Amid the city that never sleeps, adjacent to the M.A Jinnah Road, Parsi Colony couldn't share the sentiments of the rest of Karachi. The locality slept on the pillow of tranquility, calling it a night, and would assimilate itself into the city's known hustle only with the crack of the drawn.

Inside the Wadia House, Uncle Jeff's recorder had been put to rest a while back and that alone could vouch for the fact that it was time to say hello to the dream world. The music player was the alarm for the residents of the house, a clock they followed to the t, without them being aware of it.

Amal shifted to her side as she comfortably settled her laptop on her lap. She had always prided herself as a true Karachiite so living up to that statement, she was wide awake even though she had an 8 AM lecture to get to in a few hours. But was it her true Karachi spirit keeping the sleep at bay?

Well, about that.

The tabs opened in front of her begged to differ.

Amal didn't like to be on a moral high ground, she was not fond of heights anyway. The standard package of being curious about someone was in front of her, the digital age and its pros and cons. Every person is one Google search away to become a known stranger.

But this person didn't feel like a stranger even before she looked him up or rather his work on the internet. What she came across was enough to transfix her.

His name led her to his author's Amazon profile and there she found his book.

My beautiful Jaffa

An ode to a home I've never known

The cover was of a balconied house in the port city, nestled between two buildings of modern architecture but somehow, whispering of its Palestinian identity loud and clear. Amal smiled lightly as it filled her heart with nothing but tenderness. She clicked on the book and waited for it to download to her Kindle. She also made a mental note to look for it in the bookstores she knew around Saddar.

The subject matter of his other two books was a stark contrast to his debut, but both were equally intriguing, the journalist in him shone through the investigative nature of the volumes. Curiosity was the bane of his existence but the saving grace of his profession, as he had put it as the caption of one of his Instagram posts. His account was dedicated to the themes he was interested in as a writer and a journalist. And he was fascinated by the cities and their histories. Karachi was one of those.

"Stalker alert."

The voice from her side startled her. Slowly, Amal turned to her best friend and narrowed her eyes. Haleh abandoned the book she was reading and perched on the foot of Amal's bed, trying her best to look at her laptop screen.

"It's way past your bedtime." Amal drawled but that earned her a dismissive and rather offensive gesture from Haleh who was now scrolling through Raed's Instagram.

"I get why you were gatekeeping him. He's a catch."

"I WAS not gatekeeping him."

"Really? Then take me along when you meet him next."

"The kids are not allowed there."

"I'm not going to ask what deranged places you two frequent."

"Your candy boy Imran's restaurant."

Haleh stopped a yawn. "Yeah. Gatekeeping, as I said but that's beside the point. Open his Linkedin."

Amal pulled the laptop away from Haleh making her huff angrily. "What? Do I have to remind you just how many guys you got to look through because of me?"

"This is professional!"

"The guy looks like a professional adonis!"

"Doesn't make it any less professional."

Haleh folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. One second passed. Two. Three. She didn't say a word, her gaze stayed unwavering.

At last, with a sigh, Amal caved. "Gah! Okay. But just because you forced me to."

"As if. We are doing it for educational purposes."

"How the fuck?"

"I don't know but it is what it is."

Ignoring Haleh's suppressed or not-so-much evil grin, Amal opened his LinkedIn profile.

"He's from Paterson, NJ," Haleh commented as they looked through the different sections.

"I have eyes, I can see."

"I thought to let you know if you were too engrossed in his profile picture. Bestie duties you know."

"You know what? I think this is enough." Amal proceeded to close the tab when a shriek left Haleh's mouth.

"What?" Amal asked alarmed and as if already knowing what had happened, looked at the logged-in account she'd checked his profile through.

Her profile. Fantastic. Not the side dummy account she'd once made. She was not even logged out.

"Haleh Shams! You have one second to get out of here before I kill you!"

Haleh wasted no time jumping away. She knew Amal's kicks were fatal. "You idiot! You should've logged out or used the other account!"

"Who was desperate like a rabbit on heat?'

"Gross! Rabbits are cute."

"And forever horny."

"AGAIN! Gross! I was just looking out for you as your best friend."

"You are not my anything until further notice! And check your darn phone!"

Haleh grimaced. "It's not mine."

Amal didn't want to think about it. No. No. No.

But there was no point in stalling the inevitable. She looked at her phone and groaned. Haleh took a tentative step forward.

"Is it him? What is he saying?"

Amal's gaze on her was scathing as she showed Haleh her phone screen.

"Awww! He said Hi! Maybe he wants to talk to you."

"He said Hi because we just checked his profile, you dunce!"

Haleh's confusion wasn't her priority at the moment. She composed herself, mustered her courage, and dialed his number.

He picked it up after one ring. Before he could say anything, she blurted. "I swear I wasn't stalking you."

"It was for educational purposes! We are very interested in that. Education is progressive."

Haleh thought it imperative to add. Amal kicked her on the leg making her fall down the bed.

"I hope it provided you with the educational questions you were seeking the answers to."

Raed's bemused voice reached Amal. Haleh had gotten over the violence and sat next to her, attuned to the conversation.

"Hardly. We still don't know if this is the work of genes or if you are just photogenic."

Haleh's whispers were insults to the fine art of secrecy, as had been proven repeatedly. Amal was ready to kick her once more but Raed's laugh through the phone halted her.

"Amal, a gentle reminder that you need to close your mouth."

This time, Haleh's unsolicited advice was enough to cause some damage. So, finally reading things as they were, she beelined out of their room and into Rameen's.

Amal sighed, too mortified to justify what had happened here just now. Raed waited patiently, though.

"I'll see you soon and you can expect a treat as an apology for giving you this show when we meet next."

He chuckled softly. "See you soon, Amal. Good night."

The call ended after that, but not Amal's annoyance and mortification. She dropped herself on the pillow as she heard the voices from the next room. Rameen and Haleh were arguing, color her surprised!

But she didn't get up to resolve it, her best friend deserved Reen's mama-esque rebukes after what she just did.

𝄞

Standing in front of his closet, Sila ran her eyes once more on the lined-up clothes. She sighed and turned to him who was leaning against the wall next to her.

"Should I start calling you My Prince? This monstrosity can give any royal a complex."

"Adan runs a clothing line, a famous one at that. What did you expect?"

"A little room for my stuff? Also, not everything here is Jehan. Try fooling someone else."

Saying that she unlocked her phone stopping at Rameen's number. Aahil looked on confused. "What are you doing?"

"Making sure no one has hijacked my old cupboard. I think it can fit anywhere around here seeing its size."

"It can but it's in the possession of Amal and Haleh, remember?." He was quick to remind her. Sila huffed, clearly annoyed. "Then where am I supposed to keep my things?"

Aahil left the wall and slid the glass partition aside so that all the sections of his wardrobe were in his direct view. "Simple. We need to do some organization."

"When was the last time you did that?"

"When my previous wife left with her stuff."

"Good for her. Me when?"

Aahil didn't reply to that, he was focused on putting aside the clothes no longer in his use. Sila watched the proceeding silently. He kept on adding to the pile when she held his hand to stop him.

"What?"

"That's a branded shirt, for fuck's sake!"

"So? I don't wear it anymore. Hate the color."

"Then why did you buy it?"

His reply was a shrug. Sila wanted to face-palm. Was he serious? "You know what? I should sell this pile and I'll probably be able to buy myself a new car with that money."

"Did you just insinuate abandoning Chaand Gari?"

"She's a done deal. I might buy ten other cars but that beautiful bane of my existence will still be there in the driveway of my future estate."

"Let me guess, it was your first-ever purchase?"

Sila nodded, hanging her clothes in the space just vacated by him. "I saved up for it for months and mind you, it wasn't a stuck-up piece of junk when I bought it."

"I don't doubt it. Knowing you, it's hard to imagine you'd waste your hard-earned money on trash."

"Hey!"

"I was praising your business mind. Give me a break!"

"Whatever." She moved his suits as hers made their way inside and blended in well.

"What was your first purchase or you've always been living off your family's monster money?"

She asked nonchalantly, opening the bottom drawer to deposit her essentials in there. Busy with the task at hand, she hadn't noticed Aahil had paused whatever he was doing for a second.

"Don't tell me it's the latter??"

She looked at him expectantly. He held the box with some of her other things. Then as if it didn't mean much, he shrugged. "You're standing in my first attempt at investment from my own money."

He picked up the box and left the room. Sila's eyes widened as she followed him. "Shut up! This place is yours? Not your father's?"

"It was his technically. But I purchased it from him." And I'm yet to pay half the amount but it never came to that. He's still pissed at me and the money is the least of the reason for it. He thought with a pang in his gut.

His answer was vague but enough to make Sila curious. "It must've cost an arm and a leg."

Aahil shook his head. "It was expensive but not to the extent you're thinking. The deal was between me and Baba. He invested in this place when it was in the initial phase of construction in 2008. He was contemplating ways to use the apartment space a few years after its purchase when I proposed he should sell it to me, instead. The view drew me in."

He opened the box and took her bundle of books out. Sila immediately came to help. "You must've worked your ass off in the States, then."

Aahil didn't meet her eye. "Yeah, I had a part-time job along with other paid assignments."

"What were you studying there?"

She asked matter-of-factly. But she didn't know a simple question would take so long to answer. Aahil got uncharacteristically silent.

"Aahil?"

He came out of his thoughts. Appearing to be lost in his task he mumbled softly. "Liberal arts."

Sila wanted to ask more but he beat her to it. "You read Dan Brown?"

He pointed at the bundle in front of him containing a copy of Origin and The Da Vinci Code. Sila nodded in affirmation. His less-than-subtle attempt at changing the subject hadn't been hidden from her but she let it slide.

"I do but I'll be honest, he's not my favorite."

"The build-up keeps you intrigued but when it all culminates into the last revelation, it's often underwhelming."

"This, exactly."

Aahil seemed satisfied that she shared his opinion. "I see Faiz here as well along with Edward Said. Good to know our taste in books matches."

Sila's eyes went to his bookshelf and sure enough, she could see a volume of Faiz's poetry there along with one of Said's books. Aahil wasted no time in placing her collection along with his. The distinction between new and old blurred in no time. The bookshelf looked oddly in tune.

The next thing that came out of her box was her photo albums. Aahil could say she was quite a hoarder when it came to memories. Most of the photos featured the girls.

"How long have you known them?"

Sila's lips curled into a smile upon seeing the pictures, must've played with a nostalgic cord. "Reen and I have been best friends since school. Then we went to the same university and were in the same class. It was Reen through whom I came to live at Wadia House. The same goes for Amal and Haleh. They knew each other before Amal moved in there. Haleh has been living with Auntie Banu the longest. She was ten when she shifted there after her parent's death. Banu Auntie was friends with her mum and took her in when she had nowhere else to go."

Her eyes darted toward the wall picture ledge. On the corner, there was an intricate collage stand, hanging by a chain. The childhood pictures of Aahil with his friends were there in every frame. Aahil followed her vision. He could see the admiration in her eyes for the collage stand.

"It's more or less the same with us." He pointed toward the ledge.

"Let me guess. It was you and Osama seeing you two are best friends and then you were joined by Mahad and Alina?"

Aahil chuckled as he shook his head. "You'll be surprised to know Osama, even though my best friend, wasn't the first friend I made. That credit goes to this fucker."

He pointed at a picture of him with Mahad. "I sat beside him in kindergarten. Haven't been able to get rid of him since then." His words were mocking but his tone wasn't.

"Then came Osama into the picture some two years later. Lina was the last to join us in high school freshmen year."

"That's cute."

"Nah. My Saali gang is more so."

"You and your Saalis." Sila turned away from the shelf and opened her small bag. "I like the stand, though. Where did you get it from?"

Aahil had already figured that. "I'll get one for you as well."

"That's not what I asked."

A trip to the gift shop close to his parents' place and getting his wife the collage holder. He had already made up his mind. Sila again got busy on her phone upon finding no response from him.

"Ajwa is asking for a meeting."

Sila pocketed her phone as she informed him. Aahil's scowl deepened with each passing second. "Are you going to?"

"I haven't decided yet but I think I will."

He hadn't expected anything else. Knowing Sila and her professionalism, this was a given.

"I'm not going back there to work. Not really. But I want to hear from Ajwa. I gave so much to her company and she didn't waste a moment before discarding me. I want to see for myself what she feels about all that. I'm not the one who reached out, she did. So, it won't harm me to hear from her. The decision, at the end of the day, will be mine alone."

"She's going to try for you to get back with her team."

"Maybe, seeing I'm now associated with Jahangirs."

Aahil shook his head. "More so because her team is shit without you. I've seen it, Sila. Had first-hand experience with it. You are indispensable to that company. If Ajwa has any business acumen in her, she'd have realized it by now."

Sila smiled. His conviction was soothing, otherwise, she didn't have much faith in the corporate world. It was ruthless, she had her fair share of experience with it to come to this conclusion. She had already decided to apply for other vacant posts. She wouldn't take any chances.

"Thank you but we can come to any conclusion only after I've met Ajwa."

Aahil rolled his eyes. "Ah, the joy."

"By the way, you haven't forgotten we are invited to the Siddiquis have you?"

"Got a reminder from Auntie Zeb and Sam both."

"Perfect. I really liked Osama's mum. Can't wait to meet her again."

Aahil smiled at Sila's enthusiasm. "Auntie Zeb has that effect on everyone. Too bad Sam didn't inherit her charm."

"You both are the same then, best friends for a reason."

"I have my reasons. Didn't you know I'm adopted?"

Sila gave him a once-over. "Understandable. There's your family and then there's... you. Can't make this shit up so yeah, I believe it."

Aahil looked about ready for a new battle. Sila stifled her laugh.

"They WISH to reach my level."

"Debatable and not to forget, hypothetical."

"Hey!"

But she had already left for their room, with a determined Aahil behind her while she hummed under her breath.

𝄞

Professional diplomacy was a necessary evil. Mahad had known that since the day he took up the responsibility of his family business here in Karachi. But that didn't mean he couldn't hate it. He hated it when an hour back, Aun Peerzada barged inside his office and reminded him of the promise he made to him a few days back. Mahad had no choice but to accompany him so here they were now, in the head office of that magazine which had Aun at his wit's end for God knows how long, sitting in front of its owner.

"Mr. Peerzada, you reached out and demanded that the article is taken down―"

"And you're yet to oblige." Aun's smile couldn't hide the threat in his words. Mahad sighed. This idiot. He had a problem with what was written in the article but he had been proving every word true, repeatedly.

The old man, Mr. Touqeer Abidi, settled his glasses on his nose and regarded Aun seriously. "We said we'll see what we can do, didn't we?"

"And you want me to believe it? That article needs to go! I know what is going on behind the scene! I'll sue you for it."

"With what exactly?" Mahad muttered under his breath. That earned him a scathing look from Aun. He just shrugged in response. The legal threat was bogus. There was no libel involved no matter whether Aun pretended otherwise. Everything written there was true but Aun's name wasn't mentioned in the article, not for once.

"I brought you along so you could support me, Lashari."

"I'm doing that exactly. Your empty threats will land you in legal proceedings. Stop being a whiny toddler and grow up."

But Aun wasn't done yet, Mahad realized with a sigh. Okay then. He could play his oppression Olympics while Mahad got some work done. Mahad turned back to his emails with the same intention.

"The article was in no way an attempt at sabotage, Mr. Peerzada. That's against our policy. In the past, our magazine published several accolading pieces on your family's philanthropic work. You can't imply we have a hidden agenda."

Mahad's lips curled into a knowing smile but he didn't look up from his phone. Damage control by Mr. Abidi. He was trying to come clean to Aun because he knew his Family's influence but at the same time, he didn't want to take down the article which had given his magazine a tremendous boost in mere weeks. It was a top trend in the country's literary and critical circles.

"If you still need further proof, I can call the writer here and you can confirm that there was no hidden incentive involved."

At the Mahad did look up, with a scowl set on his face. Mr. Abidi's smile had a sycophantic edge to it, the desperation wasn't difficult to spot. He was trying to put the author under the bus. Because he was too greedy for the flare in business but was chicken to face the Peerzadas.

"That won't be necessary." Mahad's curt response was thwarted by Aun who looked more than ready to see the unfortunate writer. "Call him in." He said to Mr. Abidi, ignoring Mahad.

Mr. Abidi was eager to go along. He was already dialing someone on his phone. "She's been already informed about your arrival."

"She?" The gleam in Aun's eyes was disgusting. The moment he came to know the author was a woman, he started taking this whole thing easier than before.

Mahad folded his hand in front of him and eyed the two men with disdain. What a rotten system and more disgusting were the likes of Aun and Mr. Abidi.

The door behind him creaked open. He didn't turn around to look, the perusal of the two men was enough to make anyone uncomfortable. He didn't want to partake in it.

"Haleh, come on in!"

Mr. Abidi pointed to the chair to the side, which, ironically was next to Mahad. The alarms in Mahad's mind blared. In the article, the author was mentioned as H. Shams. Shams? H? God, oh no!

He whipped his head in that direction and swore under his breath. Fucking fantastic. Drumrolls.

Haleh glared at Mr. Abidi and Aun but when her gaze landed on Mahad, she did a double take. Then the fire in her stance intensified, if it were possible, enough to incinerate Mahad to blisters.

"Nepo nappy nallay?" She whispered and for the first time in eternity, her whisper could be termed as that, a whisper. Mahad opened his mouth to contradict her, to tell her she got it all wrong. But she just nodded as she turned to sit down, pulling the chair toward her with more force than necessary. Mahad instantly knew that he was fucked.

"So, Haleh." Aun started.

"It's Miss Shams for you."

Might as well have mauled him. Mahad mused. Aun hadn't thought much of her body language, the idiot that he was.

"First of all, a good article that was."

"Is. And it got your knickers up in a twist, so yes, I don't doubt it."

Even though the situation was serious at best, Mahad couldn't help his chuckle. Aun looked like he had been slapped. Mr. Abidi gave a warning glare to Haleh but she just shrugged.

"But I'm afraid, it has to go."

Aun put aside the niceties. Direct and straight to the point. Haleh leaned forward and in doing so, her shoulder brushed Mahad's. "On what grounds, exactly?"

"It's inappropriate."

"How so? I excluded your sexcapades! They weren't in accordance with our magazine's content preference and also, I needed some ten pages more to fit all that there."

A vein popped on Aun's forehead. He proceeded to get up but Mahad barricaded him from getting even an inch closer to where Haleh sat.

"Easy there." Mahad patted his shoulder, his gesture didn't show any semblance of the fact that he had come here with Aun. The tables had turned the moment the person behind the article walked inside the office.

"Yes, listen to your friend here," Haleh said, her words betraying her apparent nonchalance.

"I'm not his―"

She didn't let him complete and focused on Aun instead. That made Mahad's sour mood worsen.

"Look, Mr. Peerzada. The article has no mention of your or your family's name. Nowhere does it explicitly points toward you or any other person. How will you proceed with the legal claim, is out of my understanding. The article is innocuous at best but if the shoe fits, what do they say? Lace it and do salsa."

"Besides, whether the article stays or not isn't up to her. That authority is with Mr. Abidi here so your outrage is misplaced as it is, Aun."

Mahad pointed toward the owner, who was watching everything unfolding with a relaxed posture. Upon hearing his name, he straightened up but not before canting his eyes at Mahad.

"And if you try to throw a bitch fit here, know that it will be me dragging your ass through courts for violent misconduct."

Haleh warned Aun in a calculated way. Aun looked between her and Mahad. It seemed like if she did that, Mahad would totally support it. Aun got up.

"Very well, then. But remember that this isn't over."

With that, he took long strides and left the room, not once looking back. Mahad might have come with him but it was no rocket science that his allegiance had been shifted.

"Haleh, you should also go back to work and Mr. Lashari, I'll see you around."

Mr. Abidi told them, not wanting to discuss this any further. Haleh looked like she had something to say but then thought against it and obliged wordlessly, but the scowl on her face didn't smooth at all.

Both of them came out of Mr. Abidi's office together.

"Listen―"

"Maniza!" Haleh called, royally ignoring him. A nervous-looking woman was pacing in the corridor. She immediately went to her. Mahad pursed his lips as she filled Maniza in on what had transpired inside, leading her to their workstation.

She was ignoring him.

It filled Mahad with indignation. He wanted to come clean with her but there she was, ready to let this misunderstanding fester.

"Whatever."

He said out loud, enough for Haleh to hear. She narrowed her eyes at him and he glared back. She then closed the door behind her with a bang.

Mahad could only curse under his breath.

𝄞

Contrary to her husband and son's lowkey and somewhat reclusive personalities, Zeb Siddiqui had a thriving social life. She had friends from different age groups and she loved having them over. The vibrancy of it all was fascinating to her.

So, as per the norm, she was once again hosting a party at her place and almost every person from her long list of acquaintances and friends was invited.

Alina leaned against the wooden shelf, sipping her favorite pear and rose mocktail. It had been a while since she attended any event at Siddiqui's. Auntie Zeb didn't know grudges as far as Alina had known the woman but when someone's your son's ex, it tends to get awkward having them at your rather private get-togethers. Alina was also careful to avoid Osama, so for some years, there was hesitation on Zeb's part to invite her and on Alina's part to go there if she did get an invitation.

But not anymore, it seemed. For how long that could go on? It had been years. So, this time around, Zeb personally called Alina and as per that, Alina was there right on time.

And it was going well.

Yeah, for the most part.

Alina was with Mahad, Aahil, and Sila throughout, a damn good company, if she was being honest. But when you are distracted even that can't do much to make you feel better.

As if on their own accord, her eyes found him across the room.

Talking to Rimsha.

That day on the sets, with Rimsha's apology, something shifted between her and Osama. From Osama's side mostly. Maybe it was the realization that Rimsha had come clean with him and he had no reason to keep up his walls around her, shutting her out. He could at least be civil and that's what he did. Alina would've done the same. Rimsha was a good person. Her endless energy and attention to otherwise ignorable details might give her the stereotypical just-a-pretty-face vibe but she was more substance than that and she proved it every single time. She was well-educated, well-versed, had a deep understanding of things she loved, and had a penchant for engrossing someone in the discourse with grace.

That was a coincidence that her and Osama's topics of interest aligned on the same trajectory. Films and media.

The ridges of the shelf behind dug into Alina's back but she did nothing to move away.

Filling up the intervals of his interested silence with his concentration and talking only when it was needed or when he deemed it important; Osama hadn't changed much. Alina could tell, with the sheer expertise she acquired through the years, when would he tilt his head, the slight smile, a bit crooked, a lot heart-melting, his shiny eyes through his rimmed glasses.

He was enjoying Rimsha's company.

Again, an expertise Alina loved but not at the same time.

At some distance, she found Zeb and Mikaal Siddiqui, surrounded by some friends, engrossed in a chat that looked very pleasant by the looks of it but Alina hadn't missed it when occasionally, Zeb's eyes would go Osama and Rimsha's direction and her smile would deepen.

The last sip of the mocktail. The clanking of the glass announced as she placed it on a table nearby and turned around. There was no desperation about her. She made her way through the known and unknown circles and finally stopped once she was outside on the lawn, close to the marble fountain.

And suddenly she could see herself there, Alina from the past. Sitting close to the basin, watching her reflection in the clear water.

Osama's 18th birthday, weeks before he was to fly to the USA. He had gotten his acceptance email from Harvard just two days back. That added to the jubilation. This extravagant party thrown by Zeb Siddiqui was just to celebrate her son. Surrounded by his parents, family, and close friends, Osama's smile could marvel the brightest star.

But his eyes were in search of someone.

Someone he had no idea was outside on the empty lawn, away from the happiness spread around.

Alina bent her head and scowled at her reflection in the basin water. Her streaked hair looked horrible, but her mother insisted it was pretty.

She didn't feel pretty.

She was okay with her natural brown locks, a touch of premature grey here and there, but if she had to choose, honey color was her pick but when had any of her choices made sense to her mother?

If it were up to her, the Summer modeling campaign her parents were so enthusiastic about would also not be on her list.

But it was. And she hated it.

There was a commotion inside the house. Alina craned her neck and found Osama surrounded by his friends. They were teasing him about something. He didn't even acknowledge them. His eyes were looking for someone.

Her.

Tears stung her eyes even though Alina tried her best to keep them at bay. A myriad of emotions but the one that choked her made her hate herself some more.

This party was for Osama Siddiqui, to celebrate his achievements but even amidst all this, he had eyes just for his girlfriend.

The girlfriend, who was sitting away from the scene close to the fountain.

Because the emotion that towered over her the most was envy.

She loved Osama but she was so jealous of him. And she would never be able to tell anyone how much she hated herself for that.

"Alina?"

The image of her eighteen-year-old self vanished the moment she heard the voice behind her. She wiped her tears and smiled at the person who stopped next to her.

"Needed a breather from all the socializing?" Sila asked, with a genial smile on her face.

"Something like that. Though Auntie Zeb throws the best parties in town. Sophisticated but easygoing, just like her."

"I'm wary of the elite circle as it is, though. You can say my wedding reception gave me quite the creeps."

Alina laughed lightly at that. After a while, the long stretch of unbroken silence was broken by Alina only.

"Ask the question, Sila."

Sila held her shoulder in a comforting manner. "I don't have to."

A painful sigh left Alina's mouth. "That evident?"

Sila nodded, voicing it would only make it difficult for Alina. Alina looked away. The night sky was devoid of stars. They were shining in her eyes, not out of euphoria, but out of sheer heartache.

"I lost both my parents in the span of just a few years."

Sila mumbled softly. She looked at Alina as she continued. "Baba left and then Mama. At that point in my life, I didn't have much even though, I was surrounded by people everywhere. Just a best friend who was also battling out with her family because she didn't want to live there anymore and wanted to get independent. But then I moved into the Wadia House along with Reen. There we met Amal and Haleh. The beginning was rough. The four of us had different preferences, personalities, and views. There were a lot of arguments and some major fights but there were also moments when we stood for each other, providing support and a shoulder to cry."

She still had her hand on Alina's shoulder. "All I'm trying to say is, if life has taught me one lesson, that's the power of friendship, Alina. It can literally save you when you think there's no way out. My female friendships had been a solid rock I can rely upon to stabilize me. If you ever feel stuck and need to vent, you can hit me up anytime. Not just me, all four of us. You can trust those Nikammis and me with your life. So, don't ever feel you are alone and ponder upon your choices standing on someone else's lawn."

That elicited a small laugh from Alina. She held Sila's hand that was on her shoulder. "I'll keep that in mind. Just so you know, Aahil got lucky to end up with you."

"I know. Can't say the same though."

"Oh, you can, Sila. That guy is a gem. Don't let his smart mouth tell you otherwise. And no, it's not a paid promotion."

"It should be. Rip him off, sis. Trust me, he and his bank account will not even know."

Both of them walked to the entrance. The party was about to come to an end.

"We can drop you home, me and Aahil." Sila offered.

"That's sweet but you'll have to go the opposite way and in Karachi's traffic at this hour, that's a no. Don't worry. Mahad is my designated driver. His and my route and area are the same."

They ambled through the door together, talking all the while, with a newly formed friendship between them. 

𝄞

*Continued in the next part