"𝕲hazanfar?" Ghazanfar Khan Bilour, first-cousin extraordinaire, stood on the front porch, an enormous bouquet of flowers nearly tumbling out of his hands. A crest of jagged black hair hung over his eyes, and his skin gleamed like porcelain. He flashed me a smile that was whiter than the snowcapped mountains. Ugh.

"Hey, Daania," almost robotically, as if my hand was not an extension of my body, my fingers reached out to take the flowers as I stepped back to let him in. It was only after he was across the threshold that I came to my senses. Why was he here? And what did he see?

"Auntie! How are you? It's been a very long time!" he boomed, and Mama threw a distracted glance at him, her worried eyes searching for her husband. Ghazanfar's smile became a touch less warm. "It's so good to see all of you. I was coming to Islamabad for a conference and thought I'd drop by."

No doubt to check in on us.

"That was very sweet of you beta."

"Bibi was asking after all of you, especially you Daania," Nazia glared at him and he sneered. Not this again. As rich, privileged, and smart as he was, he could not control his own face when it counted. It took him a beat to turn his lips into a polite smile for my benefit, but it was back in place when he turned his, much raved about, green eyes on me. He moved closer, edging into my personal space, and lowered his voice.  "You know how much she loves you."

I knew no such thing and I refrained from pointing out that particular piece of information.

"Well it was nice seeing you Ghazanfar bhai, but we've got -" Nazia crossed her arms over her chest as she tried to mentally usher him towards the door. He grinned, his face almost splitting into two.

"Plans? Splendid!"

If nothing else, the past four hours had graced me with the ability to fake a smile while my sister bristled and my mother hid in the kitchen. "It's an all-girls thing. I'm sure you wouldn't want to be a part of it."

His eyes swung between Fariha and me. "That's fine. That works out great actually. I could spend some time with Aka. It's been a while since we've caught up. How is his work? Has he created something new? You know how much I enjoy talking about his hobby."

His. Hobby.

Baba was going to flay him alive.

"No," I said, my voice breaking on the word, hating the obvious crack. My emotions were too near the surface. He seemed so sincere at the moment, and I was so close to crumbling. Taimoor Ali Haider Mughal had torn down all my defences, and I hadn't had the time to rebuild them.

His expression morphed into wariness, catching onto the unintended vulnerability. "Has he wandered off somewhere again? You guys need to keep a check on him," I shook my head, lips trembling. Two more days. What was going to happen to us in two more days? "Let me tell Bibi, she'll talk to him and sort this right up. Maybe she'll convince you to move, I know you've been against that in the past, but Peshawar isn't that bad! We'll let Nazia go to school there, we're very liberal, I'm sure Ammi will let you work if you'd like, although I don't know why you'd want to."

"We're not moving Ghazanfar. I don't know what gave you that idea. And Baba is completely fine, just extremely busy with his new project."

The concern dropped from Ghazanfar's face like a discarded mask. "Oh."

"Ghazanfar, would you like some tea?" his expression eased at Mama's question. Finally some warmth from someone in this house. I had no doubt that he'd be reporting everything back to his mother as soon he drove out of our sight. It was a miracle that he wasn't Facetiming her right now so that she could see us in all our frazzled state.

While Ghazanfar and his attentions were relatively harmless, his constant visits and his overbearing personality were becoming grating. His entire adulthood had been about getting in with us, getting closer to Baba, hence this impromptu Saturday-night visit. Today itself had been a gamble in the first place, coming here for me when he could be trying to get closer to any of the other girls in the very large family back in Peshawar. "No thank you, Auntie, I'm a coffee person."

I took a deep, stabilizing breath. Every second that passed was as loud as a tolling bell. "Listen. We're getting late and we need to go," both Nazia and Fariha looked up in unison, edging towards the doorway. "And I'm sure Mama needs her rest, it's been a long day..."

It was not kind, what I was doing. I knew that. In any other situation, my mother would have been the first one to reprimand me for my crassness but her silence was proof enough that what I was doing was right. That we did not have time. We needed to have a family discussion before he or anyone else figured out the gravity of the current state of affairs. Guilt and anxiety made my heart feel too big for my rib cage. It did not have enough room to beat, and it hurt when it did. He got the hint, thank God, and started to leave, his expression hovering between concerned and annoyed.

"I'll come and visit soon."

"Sure," The one word left my mouth with enough venom to make him wince. The man mumbled a few words I did not bother listening to before heading for his car.

"Good riddance," I let out an exasperated breath as he drove away and anxiety started to creep in around the edges. Fariha paced the living room, tugging at her clothes, and Nazia glared at the far wall. Mama shuffled to the velvet love seat, her hand trailing across the wood carving. The three women in the living room turned around to look at me, their eyes asking a million questions, explanations, and assurances. There was a table beside the window, and I set a hand on it for support while I tried to slow my ragged breathing. The glossy black and white pieces of the chessboard nearby were carved figures of art, a birthday gift from my father. I wanted things to be like that. Structured rules, clearly defined lines, and to know which team everyone was playing for.

"What happened at the police station Dany? Should I call Dad? Ask him to pull some strings?"

The question came from just over my shoulder, and I closed my eyes."He can't do anything Fari. Baba won't agree to it."

"What do you mean? Why won't he agree to it?"

"It's..."

"Complicated. Fari, your mother just called. She said you weren't answering your phone. Your in-laws are at your house," anger simmered through Mama's expression, but then it faded as she brought it under her control. None of this was Fari's fault.

"But-"

I stepped in before my mother could. "We're fine. I'll give you the details once we've figured them out. Then we'll start with a plan of action."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," her eyes widened with surprise. "Thanks for bringing the car back."

"I know that it seems really bad but hang on. I'm sure that there's more to this."

An invisible hand reached inside my body, and its furious fingers curled around my heart, squeezing to the point of pain. I forced a comforting smile on my face, giving her a brief hug. "I just hope that the 'more' doesn't end up dragging us down."

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"Nice way to get rid of Fariha Mama. What was that all about? I feel like I've been asking this question multiple times in three thousand different ways, but for the life of me, will someone please tell us what is happening?"

"Why is Baba in jail?" Nazia asked at the same time as me. "And what did Mr.Mughal say?"

"I don't know, Mama would you like to enlighten us? What has Baba done?" I'd whispered the question, but her reaction was as if I'd screamed it at her. My mother's eyes lowered with guilt, and then resignation spread over her face like red juice spilled on a white tablecloth.

"What did Mansoor tell you?"

"Nothing of relevance. He kept going around in loops."

"I never thought he would do this, I didn't expect him to go so far. We're at this point," she muttered adjusting the sleeves of her shirt, "And that's our fault. We hid it from you because we didn't want you to worry."

"Worry about what? What's going on?"

"The business, it has accrued debt, a lot of it, it's likely we'll have to declare bankruptcy by the end of the summer."

I let out a short laugh. What the hell was she talking about? I glanced around our living room. The ornate, hand-carved tables, and the silk curtains from Baba's trip to China. We had money in spades. Yet . . . When I glanced at my mother, she looked like she'd swallowed a canary, and choked half to death on it.

"I don't understand," I said. My grandparents, from both sides, had left an enormous amount of wealth to my parents. Besides that, for years my father's annual salary had been well above the usual average. Being the head of the research and development department for Mughal Co., a creative, and the sole heir to his large inheritance, we had money, property and assets. There was no way bankruptcy was lurking around the corner. It just wasn't fucking possible.

"What are you talking about. What does this have to do with Mughal Co.?" it was the anger that gave me strength, although I knew that it couldn't be heard in my voice.

"A few years ago, when Daania went off to college for her studies, we made some... investments."

"Investments?"

"Bad investments. We made some miscalculations and to stay afloat, we had to drain our savings."

Hyperawareness inched over my skin, coupled with a terrible feeling of dread. "No."

"We didn't know what to do! Your college, your Masters, plus your sister's school, was more than what we had. Your father, his health was deteriorating rapidly, he needed to get his treatments, so we sold off his stock options at Mughal Co."

My heart raced as the financial walls began to close in, making me swallow thickly. "But the house—"

"Is ours. This is ours. But everything else, we had to sell."

I expected my sister to say something, to either scream or shout or say it wasn't true. But she was utterly silent, and the quiet grew more crippling with each breath I pulled in. All of our money was . . . gone?

"Why are the Mughals after us?" Nazia sat perfectly still, with only her lips moving to form the question, one hand on the couch, her fingertips resting against the edge of cushion. The way she was unnaturally frozen in this casual position made me think it was for show. She was never the emotional one. She was far too composed for that.

"Your father, he-" oh God, this was the breaking point. This was the catch. My shoulders rose and fell as I struggled to catch my breath. Mama looked at Naiza and then at me, her eyes strangely blank. "He had a program that he was working on when he'd been an employee."

"The White Rose."

"When he was let go, he negotiated for the rights to be registered under his name. Which was accepted. It was his creation after all."

"Okay?"

"But the program was incomplete, so any further... improvements or enhancements had to be done with the approval of the Mughal Co. Board," my mother burst into tears, her next words nearly incoherent, "Countless men tried to complete it but were unsuccessful. When Mansoor sold his stocks, he offered to complete the program in exchange for his old job."

"You mean, Baba applied for a job—?" My mind went back to the man in the shadows. He knew all of this. Of course, he had. No wonder he'd been so self-assured.

She hadn't moved, but there was an edge of panic in her eyes. "He was successful. But, he sold it."

'Your father has stolen something very precious from me'

My voice was hollow. "To whom?"

"We don't know. It was a mistake. He was looking for the highest bidder and someone, an anonymous buyer, offered a generous sum, an amount that could have solved all of our problems but before the payment could go through, Mansoor's office server was hacked," Mama's expression was a catastrophic storm, and seeing the look in my eyes, she dropped the pretense, her legs folding underneath her as she collapsed on the armchair. "We have nothing to our names except this house and the business, and with your father in jail, everyone will know how we lost all of our money. They'll know of our disgrace. When that's all done, we won't even have our reputation. We'll be left with nothing."

My heart ached for her and this humiliation but my brain was hot with anger. Even now she was worried about what the world would think and not what Taimoor would do. What the consequences of such negligence would be. They'd seen this coming for years and purposefully kept it from my sister and me. They'd never talked about my fathers mental health. They'd barely talked about themselves at all. How could they continue living like nothing was wrong? Was it avoidance? Or pure denial?

And the fact that I didn't ask. The fact that I'd been living my life while they struggled with these decisions. Paying for their daughter's education at the cost of their own health. Baba... I dragged my gaze from my mother, unable to look at her. I didn't want her to see the guilt swamping in my eyes. Instead, I turned my attention to my sister.

"I bargained for some time, he gave me three days."

"Mr. Haider Mughal?"

"No, his son," I sucked in a breath through my teeth as an idea took shape. "I. . . have a counteroffer for him," I muttered, ignoring my sister and her alarmed expression. "Just maybe, there might be a way out of this," hysterical laughter bubbled in my throat, but I tamped it down, "We might be able to keep the house and Baba his business. No one will have to go anywhere."

"What's the catch?"

"We need a bargaining chip. And time," Nazia jumped in, catching on to my plan. "But how long do we have?"

"Till Monday. Before that, we have to find some sort of proof, a way to pinpoint the buyer," the arena was set, it was time for the clash. A tremble worked its way up my legs and I said it before I lost the nerve. "And then I re-negotiate with Taimoor Ali Haider Mughal."

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I personally loved this cover by @authordira_21, what do you think?  Also, what did you think about the revelations made in this chapter? Do we finally have some clarity on what's going on? And who's excited about the re-negotiations?

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