...

Dahlia Ahmad sat on one end of a long table. On her right was Layla, her wild and wispy curls were knotted at the top of her head, like they usually were. She was in a deep maroon traditional attire that beautifully contrasted against her dusky skin, and lips of the same color, with face bare of any other makeup. On her other side was Ibrahim, dressed in a brown blazer and sporting a hairstyle that did not belong to this century.

There was an excited hum in the air as the aroma of food wafted around them as it was being served. The Ahmads and the Fayyads were hosting a family dinner together, to celebrate their successful business deal. The venue was known as one of the most popular Chinese food chain in the country, even though the food wasn't actually Chinese but a masala-packed South East Asian version of it.

The parties were starting to wear Dahlia out – like they always did by the end of the year when they were more densely packed. Summers were too hot (that didn't stop people from throwing iftaar parties), and winter was the ideal time to dress up; but with all the events so far this year, her quota for socializing was almost filled up before they even properly entered winter.

Kaveh took the seat just opposite her. Dahlia stiffened slightly, like she always did in his presence; but quickly regained her composure as she diverted her attention to the other end of the table, where the rest of her siblings were at.

Kaveh's eyes lingered on her momentarily, but then he darted his gaze towards Ibrahim and made an effort to keep it there. He was starting to realize she didn't liked to be looked at, and it was disrespectful to keep doing it.

Ibrahim grinned at him. "Are we still on for golf tomorrow?" he asked, catching his attention.

"I'm in, if you are," Kaveh replied.

"Get ready to lose again," he quipped.

Kaveh sighed with amusement. "That win really got to your head, didn't it?"

Both men chuckled, putting an end to their conversation. Once Kaveh's attention was elsewhere, Dahlia stared at her brother curiously. "I don't get it. How are you friends with him?" She leaned towards Ibrahim and asked under her breath so Layla wouldn't hear her. "I mean, you two are so different." she swiftly added.

"I know Kaveh can come across as... blunt, but he's actually a nice guy," he answered, not lifting his gaze from the table. There was an excited gleam in his eyes as he intently watched the bowl of soup being passed. "Once you break through his wall of ice, that is."

Dahlia pursed her lips and momentarily glimpsed at the grey-eyed man sitting across the table. He was now engrossed in a three-way conversation with two of his cousins. That cordial smiled, which was always on his lips, attached in its place.

Dahlia could think of a lot of words to describe Kaveh Fayyad, but nice wasn't one of them. He was intelligent, well-dressed, eloquent. Nice wasn't a word she associated with him. But then again, she was only starting to realize that she had barely scratched the surface of his depth.

When he was met with silence, Ibrahim continued, "he's smart, sincere, and actually has a caring side to him."

"Can I ask you something?" Dahlia asked, eyes drifting towards her brother again. "Do you know if Faizan and Kaveh have some history?"

This time, Ibrahim turned to look at her. "Where'd you hear that?"

"Kaveh mentioned something relating to it once, but he never elaborated," she replied. "but if it breaches any kind of trust or someone's privacy, then you don't have to tell me. I'm just curious."

There was a look of discomfort lurking in Ibrahim's face. "I might know something." He paused. "And I'm not sure if it's my place to talk about it." Then he looked at Kaveh for a moment and then turned to Dahlia again. "But I think I can say it to you as warning, since we live with the guy in the same community."

"And I think Kaveh would agree with me," Ibrahim continued. "So here it is, Faizan was once engaged to one of the Fayyads' cousins; I'm not going to mention names, even though you might already know who she is." Anyway," he said briskly. "Their relationship quickly turned haywire when she realized Faizan has a habit of alcohol abuse and also a gambling addiction. She tried to put a stop to it, he refused. She attempted to force him to get professional help, and that's when he turned violent." his faced turned grim. "It wasn't severe, but abuse is abuse. She reached out to her family immediately and then they helped her to get out of the engagement."

Dahlia stared at him with shock, face slowly turning pale. "That's awful. I can't believe it," she breathed, her mind going back to all the time she was almost alone with him or even considered giving into his request of driving her home. "How did I never hear about it?"

"They resolved it quietly, between the two families," Ibrahim told her. "The girl decided not to come forward because you know how our society treats women who decide to speak up. Even I just heard about it when Kaveh told me a couple days ago." He sighed. "My heart goes out to her, it does, but I still can't digest the fact he's roaming free and has the ability to put someone else through the same thing."

It was late when Neela Bashir entered her home.

The lights in the bedrooms were turned off, indicating her children were asleep. There was a soft glow emitting from their living room. A small smile appeared on her lips when she realized her son had remembered to keep the center light on for when she arrived.

She let out a long breath and took off her stilettoes. She had a stressful day at her boutique, and even more so at her parents house later.

Neela was heading towards her bedroom when a figure appeared in the dark. He blocked her way and whispered, "you're late, young lady."

She let out a scream as she covered her face. Light flooded in the hallway. A familiar chortle hit her ears, and Neela looked up to see her son buckling with laughter.

She put a hand over her racing heart, still in shock. Salman wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. "You should have heard your scream," he said.

She put a hand on her hip as the look on her eyes turned stern. "Salman! You could have given me a heart attack," she scolded.

"Nah, you're too young and pretty for that," he said, winking at her playfully.

On anyone else, it might have worked to diffuse their anger. But raising him had made Neela insusceptible to his charm. She just huffed and walked past him. "You silly boy," she chided. "You're getting married in a few months and still act like a child. I swear, if you're wife refuses to put up with your crap and leaves, I'm not letting you in this house again."

His eyes twinkled with mirth at her words. "The girl I'm marrying has been in love with me for a lifetime," he said. "She's tolerated me for so long, I don't think she's leaving anytime soon."

The anger in Neela's eyes slowly dissipated, but she glowered at him nonetheless. "Why, I'll never understand."

"Where were you, huh?" he asked playfully, changing the subject. "What were you doing out so late? Are you sneaking out with your boyfriends again?"

Neela rolled her eyes. She walked towards her bedroom and Salman followed pursuit. She started taking off her jewelries as he sat on her bed.

"I went to have dinner with your grandparents," she replied, the exhaustion from earlier appearing on her face again. "It had been a while."

"They're coming to the wedding, right?" Salman asked. "I know it's difficult for Grandpa to move from one place to the other."

"Of course, baby," Neela said, looking over her shoulder to offer her son a smile. "Dad will manage. He wouldn't miss his favourite grandchild's wedding for the world."

A sly smile appeared on his face. Her eyes hardened again. "Now don't you dare tell your sister I said that."

"I won't," he promised. "Because I don't have to – she already knows it."

Neela sighed with defeat. She lightly hit the back of his head, a fond smile appearing on her lips. She lowered herself besides him, their shoulders almost touching.

"Our dinner tonight wasn't just about catching up," she told him. "We actually met to discuss something important."

He looked at her inquiringly.

"We think we should invite your father to the wedding," she said tentatively.

Just like that, the playfulness around them disappeared. Salman went stiff. Neela cast him a nervous look.

A pregnant silence surrounded them. Neela wondered if she had done the right thing by bringing up this topic just before bed. Maybe she should have waited when they had all gathered for breakfast and were in a better mood.

Then again, there was never a good hour for bringing up her ex-husband in this household – specially with her son.

Salman took a deep breath. "Is that really necessary?" he asked, his voice as sharp as steel.

"It is," she replied. "He's your father, sweetie."

Salman let out a disbelieving snort. "We know that, but does he? Besides, how do you know he'll come? He hasn't even bothered to call in years."

"That's up to him, isn't it?" Neela said. "We need to do our part by letting him know he has the option to attend if he'd like to. But whether he actually accepts the invitation or not - we have no control over that."

"He won't, Mom," he said indignantly, standing up. "You and I both know that. So what's the point?"

"He's a part of this family whether we like it or not. He'll always be," she told him, her voice straining with emotion.

He swallowed. The anger in his eyes was slowly disappearing, to make room for the years of pain hidden beneath them. She looked at him tiredly. Neela knew he'd react this way, she'd been expecting it. Salman had always been easy to talk to – unlike her daughter – unless the topic involved his father. But his reaction still pierced a knife through her heart.

"Seems like you guys have already made up your mind," he said coldly. "So do whatever you want. Just know that I won't be okay with this." He gave Neela one last look and then headed for his own room.