"I'm still not sure how we can do this, Nani," Zara complained, pacing to and fro, her feet padding over the furry, magenta carpet in thought. "How can I find him?"

"Easy," Nani Samira leaned forward on her work-table, picking up a lavender essential oil bottle. She held a dropper with her other hand, and squeezed some concentrated purple liquid before moving the dropper towards another set bottle and squeezing the lavender content out. She then, crushed some jasmine petals in a marble bowl with a smooth-stone grinder.

A strong waft of mixed scents filled the air, crinkling Zara's nose though she did not comment as she watched her grandmother conjure up a perfume in her workshop. "How?"

Nani did not look up. "Okay, all I know is that his Uncle lives in Islamabad... yet where? And if he would be there? I am not sure."

Zara shook her head disappointedly. "I've written all of that, Nani. I know that. But what I mean is- how are we going to find him?"

"With help, of course," Nani responded lightly, her lips pressed tightly as she mixed the pearly white liquid with a dizzying, shade of purple and shook the flask that held the final content in mid air like an enchanting fairy.

To Nani, her perfume-making passion was a work of art and nature mixed together. The final product would be sold only to women with a special warning card tied to each gifted flask on which was mentioned not to done the perfume around non-mehram.

Zara's brows furrowed deeply as she slumped down on the couch. "Help from where?" She asked, wondering where Nani was getting at.

"You haven't told Dawood and Eshaal about any of this... have you?" Nani craned her neck to face Zara. "Have you kept this a secret from them too?"

Zara's heart fell. Her hands gripped the cliff of the sofa tightly, nails digging into the cushioning. She pulled her gaze away from Nani's thoughtful ones, wondering how to respond to this.

To be honest, she had not. She had not mentioned anything about the fact that the story of Musa was the story of her actual brother and the little of what she found out about him.

They had always knew she was an aspiring writer and novelist. They always thought it was a fragment of her imagination because Zara never had the will to bring them into the true light of its origins. She felt her past was a tale of twisted ends, hidden in the shadows of forged words coming out of others. No one knew the reality- no one knew the truth.

Zara's own mind would blur at the back whenever she looked back into the hall of memories. She would be out of breath, running and searching through the empty doors of the past that were fooling her to think something was there that she had missed- that something would make sense.

The doors were painted harshly in blurs, almost there but invisible to the touch allowing just pieces of images to be seen, and just when something would come and take and clear form- the door would shut on her face for her mind liked to play like that with her.

It was altogether suffocating to trust her own brain in relaying childhood memories. Thus, she looked to Musa's letters and imagined instead. Half of the story was of her own imagination while the other half would be the little of what she had kept to herself about him.

And so if she wasn't sure herself- she was in a limbo of what her past was all about- how could she tell Dawood and Eshaal the plain, incomplete truth?

The story is a disaster because it ended one up in unanswered questions, and would only be unresolved if ever tried to assess it.

"I didn't," Zara's voice cut forward as dry and tentative. She didn't dare look back at Nani. "I didn't tell them anything... except that this is a story."

Nani's gloved-hand motions paused over her work table. She slowly took off her protective goggles and turned.

Zara still did not look up and Nani only felt a rock of regret fall in the pit of her stomach, heaving her down to a couch opposite to the one Zara occupied.

Nani knew... and felt it was her fault that she had not tried hard enough as she should have. She took Zara in as her own daughter- and raised her like she had raised Sarah with friendliness and strictness playing a role that originated from true love.

But parenting was never as as easy as a cake recipe- it had its moments and unpredictability where the child would get affected the other way, and time can tell how to resolve it.

Nani now had to mend her mistakes. Since Zara did not forget her brother throughout her years despite having been silent about it- it meant only one thing- it meant to do the one healthy thing and that was to make her speak up. Zara had kept herself to herself for too long and this was not doing well with the girl. Silence was helpful but to an extent, since honest and respectful communication was golden times better to strengthen bonds and sustain a being's mental and emotional health.

"You should tell them as well, Zara." Nani said both softly and firmly. "Dawood is your husband and Eshaal is your best friend. They have the right to know-"

"But you said-"

"Forget what I said. I was wrong then," Nani sighed, squeezing her eyes shut as she held Zara's hand encouragingly. "By asking you to move on... I didn't expect you to cower yourself into your own little world allowing writing to be your only expression. I do not want you to distance yourself from the world with the thought that no one will understand. Especially when you have me, Dawood and Eshaal. Just because you lost Musa and your parents- I don't want you to let go of us when you need us most. Bring them into the light of your situation, Zara. Help us by helping you. Speak up. Your silence won't do."

Her whole world crashed onto her. Her forest eyes paved way for a stream to flow out as she held onto Nani's leathery hands equally tight. Never in her cosmic thoughts could Zara ever imagine she was witnessing this day- where a dare was expected of her.

A dare to speak up.

A rock of guilt fell in the pit of her stomach as Zara spoke up. "But how can I, Nani? I've completely shunned them out of who I really am... of where I really came from... in an attempt to move on."

"But you haven't moved on," Nani whispered, repeating the same words she had last night. "It pains. It hurts still and it's not your fault. If moving on can come out as this unhealthy that you have to distance yourself from all of us- then I shall not call this healing, Zara. And besides, how can you even judge them when you haven't even given them the chance to show your real self? I'm sure that they will not bother- they will just be relieved and happy to see your mask lowered."

It sounded ethereal and intimidating- both at once. It felt like a chance to lower the burden she had kept to herself for so long- like a free, sweet escape.

Can it be true?

Can that really happen?

What will the outcome be?

Will she really be free from the walls she had pulled up around herself if she only dared opening up about all that she kept hidden about herself and her past?

"Take your time..." Nani said after a while, attracting Zara's eyes. "Think it through and gather them together when you're ready."

As Nani got to her feet, walking back to her workshop Zara did not move. Her eyes only trailed towards her mobile for a couple of seconds before some surge of determination pushed her hand forward to reach for it.

Her heart squeezed tightly, as she rang Dawood's number. She bit her lip in wait for him to attend the call- knowing full well that he would be at work then.

____

A light pipe of water flowed, simmering down the sink's drain. She held her bare arms beneath the sink and lightly brought the drops to her elbow.

Then, let her hands ran down her head before she twirled the fingers around her ears with her barren hair dripping onto her shoulders. As she picked up her right foot, her eyes glanced up at the reflection of hers. Deeply green eyes stared back at her.

Wudu was a perfect ablution that when one's mind and heart was caught up with heavy thoughts, they perform wudu to wash away these thoughts as well as their physical body parts in preparation to meet his/her Rabb.

They let the water trickle down in specific areas, and then, meet the prayer mat in a refreshed form.

Just as her head met the prayer mat in sajdah for prayer, Zara felt her head could just melt there. Melt there with crumpling thoughts because that's all she could think then. What was this heart beating for, and to where?

People said she was quiet and often thought that she didn't listen.

Had they known that her ears were desiring only good words, and that constant beating of her own heart had a million, silent tales then, wouldn't they change their words to something more pleasant? Wouldn't they try to realize their own offensiveness?

Cry, dear, cry.

Were tears shame?

Were they shame if the very tears were flowing down not to the world, but to that slave's Master? Not of disaster, not like a sick-warrior coming from battle, but of love and plead- for something as miraculous and lovely as joining two roads? Joining two people? Letting their roads cross?

Once she was done praying and supplicated her wishes to her Rabb, she lowered down her cupped hands. She folded her prayer mat and placed it upon the bookshelf. Her pleasing green eyes wavered around the room.

With every step on the carpet she took towards the study drawer, it reminded her of the drawer Musa had written to her about the tied-up scroll and how he sneaked into his Uncle's study room to get it. But, however he failed at the end.

Zara pulled her own study desk's drawer and pulled out a file of brown paper. Memories touched her with coolness as she looked over the crumpled, light papers. Softly smiling, she opened the file and three letters in one go fell to the floor.

Zara saw the familiar curvy writing on those letters. Though she had seen it and kept coming to it again and again throughout her writing journey- she should have been used to it by now.

But however, she was not used to it. It felt like every time she would pick a letter up, there was something new to learn from it. It felt like as if it was her first time reading it.

This time when her hands reached for the letters Zara was not the one to back away like all those other times she picked the letters up. This time, the letters pulled her closer to a set mind to find him. She was stern and determined- a feverish urge. No matter what it would take- there was no stopping her then.

Zara pulled out her study chair and began reading his letters one by one. Again and again; she tried to pick out clues, stories or some important mentions. There was this last letter, the one she was supposed to have opened for the next awaited chapter, but she had seized her hands back in the heaviness she had felt leading her to the ending of her writing journey.

If it wasn't for Nani's encouraging words last night Zara couldn't have thought she would be coming back to the study and re-opening these letters once again. Thus, Zara opened that crisp, yellow letter. Her eyes cursorily read:

Dear Appa,

I understand you may be far. I'm not even good at writing all this with this pen. It hurts my hands. Can we be sure that we will meet again? I don't know. Every day passes with the same thoughts in my head. Why am I here? When will I meet you and Baba?

But these thoughts, I realized have to be thrown away. That's what everyone says. Weird, right? How we ask ourselves things, but then by the end, we're cornered with nothing but to let it all go?

Ever seen the sea? I have.

Last month, Uncle took me and my cousins to Karachi. Have you seen the sea there? For some reason, despite, the wonders of the sea that Allah created, it makes me feel scared. Dispirited. Discontent. Because beyond that horeezon- sorry, I can't waste paper, so Karim told me that the actual spellings are: horizon.

And, as you can see it's written with ink :P

Looking at the horizon, it seems like there's so much more to the world, and here I am strained to the boundaries, not able to go. Maybe, when I'll grow older, I'll go, Appa. I'll go and I'll find you. Take you with me.

If I don't go, and If I don't find you... will you go? Will you find me?

Your little brother,

                        Musa

P.S. Remember we have parts in our lives. We have parts to play. Play yours.

Zara smiled wider. She placed down the letter, thudding her back on the chair with a huge expense of relief. Her eyes watched the white, silk curtains and the ray of sunlight escaping the space between them, falling on the letter.

She could only hear the loud beating of her heart. It echoed. So did his words echo. Strange, right?

How when something beats and you've been neglectful of it for so long, that then... as you approach the source of your heartbeats, it gets louder and louder, echoing at all corners.

As if it was meant to be-

As if this was where she should go-

She should go find him.

___

"We all need to talk," Zara spoke up, caressingly as she settled down a tray of four filled glasses of mango juice on the coffee table.

It was quite a scene. Dim-lit room with closed in couches, and drawn silk curtains despite it being high afternoon. Dawood sat on the couch in panging curiosity beside Nani Samira, who was busy on her phone. Eshaal seated herself opposite reaching out for the mango juice, then she too looked up at Zara conformingly.

Zara wrung her hands together, lowering her gaze. By then, Nani Samira also left her phone, highly impatient- having an idea to where this was heading.

"Well, speak up, child... we don't have all day!"

Dawood glanced down at his watch. "Actually half of the day already has passed... so..."

"Dawood, son, I'm trying to get her to speak here," Samira cut him off, her gaze squinted.

Dawood cleared his throat, smiling sheepishly before he leaned forward for the glass. Tapping the rim thoughtfully, Dawood glanced up. "Well then, Zara... you're going to tell us why we're all called here?"

Eshaal too, sidled aside patting the empty space on the couch beside her. Zara seated herself down, her mind churning. Here goes nothing, then.

"I first have to make an apology," Zara said, her voice forming. "To all of you." She met their eyes, and saw the surprise, shock, and satisfaction one by one, from Eshaal to Dawood, and last: her Nani's grey, knowing sights.

Zara continued, her voice softening. "For the past months- I haven't been myself. I wasn't able to be the best friend, the best wife, nor the best-"

"-and only granddaughter." Nani corrected her, smiling widely as if she was winning a test score here.

Zara nodded. "Yes, your only granddaughter, and... there are reasons. No matter how pathetic they are."

She waited for someone to say something, but since no one did, she inhaled sharply for breath. "We all have moments in our lives that fall on you. You try so best to find the words, to find the expressions, the ideas to make others understand. So much so that you start forgetting that you have duties to others. You have concerns for others. And, when you neglect it, it hurts. You don't know where to start from-"

"For example, you don't know where to start this apology and explanation from?" Eshaal raised a brow, looking over at Zara.

Zara pursed her lips, nodding fluidly.

Eshaal understood. Clasping her hands together, Eshaal turned around to fully face Zara conformingly. "Okay, here it goes... let me help you with the right words. You're guilty that you've been neglecting each one of us, in your attempt and course to solve the silent issues you've been going through, thinking yourself so strong, so perfect a human, to find the solutions to all your problems yourself. Because hey, you think you're perfectly fine!" Eshaal here took a sharp inhale of breath, her eyes shining knowingly, as she leaned forward and squeezed Zara's hand. "Yet power is not in being wordless. Power is not telling yourself over and over again you're alright yet inside you're deteriorating. Habibti, this is why Allah created humans, relationships, friendships and love around us. Because when we start thinking we're a one-man (or, woman) show, that's when we fall weak... especially, when you have no reason to hide all of this from us. When you have the loveliest of people (including me) with you. Why hide? Why fear? If the world's against you, gone with all of them! Speak to us!"

"You know, as much as I think your friend is crazy 99.99% of her time... she's actually right. I feel like I agree with her." Dawood added amusedly as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Feel like?" Eshaal repeated, her voice strained off hurt. "Feel like? Dude, you should entirely agree with me! I actually spoke something useful for once in my life... I'm on a streak right now!"

"Ai, I agree with Eshaal. Now Zara..." Nani looked away from Eshaal towards Zara. "Come on, untying the tongue is a relief. Isn't it? Go on..."

It was true. Untying the tongue was like pulling off an old ribbon. It was as if someone had spilled her silence, and given her space and room to speak up. Zara so did, feeling lighter and opened, she hurriedly she let her tongue roll.

"It's about the story-"

"Great." Dawood slumped back, his hand over his eyes.

Opposite reaction. "Woo-hoo!" Eshaal punched the air.

"-I'm not writing it though," Zara grinned widely, waiting for the expected responses.

"Crazy!" Dawood sat forward, his expression unbelievable, yet his eyes glimmered. Eshaal's hand, however, fell down.

"No fair!" Eshaal groaned.

"But I will write it..." Zara continued, taking a glass of juice in her hands. "You see, the story of Musa is yet to be completed. And, this is where I need your help. All of you. The ending, the mystery, all of it lies in our hands."

"Can we skip all of this attempt to bubble our curiosity and just get to the point?" Dawood asked.

"Yes. Umm... " Zara inhaled slowly, squeezing her eyes shut.

"MusaismybrotherandthisishisstoryandIneverreallythoughttotellyouallofthisbutthisisthetruthandIbelievehe'saliveandsomewhereandIwanttofindhim."

(For those who did not focus through the previous ramble: Musa is my brother and this is his story and I never really thought to tell you all of this but this is the truth and I believe he's alive and somewhere and I want to find him.)

Despite it being high afternoon, crickets buzzed in the background. The stuffed-up silence got to Zara as she opened her eyes slowly. Dawood's stature was frozen stiff staring at her unblinkingly, Eshaal's mouth hung open, while Nani Samira was the only one at ease. In fact, she was more than in just ease, she was on top of the world in uncontrollable enthusiasm.

"Well, then squad!" Samira spoke up, placing down her mango juice. "This calls for an adventure!" She slammed Dawood on the back, who snapped out of his 'freeze-mode' and looked at Samira and Zara, still not out of it.

"Wait- what? Story? Real? Journey? Brother?" Dawood scowled. "Can somebody please explain to me what is going on?"

Zara chuckled, snapping her fingers in front of Eshaal's face, who skipped up to her feet, the struck of reality's lightning flashed across her face.

"Oh my Allah, my friend's nikkah is next week in Islamabad!"

The other three exchanged looks. How that thought was related to what Zara had just said fell far away from them.

Evening fell as Nani and Eshaal dispersed to the kitchen, working up some dinner for all of them. They left Zara and Dawood back in the lounge with a heavy silence between them of untold thoughts.

Zara only glanced up at Dawood, who was playing with his car-keys- throwing it in the air then catching it swiftly. His deep, brown eyes grazed the dim-lit ceiling where a looming, lamp light hung over their heads.

Even though, Zara had spluttered out the truth she knew Dawood's silence in response did not mean well. She had expected this and a lump formed in her throat.

"Dawood?" She said, cautiously, her hands wrung together in her lap. "Why... why aren't you saying anything?"

Dawood's gaze flitted towards her- slightly widened. "Sorry..." he cleared his throat, leaning forward in his seat. "I just... don't understand."

"What don't you understand?"

Dawood's head dumped in his hands, shaking his head. "Like..." his voice came out muffled in distress. "Why am I hearing of this now? Why, Zara?"

His question thrusted her heart. She only just opened her mouth to respond when Dawood continued-

"Like... we've been married for about six months now, haven't we? Okay... I know it takes time to develop trust and understanding. But Zara, cmon," He shot her an ironized smile, reaching out for her hand. "Was silence really this necessary? Especially keeping all of this from me?"

Zara exhaled shakily, tightening the grip around his hand as well. "I- I am so sorry, Dawood. I didn't mean to keep this from you- I understand now. I think I just unhealthily resorted to silence to be the aid to my problems not realizing that it was slowly distancing me away from you, Nani, and Eshaal. I- this is why I married you... your speech and confessions always allured me to understand that sometimes, you have to speak up to get your point across."

Dawood could not help but chuckle rasply- leaning back on the couch. "Really? I always thought you found my talking annoying."

Zara quickly shook her head. "No, never! Okay, yea... well... sometimes. But most of the time it just envies me how you can say anything and everything without a thought."

"Talking without thought isn't too good either," Dawood answered her, scratching the back of his head.

A comforting pause delved between the two- their hearts eased and settled as they shared glances.

Something else took over Dawood as he broke the silence with his firm, encouraging voice. "Hey, listen... we're going to find him, okay?"

Zara's head snapped up- surprised at Dawood's sudden promise. He had eyes of the evergreen tree bark in the backyard, standing and rooted where ever they look.

Perhaps, it was this hope and encouragement sent her way from those who loved her that made her stand where she was that moment. Zara inhaled shakily, trying to deem herself stronger and giving into his hopeful words.

"InshaAllah," she said, heavily- and the next second, a longing question arose. "But how... Dawood? It's been years."

Dawood blinked once or twice back at her before raising his phone in the air. A grin flashed over his face. "Google Maps."

Zara mentally facepalmed. "I mean-"

"Hey, maybe I pretend to be bored listening to your stories... but I'm not that good at being deaf. So your saying that your Uncle is real as well? And has a mansion in Islamabad, huh?"

Zara wondered where he was getting at but nevertheless nodded. "Yes.... I- I think so. I mean I hope so. I mean, of course it is that way."

Dawood clicked his tongue in deep thought. His thick, brown brows furrowed as he looked away- staring off at an abyss. "What's his full name?"

"Junaid... Hashim," Zara exhaled shakily- the name of his burning her tongue.

"Okay, good," Dawood got to his feet, walking over to the study computer in the corner of the lounge. He turned it on as Zara moved to stand by his side as well.

Leaning forward with a hand pressed on the desk, while the other clicked the keyboard keys, Dawood was intensely aware of how this was going to go. "Junaid Hashim. CEO of Pakistan's Steel and Oil Firm- he can literally be earning so much." He read off of the internet- with the last line subjected from his own commentary. "Anyways, aha!"

Zara's shoulders perked up. "What?!" She craned over his shoulder, trying to take a peek at the screen.

Dawood only straightened up, pushing Zara back gently. "His mansion whereabouts. It'll be easy. We will just go to Islamabad- meet up with him in the mansion and that'll be our first stop to finding your brother."

Zara couldn't believe how in just a matter of minutes Dawood had jotted down a plan that made so much sense to her. It seemed life was paving out a road for her if only she had been willing and strong enough to speak up earlier.

It seemed like truly this was meant to be.

Allah was showing her a way.

Asalamualaykum!

JazakAllahokhair for coming this far! What do you think? How was it? Sincerely, I feel I dug deep in Zara in this one... maybe, I always do.

Anyways, did any of you miss Musa? I missed him, too. The letter was just a little gift. For you, all and Zara dear, too.

Hopefully, more will come... also, what do you think of the new book cover??

- e . a