Eleven years later...

...

Salman walked through the mosque door and proceeded towards its parking lot. He placed a pair of sunglasses over his eyes and shoved his right hand in his pocket is search for the car keys, when Salman heard someone call his name.

"Bashir!"

He spun around, watching a figure approach him. The familiar face of an old school friend soon beamed at him.

Salman smiled pleasantly and stepped forward to meet the guy half way. He extended his right hand for a shake. "What's up, Khan? Long time no see, man."

His friend clutched his hand firmly. "Did I just see Salman Bashir come out of a masjid?" Tony Khan raised an eyebrow and asked, his voice thick with faux surprise.

Salman rolled his eyes, the remnant of that smile still on his lips. It wasn't until recently he started attending the mosque for the five daily prayers with the Sasquatch, the more accurate way to put it would be Ibrahim insisted until he agreed. Then he saw the sincerity with which the guy prayed and the look in his eyes when he spoke to Allah, it nudged something deep and dormant inside Salman's own heart.

He flickered his back to his friends. Salman shook of the thoughts and widened the grin. "Since I entered the mosque, I would have to come out of it eventually, right?" he joked.

"That's not what I meant," he chuckled. "With this," Tony beckoned to his newly grown stubble, "in this background, you look like a maulana, man."

"These are all ploys to convince uncles to give me their daughters' hands," he said with a wink.

Khan threw his head back and laughed. "I see your sense of humour is still the same."

After the two old friends talked for a while and exchanged numbers, they parted ways.

When Salman entered his home the sight that greeted him was his sister's snoring figure on one of their couches, while his mother was sitting near her, rapidly saying something on the phone. There were at least three stand fans surrounding and facing Malika, along with their central air conditioner going off in full blast.

He shook his head hopelessly at his sister and nodded at his mother once as a greeting, sitting down besides her. Almost instantly, a male voice flooded through the phone, saying something Salman couldn't make out.

"Is that my new father?" he asked, sinking further into the plush sofa, turning to his mother.

Neela Bashir whipped her head towards her son, her free hand slipping over the receiver of her phone, mortified that the person on the other end may have heard the remark.

But when her supplier continued his rant without break, Neela removed her hand and softly slapped the back of Salman's head. She gave him a look full of warning, who only smiled at her cheekily.

After she hung up the phone, she glanced again at her son. His head was rested on the back of the chair, and his eyes glued to the ceiling. Salman's face was devoid of any emotion, but Neela knew him well enough to know a million things were passing through his head. He also constantly joked about getting a new father, always has, but in reality it was a touchy subject for him. Her face softened.

She placed a hand on his forehead. At the warm touch of his mother's hand, Salman turned to face her. "What's worrying you, baby?" she asked affectionately.

Salman smiled at her. "Nothing." he muttered, giving her that grin again.

She ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes momentarily, letting his mother comb his hair.

After a moment of silence Salman pointed to his sleeping sister's form. "How's the Sasquatch doing?" he asked, his tone still playful.

Neela shot him a reprimanding look, which over the years has became her trademark expression because she had to use it so often with Salman. "Don't call Ibrahim that."

"Does he know-"

Neela suddenly became alert and sat up straight. "Shh." She silenced him quickly. "You are not supposed to know," she whispered fericiously.

"I am her brother, I deserve to know!" he said indignantly.

"She confided to me in confidence," Neela's expression turned sheepish, "which I accidentally slipped to you. So don't you dare even give her a hint that you are aware of it." She finished with a stern finger pointed at her son. "She'll talk about it when she is ready," she continued. "Anyway, I have to get dressed for work." Neela got up to start for her bedroom.

"By the way, if Malika tells you any secrets again, accidentally spill them to me like a good mother, eh?" Salman said, only to receive another hard glare from his mother.

As Kaveh Fayyad drove through the massive wrought iron gates of his home, a wave of nostalgia hit him at the once-familiar view. He parked his white Range Rover on the driveway.

Before getting out of his car, he took the keys out of the ignition and then perched his sunglass on the bridge of his nose.

He stood and glanced up at the house.

The massive two storied white house, with its large French windows and rows of Greek columns, was a sight that demanded second glances and admiration. Endless childhood memories churned through Kaveh's mind.

He walked inside the house and made his way to the other end, where the outdoor pool was situated. Through the glass doors he could see his guest, who had yet to notice Kaveh, impatiently shaking his foot.

Kaveh halted in his track and lifted his hand to check the time on his wrist watch. The clock read the exact hour for their meeting.

Kaveh smiled in surprise. His friend wasn't one for punctuality. But he guessed that wasn't the case anymore - his dearest friend had finally learned the value of time management. With a shake of his head, he resumed his walk.

As the heavy glass door was pulled, Salman expectantly turned his head to look at the visitor. He took in Kaveh's shortly cropped hair, his newly trimmed beard, his grey eyes contrasting against deep brown skin. Salman's lips broadened into a grin.

"Look who finally decided to show his face," he retorted, getting up from his seat to greet his friend.

Kaveh's smile widened at the remark. He stepped forward to embrace his best friend, who had already had his hands extended for a hug. They held onto each other longer than planned, the years of lost affection rising between them.

The two men took seats across from each other, facing the glittering blue pool.

"How are you, Salman?" Kaveh asked, remnant of that smile still on his face.

Salman scrutinized the other guy for a moment. He had stored up so many curses for this moment, held onto years of grudges against this guy. Yet the minute he saw his best friend, he could feel the resentment already starting to wear off.

But Salman still decided to give him a hard time. "Excellent. The past three years have been the best of my life," he retorted.

Kaveh grinned again at the obvious, but much expected, jab. Everyone he cared about had greeted him with angry and bitter words.

"Is that so?" he asked knowingly. "Tell me all about it then."

Salman narrowed his gaze and eyed him for a moment, which only seemed to amuse the other guy more. "Why are you back?" he asked after a while.

Kaveh merely shrugged and averted his gaze from his friend to the pool, the amusement dissipitating from his eyes momentarily. "I decided it was time," he answered vaguely. Kaveh was suddenly grateful for the shades that hid his eyes - not only were they protecting them from the harsh glare of the sun, but they also did a great job at hiding the emotions on his eyes from the person that knew him better than anyone in this world.

Salman snorted at his answer. "You are way overdue for that, man. But you aren't fooling anyone." Salman said as leaned forward and placed his hands on his knees. "Now tell me what daddy Fayyad did to make it happen."

Kaveh placed his eyes on that of his friend's curious ones. "If you are suggesting that my father threatened or blackmailed me to come back home, then know that's absolutely not the case. It was my decision to return," he asserted.

Even though Salman didn't place Arshad Fayyad above means of force, he could tell his friend was being truthful. It only confused him more. "Why?" he simply asked.

For three whole years, ever since after their graduation, Kaveh had been persistent about not returning back to his desh. His father had tried everything - from bribery to ultimatums - to get his son to return to this country; but Kaveh didn't budge. This city was too back-dated for his lifestyle, too dull for his taste.

Yet, here he was - finally abandoning London, and back to his roots.

Kaveh sighed at his friend's question. "I guessed it would be smart to return before Dad actually follows through his threats and cuts me off." he joked with an empty laugh.

Salman, even though not completely satisfied with the answer, decided not to push. He knew his friend would open up when he felt like it, so he merely nodded.

"Enough about me." Kaveh said. "Now tell me what's going on with you."

Salman relaxed in his seat before answering. The two guys heard a feminine voice emerging from the house and briefly glanced towards the source.

"I stopped working for Mom," Salman finally answered, once losing interest from the distraction. "And actually got a real job, finally putting that degree to use."

The sarcasm on his voice wasn't missed by the receptor. Kaveh turned to face Salman and shot him an amused look.

"I have finally joined the family business," he informed.

Salman laughed. "Never thought this day would come."

Kaveh removed his gaze from Salman and glanced back towards the women he had noticed earlier. The two ladies were now standing on the backyard lawn, discussing something. One he knew was their housemaid, but the second girl was unknown to him.

"Who's that?" He asked, beckoning to the new girl.

Salman followed his gaze, then looked back at Kaveh and gave him an inquisitive gaze. "Why?"

"Just wondering," he said, his tone as unreadable as his face. "I don't think I have seen her around before."

Salman snorted at his answer. "I have difficulty believing the intention behind your question was that chaste."

Kaveh, without removing his eyes from the girl, let out a laugh at his friend's suggestion. "Why? I'm not you," he said, humour dripping from his words.

At his friend's retort, a smile etched on Salman's lips as well. "Touché."

Kaveh watched her intently. She was still talking to their house help. There was just something about the girl - maybe the way her emotions were displayed in her face, or the sweet smile that was always on her lips - that piqued his interest. He took a moment to observe her. "I'm just wondering why a stranger is just walking inside my house like she lives here," he said, eyes still on her.

Salman eyes landed on her as well, but only briefly. "She's Layla's friend."

"What's her name?" He asked, finally reverting his gaze back to his friend.

"Dahlia Ahmad."

A/N: Dedicating this chapter to umm_hanoon for all her lovely support in this book. If you guys haven't checked out her work A Readymade family, please do so. It will do wonders for your Imaan!