Sunday morning dawned on Wadia House with its known commotion. Jeffery gave a satisfied look to his work as the trimmed grass of the lawn shone brightly under the sun. He then turned to his record player. He already had today's pick in his mind and as soon as he pushed the play button, the voice of Hemant Kumar infused the air of Wadia House.

Hai apna dil to awara, na janay kis pe ayega

Hai apna dil to awara, na janay kis pe ayega

(My heart is a wanderer, who knows on whom it gets stuck)

Inside the house, Saleema hummed along to the melody. She had just gotten done with breakfast. It was already 11 AM. Sunday is for sleeping in and Amal and Sila lived to that description. Rameen and Haleh, not so much. Dinbanu was in her room, immersing herself in Jane Austen, Arundhati Roy, or Parveen Shakir; her preferred authors and favorite poet.

Inside the adjacent rooms, Rameen scrolled her Instagram feed mindlessly. She had watched Laraib Rahim's makeup reel twice now, liked Mahira Khan's latest pictures, and skimmed through all the videos of Ali Sethi's performance at the expo center concert. When Instagram showed her the checkmark with 'you're all caught up', she sighed, closed the app, and gave her roommate and best friend an annoyed glare. "Can you please be quick?"

Sila settled her shirt and gave her outfit of the day a scrutinizing look into the floor-length mirror. She then grumbled. "Reen, don't give me this mama stare. You and I both know hell will freeze over the day I decide to wake up early on a Sunday morning. And I hate this shirt, it makes me look pregnant."

Haleh, who was sprawled on Sila's work chair, guffawed. "Imagine if you wear it to lunch at your Uncle's. Ambreen Mami will die of shock."

Sila made a face as she stood looking through her closet. Rameen chuckled lightly and got up from her side of the bed. She might not be happy with Sila's tardiness but she couldn't just watch her going through a wardrobe crisis at 11 in the morning on a Sunday. Sila immediately stepped aside. It was an unsaid rule in this house, let Rameen help when you're stuck. You'll only thank yourself for it because there was nothing Reen couldn't sort out.

At the same time, Amal entered the room, clearly after just waking up. Her immaculately kohled-lined eyes were devoid of even a smudge of it. Amal without kohl was a sight they'd encounter only in the mornings or when she was sick. No in-between.

"Not one second of peace in this house. You all really love waking up at ass O'clock." She settled herself on Sila's bed.

"It's almost noon," Haleh informed her. "Sakeena Baji has started with the lunch. Yeah, Ass O'clock when you shut your smut-laden kindle at 4 AM."

"I don't see you complaining when I narrate the juicy details to you." Amal yawned, finally deciding to sit up straight. Rameen and Sila were successful in choosing an outfit in the meanwhile. Sila's mood had considerably gotten better as she was paying extra attention to her hair. She brushed the voluminous layers that slightly reached her shoulders. Then she proceeded to put a minimal layer of makeup on her face. Taking a step back, she gave herself a critical look and settled the Duppata around her neck. The most time she'd give to her appearance would always be when she had to pay a visit to her Mamu and his family.

She hadn't said a word but when you have the expertise of years living with and around each other, you get attuned to even the unsaid and all three of her friends exchanged a look among each other.

"Do you really have to go? I'm baking a carrot cake for Banu Auntie. Though you don't like sweets, it will be far better than whatever your Mami has cooked." Haleh offered. Sila gave her a waned smile. Haleh wasn't an exceptional baker but among all of them, she was the closest to Dinbanu. Not that Dinbanu didn't love the rest of them, but Haleh's late mother was once her close friend. Haleh was the first person she had given shelter to in her bungalow years back.

"As much as I love the idea of enjoying snacks over tea with you all, I really can't cancel now. Also, I'm Reen's designated driver and I take my responsibility very seriously. She can't skip her enormous family fussing over an upcoming big fat wedding."

Her cheerful tone eased the air around. Rameen looked at the phone and gave Sila an impatient glare. "Two missed calls from Mama already. Sila, I think I should start looking for a new designated driver. Your piece of a junk car is also going to throw tantrums. Hurry the hell up!"

Sila didn't need to be told twice. Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she picked up the shopping bags from the dresser and gestured for Rameen to follow her. They threw their goodbyes at Haleh and Amal as they left.

Amal ran a hand through her long hair as she stared at the place Sila had just left. "What's say? She's going to come back with a smile or a grimace?"

Haleh gave it a thought. "They invited her over so must be something special as they never show courtesy. But you never know. Grimace, I'd say."

Amal nodded and got up. She badly needed a mug of strong coffee to function properly. "Coffee?"

Haleh shook her head. "I'm good. You are the one who needs to get control over her bearings. Didn't you mention you'd visit Ghar today?"

Amal suddenly looked like a ditto copy of a petulant child as she shook her head. "I'm not visiting it for the foreseeable future. I'm not on talking terms with Azra."

Haleh wanted to laugh. Ghar was the old-age home Amal spent most of her time at when she didn't have her academic career being a bitch. Her USA-based family operated the settlement which translated into them sending the money and Amal taking care of everything else. Azra was one of the old ladies there and the one Amal was the closest to. That was another thing that both of them were poles apart in personalities and quite similar in having no filter. That's why with all the love they had for each other, they were often at loggerheads, a hilarious sight as the girls loved their never-ending bickering.

"Can you go a day without having beef with someone?" Haleh asked as she scrolled through her word document. Her slight smile told her she was pretty satisfied with her latest piece.

"It makes life entertaining, Miss goody-two-shoes. You should also try it sometimes."

"I'm good. By the way, Amal. It's not just her cousin's wedding preparations for which Reen was desperate to visit her place today, isn't it? Is she going to—"

Before she could elaborate, Amal covered her face with her palm and glared at her. "Not a word more. Geez, when will you know subtlety, Haleh?"

"But is she going to?" Haleh raised an eyebrow. Amal released her and nodded slowly. Haleh sighed. Well, some things never change.

They didn't say a word after that, Amal left to make herself coffee and Haleh turned toward her article. Uncle Jeff's record player filled up the silence.

Hua jo kabhi razi, tau mila nahi qazi

Jahan pe lagi bazi, wahin pe hara

Yeh aik toota hua tara, na janay kis pe ayega

Hai apna dil to awara, na janay kis pe ayega

(When it fell, the world turned against it

It's a fallen star, who knows on whom it gets stuck

My heart is a wanderer, who knows on whom it gets stuck)

𝄞

Hair flowing on the tunes of the wind, a cheeky smile on her face, the vibrant sundress complimenting her dusky skin, feet bare and snuck in the sand as the waves sang their own song in the background, crashing and coming undone on the shore.

That was the one side of the picture,

"That's it! Going good, Mona!"

The other side was nothing but a mess of camera equipment, chairs, makeup, and style team running around the hut, a packed Sunday on the private beach, the perfect setting for a summer collection shoot.

Alina leaned forward as the assistant photographer showed her the shots. The team approved of the lighting and Mona's body language. She was a leading fashion model who knew her work around the camera like the back of her hand. The result was satisfactory.

They took a break for Mona to get into another dress, the last one for today. She hurried toward Alina who had everything sorted already. Tucking Mona into the dress, Alina gave her an appraising look to see any mismatched detail. On finding none, she sent her back to the photography team and she sat down on the chair with a sigh.

She'd make sure her next Sunday would be free because the fashion world was really becoming a bitch with their scheduling. Thank God no more work commitments for today. She took a sip of her orange juice as the telltale signs of pack-up appeared everywhere.

Normally, she wouldn't sacrifice her weekend but it was a special favor Alina pulled for the designer. In the fashion world, you just don't say No to Tina Khakhwani. Especially, when she happens to be your mentor as well.

The call for pack-up finally sounded in the air. Alina went through the motions with learned expertise. The models wanted her to be in their groupfie and Alina plastered a smile on her face as she looked into the camera. Mona was a friend but that didn't mean all of them were. She still remembered what a huge scene Zaha created with the MUA and had things to say about her styling as well the last time they worked together. Alina knew the pros of not having enemies but she was also aware of whom to make her pals with. That was the crux of survival in the entertainment industry.

"Alina!"

She was about to leave the premises when the familiar voice reached her. She turned around and saw a smiling Tina waving at her. Alina reciprocated her smile and walked up to her.

"Amazing work as expected. I was almost sure you would turn me down but then I thought, Nah, Alina wouldn't do that. Not to me at least. She will adjust her schedule for me and I won't have it any other way. And you proved how right I was."

Loud, clear, and often pretentious. That was Tina Khakhwani. But the woman had a keen eye for talent and that was the reason, during one of their lawn collection campaigns years back, she stopped Alina on her way home and told her she sucked as a model but would kill it as a stylist. Her comment was straightforward and so were her intentions. The next thing Alina knew, she had accepted Tina's offer of an assistant stylist on her team. In no time, Alina Asfandyar had found her true calling.

"It was a one-time thing. For the old time's sake. I don't intend to make a habit out of it though."

Tina laughed at that. Giving it back with a smile. That was classic Alina. Tina held her by her shoulder and gave her a once-over.

"Look at you, by the way. I'm so damn glad I pushed you to it."

The smile Alina gave her this time around was devoid of any pretenses. Tina wasn't easy to put up with, with her demanding personality and greed for the best, but she really did Alina solid years back and Alina truly acknowledged it.

"Yeah, it really is quite fun to work on the creative side of the spectrum. Nice collection, by the way. I loved some of the outfits."

"Sweetie, it's a trademark Khakhwani line. You'd be a fool to expect anything mediocre. Thanks, though. I loved what you did with the last pick. It accentuated Mona's curves and gave the dress an altogether chick look."

She wanted to say more but she was running late for her next commitment. Giving Alina's shoulder a parting squeeze, Tina walked ahead to where her car was parked.

Alina kept on looking at the woman. There weren't many people in her line of work who demanded respect even with all their shortcomings as a human but Tina Khakhwani was one of those. Running into her always pushed Alina back to her starting years when she struggled through the running life of Karachi's entertainment industry. She wasn't born into it so it was even difficult to make a niche for herself. She owed a lot to Tina for seeing her potential when no one else could.

As if on cue, her phone rang with an incoming call. She glanced at the caller ID. The sigh that left her mouth spoke of nothing but weariness and apprehension. She wasn't picking up. Her whole day would go to waste. She had just gotten off work. She didn't need this in her life.

So, without thinking further, she pocketed her phone after cutting the call and putting it on silent.

𝄞

As soon as he stopped the car in the driveway, a curse left his mouth seeing the already parked vehicle there. Not a wise move on his part to grace his family with his presence when his devil of a sister was around.

But he wasn't deterred by much. If he were, he wouldn't be Aahil Jahangir, the resident family disappointment. So, squaring his shoulders and plastering a smug smile on his face, he entered through the mahogany doors of Jahangir House.

Adan looked between her mother and grandmother. Their solemn faces would've made her worried but the reason behind their dejection only warranted an eye-roll out of her. Ramming the car into a pole. When would this guy grow up?

"Is Baba still angry?" She asked, smoothing Hanah's curls who was struggling to get out of her mother's hold.

"He's not bellowing anymore if that's some consolation but he's not done. I can tell." Saba didn't look too optimistic which really meant things were a tad bit bleak for Aahil. He deserved it though.

"Honestly I'm tired of this rope pulling between the father and son. Both are equally stubborn. They will never understand how to deal with each other. And as always Faseeh is not getting off his high horse! Men!" Mrs. Irshad grumbled. Hanah was finally successful in getting out of her mother's lap and wasted no time bouncing toward the lawn where Arsh and Zain, her cousins were playing cricket.

"Careful!" Adan shouted after her but sighed when Hanah didn't as much as glanced back at her. Hanah was a clumsy kid so Adan's protectiveness was justified but she had more pressing matters to attend to. As if sensing her worry, Nawar appeared from the kitchen and gave her a knowing smile. "Don't worry, Adan. I'm keeping an eye on the kids from the kitchen window."

"Ask Jamil to do that and you come here, I have something to tell you all."

The urgency in her voice made Nawar leave whatever she was doing and join the ladies. She didn't forget to instruct Jamil through the window before taking her seat next to Adan on the couch.

"Vaneeza got engaged."

Adan disclosed earning a collective "What?!" from every side. She nodded confirming it once again.

"As far as I know, she and Aahil didn't even have a breakup or we would definitely know. Did she get engaged while he was in Skardu?" Nawar looked visibly offended. She had always seen Faran babying his youngest sibling and that became Nawar's way of handling Aahil as well. It didn't sit well with her that Aahil was dumped this way.

"Yes, the night he caused that scene at the main boulevard, this was the reason behind it. I got to know it yesterday and immediately called Faran. Turns out, he was already aware. Aahil told him."

"My poor child." Mrs. Irshad exclaimed. Worry lines etched on Saba's face as well. She was no fan of her son's choice but still, he didn't deserve the treatment that was dished out to him.

"It gets better. She got engaged to Ali Jatoi."

Another bomb. For emphasis, she handed her phone to Saba. A picture of Vaneeza and Ali was right in front of all of them. Mrs. Irshad and Nawar had identical scowls on her faces while Saba just looked dejected.

"A private ceremony. No media coverage. They tried to keep it as low-key as they could as we know Jatois are fighting some legal battles and they and media aren't the best of pals at the moment."

"How did you get your hand on this, then?" Nawar asked, pointing to the picture. Adan shrugged. "One of Misam's cousins was invited. She forwarded me this. Karachi might be a labyrinth of a city but when it comes to the elite, everyone knows everyone."

True. Nawar nodded.

As much as they all had attributed the latest event to Aahil's irrationality, it now made some sense why he behaved violently that night. He was emotionally involved no matter how nonchalant he might try to portray himself.

"I didn't share this bit with you all so we could mourn over Aahil and Vaneeza's unfulfilled love story. We all saw this coming. Yes, Vaneeza could've ended it more gracefully but what is done, is done. Mama,"

She turned to Saba. "You know Jatois and us, we go long back. Business rivals, Baba and Pervaiz Jatoi can't stand each other, and now this. The media wouldn't stay oblivious to Vaneeza and Ali's engagement for long. Just like I got my hands on the pictures, someone else might as well and before you know, the whole country will know."

"And everyone is also aware that Vaneeza and Aahil were in a relationship for years. This will give the media and portals the scoop they need. Jahangir and Jatoi rivalry, and add in the Tarka of a love triangle. This is going to get messy." Nawar finished for Adan. She gave her a thankful nod and held her mother's hand.

"Mama, can you do something?"

Adan had a determined look on her face. "You'll side with Baba in whatever he has decided for Aahil this time around."

"He said he'll disown him."

"Rubbish. Even you know he won't do that. Honestly, I don't have any hope from Aahil to straighten his act but he can't get involved with Vaneeza more than he already has. I know him. If he saw an opening to piss Ali and Vaneeza off, he'll use the hell out of it just to get the satisfaction. We can't let that happen with so much at the stake. We need to steer clear of the Jatois."

She looked at the ladies of the house expectantly when they all heard the unmistakable sound of Bacha Party's excited shouts.

Their favorite uncle was here. In no time, they appeared at the lounge door. Arsh and Zain were right by his side while he had Hanah hanging on his arm and giggling uncontrollably.

"I presume the topic of this board meeting is an imbecile who created quite a racket the other night."

Aahil asked, raising an eyebrow. Hanah stopped her movements and looked between her mother and Mamu."What's an imbecile?"

"Your Mamu, sweetie," Adan replied, batting her eyes.

"And what does it mean?"Hanah was totally interested in expanding her vocabulary.

"Charming." Aahil gave Adan a challenging look.

"Then my baba is also very charming. Does it make him an imbecile?"

The laugh that left Aahil's mouth made Adan seethe with anger.

"Aahil Jahangir! Give my daughter back to me this instant!!"

"What? Why? She's asking the right questions already." His mirthful expressions gave Saba's heart a little squeeze. She knew her boy. Beneath the surface of carelessness and irrationality, there was a depth that could compare to an ocean. Were only heartbreaks her son's fate? How many times he'd lose himself to never find it again?

It was all the direr now to side with Faseeh on whatever he'd decided for Aahil. The stakes aside, She'd do it, not for anyone else's but Aahil's sake. He needed to engage in something productive to get his mind off the heartbreak he encountered.

He had taken the seat next to her. Adan hadn't entertained the notion of an ensuing banter with him so he was fully immersed in his nephews and niece. Saba held his shoulder.

"Yes, Mama?"

"What my charming son will have for breakfast? Something tells me hasn't eaten anything since the moment he woke up."

He leaned his head on her shoulder while Saba ran her fingers through his hair.

"It's lunchtime, Mama!" Adan scoffed but it got ignored by the mother and son duo.

"Aahil, I boiled the potatoes for the Parathas just a while back. Should I make one for you?"

Nawar. Adan's admonishing glare was royally ignored by the loving Bhabhi.

"Will you all fill his stomach with only the prospect of food? Get up and bring something for him or should I do it with my ailing hands?"

Dado was always the winner when it came to being an Aahil loyalist. Adan glared her way. "Stop babying him." But Mrs. Irshad wasn't usually keen to give naysayers' opinions any weight.

"No need to fight, ladies. I'm staying for lunch. And Mama, I did eat. Don't worry."

It was probably the only good thing about him, he was not picky when it came to food. Saba and Nawar got up to see how long would it take for the lunch to be ready while Mrs. Irshad also retired to her room stating she needed to lie down. Aahil turned to his annoying sister whose expression had gone unreadable.

"You know it was going to happen anyway. Vaneeza was..."

"I don't want to talk about it. Change the topic." He hadn't even looked at her, too busy teaching Zain a new game he had just shown him on his tablet.

Adan pursed her lips. Between Faran and Adan, Aahil was closer to the former because Faran knew when to draw the line, something Adan always struggled with. She was a nosy sibling and she was fully aware of it.

Faseeh and Faran came out of their study at the exact time. Adan perked up seeing her brother and father. They weren't less pleased. Aahil rolled his eyes. Adan spent half a week lounging in here anyway. What was new about it? Faseeh asked her about her business and Misam's new project which was keeping him occupied more than he already was if that was possible. Workaholics. Aahil visibly shuddered, making Hanah giggle.

But his comic timing was garnering not only his niece's but his father's attention also. Faseeh narrowed his eyes.

"Saba?"

Saba, who had just come out of the kitchen, looked at her husband questionably. "Yes?"

"Tell your crowned prince I expect him in office by tomorrow. No excuses will be accepted."

Aahil's stunned expression, Faseeh's satisfied nod. Rest of the family's bracing themselves for a showdown.

"What if I don't oblige?"

Here we go. Faseeh's expressions didn't change. He was done approaching Aahil with rage and anger. It was time to play his game in his own style.

"Nothing. But I won't be paying for the holiday trips abroad your highness is always looking forward to."

Aahil's eyes narrowed. Faseeh matched his stare. Faran looked like he would combust with the tension. Faseeh patted Faran on the back as they made their way toward the door leaving a stunned Jahangir clan and an enraged Aahil behind.

"Aahil." Saba approached him cautiously. He gave her a look he had reserved only for her. "You know I can't spend the whole year in this hellhole."

"Aahil, your father isn't asking for something impossible. Today or tomorrow you have to fend for yourself. This lifestyle can't go on forever. Maybe you do need this."

Disbelief. Hurt. Annoyance. Adan snorted seeing the range of expressions on her brother's face. Aahil rounded on her.

"Don't think you've won, Mrs. Misam. Oh, hell no!"

Not waiting for her to respond, he sprinted toward his grandmother's room. Adan felt a laugh left her lips. Imbecile!

𝄞

Stopping her car outside the familiar house in Jauhar, Sila got out. Her hands fumbled with the shopping bags in her hand as she covered the distance between the ledge and the gate.

She rang the doorbell and waited for someone to open it. In the meantime, she refreshed her memory of this neighborhood by looking around the nooks and corners. Dr. Hidayatullah from across the lane sat in his chair like he always used to. He waved at her and she responded with her free hand. Mrs. Bhatti was coming back from grocery shopping if her trademark pink basket was to go by. She stopped outside her door and inquired about her health in the same polished Urdu Sila always loved.

It had been years since she left this chunk of her life behind. She had spent part of her childhood here with her mother after her father's death. Her mother and uncle both were lecturers in the same university's different departments. Nouraiz Ayaz, Sila's father did leave an ample amount of money for his wife and daughter but not a place they could call home. So, Nabiha, Sila's mother decided to live with her brother for the time being. That was another thing that she also didn't have much time left. Three years after Nouraiz's death, she also passed away leaving Sila behind with her brother's family.

Sila was in her second year of university at that time. She was thankful to her uncle for giving her a place to stay. She wasn't a minor and he wasn't bound by much, other than his sense of duty toward his late sister. The two years she spent with him and his family after her mother's passing was a blur in her memory. She just remembered she was desperate to become independent and move out. Things worked out soon after that in the form of Dinbanu Auntie and Wadia House and the rest was history.

The clicking of the door unlocking brought her out of her musings.

"Sila Aapa!" Anza; Aqeel Mamu and Ambreen Mami's middle child exclaimed and embraced her in a hug which made Sila lose her balance. She couldn't be mad though. Anza's manifestations of love were always over the top.

"How long has it been?! Who can say we live in the same city." She let go of Sila and move away from the gate so she could get inside. Azka, Aqeel Mamu's youngest was standing right behind her older sister. She hadn't jumped to hug Sila but she wasn't less excited to have her over either.

"It's good to see you, Aapa." Azka held her hand as they made their way inside. Sila asked about their studies and they bombarded her with questions of their own. How was Rameen Aapa, Is Amal still as loudmouthed as before, and what about Haleh? And Danish Bhai! Did you both do something special on valentines day? If Sila was honest with herself, she did miss this. Anza and Azka, the chaotic cuties.

"Azka! Anza! We did talk about this, didn't we?"

Here we go. How could she forget this? This, she didn't miss. Not at all.

Ambreen Mami stood at the kitchen door. Behind her, Sila could see Nisha stirring something on the stove with a scowl set on her face. Everyone knew Ambreen's inclination to household work. Larkiyan to sughhar hi achi lagti'n hain. (Girls should know their way around household chores). Anza and Azka weren't at the age to start learning the depth and secrets of the making of a perfect housewife. So, Nisha, being the eldest daughter was often under Ambreen's wrath. (In Sila's opinion, Nisha also wasn't at that age yet but she kept that thought to herself.)

"Let the guest get a breath." Ambreen rebuked her daughters as she walked up to Sila. Her eyes ran on Sila's clothes, her purse, the shopping bags in her hands, and her shoes. In a single look, Ambreen had dissected the bill of every item Sila was graced with. Something akin to envy shone in her eyes but the next moment, she masked it with a smile and hugged Sila.

"So, you finally decided to pay us peasants a visit, hun? Who treats her own house and people this way? I invited you over lunch and only then you agreed to come. Strangers pull things like this, Sila. Blood relatives don't. It's the same house you spent years of your life in."

Just a few seconds back, she called her a guest and now, she was a family member. Sila disliked this about Ambreen the most. Her changing tactics could give anyone whiplash. Everything about her was under a garb. Fabricated and coated with sugar syrup.

"And what is this?" Ambreen pointed to the shopping bags in her hand. Sila smiled placing those on the coffee table. "Just some gifts for the girls. I'm visiting after a long while so thought coming here empty-handed wasn't right."

"Again with the formality, Sila." She gave a fleeting look at the shoppers again. Sila hid her smile.

"Ammi, don't you dare. Do you have any idea how good Sila Aapa's taste is in clothes? If she's brought something for me, I, for sure isn't giving it back. Sorry."

Azka announced and proceeded to open the shopping bags. Sila looked on as she took out the dresses Sila brought for them. Her beaming face gave Sila genuine happiness. Ambreen tried to make small talk in the meanwhile but she was distracted. At last, she sighed and looked away from her daughter.

"Enjoy this on Sila's expanse. She's earning well and that benefitted you."

She chuckled but even though it was meant to be comical, it was anything but. "Sila, don't you want to meet your Mamu?"

"I was just going to. Where is he?"

Ambreen gave her a disappointed look. "You haven't been away for that long to forget your way around here. He's in his study working on some official documents related to his university. This man, I tell you."

Sila immediately made her way upstairs where the said study was. It used to be her room when she lived here. As soon as she moved out, Ambreen wasted no time in turning it into a spare room and later into a study. Sila hadn't known that room as a study so it wasn't really her fault if she didn't know where her Mamu was on the weekends.

She knocked at the door and peeked inside. Professor Aqeel-ur-Rehman looked up from his file at his niece and gave her a smile.

"Asslam Alaikum, Mamu." Sila greeted and bent her head to take his blessing. He hugged her sideways, kissing her head in the process.

"How's my hard-working daughter doing?"

Sila sat down on the sofa beside him. "I'm doing great. But you really didn't tell me the truth when I asked you about life after graduation. It's worse than the group projects in university."

Aqeel laughed at that. "Life is synonymous with hard work. Your mother knew it better than me. Worked hard all her life till her death."

Aqeel's respect toward his elder sister always left Sila in awe. She had been kind of a role model for him during his teenage years. Sila could share the sentiment, her mother was one dynamite woman. Sila couldn't say she had her steel determination but just like her mother, disrespect was where Sila drew the line. No explanations and no justifications, she'd just walk out.

"These girls! I just went to take a call and they've disappeared. All of them! Pile all the work on the mother, she's the robot, it seems."

Ambreen's bellowing voice boomed in the whole house. Aqeel glanced outside and then sighed. The easygoing energy he was just exuding vanished abruptly. Nothing new. That was his trademark reaction to his wife's anger. He's immediately become withdrawn. Sila had years to understand that pattern so without waiting for him to ask her, she left his study with the excuse of catching up with the girls.

She had just crossed the hall when the door of Nisha's room opened and she gestured at her to come inside. Sila's brows scrunched in confusion as she came inside.

"Thank God I got you alone."

Sila looked behind her. Both Anza and Azka were also present there. "What it is about?"

"Aapa, Mama hasn't invited you to lunch because she felt like it. There's a whole reason behind it."

"I figured that out the moment Aqeel Mamu called me. Is everything okay?"

Nisha sighed and then shook her head. "No. She's fixed my marriage and this is kind of a celebratory lunch for that. She'll tell you during the meal."

"Marriage?" Sila couldn't believe her ears. Nisha was in her third year of undergrad. It was way too early for marriage on the card.

"Seriously, Nisha? She's just agreed to the proposal. It doesn't mean she'll marry you off the next week. Geez, hold your horses." Anza rebuked her sister but Nisha didn't pay her any attention. Sila was getting tired of being out of the loop.

"Will any of you explain to me what is happening here?"

"I was trying to do that only before Anza interrupted. The proposal came from Khala's in-laws. The guy is a chartered accountant and lives in Germany. In fact, his whole family is scattered outside of Pakistan in different countries. That's the biggest attraction for Mama along with his stable job. Also, the proposal came through Khala and you know my Mama can't say no to her sister. She's 90% convinced. She's mentioned it to Baba in passing but you also know your Mamu, he's a putty in Mama's hand. If she's made up her mind, eventually, he'll give the green signal as well."

Nisha looked horrified by the mere idea of what her future could most probably be. "He's five years older than me, Aapa. I can't marry him. I have my whole university life ahead of me. I'm already thinking of grad school outside of Pakistan. I have to make a career just like you. Heck, you aren't even married yet. How can I be?"

Her eyes welled up. She hugged Sila taking her off guard. "Please, try to talk Mama out of it. You're my last hope, Aapa. Show her what none of us can. Please."

Sila closed her eyes. Her? Ambreen Mami would listen to anyone but her. Didn't she always judge her on her decision of building a career instead of marrying Danish? Nisha was putting her hope in the wrong candidate but Sila didn't have the heart to say no to her.

She'd have to try. But she could already see it not ending well.

𝄞

Her family house in Pechs welcomed her with the same warmth Rameen was used to. The three-storey house was home to a joint family. Her family. Her father and his two brothers, all lived here with their families on different levels. Her father's sisters would also be found here every other week. In short, there was not a second of lack of activity.

In practicality, Rameen's family depicted the same picture of a typical Pakistani desi joint clan. But in essence, it was far from the toxicity and kitchen politics of an average Pakistani Desi Joint Clan. Her grandmother had woven this home with the threads of love and harmony and till this day, her progeny kept the rules taught by her intact.

Growing up, Rameen never encountered the issues she'd seen her other friends complaining about, friends who also came from joint families like her. She had never seen her mother and aunts talking behind each others' backs. Neither her grandmother had the mentality of a dictator. It was an ideal unit.

Still, Rameen could never find it in herself to love and cherish it. She was big on privacy and the first and foremost thing a joint family system snatches from you is that only. No matter how much love is flowing between you and your cousins, sometimes you need a break, and other times, you need some boundaries to be respected.

The moment she graduated from university and started looking for a job, she told her parents she wanted to move out. Her decision came like a shocker to her whole family. A myriad of reactions ranged from amusement to resentment. She didn't care. She had her father on her side who understood her plight and advocated for her to move out and live on her own. He was the one who talked to Dinbanu Wadia and made arrangements for her. The fact that she was moving to a secure place where she could live on her own terms was accepted by her family, some did it wholeheartedly while others begrudgingly. But in the end, Rameen did leave her family house behind and moved to Wadia House permanently.

But her connection was never severed. Her every weekend was reserved for her folks. All of them had accepted her way of life by now. There were no hard feelings and now that she had her privacy intact, she found it easy to be present in every event related to her family. The latest one was Farman, her cousin's wedding coming up in a few weeks' time.

"Reen, give me your honest opinion on the stonework on my lehenga. I tell you all of these wannabe Sonam Kapoors are useless." One of her cousins' cried.

"We still haven't decided on a theme for Mehandi. Can you all please do something about it?" Another.

"We have to devise a game plan for the rasams through which the bride side can get money out of Farman. He might not care for his hard-earned money but we do." Someone else cried.

Rameen laughed as she made her way to the kitchen. She had promised everyone a karak cup of Chai before they started sorting out all the issues. Her steps halted at the threshold. Unaiza gave her a cursory look and turned back to her brewing coffee.

"Unaiza, why didn't you sit with us all? We are deciding on our dresses for the various functions. I was about to come to your room to call you but Mama said you aren't feeling well."

Unaiza gave her no reaction. Rameen's brow scrunched. She came a bit closer and held her shoulder. "Hey, are you okay?"

Unaiza picked up her mug and gave Rameen a subdued smile. "I'm peachy. I'm just not sure if I'm invited to the wedding or not. I'll be in my room if you want to chat, though. This," She pointed outside where everyone was seated. "Isn't my scene today. Sorry."

Saying that she was out of the kitchen and Rameen couldn't understand what had just happened. Before she could go back to the lounge and bombard her cousin's party with queries about Unaiza's behaviour, her mother came inside. She looked down. Must have seen Unaiza coming out of the kitchen.

"What was that about, Mama?"

Her mother sighed. "Last week, when we went to the place of Farman's in-laws for the exchange of wedding fits for the bride and groom, Unaiza was also with us. Even though she didn't want to go. You know her. But almost all the kids were going so we didn't feel like leaving her behind. The girls went to Mehreen's room to say hi to their new Bhabhi. They took Unaiza along. One of Mehreen's sisters made a comment there about how bringing Unaiza to pre-wedding rituals was a...bad omen, seeing her history."

Rameen suddenly filled with rage. "That's crossing a line. Didn't anyone say anything to that sister of Mehreen?"

"You have no idea how enraged Ayesha was. She didn't care for her son's in-laws. Gave that girl a piece of her mind and back home took Farman's class as well. He is blinded by love but even he asked Mehreen to keep her sister in check. The issue is resolved but Unaiza is still stuck there."

"She has every right to, Ammi. For how long will she endure people bringing her past into her face. A past she had no control over. She didn't decide to be a widow after barely three months of her Nikkah. That too at the young age of twenty-three. Unaiza is a victim of fate. Why this society loves making her a villain?"

Her mother shook her head dejectedly, not knowing what to say to this. The tragedy that Unaiza's life turned out to be a few years back was still a sore subject for most of them, specially Unaiza's parents who hadn't even in their wildest dreams thought their daughter would lose her husband in a car crash just three months after her Nikkah. They hadn't even sent her off. She hadn't lived any bliss of married life. But now she was a widow and society didn't leave any stone unturned to remind her of that.

Rameen came out of the kitchen, with every intention of confronting Farman. She knew the elders had already done that but she was naturally protective of Unaiza and wanted to make sure Farman knew next time, any disrespect toward Unaiza wouldn't be taken lightly.

But Farman wasn't home, much to her disappointment. She was about to get drowned in the ongoing conversation when she saw her father walking toward the front door. She immediately left her sister and came to him.

"Baba, are you going to Basharat Uncle's?"

He stopped, turned to her, and gave her a slight nod.

"Wait for me. Let me grab my purse. Drop me at Bushra Auntie's place."

He didn't have any reservations about that. Visiting Bushra Hashmi's place wasn't an anomaly in their household. In fact, not visiting the woman would be odd behavior. Seeing she was a close family friend.

Fifteen minutes later, Rameen thanked her Baba as he told her he'd pick her up on his way back from Basharat's place. She rang the doorbell and as expected Dareer was the one to open it.

"Reen Aapi? Wow, what a pleasant surprise. Did you bring Rafay along?"

Rameen pinched his cheek much to his annoyance. "Always looking for your best friend. Sorry to disappoint but I don't take my annoying brother anywhere."

"He might be my best friend but you're right, he is a bit annoying." Dareer agreed as they made their way inside. Rameen looked around, already guessing that Bushra Auntie wasn't home.

"Where's your Mama?"

"She's gone to meet some colleague of hers. Said it gets overbearing living with two guys so she needs fresh air."

Rameen couldn't help her laugh. "You two are surely giving her a tough time for years."

"I'm an angel, Reen Aapi and you also know that. It's Bhai who's not easy to put up with."

"Speaking of the devil, where is he? In his den?"

"Ahan. And mind you, he's working. On a Sunday. God bless Sila Aapi."

Rameen rolled her eyes and went to the stairs. As soon as she came to the upper portion of the house, she had already seen him working on his laptop, sitting in his chair. Dareer had been apt in his description but then again every person who knew Danish also knew he was a major workaholic.

Dareer was her introduction to Danish. Rafay; her brother and Dareer were, what you say, diaper buddies. Same school, the same coaching center, the same cricket ground. The two kids were inseparable and when their mothers met during a PTM at their school, they also instantly hit off as long-lost best friends. Bushra and Najia could give their sons a run for their money when it came to being best friends in record time. Both families soon became welcomed guests and then a common occurrence at each others' houses.

Rameen had known Dareer as her brother's best friend. She also knew Bushra Auntie as her mother's best friend but her proper introduction to Danish hadn't gone along the same lines. Their first introduction was as batchmates in university. Different departments but some common classes and their brothers and mothers being a permanent fixture in each others' lives came in handy and Rameen and Danish soon turned into good friends. It was Rameen through whom Danish met Sila and both of them were in a proper relationship for almost two years now.

"Perfect."

Her disappointed voice interrupted Danish's concentration. He turned around and found her standing in the doorway.

"Reen? Why are you standing there? Come inside."

"That depends on you. If you are going to stare at your laptop screen and give me half asses responses, then I'm turning back from here itself. But if you leave your work for some ten minutes, I assure you, hell will not break loose."

He looked away, hid his smile, and pushed his laptop aside. Gesturing at the couch in his room, he asked her to sit down. Rameen did so. But her scowl didn't ease even a bit. Danish wasn't a fool not to pick on it.

"You're mad at me."

"You made my best friend sad. I have every right to be cross with you."

Danish ran a hand through his hair. "Will you believe me if I say it took me a while to figure out I messed up and the embarrassment wouldn't let me even talk to Sila?"

"Oh, I can totally trust you on that, Danish. You're slow when it comes to matters of the heart. Remember, you couldn't even figure out your feelings for Sila. I had to intervene and made you understand, you know like you'd do to a toddler."

"Okay, enough of Danish slander. Don't forget, I'm also one of your best friends."

"That's why I'm here, Danish. You messed up with Sila and I for a fact know that you are better than that."

She looked at an undefined point on the opposite wall. "Sila won't even let you know that you hurt her expectations. You know that's how she works. Expectations have always been her sour point. She will make herself understand that it's okay and maybe she was wrong in expecting anything in the first place, that she's not worth making an effort for, which is a bull. I mean have you seen her? She's everything a man should be grateful for. I know both of you are career-oriented and practical people but you are in a relationship for crying out loud, Danish. Make it work. It also needs effort. Stop treating your relationship as a gig. In fact, if we are at it, start taking it as seriously as your gigs. Maybe, that way you'll actually put in some work."

Saying that she got up.

"I expect you to make up to her. Grand gestures aren't needed. It's Sila we are talking about. Just do something heartfelt which actually counts and she will be back to being the girl who smiles at you and roots for your every minute achievement as well. Do me proud, Danish. After all, I played cupid for you two."

She came close to him and gave a slight squeeze to his shoulder. Her eyes darted toward the photo wall behind his work table. A framed photo of all three of them on their convocation day made her smile. Danish looked up at her and even though he hadn't uttered a word, Rameen knew he would definitely make it up to Sila now. Her work here was done.

𝄞

Taking tired and heavy steps, she sat down on the bench on the lawn. She could see her room's lights, and could also make sense of Rameen moving around through the window but she had no energy to plaster a smile on her face and go inside and pretend everything was alright.

She was a fool. What was the need to listen to Nisha and advocate for her in front of Ambreen Mami? Didn't she know that woman? Didn't she know it could all backfire on her as it did?

"Bold of you to assume, Sila that you can give me directions on parenting. I know what's best for my daughter."

"I mean rich coming from you. You have a degree from an institute people dream of studying in. Your parents left you a bank account loaded with money that could keep you afloat all through your academic years and as soon as you graduated, you got a nice job, the accommodation hassle was sorted by Mrs. Wadia. You don't have any worries in this whole world but we have to look through the options at our disposal. To think of our daughter in the long run."

"You don't have to worry about rent, about familial commitments, about societal pressure. Yes, to you being career-oriented does come easy but we don't belong to your lot, thank you very much."

She hadn't stopped after that. Without even touching a morsel of the food, she silently got up and left from there. The girls tried stopping her. Mamu just gave Ambreen Mami a disappointed glare and if she was being honest, even that must've taken quite an effort on his part.

Oh, Sila. How pathetic you are. Why did you think you have a say in the matters of a house where you are a guest? She shouldn't have listened to Nisha. Shouldn't have given Mami the chance to spew all that venom. Now she was sad and hurt.

And she missed her Mama. Ambreen Mami would never be able to say all that if her Mama was here. She wiped a lone tear when she felt a presence behind her. Craning her neck, she found Uncle Jeff coming to her with a bundle in his hands.

"Sila Beta, this came for you in the post when you were out."

She took the bundle from him. He left humming under his breath. Sila checked the address of the sender and suddenly she wanted to bawl her eyes out with the tender emotions in her heart.

Surely, the people who have a connection with the heart just know when you need them. She opened the layers of the packaging and found a beautiful warm shawl inside. Caressing the material, she debated within herself but then, at last, gave in.

She waited for the call to get connected. And when it did, in about two rings, the familiar kind voice, full of motherly warmth reached her ears.

"How is my favorite Bacha doing?"

Sila chuckled tearfully. "Not that great."

"Is that so? Tough day at work? But today is Sunday. I don't know, maybe it's common there in big cities to work on weekends as well. Is that so?"

Two 'Is that so' already. Sila couldn't help her smile. She missed his woman. "It's not work-related, Ammi. Just so you know, your least favorite person in this whole world has a chance to get at me and she used it quite well."

A sharp intake of breath. "Ambreen? That satan reincarnated! Allah! What did she do to hurt my Bacha? I swear to God, I will not hesitate from ringing her up right away and putting her in her place. I might not have given you birth but I'm your Ammi. I know how to fight for my kid."

Ammi. Sila felt her heart getting lighter and it hadn't been five minutes to their call. Her Baba had always said that his Bhabhi Jaan was a woman to be reckoned with and she never doubted his statement.

On the other side of the call, Naheed waited patiently for Sila to say more. She was the daughter of her husband's younger brother. Nouraiz had been more of a son to her than a brother-in-law, and by this association alone, Sila, being his daughter was dear to her. That was another case that Sila had a place in Naheed's heart that was crafted by her own hands, with no affiliation with anyone else needed.

"Just leave it, Ammi. I don't want to talk about it. You tell me, how's the weather there in Murree? Must be cold."

Naheed had sensed her change of the subject. She sighed. "The weather is okay. Cold. The usual."

"By the way, I got a parcel today. It's a shawl."

"Aray, you got it? Thank God! Muaz went to Chitral with his friends the last time he got off from work. He brought back three shawls. Obviously one for you and one for me. I still can't figure out for whom the third one is. Sila, I'm worried, what if he is still involved with the daughter of the Maliks?"

"Ammi, he was never involved with their daughter. She had feelings for him but you know your son don't you? He is always busy with work and postings. Being a military guy isn't easy. And he doesn't have one romantic bone in his body. So, no. Your assumptions are wrong. If anything, he must've gotten the shawl for himself or Abu—"

She bit her tongue. The conversation ventured into unwanted territory. Naheed understood her hesitation. "But still, I'm sure he had something to do with her. I'm his mother. You don't know, those who look innocent by face are the most Haramis."

A small laugh left her lips. Ammi's suspicion of her only son's character had always been hilarious. No matter how much people tell her about Muaz Bhai's goody-two-shoes nature, she had her doubts.

And just like that, the glorious mess that the lunch turned out to be was out of Sila's system for the time being.

𝄞

Even going to his beloved Dado and pleading with his case hadn't had the desired outcome. Just like his mother, his old woman also refused to be of any help. She even criticized his foreign trips. You do nothing but post your shirtless pictures on the beach with women in bikinis in the background. Her exact words. Never let your grandmother follow your public Instagram, fellas.

So, here he was, sprawled on the couch at his parents' place. The only people there to sit through his miseries were his niece and nephews along with Jamil, the househelp.

"Chachu, you are literally exuding bad luck." Zain, the loudmouthed Chutka couldn't keep his opinion to himself. His parents were of the view that he had gone on his Chachu. Aahil feigned offense but deep down he also knew that was the truth.

"No, Mamu is exuding good looks." Hanah corrected her older cousin. Seeing her love for Aahil no one could say her mother and her handsome Mamu were always at loggerheads. But her statement could also be due to the fact that she had covered Aahil's hair with her colorful pins. She also took a picture and showed him. He just kissed her head with a 'Nice work, Honeypie'

"Can you two shut it? I actually have a shot at beating Chachu's highest score. Don't distract me." Arsh hissed, not taking his eyes from his tablet. Aahil extended his hand and settled his lopsided glasses, earning a glare from him.

"Don't shoot daggers at the only cool elder you have." Arsh didn't grace this with a reply.

"Chachu, yesterday na, Mama and I, we were watching a spiritual show on the TV." Zain started his tale. Aahil scrunched his brows. "I don't even want to know why your mother thought watching it with you was a good idea."

"No, listen to me. It was on the topic of lying."

"Understandable," Aahil muttered. Zain was the most elaborate liar he had encountered in his whole life. The kid could give Twitteratis a run for their money for the kind of fake scenarios he came up with.

"They said that lying on our own is bad as it is, but when we do it on others' expanse, that puts the radar of bad luck on them. That's why we should never ever do it. Straight entry to the lowest pit of hell."

Aahil's eyes widened. He gave Zain a doubtful look.

"The kid is right, Aahil Bhai. I was in the kitchen making fries for the kids when Nawar Baji and Zain were watching this show. They said exactly what he's told you."

Discomfort marred his otherwise calm features. He gave a fleeting look to his lock screen where the three of them were staring right into the camera. An elaborate lie he had come up with not long ago using them flashed across his mind. He grumbled and pulled out his wallet from his pocket. Jamil saw him removing some currency notes and handing those to him.

"Go and give this to any needy person you come across."

His serious note didn't leave any room for further questioning. Jamil left the nodding at him.

"What happened, Mamu?" Hanah asked, looking at him with her concern-filled wide eyes.

"Chachu also lied at someone else's expanse, what else." Zain grinned, earning a glare from his beloved Chachu. Aahil moved Hanah's crazy curls out of her eyes and smiled at her.

"Nothing, Honeypie. It seems like your Mamu is going to hell."

"That's what my Mama says." She agreed, understandably.

𝄞

It was way after she went inside, had her dinner with her girls, and talked about the most random of things when her phone pinged. She was about to lie down with her borrowed book from Amal when she checked her phone. Her eyes widened.

"Danish is here." She exclaimed as she looked outside the window and sure enough, Danish was right outside Wadia House, leaning against his car, a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a bashful expression settled on his face. Sila didn't need to know what it was about.

"Go!"

Rameen pushed her out of the door. Sila stopped at the main door and then looked at herself. Then she shouted. "I'm in my PJs!"

"Doesn't matter. Just get over here." Danish said out loud. By then Rameen, Amal, and Haleh were also behind her. Rameen gave her another nudge and Sila didn't need any more prompting. She reached his side. Both of them talked in whispers. His tender expressions. Her dazzling smile. The bouquet he gave to her. The flowers couldn't compete with the beauty of the picture they were making.

Rameen leaned against the wooden pillar as she saw two of the most important people in her life getting inside the car and driving away. Both of them had waved at her before they drove out of the premises of Wadia House. She kept on looking at the air they left behind when Amal hugged her sideways.

"Just so you know, Reen. You are my favorite person in this whole world."

Rameen smiled at that. Amal left her there. Haleh as well. It was just her and Hemant Kumar's voice coming from uncle Jeff's record player.

Janay wo kaise log thay jin kay

Payar ko pyar mila

Janay wo kaise log thay jin kay

Pyar ko pyar mila

(How were those people, who got their love stories fulfilled)

𝄞