teeth?"

"Yes, Mama." I looked at the pancakes and smiled. "Wow, my favourite. I'm being really pampered, aren't I?" I cut off a piece with a fork and put it in my mouth, after drenching the pancakes with maple syrup. "What's up, Mama?"

"Iman, unintentionally, I have been extra overprotective of Hania, because of the various reasons that I have already discussed with you. I was more overprotective towards her, even more than Fawad was, which was probably why I wouldn't blame you if you resented me."

I sighed. "Mama, resentment is such a strong word. You're my mother. Maybe I was just jealous of the extra attention she was getting. Maybe I just wanted that extra overprotectiveness for myself as well."

"My heart hurts to think that my actions or behaviour unwittingly made you feel bad, and for that I..."

"Don't apologise." I said, firmly. "I mean it, Mama. I will stop eating and walk out of here right now if you apologise to me."

"Iman, there is nothing wrong with adults apologising if they were in the wrong..."

"I don't care whether there's anything wrong with that or not. I don't want my parents to ever apologise to me. Full stop." I shook my head in determination. "Mama, my existence could literally have...you almost lost your own life giving birth to me. You have done too much for me, so much that I have no reason to be ungrateful."

"You said that I am irreplaceable, but I'm telling you that so are you, Iman. I love you and Hania so much. I pray for you both, your happiness and health, and your families, every minute of the day. The thought of anything bad happening to you or Hania kills me on the inside..."

"Why are you talking like this?" 

She shook her head, wiping her tears away, giving me a small smile. "I love you, Mani. My prayers will always be with you, no matter what." She stood up and leaned down to kiss my forehead.

She walked out of the room, leaving me feeling a little scared. 

*

Hania

"How are my monkeys?" Hamza lifted Hamad onto his shoulders.

"Seriously, Hamza?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

"What?" My husband asked, innocently. "I love these monkeys very much."

"I'm a prinsesh, not a monkey!" Hina pouted up at him.

"Of course, Papa's heart and soul. You're my princess." Hamza winked down at his daughter.

"Okay, now that's just discrimination against my boys." I said, defensively. "I think I need to get Daniyal Uncle involved now."

"Sit in the car, Hamad and Hina." My husband lifted our firstborn off his shoulders, and our kids rushed towards the car parked in the driveway of my parents' house. He looked at me, before glancing up at the house. "How's Mama feeling?"

"Mama's better. Mani's sick now." 

"What happened?"

"She caught a cold." I bit back a smile as I thought of how she got a cold.

"And I'm guessing Mama is taking care of her now." He guessed correctly.

"You know her very well." I put my hand on his upper arm. "Go, the kids are getting late." 

"Can I at least have a goodbye kiss?" He placed his hands on my cheeks and leaned forward.

"Hamza, salaam kiye baghair jaa rahe ho?" Papa's voice interrupted us. I gasped, and Hamza jumped back as if I had electrocuted him.

*"Hamza, leaving without greeting me?" 

My father was dressed for work, holding his laptop bag, and was making his way to the car, with Mama walking beside him. My mother had a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, probably upon my father's insistence, and she was smiling our way discreetly.

"No, of course not!" Hamza said, sheepishly. "Assalam Alaikum, Uncle. I already met Aunty earlier."

I also smiled, even as my cheeks were turning red.

"Carry on." Mama teased us. "He won't bother you guys now." She placed her hands on my father's back, gently pushing him away from us. 

"Allah! Mama!" I said, under my breath, before heading towards my husband's car to strap my kids into their car seats. 

"Kids are getting late. Allah Hafiz!" Hamza waved towards my parents before jumping into the driving seat of his car.

I giggled as he drove off, barely giving me time to wave goodbye to my kids.

"I'm sorry, Hania." Mama winced at me. "It's been decades, but I haven't been able to teach your father to be discreet in these matters."

"Thoda to roub hona chahiye na sasur ka." Papa grinned. "Kyun, Hani?"

*"A father-in-law should be at least a little intimidating."
"Isn't that right, Hani?"

"Of course, Papa."

"After all, meri patakhiyon se shadiyan huin hi hain in ladkon ki." Papa wrapped his arm around my shoulders and kissed the side of my head.

*"After all, these boys are married to my 'patakhiyan' ."

"They are our damaad, jaan." 

"Yeh damad protocol ka chakkar mere saath nahin chale ga. You have to treat my daughter right in any and every circumstances, no ifs or buts." 

*"This son-in-law protocol won't work with me."

"Apni bari nahin yaad? Arhaan Bhai ko aap humaisha kehte thay ke aap ghar ke damaad hain, is liye apko protocol milni chahiye." Mama straightened his collar, fondly.

*"Don't you remember your time? You always told Arhaan Bhai that you are the son-in-law, hence you should get protocol."

He smiled. "Woh to gadha hai. Usay to tang karne ka bohat hi maza aata hai. Aur waise bhi, Mina, us ghar ki beti ko maine sar aankhon pe bithaya hua hai, aaj tak, tu mera tu banta hai na?"

*"He is a donkey. It's great fun to tease him. And any way, Mina, I've cherished the daughter of that house greatly, and I still do, so I deserve it, don't I?"

I smiled, cheekily. "Shall I leave?"

"Don't worry, you've been a kebab main haddi since birth, meri jaan." Papa teased me. 

*kebab main haddi: third wheel, basically.

"Papa!" I gasped.

Sobering up, he turned to me. "Meri jaan, take care of your mother and sister, okay? Mani acts tougher than she is, but she gets extra vulnerable when she is sick. And Jasmina completely disregards her own health, when it comes to me or you girls. Look after both these girls of mine."

I nodded. "Of course, you don't have to tell me."

"And you take care of yourself as well." He told me, kissing my forehead.

"I will. Allah Hafiz, Papa." I walked away, leaving them to say goodbye privately.

But before I left, I heard Mama say, "Ek zamanay yeh apni Hani doll ko nahin sambhal sakti thi, aur ab Ma Sha Allah, teen bachon, ma aur behan ki bhi zimaydari le rahi hai."

*"Once upon a time, she couldn't even take care of her Hani doll, and now, Ma Sha Allah, she is taking the responsibility of her three kids, her mother and sister."

"Jaisa baap, waisi beti."

*"Like father like daughter."

"Fawad, seriously?" 

I laughed to myself as I entered the house. Alhumdulillah for my beautiful family. 

In life, you meet many people, and part ways with many others. But family was irreplaceable. You can get additional family members, like Hamza for me, and then my kids, but each and every single person had their own special value in our lives. 

After the shocking incident with Mama, I'd learnt that very well. 

*

I was thinking that there are plenty of Fawad-Iman bonding scenes, but there are too many Jasmina-Iman clashing scenes. So I wanted to write a chapter where Iman finally properly bonded with her mother.

This incident with Jasmina was just a way to show a different, caring and nurturing side of Iman. I also wrote some of her vulnerable moments, like when she was sick and she needed her mother. 

Since Chasing Heart is about Iman, the readers should get to see every side of her, right?

Thoughts and comments?

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