I almost forgot I was meant to update

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But as bad as it was, I learned something about myself. That I could go through something like that and survive. - Nicholas Sparks

A stainless steel knife cut through the large red onion precisely. The cut, linear and refined. Uniform diced onions falling onto the cutting board as the thin fingers held the bulb together. Wiping her eyes against the soft material of her light pink linen shirt, Ayna sighed. A soft curling tendril, grazing her cheek, the rest of them pulled into a loose three strand braid. The pressure cooker whizzed in the background, Anisa sifting through the spice rack to add some star anise into her marinade.

"Ayna chop the onions fast. At this speed, Rabail's going to be married before we serve lunch!" Anisa reprimanded.

Ayna nodded, her eyes still focused on the chopping, lest she slice her fingers. The daal, cooked inside the pressure cooker, Anisa's mutton chops marinated in the wet batter made of buttermilk, cinnamon, red pepper, salt, black pepper, oregano and rosemary. The flavours all coming together to form one cohesive dish. After all, the daughter's of the owners could not feast on a plain lentil.

"I'm trying my best Anisa," Ayna softly replied.

Wiping at the tears that rushed out as the sharpness of the onions diffused around. Gripping the long stalks of the green onions, Ayna moved to chop them thinly, her eyes on the pot. Making sure it would not explode. The whistling on the cooker increased to a sharp piercing sound, steam the colour of snow rushing out from the top. Dropping the knife, she rushed to the stove. Pulling the lid off, steam running out with an unknown strength, its heat, touching the soft sideburns on Ayna's face.

"Ayna mama is calling you. Leave this chopping to me," Saliha announced as she stepped into the room.

Ayna nodded her head, scampering out of the kitchen, her shoulders hunched. Trying to make her presence almost non existent as she left the two sisters to their own devices. She took a deep breath, shaking like a withered leaf as she climbed the stairs. Taking one step at a time, at a pace of a toddler. Her hand trailing along the railing, mind focused on reasons as to why her presence was needed. There were many of course, she was after all not quite in Asma Bi's good books. Yet she was glad that was the case, the woman was a leech. As soon as she had milked you, she would run away.

Knocking on the dark coffee door, Ayna entered the large room. Asma Bi sat on her chaise, Rabail in between her legs, getting her head massaged. Ayna was envious. The three sisters and their mother, lived lives of peace. They had lives full of warmth. Not worried every second about being thrown out for not contributing enough. There was no one holding a gun to their heads, asking them to do what their bodies, did not wish to.

"Y-you wanted to see me?" Ayna stuttered, wiping her sweaty palms against her shirt.

"I'm sure you know why," the elder woman, smirked.

Patting Rabail to leave, Asma got up. Wiping her hands on the towel cloth, she pulled out the large silver tray, shaped like a leaf. Tiny containers with supari, tobacco and other things filled it, large washed neem leaves on one side. Asma Bi rolled herself a paan, munching on the sweet leaf as she motioned for Ayna to have a seat.

"Haan Ayna bhai masla kia hai?" [Yes Ayna what is your problem?] Asma Bi spat the leaf into the dust bin.

Her mouth stained a deep red, made her look like a blaring alarm. Ayna began to shiver under her dark gaze, feeling naked.

"Asm- Asma Bi I --" Ayna whispered, confused at to what she should say.

"Bakwas band. Tum eik randi ho! Samjhi? Randi! Pata nahi masla kia hai tumhara. Kal teesra gahak paisay wapis le kar gaya hai. Kaam kar sakti ho tou karo, warna boriya bistar baando aur dafa ho jao yahan sai! Samjhi?" [Shut up. You are a prostitute! Understood? A prostitute! I don't know what is wrong with you. Last night the third client took their money back. If you can work then stay here, otherwise pack up your bags and leave! Understood?] Asma Bi raised her palm in the air, glowering at her.

"But I-" Ayna tried.

Ayna was a soft spoken person. Time and people had exploited her to the point of no return. She no longer believed in standing up for herself, it was a task to large. She would fight for Laila and her mother, always, but only because she assumed they deserved better. When it came to herself, Ayna had trouble accepting kindness.

"Dafa ho ja idhr sai! Agar tewar kal shaam tak theek na huway na teray, tou mujh sai bura koi na ho ga!" [Get lost from here! If you don't fix your attitude by tomorrow you will see the worst of me!] Asma Bi announced, her heavy voice, resonating through the walls.

Nodding her head in silent agreement, Ayna stepped out of the room. Her hand dragging against the yellow painted walls, empty eyes trained on her feet. With heavy steps, she walked down the stairs and into her own room. Seating herself on the cold floor, Ayna rested her cheek against the silken material of her bedsheets. The merlot cheap satin frills, grazing her soft cheeks. She took deep breaths, fixing her eyes onto the knobs of her night stand. Tears streaming out of her eyes.

Warm, hot, burning tears traced down to her lips. Their saltiness, finding a way to enter her mouth from the natural upturn of her lips. She pursed her lips, squeezing her eyes shut as Asma Bi's words finally began to settle in. Whimpering as the pain finally began to settle in. The heart squeezing tightly inside, the rib cage hitting against her lungs. A choking emotion descended upon her. As tears that streamed slowly, fell at a blinding speed. Her lips quivering as she was transported to the day that had changed her life.

---

Laila jumped around the large veranda, dressed in a plum khadar dress. The loose sleeves, feel below her fingers, giving them cover from the chill. A shawl resting on her shoulders as she gripped the tiny, overflowing cup of tea against her lips. She took slow sips, relishing the burn it gave to the tip of her tounge. Winters were ofcourse, incomplete without the joy of having scalding hot drinks. A tea just happened to be her top preference.

She picked a few unpeeled peantus, using her teeth to rid them of the out husk and her daisy white palms to dust off the outer skin. Popping in the seeds into her mouth one after the other. Munching on them as she hummed under her breath. Her mother sitting in the distance, working on sewing her and Ayna an identical dress for their upcoming show.

"Anisa!" Laila called out.

Running towards the young woman, mindful of the tea in hand. Anisa rolled her eyes, waiting for Laila to continue with whatever she had to say.

"What?" Anisa rolled her eyes.

Looking at the large grandfather clock. It was six in the evening. The sun had already set, an admiral blue doused on the large sky. Cloudless, the stars shone brightly across the scenery. The thin, new moon just beginning to show from behind the tops of the houses in the crowded street.

"Have you seen Ayna baaji?" Laila tilted her head, eyes crossed.

Laila had been searching for her elder sister for quite sometime. It had been a week since she had talked to her sister properly, and there was a lot she needed to speak about.

"Nope. Check her bedroom. I'm sure she's holed up in there. Like always". Anisa rolled her eyes.

Laila stared at Anisa's back, stunned. This woman always knew how to get on her nerves. It was a simple question, why did she have to act so rude? There was no need for that. Talking in a civilised manner was clearly getting out of - fashion. Grumbling under her breath of how she would torture the three sisters, if she had the resources to, she huffed. Dropping down next to her mother. Silently resting her head against Sarah's shoulder. Her mother's soft baby powder smell calming her down.

The maternal warmth that radiated from Sarah, warmed her heart. Calming her frazzled nerves. It took her back to the days of childhood. When her mother was the centre of her universe. She remembered giggling with Ayna, on the stories of their mother's childhood. And then the two sister's, imagining the woman named 'Salma' in their heads. The one whom their mother had befriended. Apparently Salma had done something for Sarah, and for that Sarah owed her a lifetime. From what they'd heard, Salma was to them, an angel. A woman in white with large crystal wings.

"Amma do you have any idea about Ayna baaji's whereabouts?" Laila tapped her shoulders.

"Did you check her bedroom?" Sarah smiled at her.

"I did. It was empty," she sighed.

Although the crumpled sheets in her organised sister's room were a telltale sign of the fact that she had been in the room sometime ago.

"Kitchen?" Sarah looked at her.

Laila nodded, her eyes wide and lips pulled into a soft pout as she stared at her beautiful mother, her tired features hid all signs of her beauty.

"Maybe she's gone to the bazaar. Ziada socho nahi, chai pe lo aur ja kar chawal chuno," [market. Don't think too much, drink your tea and go wash the rice,] Sarah patted her hair.

Her elder daughter had the tendency to hid herself after moments of weakness, she did not like being vulnerable infront of others. Sarah sighed, feeling like a mother who had failed. One who could not even succeed in the most basic of tasks. She could only hope that the future held better things for her two children.

---

Ayna sat in the large garden near their home. Under the cool shade of the pipal tree. Her hands mindlessly tearing the grass and weeds. After she had fallen asleep to nightmares, she had rushed out of the place they called home. Her heartbeat sounded in her ears. The pain in her lower skull, turning from gentle throbs to proper waves of pain. Radiating pain seared through her lower jaw. Her teeth hurting slightly as she chewed on her bottom lip. A sheen of tears covering her eyes.

All her life she had worked, worked and worked. Hard. To please everyone. To make sure everyone around her was happy. Cared for and loved. And then, life had treated her like a rotten tomato. Tossed out and squashed under the feet of people. Her nails dug under her skin. Her lips biting hardly, until she could taste the metallic flavour of blood. Her skin pale, her usual bouncy hair, sitting lifeless. She sat in a state of despair. Numb. Isolated. Alone.

"When will my suffering end?" She uttered the words.

Glaring at the moon. As if, knocking on the doors of heaven in her rage. Demanding justice. And the Lord, never denied Justice.

YEET
THIS ONE IS FOR AYNA
GOTTA WAIT FOR HER BACK STORY HEHEHE

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