When he moved into this crescent-bey apartment complex years back, the first thing he got accustomed to was the melodious noise of the sea. The tides crashed onto the shore, colliding with the rock ledge as if they had a mind of their own, an ideal setting to let the creativity inside of you take the tides by their horns and drive the waves, bringing you to a place that sings the unsaid, harps on the air, touches the notes of something buried deep inside. And soon it's just you and you, the you that got lost along the way, you which is no longer you.

Yes, it was happening again. He hated when the sea breeze with its salty welcome would make him tread on the unpaved land, one misstep and he'd fall in the whirlwind, round and round. No end and no beginning.

Shaking his head at his own jumbled thoughts, he moved away from the balcony. His indoor plants seemed to smile at him. He took good care of them. Their elation made complete sense. At least, somewhere someone wasn't mad at him, disappointed in him, or filled with pity. Look at that, Aahil Jahangir, the glorious mess. Who would've thought? He freaking hadn't. Take that.

Taking the last sip of his coffee, he gave a brief look at the canvas of nature; the horizon. Hues of orange and pink, submerging together over the unending sea, The catharsis the soul needs. Too bad, right now, he didn't need self-reflection. He needed a plan. Priorities.

Per his father's orders, he was to be at the office in the morning. It wasn't his fault that he didn't know which office as they had quite a lot of those scattered over the city. A dilemma.

Jahan-a Dubai based conglomerate, founded by his great-grandfather or maybe some other ancestor higher up the pedigree, he had no idea and didn't want to expand his familial encyclopedia. The only thing expanding here was his family business. They started humble, as a real estate company. Luck and business acumen (a bit of charm into the mix because Aahil couldn't believe his stud of a grandfather didn't know the fine art of captivating people.) It started with one hotel which turned into two and so on.

When his father took over, they already had three of their main hotels working in Karachi and the rest functioning in Lahore and Islamabad, at the prime locations. They also had textile and agriculture industries under Jahan's name and some five years back, Adan wanted to launch a clothing line so Jahan would embark on the fashion scene as well. The experiment worked and right now, Jahan was working well as a fashion brand. That would make one hell of a story for aspiring entrepreneurs. The Jahangir men and women; ascend ladders of success day in and out.

But then there was him. And well, he was, that. Him. Not interested in the family business in the slightest but very much interested in using the family money. Adan always called him a leech. He hoped the leech was at least easy on the eyes. You have to take care of the details now, don't you? Faseeh's no-nonsense attitude, Faran's easygoing prompting, and even Adan's jabs couldn't bring him to invest himself in anything related to Jahan. So, as expected, he ditched the morning curfew. He'd have to face the consequences, he knew but there wasn't anything he couldn't handle. That was the thing about him. When he was seriously committed to something—no matter if it was about holding onto his spoilt brat tendencies—he'd give his hundred percent. Backing off? He didn't know that shit. Had never tried.

So far, there had been no warning call from his Father. But he didn't hold the man to not pulling big guns when needed to. He just had to make sure which Kalashnikov his father might bring to the battle and that when it happened, it wasn't a fucking water gun in his hand, chances of which were high given the fact that his niece and nephews loved indulging him in their shit and he never said no. Who would refuse those faces? He, for sure, couldn't.

The buzzer of the intercom brought him out of his thoughts. A visitor. His lips broke into a smile as he walked to the front door and pulled it open.

"I love it when you set foot in this part of the city and it becomes glaringly obvious your friend is a rich asshole brat," Alina muttered making a face but the mirth in her eyes wasn't hidden from Aahil. "Yeah, my reputation precedes me. Come here, sexy Lina." With that, he engulfed her in a bear hug. Alina made a face at his outrageous endearment for her—if it could be called an endearment for that matter—but proceeded to hug him back. She was seeing him in person after a whole month. Karachi's running life: a gift that keeps on giving.

"This calls for celebration. The busiest woman in the city decided to grace her good ol' friend with her company. I can't tell you how lucky I feel."

Alina swatted his arm away as she made her way inside his place. Placing her purse on the table, she dropped herself on the couch. The interior had always been her favorite here. It spoke of Aahil's immaculate taste.

"After ages, I had a light day at work. We packed up the shoot before noon and I had nothing else to do after that. Wanted to call on you over the weekend but Tina Khakhwani wanted me to style the models for her new shoot. You can say my weekend was also packed. So now that I got time, here I'm."

She gave him a detailed answer as she picked up a book from his shelf. It already had a bookmark placed inside, must be his current read. Alina's heart melted seeing the cover. On the musically beautiful—Eduard Hanslick.

"Tea?" Aahil's voice came from the open kitchen. Alina placed the hardcover back and stood up. "Yes, please. And do you have something to eat?" She didn't wait for his answer and opened his refrigerator. "Chinese take-out? I presume it's from your favorite restaurant in sunset lane?"

Aahil nodded, focused on the tea.

"And we have Biryani here as well. Home-made, by the looks of it, and mixed vegetables." Alina took out a Tupperware, examined it, and then narrowed her eyes. "Mama's love?"

Aahil raised his hands. "She always packs me food whenever I visit home. Healthy eating and stuff."

An exasperated laugh escaped Alina's lips. "I really do regret not asking Saba Auntie to adopt me when I had the chance in school."

"Knowing her and her love for you, the chances of her making you her future daughter-in-law were more likely just to keep you close. But my mother is a sweetheart. She blacked off and didn't become Zaalim Samaj (evil society)".

He wiggled his eyebrows and Alina wanted to trash the plastic box at his head. She didn't grace his remark with a reply. School and everything it had seemed decades ago.

"So, I heard you and Uncle Faseeh are again at loggerheads, is that so?" Alina asked conversationally as she took out the Biryani on a plate. "Also, even if you did have lunch, you're going to keep me company. I hate eating alone."

Aahil gave her the mug of tea. "I can never say No to Biryani cooked by my mother. And to answer your earlier question, Adan has already filled you in, Lina. You know that. I know that. The whole of Karachi knows that. Maybe you decided to come and see me just to expand Adan's agenda?"

Alina took a spoonful of the rice and narrowed her eyes at him. She raised the spoon in his direction for emphasis. "Aahil Jahangir, are you implying I'm here with an ulterior motive?"

"Did Adan tell you about Baba's new demand?"

She gulped and then nodded. It was Aahil's turn to narrow his eyes as he took a spoonful of rice. "And did she ask you to knock some sense into me aka the imbecile?"

Another nod. Two more spoonfuls.

Aahil smirked knowingly. "Here, ulterior motive."

"It's not, you imbecile!" Alina all but cried. Aahil was unfazed. Adan didn't play nice. He had established that long back.

"I came here because I missed you, Okay? Due to the nature of my job, I meet Adan on regular basis. Mahad and I live in the same area so catching up is never a problem. I even run into Osama occasionally. It's you I never see regularly. I made an effort to change that because you are one of my closest friends but yeah, sure, go on. Be your cynical ass and doubt my genuine sentiments."

She was disappointed. Without waiting for him, she picked up her plate and her mug of tea and marched out to the lounge. With somewhat bashful expressions, Aahil followed her there.

"Listen, Lina. I'm sorry, Okay? But my family is so damn fixated on fixing me this time around that I can't help but have my guard up all the damn time."

"Can you blame them, though? You do need some fixing but unfortunately, no one but you can do that for yourself."

"Not with this again." He placed the cushion on his face and even though Alina was mad at him, she couldn't help but laugh.

"They are actually doing this to prevent a cluster-fuck."

He pulled the cushion down so that he could narrow his eyes at her. "Now what is that supposed to mean?"

"Ali Jatoi, Vaneeza's fiance. You do know your family and the Jatois go way back. Business rivalry or whatever. They want you to steer clear of them."

"As if I'm dying here for Vaneeza to take me back or have clandestine meetings with me in the bushes behind Jatoi Residence. You all need to give it a rest. I'm not pulling anything irrational."

"You rammed your car in a pole the night she got engaged, Aahil. It's hard to believe you won't pull anything like that."

"I lost control! How many times do I have to repeat that?" He didn't look pleased in the slightest. Alina took a sip from her mug and gave him a searching look.

"So, you won't go after Vaneeza?"

"No."

"No male ego involved?"

"Not in the slightest. I'm over it, Lina. I can spell it for you all if that's what it takes for you people to believe me."

She nodded but chose not to say anything. Aahil waited because he had known this woman almost all his life. She still had things to say.

"It shouldn't be that hard to believe that I've closed this chapter of my life, Lina. Vaneeza went behind my back and got engaged to Ali. Even if she was done with me, with us, that was not a way to end things. She could've waited for me to get back. But she didn't. That's exactly where you know the last four years of your life went to waste. And there's no way to get back."

This was the first time he opened up about this fiasco, albeit a little. The anguish on his face as he said that pricked Alina's heart, so much that she shifted in her seat so that his head rested on her shoulder.

"You know that I love you right?"

"Not enough for you to tell me you find me as sexy as I find you."

She chuckled but her expression turned serious soon after.

"Say it, Lina. I know you're dying to."

He said without looking up at her. Alina sighed. "For how long have you known Vaneeza?"

He remained silent and then mumbled. "Years."

"And for how long were you two dating?"

"More than four years."

Alina nodded. "If I'm not wrong, straight after that shit-fest."

He didn't have to ask her to elaborate on what shit-fest she was talking about. Life and attitudes don't change out of the blue. Something almost always happens. He wasn't always a too-cool-to-care cynical asshole. His family wasn't always preventing his imminent downfall. But life happens when you least expect it to.

His silence proved Alina's point. She held his hand. He didn't jerk it away. That was an opening. "You were in a bad phase at that time. Everyone wanted you to pull yourself together and get back to your life. You obviously didn't want to. That time, Vaneeza was the only person who didn't force you to do it. She was cool with your baggage and emotionally closed-off nature. That was the reason that you rushed into a relationship with her. You didn't want a constant reminder of what you'd lost and how to get it back, which almost everyone around you made sure to tell you. Everyone but Vaneeza. She put up with your shit and you loved that. She didn't expect much and you loved that. She was okay with you being a loser and you loved that. But you—"

"Didn't love her." Aahil completed her sentence. Alina gave him a solemn smile and nodded. Both of them stayed in comfortable silence for a while. It was broken by Aahil only. "Did you just psychoanalyze mine and Vaneeza's relationship?"

"I did. Mahad is of the view that I shouldn't. He says it's useless when you can certainly afford to hire a professional to do that for you."

"Indirectly he wants to say that I need a shrink."

"That only he can confirm. Leave me out of it." She pulled away from him and opened her phone. Aahil was probably still processing what she'd told him. Food for thought. Alina mused as she scroll her Instagram but stopped at a particular post.

khanshireen25 Work is work, for the most part. But in rare instances, it becomes a journey on its own, a learning experience where you find that your whole life is getting reorganized. Some projects are that powerful to make you sit back and ponder upon your whole life's work and those are the very stories that make this profession worth it. "Kolachi" is one of those rare projects I was honored to work on. This is a story of you and me, all of us who are born and raised in this city. Those who come from someplace else but now it is their home. Those who never feel they belong to it but still call it home. It's not just the story of a city, it is also the story of us. The world we have within ourselves. And as I reflect back on this journey, I find one person who deserves the credit for making this experience worthwhile for not just me but for every person involved. The person who didn't just pen down the script and give directions to what we were doing behind the camera, but who also was the life and breath behind Kolachi. The person I got to learn a lot from. Osama, my child, you are a magician and I can't wait for the world to see the spell you've conjured once again. Forever in love with the moment I agreed to do this project with you. That must've been that right moment they can't stop raving about in philosophy."

"She seems enamored by him. This guy never fails." Aahil commented and that pulled Alina out of the spell she found herself trapped in while reading the caption. She swiped the photos, exclusive on-shoot shots, and most of those featured Osama and Shireen.

"She's of his mother's age. Don't make everything so crude."

Aahil shrugged his shoulders. "Not the point I was trying to make, Lina. Hasn't it always been his thing? The geek looks always work with the ladies. You should know—"

"Shut up!" Alina pushed him away and got up.

"You're leaving already?" Aahil asked, still lazying around the couch. "Stay for dinner. We can hit your favorite restaurant."

She shook her head. "I already have plans."

"With whom?"

Before she could grace him with a snide remark, her phone rang. A devilish smirk appeared on her face. Aahil didn't need to ask whom she had plans with.

"You finally got time for your friend, hun, Mahad." She spoke into the phone she had put on the speaker. Aahil pushed the cushion back on his face making her chuckle.

"I did. Mad hectic day, Lina. But good thing we managed to bag the deal."

"Really? Congratulations!"

"You do know that it's his father and grandfather who must've done all the negotiation." Aahil drawled. Mahad, who was about to thank Alina, stopped. Alina looked between her phone and Aahil with concealed mirth.

"You're at his place, Lina? Cheating on me?"

"Yes!"

"What the hell?!"

Aahil and Alina both exclaimed together. Mahad's reply was a hearty laugh.

"I'm tired of both of you." Alina sounded done.

"You're never tired of me. I'm your ride-or-die friend, right? And I always take you out for dinner." Mahad informed.

"That's useless point-scoring—"

"And I just shared my mother's food with you. You know I don't give just anyone this luxury. Also, I always make sure to let you know how hot you're."

Alina didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She could sense Mahad was gearing up for a retort. She had to prevent that. "Okay, Mahad you do know where to pick me from. I'm hanging up now."

She didn't listen to what he had to say and cut the call. Aahil smirked as he got up and stood close to his vinyl collection.

"You can join us. Will be a nice impromptu hangout."

He shook his head, a Bob Dylan number already playing on the turntable. "You know this little conversation we just had, that's my limit for standing Lashari."

"I will never understand why you both are always ready to rip each other a new one. Anyways, he's not far from here so I better get moving."

She came close to him and hugged him. Aahil reciprocated it, with a smile on his face. Genuine, heartfelt, nothing fabricated about it. Alina was one of the few people who were allowed in his space. One of each others' closest friends, as she had aptly said. She left soon after. Aahil rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes as Bob Dylan's voice filled up the lounge.

𝄞

"Another elite circus."

Sila was busily going through the last operations checklist when Talal's voice reached her. She tucked her hair behind her ear and turned to him. He was eyeing the dying commotion with an impassive mask on.

"I see you're in your element." She handed him the list. He peered his eyes away from the main event and gave it a cursory look. Handing it back to her, his face once again contorted into the scowl he had always on whenever they had to cover an event overflowing with money, which was quite a lot.

The event management company both Sila and Talal worked for, AJ events, was pretty popular in the elite circle of not only Karachi but also the whole of Pakistan. Though their operations were mainly confined to the biggest metropolis of the country, Ajwa Jadoon, the owner of the business never shied away from challenges. The reason why she was so successful in whatever she got her hands on. Her Lahore-based team had recently managed a famous award show and it was the talk of the town for a while.

"Seriously Sila, don't you get tired of the obvious disparity of it all? The divide on the basis of money becomes so glaringly obvious in these events. Those who are rich are filthy loaded and adding to their off-shore vaults with every passing day and those like us are always going to do their work and make the ends meet. The graph keeps going for us as well but in the downward direction."

Sila sighed and eyed Talal with a resigned look on her face. She respected this guy for the kind of hard work he put in. Just like her, he was a perfectionist and that made them a perfect team Ajwa preferred in the events her company managed. But he was also bitter and always complaining. Sila didn't mind that. The social divide was indeed obvious when you cover the distance from one side of the bridge to the other, Pull kay uss paar. But moaning about it during work hours didn't bode well with their professionalism.

"I think this event should be our priority at this moment. I mean yes, whatever you've just said is legit, Talal but pondering upon it in the middle of our job isn't going to solve much. If anything, it will only make us slack. " Sila gave him a smile and Talal reciprocated with one of his own. "Straight to the business, Sila Nouraiz. You know why Ajwa always pairs us up? Because she knows too well we are not only compatible as work partners but also you can always ask me to shut it without explicitly asking for it."

"That's my charm. Now back to work, shall we?"

He didn't need to be told twice. In no time, his professional front was intact much to Sila's relief. This part of her job she loved. What she wasn't really looking forward to was reporting to Mr. Shakeel Saeed, the operations Manager for AJ events and her direct Boss. He had to be here, as per his job description but he had an emergency at home so it was Sila and Talal who had to take care of everything, not that they weren't used to it. How Shakeel Saeed was still thriving in AJ events was beyond Sila's understanding, as Ajwa had a keen eye for slackers.

It was when the last hour rolled in, Sila and Talal ran a scrutinizing look around, and what they came across filled them with relief and happiness.

Another successful event under their belt. Sila was walking toward her car. It was a long day. She just needed her bed and some sleep. Her phone pinged in her hand and she immediately checked it. Talal was right behind her, immersed in his phone as well.

"Ajwa has called a staff meeting on Monday."

Sila had already seen the content of the incoming message. It was a WA text from Ajwa's assistant. Sila hated the unprofessionalism of it all but emails in the Pakistani workplace context were redundant because someone like Shakeel would always skip with the excuse that he didn't check his inbox. Did she say incompetent? Yes.

"Let's see what this is about."

Sila mumbled as they came to their respective vehicles and got inside. Monday wasn't far and not was Wadia House from this venue in Defense. She just hoped her piece of a junk car would operate. Because she did need rest after such a hectic day.

𝄞

As soon as Haleh got out of her Uber ride outside of Wadia House, her face lit up seeing the already parked car there. Forgetting all about her editor and his shitty attitude toward her piece, she almost sprinted inside. Uncle Jeff beamed at her, knowing she would've figured it by now that who was there. Haleh smiled back at him. His record was playing Talat Mahmood today.

She walked the length of the lounge. Dinbanu Auntie was against making the guests sit anywhere other than the aptly furnished and decorated drawing room. They didn't have guests over often so the door of the drawing room was almost always closed. It was ajar now and Haleh could already hear Dinbanu's calculated but genuine laugh, a rare occurrence and only one person she knew who could do that.

"Baba Jaan!"

She exclaimed with the happiness of the world. The other person wasn't less elated to see her. Standing up without the help of his cane, Baba Jaan opened his arms for her and she was immediately surrounded by fatherly warmth.

For any onlooker, it would make a perfect picture of familial love. Probably a grandfather and his beloved granddaughter but that was the unusual aspect of this bonding. Baba Jaan was Haleh's guardian when she was a minor. He was the one who took care of all her basic needs, paid for her education, and gave her the luxury of calling him whenever she needed anything. But he wasn't related to her. Not by blood anyway.

Haleh's parents were good people, and that's about those, they often end up tragic. Haleh was ten, and the recollection of that day was vague in her memory. But her frantic mother left her at Wadia House after telling something to Dinbanu Auntie in hushed whispers. The next day, Haleh was taken to her house by Dinbanu, but nothing about that journey was normal.

Haleh came home to her parents' funeral.

That day, at the age of ten, she lost her whole world. But also that day, at the age of ten, she got two people as a permanent fixture in her life; Baba Jaan and Dinbanu Auntie. One became her guardian as per her mother's last wish, and the other gave her a place to live in her home. From that day onward, Haleh had known both of these people as her family. This definition expanded when she got Sila, Rameen, and Amal as roommates and her best friends.

"Do you have any idea how long has it been, Baba Jaan? You really didn't miss me and it shows."

He chuckled at her complaint and caressed her hair. "I visited last month. It hasn't been that long but it's good to know my beloved daughter misses me this much."

She mocked-glared at him but then it turned into a smile. He made her sit next to him and only then her eyes darted toward the various shopping bags and cartons. Haleh rolled her eyes. "I've always told you, Baba Jaan, all this," She pointed at the gifts he has brought for not just her but all of them. "Isn't needed." Rameen, Sila, and Amal weren't back from work yet otherwise they'd also be huddled here. All of them loved and respected Baba Jaan as their own elder.

"I love spoiling my daughters and you can't put a stop to it. This is something I'll never listen to no matter how much I'm accused of favoritism and special treatment when it comes to you."

"Ahan? And who complains about that?"

Baba Jaan's eyes lit up as he smiled. "There is one. But that's about it. Now you tell me how is it going. That editor of yours is still giving you trouble?"

That brought her back to the element. She had to tell him everything happening in her life; a habit formed over the years. Dinbanu looked at the duo in front of her with a smile on her face. Her friend's decision of giving the responsibility of her daughter to this old man was a wise decision, a job done right, that was another case that Baba Jaan never took Haleh as mere responsibility. For him, she was part of his family.

"Haleh is right, Uncle. Your visits to the city have become few and far between."

Haleh nodded, thankful that someone was there to back her.

"Karachi's running life was never for me, Dinbanu. I understood that very early on but had to put up with it because of the business. Now, I've grown old. Almost all the matters are being handled by my son and grandsons. I come to the city only when there is an important deal and today was one such day. But now that my Beti has complained, I will make sure I visit more often."

His voice became tender as he gave Haleh an assuring smile and that was enough for her. Never the one to ask for more than necessary, she got up. "Has Sakeena Baji prepared the tea? I should go and check. You didn't inform us you were going to be here today or else I'd have baked a carrot cake for you. Ask Banu Auntie. I'm getting good at it."

She rambled on as she walked out of the room. Dinbanu and Baba Jaan's fond eyes watched her. She was the embodiment of happiness in that instance. That was Haleh. She needed grand things to be happy. Just a little smudge of love and she was good to go. More than good.

𝄞

Shireen Khan's residence at Clifton spoke of her as a person. She wasn't just the face of excellence in the 1980s Pakistan's drama industry, she was also an author and philanthropist. Her books were popular in literary circles and her NGO was always ready to help in any capacity.

But more than all that, her personality was enough to make anyone her fan, the reason that even though she was no longer a regular face in the dramas, she still enjoyed quite a fan following in the young and older generations alike.

She was picky when it came to the projects she chose to work on but those always had an impact. Her latest work, Kolachi, an upcoming web series on an OTT platform, was her favorite thing these days and that was the reason that she had the whole cast and crew invited to her place for high tea.

He took a sip of tea as his eyes took in the vintage artwork on the wall. Shireen's house didn't have one corner where art wasn't scattered in any form. He wondered what a beautiful way of living it is; surrounding yourself with what you love.

"I see my favorite wall in this house has gotten your attention."

He turned around and found Shireen coming toward him. She stood at some distance, eyeing the same piece he was examining earlier. "Do you know what the most fascinating thing about this is?" She pointed to the wall. Osama looked at her questionably.

"These aren't bought from expensive galleries. Nah. All of these pieces are from local artists. Gives you an idea this country is overflowing with talent."

Osama was impressed. The artwork was really praiseworthy. He had to agree with Shireen, this country sure had a fair share of talent but, unfortunately, undiscovered.

"We need more young people like you and it's just a matter of looking for them. We will get surprised."

That brought a smile to his face, almost shy, but knowing that she was right. He was humble but fully aware of his brilliance behind the camera, a combination he was often told was lethal.

"You put too much faith in me."

"Ah, shut it, Osama. You know I'm not exaggerating. By the way, I told you to bring someone along. Don't tell me you're one of those who date their work and then given the chance, marry it as well."

He shook his head with a slight chuckle. In the absence of his glasses, the rich brown of his eyes was more than evident. His eyes exude his genius, bright and inquisitive. "I'm afraid I'm actually one of those."

"Never thought I'd say this to you but I'm disappointed." Shireen's disapproving look only deepened his smile.

"There are more pieces in my husband's study on the second floor. Feel free to check that. In fact, I'll let Safdar show you around."

She glanced around in search of her husband when Osama stopped her.

"Mrs. Khan?"

Shireen turned to him. "Call me Shireen Auntie, Osama. What's with these formalities?"

"Noted, Shireen Auntie. Actually, before I go to your husband's study, I was hoping to have you sign something for me."

"I hope it's another of your project."

Both of them laughed lightly at her joke. Osama excused himself and went to the driveway of her house. Shireen stood there, waiting for him when he came back with a book in his hand, that must've been in his car.

"Here."

He handed it to her. Shireen's face showed her surprise. "That is my own book."

"I know. I have a friend who's a huge fan of yours. I mean for years when were in high school. That long. I once promised her that if I ever got to work with you I'll make it possible for her to meet you and get a signed copy of one of your books."

"Oh my! That sounds so adorable. You should've brought her here. She lives in Karachi doesn't she?"

"She does but unfortunately, I couldn't bring her. We are not close anymore but a promise is a promise and since I have a chance, I thought why not."

With that, he gave her the pen he had brought with the book. Shireen not only signed the book but wrote a message as well.

"This friend of yours surely has a name, doesn't she?"

She asked and Osama slowly mumbled it, there was something about the way he said it that made Shireen give him a searching look but he shook his head and took the signed book from her with a thank you.

𝄞

As soon as she opened the door to her room, Vaneeza found Zoya sprawled on her bed, skimming through a fashion magazine. The commotion interrupted her ongoing activity and she looked up at Vaneeza with a raised eyebrow. Vaneeza ignored her stare and placed the shopping bags on her bed close to Zoya.

"Auntie told me you were out with Ali."

Vaneeza nodded. "Yes, Ali's family isn't planning on keeping our engagement a secret for long. Asfar's wedding is around the corner. We'll attend it as an official couple, hence all the arrangements." Vaneeza gestured around. Zoya's eyes widened but then she got control of her surprise.

"Asfar Naqvi you mean?"

"Who else, Zoya? We all have only one Asfar in our circle."

"Then you should also know that Asfar is friends with almost everyone in Aahil's circle as well and surely all of them will be there."

Vaneeza paused. But then, just like Zoya, she hid her surprise as well.

"It slipped my mind but I think even if Aahil and his friends are there, it will not be that bad."

"If you think so, then sure. It's your call to make, after all."

Zoya assured her. Vaneeza opened her mouth and then closed it. At the last, she blurted out what she wanted to do since the moment Zoya mentioned him.

"Did you see him? How is he? Is he doing fine after whatever happened?"

Zoya's glare pierced into her and Vaneeza looked away. "No, I haven't. If you must know I'm not his friend."

"But you did want to jump his bones once upon a time."

Zoya knew this was coming. She closed her eyes. She needed strength for this conversation. "You weren't even dating him back then, Vaneeza. And for fuck's sake it was a harmless crush. We all get those. I got over it and you should too. Especially now that he isn't yours to get protective of. And as far as the question of him doing fine is, I don't know but I do hope he is and I also hope that he moves on soon."

It was Vaneeza's turn to glare at her. Zoya matched its intensity. "Very well, you don't even want him to move on and here you're, just came back from a shopping spree with your fiance. Seriously, Vaneeza?"

"I just...I..."

"You just what? You know what? I'm glad that you decided to break off whatever this was between you two. You needed to take a step back."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Vaneeza was also angry now. Zoya might be her best friend but sometimes she was too blunt for her own good.

"It means that you never loved him and he never loved you. I don't know his reasons for staying in this relationship with you but yours were always clear, Vaneeza. The flaws you stated when he came to see you on your engagement night, all those things you found were not workable anymore and you needed to leave, he always had those traits. When you two got into a relationship, he wasn't who he once used to be. He had his own issues but you still clung on. Wonder why? Because you didn't want him as he was, you wanted to fix whatever you thought was wrong with him. You know in those shitty romance novels and movies, where the guy falls in love and the woman fixes everything that is wrong with him? You wanted to be that woman for Aahil for your own self-satisfaction. That's why he was accepted by you will all that was wrong with him. You only took a step back when did you realize that no, you couldn't fix him because he didn't want to be fixed and there, the attraction went poof. Nada, zilch."

The slap of reality was too much for Vaneeza. She pointed at the door and seethed. "Get lost. I don't want to see your face anytime soon."

Zoya was already picking up her bag. She was done with this shit. Aahil hadn't tried contacting Vaneeza even once after her engagement. But Vaneeza wanted to know about him. This was a recipe of disaster in the making. Zoya could see it.

𝄞

The moment Sila entered her room, she knew something was wrong. She looked around and with each passing second, her astonishment reached a new level.

"Who sorted my work table?"

"Who did my laundry?"

"And is that Amal's stash of Toblerone? She wouldn't give it to even her firstborn. What is going on?"

As if on cue, her three best friends appeared at the door. Rameen rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulder. "Keep me out of it. I was sorting my cupboard and your work table was in no way messier so I thought let's do it as well."

Sila's suspicious gaze zeroed in on the other two. Haleh gave her a sickly sweet smile and Amal came to sit beside her.

Yeah, totally not suspicious.

"What is it?"

Sila asked once again. Haleh sighed, pushed Amal out of Sila's side, and perched herself there. "Sila, the last week was too hectic for all of us. You know, not even the time to do proper skin care."

"You managed to do that every night, Haleh."

Amal's truthfulness rubbed Haleh the wrong way. She jabbed her with her elbow and gestured for her to stay quiet.

"Ignore her. The workload has gotten to her head. As I was saying, a mad hectic week. No time for anything else."

"Come to the point, Haleh." Rameen was already bored.

"Shut up, Reen. It's not even about you."

"Thank God for small mercies."

Haleh had no choice but to ignore her. "As I was saying, again. The week was so full of work that I forgot to buy the online tickets for the Zarar Hassan concert at Beach View Club and—"

"No. Not happening." Sila didn't let her complete. It made sense, why they'd go out of their way for her. Haleh hated laundry but she did all of Sila's. Nothing could make Amal part ways with her Teblerone but she gave the whole stash to Sila. Bloody suckers.

"Come on, Sila. What's even the point of your working with the elite class on a daily basis when you can't even pull some strings for your friends?"

Amal cried and Haleh nodded along. "And it's not like you have to bribe someone, Astaghfirullah. Zarrar himself gave you this lifelong offer. Whenever you need tickets for his concerts, you can ask him directly. You have the guy's number for crying out loud. If there was someone else at your place, say me or Amal, not including Reen because I hate her at this moment, we wouldn't even think twice before ringing the guy and here you're, acting all high and mighty. Is a phone call more important than us? Hein?"

Amal was impressed by Haleh's emotional speech. She'd give her a pat on the back but later. Rameen already knew what Sila's next course of action would be. These two tricksters were a pro at having their way and Sila couldn't say No to them for long.

"Please, Sila! You know I love Zarrar's concerts. A true number puller after maybe...um Atif Aslam. I want to go! You can even ask him to charge us. We ran out of time but not money."

Sila closed her eyes in resignation. This arrangement with Zarrar Hassan always came to bite her. She was no fan of the guy. Surely, his music was nice but Sila always maintained that his debut album was IT. Some of those melodies were so hauntingly beautiful that Sila felt she was in love with an album if that was possible but all his works after that were a hit-and-miss, at least for Sila. But his debut album had granted him a cult fan following and those who still vibed with his music also enjoyed his concerts, case in point, Amal and Haleh, resident Zarrat Hassan fangirls.

It was probably five years back, Zarrar's debut solo show, and the AJ events team was given the opportunity to manage it. It was Sila's first event as their employee. She bumped into Zarrar during the preparations. Both had the same worry, the same fear; failure in their first-ever performances. They gave each other the thumbs up and wished good luck. It was the working of fate and their hard work that Sila's first event was a huge success and that meant Zarrar's first concert was also a win. They met backstage after the show was over. A friendship formed instantly. That time, Zarrar gave her this offer, if she ever needed to get tickets to his concerts, she can always ask him and even if he has to arrange something at the last moment, he would.

That was another thing that Sila was sure she would never have to use this offer.

Not on Amal and Haleh's watch, it seemed.

She sighed loudly as she took her phone out of her purse, already scrolling her contacts for Zarrar's number.

Amal and Haleh only did a loud whoop when she was out of the room, to the lawn to make this call peacefully.

𝄞

"I'm telling you, he's insecure of me. I mean he has every reason to be."

Alina laughed lightly. It was her fault that she asked Mahad why Aahil was always so done with him and that was akin to giving Mahad ammunition for professing self-love. He was citing every reason he could think of about Aahil's disdain toward him and almost all those reasons had something to do with his own good looks or everything he thought was better than Aahil. Yes, her fault.

"Mahad, you are going to get full with all these lies. At least have some regard for the money you will be giving out in a while." Alina pushed his plate in front of him.

"You wanted me to tell you the reasons why I'm better than Aahil and I did. What's there to complain about? Also, allow me to be myself. All day I had to act professionally for the sake of it. I hate important meetings. Don't tell my father and grandfather, though. They think I'm the most hard-working guy they've ever seen."

"They also think you're the most behaved—"

She stopped abruptly. Mahad noticed the change in her body language and followed her gaze. He whistled under his breath. The incoming party had also seen them. They chose the table behind Alina who had gone back to her plate but was no longer invested in her food as before.

"Wow, look at that. Can I cut this tension with a knife?"

Mahad remarked, earning a glare from her.

"Son of a gun didn't acknowledge me other than a slight nod. But poor Lina didn't even get that."

"Mahad, shut up." She hissed. It was already bad enough and he wasn't helping. This was where Aahil was better than him. All his teasing aside, he always knew when to shut up, something Mahad always struggled with. She'd make sure Mahad gets to know so that the next time Osama Siddiqui walked into a restaurant she was already having dinner in, Mahad Lashari would know to be subtle.

"Who's this woman with him, though? Never seen her before. They are very professional so far, if you are interested in knowing since you can't crane your neck back and give yourself away. Don't worry, Lina, I can be of use here."

"I don't want to know!" She whispered-yelled. Mahad's eyes shone with excitement. He was enjoying it.

"Did Sam just hold her hand? Wow. Always knew his good boy looks were a facade. Woooo, Lina, he just kissed it. Can you hear me? And now he is moving toward her to kiss her on the lips. What do you reckon, will there be tongue or not?"

Alina choked on her water. Mahad's evil grin was intact. God, he hated this guy sometimes. Wiping her face, she got up. "I'm done and waiting for you in the parking lot. Be quick."

He nodded obediently as if he listened to her for a living. Alina turned on her heels and in doing so, got a direct view of the table to the side. Osama and the woman were discussing an open script while sipping their coffees. There was a professional undertone to their camaraderie but there was also an easygoing energy. She glanced at their hands. Osama's rested on the table, while the woman's were in her lap. She knew Mahad was lying but she still rebuked herself for even looking. She shook her head as she made her way out of the restaurant.

The fresh air was welcoming as she stood close to Mahad's car, waiting for him. In the coffee house next to the restaurant, a soothing tune was playing. Taylor Swift? She couldn't tell with conviction. She could tell nothing with conviction, maybe not even about her own erratic heartbeat.

That's when she felt a presense behind her. One step. Two steps. "Mahad, I swear to—" But then she stopped. No.

"Alina."

She slowly turned around. Yes. "Osama. Hi."

"Hey."

Monosyllable response. She was used to it. She was getting used to it. "How are you and how—"

He didn't let her complete her sentence. Extending his arm, he showed her something in his hand. A book? Her favorite book by her favorite author, who happened to be her favorite actress as well.

With shaky hands, she took it from him and opened the cover. A surprised voice came from somewhere, came from here.

"It's signed and there's a message as well." She mumbled.

He nodded. "Yes."

"But you...I...I mean..."

He took a step back, ready to leave. Alina's hold tightened on the book. She wished it were his hand she was holding on to instead. Why wasn't his hand?

"I made a promise to you and between the two of us, both of us know who never breaks those."

With that, he was gone. Alina watched him go. It wasn't the first time.

Getting inside his car, Osama watched her standing in the parking lot while he drove away. It wouldn't be the first time.

The

Alina blinked back a tear. Suddenly the whole world had gone back into motion. She could see Mahad coming toward her. She could now recognize the song from the coffee house as well.

Because I dropped your hand while dancing

Left you out there standing

Crestfallen on the landing

Champagne problems

𝄞

"If you think I don't know what you are trying to do, you are really mistaken, Mrs. Misam."

Aahil grumbled as he swiveled the steering. Adan rolled her eyes at his accusation but didn't do anything to correct him.

She took the kids to his place in the morning and they spent the whole day there. Aahil was, as usual, glad to see the kids. Her? Not so much and he didn't keep that sentiment to himself. Now they were, going back home, in his car and he was driving as if there wasn't a long list of fender-benders to his name. The kids. You wouldn't find him slipping when it was about Hanah, Arsh, and Zain.

"Now what got you so silent? Don't you have anything to say? What about a remark or two on my living arrangements? Why did Baba give me the most expensive apartment he owns in Karachi? Anything?"

"I like the drapes."

Adan replied with a sickly sweet smile. He wouldn't be able to provoke her today. She had vowed to give it up for the time being. Getting him on the line was more important. This was the new strategy they were adopting. Be nice and play nasty.

"And I hate this. You need to change your tactics."

He wasn't pleased. But Adan didn't care much. Aahil wanted to swear but couldn't. He was the only favorite Chachu and favorite Mamu and he intended to keep it that way only.

"Now why the hell is this traffic jam?" He whined. Arsh looked away from the tablet in his hand. "Chachu, there's a concert at Beach View Club. I think that's why?"

"Whose concert? Atif Aslam?"

Before the kids could reply, he looked outside at a billboard and his confusion immediately cleared. That was another case that annoyance was replaced with concealed rage.

𝄞

"Can this traffic move the hell on?" Haleh looked outside the window anxiously. Rameen shook her head at her impatience.

"I still don't know why we couldn't take my care. Why Sila's Chand Gaari?"

"Maybe because you hate it when someone else drives your car instead of you and everyone and their mother knows that Sila is the best driver than all of us combined?" Haleh informed Amal much to Amal's dismay. Sila's reply was a known smile which soon turned into horror. All the vehicles around them had started moving ahead but hers didn't. It couldn't.

"Fucking hell, Sila! Don't tell me this Dabba has decided to ditch us. That too in the middle of traffic? When we have a concert to get to?"

Sila ignored Amal's commentary and kept on trying but when did her car cooperate when she desperately wanted it to? Never.

"Sila the driver in the car behind us is getting desperate!" Haleh informed her.

"I'm trying!" She shouted and as soon as she did, the desperate ass in the car behind placed his finger on the horn and kept on pressing.

"Oh my god!" Rameen covered her ears, always sensitive to the noise. Sila breathed through her nose, in an attempt to calm herself but the mixture of frustration and rage couldn't be subsided and that mothertrucking asshole still HADN'T STOPPED HONKING!

"Is he mad? What the hell!" Amal shouted.

Sila had had enough. Getting out of the car, she closed the door with a bang, not caring that her delicate Chaand Gaari could get offended and shed the door altogether.

She stopped in front of the driver's seat of the car and miraculously, the honking stopped. She hoped it was because his own ears had started bleeding.

The window rolled down and an equally annoyed Aahil glared at her.

"Did you just today discover that cars have a honking system? Or your parents didn't let you play with it in your childhood so you're going at it for old times' sake?"

He also got out of his car. This couldn't be done while he was sitting inside and she was standing outside. Even playing field. Or the side of the road, whatever.

"First you tell me, did you get stuck in Karachi's traffic for the first time or do you love being the center of attention so much that you thought this was the best idea for it? Congratulations, we all see you. Go back to your car so we all can move the hell along." He pointed at her Dabba and made a face. "Wow. That's your car? My condolences."

Sila looked inside his car at the amused audience. "Is this your relative?"

Adan and the kids nodded. Sila grimaced. "My apologies."

"That car should also apologize to all the cars of the world because what is that?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "A car bought from hard-earned money. Something tells me you wouldn't know about that even if I spelled it for you that too in sections!"

"Well, I can do something for you. If you spent your hard-earned money on... that then you should either fire your financial adviser or get a change of profession."

"Generous of you. What do you do in such a situation? Either fire your father or get a new surname."

Both of them breathed in the same air. Rage, frustration, and the need to tear the one person a new one.

"Madam! Sir! You are both causing quite a spectacle!"

A traffic warden reached their side and stood between them breaking their intense stare-down.

"People need to get to their destinations. Why don't you take it to your home?"

Their necks whipped in his direction at the same time. "WHAT?"

The constable rolled his eyes. "Abay! Take your husband and wife feud to your bedroom you imbeciles! Do whatever you want to do there!"

"Him?"

"Her?"

Both of them looked equally disgusted.

"I'll prefer to ram my car in a pole before being in a room with her."

"And I'll prefer to hurl myself into the Arabian Sea before getting to a room with him."

"What do you mean—"

"WE ARE NOT HUSBAND AND WIFE YOU DUMBFUCK."

They shouted at the same time and so in sync they were that they immediately felt even more disgusted.

"Sila! Can you please wrap up your argument? We are getting late for the concert!" Haleh shouted from inside the car. Sila nodded, moving away but not before glaring in Aahil's way.

"The car is pathetic but the music taste is even more pathetic. Hard-earned money and Zarrar Hassan's concert. The joke writes itself."

Sila had heard his remark, the reason why she immediately turned back.

"Oh hello! My money, my car! What is to you whether I go to a Zarrar Hassan concert or Tahir Shah's?"

"Go to hell for all I care!"

"Got to see you. Hell has got nothing on THIS."

"And I—"

"SHUT UP!"

The collective screams came from both cars. Aahil and Sila gave each others departing blazing stares as they got inside their respective vehicles. Miraculously, Sila's Dabba behaved and she drove away from there as fast as she could. Aahil also followed suit. Even though their destinations were in the same area, the routes were different and as the two cars went their separate ways, the air behind them was filled with so much. This was their first meeting but it wasn't, surely going to be the last.

𝄞