"No, this can't be happening to me."

Sila covered her face with her palm and gave her beloved car a wounded look. Then she turned to him who was standing close.

"What do I do now? I have to get there in half an hour."

Aahil folded his arms, not surprised by Chaan Gari's tendency to ditch her owner. He expected this only, aware of the car's history. But right now wasn't the time to boast about it. More pressing matters needed his undivided attention. A wife who was going to get officially hired by EFvent and she needed to get there ASAP.

"You should stop relying on Chaand Gari. She's delicate and can't take responsibility for the important events."

"She's also a fool because she keeps giving you the opportunities to be mean to her."

"Mean and me? I'm well-behaved, well-mannered, and a damn—"

"I don't have time for this!" She cried throwing her hands around. Aahil shook his head and fished something out of his pants pockets. He then extended it toward her.

"As I was saying," He raised his finger in her direction. "A damn good husband."

Sila looked between him and his car keys. His monster of a vehicle was parked behind her at its designated spot. Normally, she'd refuse right away. His car's aura didn't match his. Where he was all about ease and rather insouciant charm, that royalty spoke of its prestige. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

"What about you? How will you get to work?"

He shrugged. "Call an Uber? My father's driver? Endless possibilities. Just get going, Sila. Big day!"

The reminder got her moving, immediately. She opened the door and sat in the driver's seat. Her brows scrunched as she settled her stuff and held the steering. "This is oddly intimidating."

"You share a bed with its owner, Sila."

That made her laugh lightly. "Not the same thing."

"Whatever. Just go now!"

She didn't need any more prompting. "I will bring it back in one piece."

"I'm sure you will." Everyone and their mother knew between them who was a class D driver and it wasn't her.

"Wish me luck!"

"You're literally going there for the paperwork."

"Someone just called himself and I quote 'a damn good husband'

It was his turn to smile. "All the best, wife. Now get the hell out of here!"

In no time, she zoomed out of the building's parking area. Aahil crouched down and scowled at Chaand Gari. "You're one insolent child."

Then as an afterthought, he whispered under his breath. "By definition and for the sake of aptness, you should've been my car."

He got up, dialing a number on his phone. His eyes were fixed on Chaand Gari as the other person answered the call.

"I need a day off."

Faran was alarmed. "What? Why? Are you in trouble?"

Aahil sighed. "Seriously, Bhai? But no, I'm not."

"A first," Faran muttered. Aahil chose to ignore it. Now wasn't the time to get into pointless banter. Not with his brother who knew all about his shenanigans.

"I have a few errands to run."

"Again, a first."

Aahil made a face. "Are you, by any chance, with Adan right now?"

Faran laughed at that. "Offended are we? I'm in the office. Do your thing. Don't worry about Baba."

"That didn't even cross my mind."

"It should've." Faran deadpanned. "The peace was long overdue. Don't give Baba reasons to be cross with you, again."

"Okay, Grandpa. Can I go and take care of my stuff now?"

"By all means. But don't get into trouble."

"As I always say, no promises."

Faran wanted to reprimand him but knowing too well it'd be a lost cause, he ended the call. Aahil made his way inside the building with a new sense of purpose.

Exactly after fifteen minutes, he was again in the elevator to the parking lot. As soon as the doors opened. He made his way outside and found Sila's car there. But his brows scrunched finding a bunch of teenagers surrounding it. The mild ick turned into full-blown annoyance when he saw them pointing at it and laughing amongst themselves.

Wrong move.

He pursed his lips as he walked to the car. Seeing him, the kids momentarily stopped their slander. They expected him to pass them by but to their surprise, he stopped right next to the innocent-looking vehicle.

"Got any problem?"

He asked, raising an eyebrow. The boys, hardly fifteen to sixteen, gave him an incredulous look. "Nothing." One of them croaked. Aahil nodded and proceeded to open the car door. The audible gasps around him halted his moments.

"What?"

"Is this your car?"

A boy with a horrendous British accent exclaimed. Aahil rolled his eyes. This must be Mr. Awaiz's son. The guy he once ran into in the lobby. Their estate in Liverpool they frequented every year was all he could talk about.

"Does it look like a submarine to you? Of course, it's a car."

"But is it yours?"

"What that has got to do with you?"

His reply eased their shocked expressions. That rubbed Aahil the wrong way. "But yes, it is my car."

They laughed at that. Aahil folded his arms with a poker face.

"Dude, you're shitting us." One of the boys guffawed.

"And why would I do that? I only crack jokes with people of my age."

"Mate, this car is a joke." Wannabe Harry Potter cried. Aahil shifted closer to Chaand Gari in a protective stance. "I'm not your mate. Also, with that accent, you are in no position to call anything else a joke."

"Emotional damage." One of the boys giggled but most of them weren't amused.

"I saw you yesterday. You drive a freaking Mercedes, man. What the fuck went wrong?" Another one asked rather sympathetically.

"I drive this now." Aahil placed his hand on Chaand Gari as if she and he were always on cordial terms. "And no, nothing went wrong. Even if it did, none of your freaking business."

"Mr. Jahangir! Language!"

The resident old lady, Mrs. Pasha reprimanded him from her place at some distance. Aahil plastered a sickly sweet smile on his face. "I said, noth thy freakith business."

She resorted to just glaring at him. The boys were also shooting daggers. It was for everyone's sake (most of his own) if he get the hell out of here.

So, that's what he did. And miraculously, Chaand Gari cooperated, as it roared to life. Aahil knew the short-lived nature of this stint but nevertheless, he couldn't help feeling proud of it for saving face.

"Good job, girl! Mama raised no quitter and it shows."

𝄞

Mahad had given her no defined idea of what he needed his painting to look like. So, it took Haleh time to think of something that'd suit his style and taste. She was basically on her own here. Creative liberty was welcomed. But the doubt that it wouldn't be up to his vision was also there.

So, she did what a professional would do. She contacted him. Getting his number through Sila was easy. That did put things in perspective for her. He hadn't offered this proposition to her in the heat of the moment, or seeing her meltdown. He was keen on getting a nice piece of artwork from her and she was grateful that they were on the same page.

With her job gone, she had ample time to give to painting. After breakfast, she was right in front of her canvas. The girls knew this development so did Auntie Banu and Saleema Baji. Looks were exchanged, eyebrows were wiggled and smiles were stifled but Haleh was clear that she was an artist and he was her customer. Nothing more or less.

Almost. Artists don't go to their costumer's offices to yell at them, nor do they vent in front of them.

Not her finest moment. But hey, it did get her work so there wasn't much to lament.

She was busy sketching the basic composition when her phone vibrated on the side table. She didn't peer her eyes away from the abstract lines on the canvas and answered the call.

"Hey."

Haleh stopped with her movements. "Hi! Isn't it too early for you?"

Mahad leaned into his chair. "Not everyone is tardy as your Dulha Bhai. Some of us pull a 9-5 every week and sometimes even the weekends aren't free."

"Busy guy. Must be a solid reason for hitting me up during your packed 9-5."

"A pretty good reason."

"Be my guest, then."

She leaned closer to the surface to give the basic sketch some touch-ups. Her phone was sandwiched between her ear and her shoulder.

"You will get an official call from Mr. Abidi later in the day but you have got your job back."

The phone almost slipped from her shoulder but she was quick to hold it. "What??!"

"I said you will get an official—"

"I heard that! You aren't bluffing with me now, are you?"

"I promised you, didn't I? And why would I call you early in the morning just to joke about something like this?"

A small squeal left her mouth. "You mean to say...I'm no longer jobless?!"

"Seems the case."

"How? How did it happen? Did you pull some strings?"

"Something like that. But don't fret about it. Just go back to work and write an ass-kicking piece once again."

"Gosh! This is the best news I've gotten in weeks! I can't tell you how happy I'm!"

You don't have to. Her happiness was infectious. It made him smile. Pulling his contacts never felt this satisfying before. A good cause then, an ever better cause after seeing her reaction.

"Thank you so much, Mahad." She said, reeling in her euphoria after a few seconds.

"Plesure's all mine. But now that your job is back in the picture, don't forget about my painting."

"I won't. I'm a thorough professional."

"You better be. I'm very picky about my purchases."

"And here I thought you were loaded."

"I'm. But it's my hard-earned money. So, I call the shots."

"Don't fret, Mr. Frugal CEO. You will not be disappointed by my artwork."

Mahad chuckled softly. "Sounds like a plan. I have a meeting in five minutes. So, gotta go."

"All the best and Mr. CEO!"

"Yeah?" Even without looking at her, he could imagine the joy there in every contour of her face.

"Thank you so much! Once again."

The call ended after that and Mahad turned to the agenda for his meeting but a slight smile stayed there on his face for a while.

𝄞

The last schedule of the film shooting wasn't overwhelming, given the fact that they had worked out the most intense scenes already. That should've given Osama some respite but unfortunately, this film wasn't at the top of his priority list as of now.

He leaned into his seat. The monitor in front of him was blank. He had paused the footage a while back. What was the point when he couldn't focus?

"You really don't understand anything, Osama. You never do. You didn't, all those years back. You don't, even now."

Again. The reverberations didn't leave him even hours after Alina's departure from his place. That was the crux of their story, though. She'd leave. He'd be left with whatever she dished out to him. Rinse and repeat.

What he didn't know? What he didn't understand? She was visibly hurt when he asked her that damned question. Why did she fall out of love with him? As if by asking that, he'd condemned her to hell, scorned and wounded.

But had she given him anything else to work through? He was no psychic. She had been loud and clear when she broke up with him and then, when he was getting familiarized with her absence in his life, she moved on with hers. Was he wrong in assuming that the breakup had affected both of them differently when it was glaringly obvious that it was the truth?

He didn't understand anything, she said. Then now would be a good time to tell him what he was unable to comprehend. Talk. That's what he wanted to do but she walked out on him after accusing him like that. And since then, she has been running away even from his shadow.

This was bizarre. And he was tired. Cornering her was impossible because the whole day, she had made a conscious effort to not be left alone with him. As if that was a herculean task. The movie director and the lead stylist didn't have much to discuss at this point in the production.

Should he give up the idea of having a clean slate with her? When she wasn't forthcoming about it at all? There's a limit to which you can pursue someone, limit you can twiddle with. But at some point, you have to take a freaking hint and stop.

But Alina.

That was his sore point. It was Alina. So, even if he didn't want to. Even if he hated being there but he was, as always, in a loop.

In Rimsha's vanity van, Alina ran an agitated hand through her hair and rummage through the dresses lined in front of her. Rimsha was being difficult today. She had rejected three dresses already and Alina was sure, the fourth one wouldn't fare differently. Alina had always liked Rimsha for her lack of tantrums but for sure, she could have her moments.

Her own state of mind was all over the place so she couldn't entirely blame Rimsha here. Lack of sleep, an unorganized to-do list, and emotional overstimulation. Gosh, she was a wreck.

"Why did you fall out of love with me?"

That wasn't a question, it was a dagger that embedded itself in her heart and she fell to her knees, once again, the fight left her.

Falling out of love with him? The one impossible of her life. How could he even think this way?

She broke up with him and suddenly, for him, every vestige of what they shared was only his to reminisce. She became the rogue. Someone for whom all those memories meant nothing.

She didn't know what she felt more in intensity, anger, or helplessness. What to blame? Her own follies or his stupidity. Both?

No. Because at least he wanted to talk. To make sense of this jumbled-up clusterfuck their love story had become.

And she was avoiding him.

Her fault, his assumptions. Old recipe, same catastrophe.

Her phone pinged in her pocket, once again. She groaned, knowing all too well who couldn't take a hint when she had made it clear she didn't want to talk. What a glorious life, eh?

"Why don't you just pick up?"

Rimsha's annoyance wasn't hard to detect. Alina switched her phone off. "There's no need."

"Are you sure? Because your phone's incessant vibration is getting on my nerves. It is also distracting your work and your styling is already off today."

Alina was taken aback by the outburst. Tabana, Rimsha's MUA and a good friend of Alina gave Rimsha a not-so-amused look. But Rimsha just huffed and turned back to regard herself critically in the mirror.

"Rimsha, is there something wrong? It's been there the whole day and I for sure know that my phone has got nothing to do with it."

Alina asked without any malice. She was genuinely confused by Rimsha's hostility. Tabana picked up her stuff and stood up. "I'm going to get myself a cup of tea."

As she left, there were just Rimsha and Alina inside the cramped space. Alina turned to her fully, waiting for her to begin. Rimsha also didn't seem eager to go on with the ambiguity.

"Last week, I went to Osama's place for a small chit-chat but guess what?"

She smiled icily. "I saw you coming out of there and by the looks of it, you had spent the night."

Oh. That explained it. But it still didn't warrant the less-than-professional decorum she had shown Alina all day.

"This doesn't look good, okay? I thought we were friends. First, you never told me that you and Osama go as far back as high school. I figured that out on my own at Auntie Zeb's party. And now this? What are you playing at?"

"Nothing. I'm playing at nothing, here. If you haven't noticed, this is our workspace and I don't feel comfortable talking about my personal life here with you."

Rimsha sighed as if she couldn't believe it. "Aren't you a bitch? You're trying to sabotage—"

"I'm not trying to sabotage anything, Rimsha."

"Yes, you're. You know I have feelings for Osama and you found now the auspicious time to rekindle whatever you guys had in the past? That's a low move."

Alina couldn't believe it was happening to her. "Why don't you talk to Osama about it? He's the person you're interested in, so ideally, you should clear it up with him. I won't explain myself to you. Not when nothing I say will make any difference and you'll refute it. Yes, Osama and I go way back but that's none of your business, not unless he makes it that way. Don't put something on me I have nothing to do with, Rimsha."

From her side, the conversation was over. She hated drama and here, Rimsha was hell-bent on making her a part of it. Rimsha was viewing her as a threat when in reality, Rimsha and Osama had just embarked on a friends tag. There was nothing else to their equation. Alina knew Osama. He wasn't the kind of person who'd give someone false hopes but here, seemed like, their friendship alone had given Rimsha the whole idea that they were meant to be.

This whole situation screamed to run and Alina was going to just do that. She had her plate full already. Her parents, Osama, and her own conflicting emotions and regrets. She didn't need a badly executed love triangle into the mix.

She moved aside to get away from Rimsha but as she reached out to get her purse, she felt something trickling down her dress. Horrified, she looked down, and sure enough, Rimsha's mango juice was now all over her white long tunic dress.

"Sorry about that."

The drawl was anything but apologetic. Alina looked at the sorry state of her dress and then at Rimsha who was ready to leave for her next shot.

Too much for not wanting to be a part of any drama.

𝄞

"So, what do you think?"

The workshop mechanic didn't look optimistic as he sat crouched, checking Chaand Gari. Aahil still hoped he'd say something encouraging. He could already imagine Sila's dejection if she got to know her car was done for.

"I can fix it but as it happened before, the solution will not be long-lasting. This vehicle is way past her heydays."

He got up, wiping his hands. "Ever considered selling it?"

Aahil waived him off. "Not up for debate."

"As you wish. But you should give it a thought. If you can afford it, get rid of this headache. It's for your own peace of mind. It's your third trip to the workshop in the span of weeks."

"I came here to get my car sorted, not for an unsolicited piece of advice. You can't do much here, am I right?"

The man looked offended but masked it. A rich customer should never be turned away. Rule of business.

"None can do."

"I highly doubt that. Are there no mechanics in the whole of Karachi who can get my car up and running?"

"I don't think so. But you can check. We are the best in business around here. My experience of almost two decades vouches for this fact that this car should be rested now."

Son of a gun! He didn't like what the man told him but there was truth to his statement. Theirs was the oldest workshop in this area and if they were certain that Chaand Gari was beyond hope, then he had to believe them. What now? He was sure if he brought up the prospect of buying her a new car, even as a gift, she'd cause a racket.

Her self-sufficiency was one of the many things he admired in her. She loved what she had going for her. Things she got herself through her hard work and her car was one of those. In his attempt to help, he didn't want to come out supercilious, downplaying her efforts. That was something he'd hate to insinuate even unconsciously. Buying her a new car might be an innocent step from his side, but this early in their relationship, he didn't want to take any chances.

So, the best thing to do here: find a way to fix Chaand Gari. He knew that'd make Sila happier than any latest model expensive automobile.

He came outside the workshop to make a few calls, just to know where should he go next. Any leads would be helpful.

That's when his eyes fell on a known yet unknown face. The other person was already looking at him.

Coming to this side of the city wasn't an everyday occurrence for Danish. But the job hunt compelled him to make this excursion. What he didn't expect was running into Aahil Jahangir.

Sila's husband. Talk about awkwardness.

He was sitting in the small restaurant on the other side of the road, battling the Karachi heat, going through his gmail when, through the glass window, he saw a tow truck depositing a familiar car to the workshop. With a lurch in his heart, he waited for Sila to show up as well. Her car was here so she'd also be.

But to his surprise, the person who got out of the Uber at the same time was Aahil Jahangir.

Danish was relieved. He wasn't yet ready to face Sila but knew one day, he'd have to. They moved in the same circle, had mutual friends and it wasn't like their breakup was full of tears and curses. They parted ways amicably. Her situation and his dilemmas. The essence was already lost.

But still, he was aware of his own role in the downfall of their relationship so that embarrassment was still there with him, barricading him from reaching out to Sila.

The relief soon gave way to curiosity. Aahil's countenance meant business. Danish was, with amusement, invested. Sila's husband taking care of Chaand Gari was both fitting and hilarious to him. Those who knew Sila, also knew she loved that piece of junk to bits. God help the poor guy.

He saw Aahil and the head mechanic talking and by the looks of it, the news wasn't encouraging. Aahil's face fell. Then he stood there for a while contemplating something, probably his option.

Danish couldn't help his chuckle. He'd never had a one-on-one with the man. Just knew he was a Jahangir. So, naturally, his view of him was of a rich snob but the picture in front of him didn't vouch for it. All he could see was a worried husband trying to sort out his wife's car.

Who, could also use some help, it seemed.

Aahil cut the call and saw Danish making his way toward him. Stopping at hearing distance, he looked at Aahil and then at Sila's car.

"No hope?"

Aahil grumbled. "According to the mechanic, No."

Danish nodded. "Understandable. So, what are you going to do?"

"Look for a new workshop. A second opinion won't hurt anyone." Saying that he turned to the car.

"I happen to know someone who can fix whatever is wrong with it."

Aahil whipped his head in Danish's direction. "Dude? You've been watching me struggling for a while. Couldn't you say it the moment you got here?"

"I'm telling you now. Also, the workshop is in Gulshan. It's a long way from here."

Aahil looked mildly offended. "I'm aware!"

Danish shrugged. "Good for you. Call the tow truck. Let's get to pull kay uss paar."

He pointed to the restaurant's parking, at his car. Aahil nodded, thankful for the help but he was still miffed. He might be a defense breed thorough and thorough but he did know the ways around the city in which he'd lived all his life.

"I'm Danish, by the way." They were on the way to his car when Danish spoke up. Aahil nodded. " I know."

"Sila told you?" Danish asked, without stopping.

"Who else? I'm Aahil, by the way."

"I know."

"Media told you?"

Danish hid his smile. " Who else?"

With that both of them reached the car and Danish unlocked it. The small conversation told them whatever they knew about each other was through some other source. But after today, the opinion might change forever.

You never know.

𝄞

When the last time they were out, Amal had promised him an experience of the city like never before and Raed took her word for it.

Downtown Karachi, Amal's favorite part of the city didn't disappoint. How could it be when Amal's love for it was overflowing, reaching him in waves?

"For me, Karachi is synonymous with diversity." She said with a hint of a proud smile as they walked alongside the Zaibunnisa thoroughfare. "Especially around here. Every street and section of the area leads up to a different culture or religion. It's a world on its own. A kaleidoscope of harmony. Where every aspect is important and adds to the city's charm as the cultural hub of the country."

Her words might be taken as an exclamation of love a Karachiite has for her city but Raed could see the truth for himself. From the Memon mosque, they were en route to the Parsi-inhabited area, the fire temple, and the community center.

"Unfortunately we are not allowed to get inside. We once pestered Auntie Banu to at least let us have a look but she was in one of her strict school teacher moods so we didn't have any luck.'

"Mrs. Wadia, right? Kind of your landlady?"

Raed had picked up on her patterns rather quickly. That could be the perceptive author in him who was eager to assimilate as much knowledge as his tour guide was exposing him to but these tiny facts, those which had nothing to do with this city and everything to do with her, were also there, in his memory.

"Don't ever say that in front of her. You'll be immediately in her not-so-good books."

Apart from her city, the family she lived with was another of Amal's greatest loves. Her housemates slash best friends, her landlady, no, Auntie Banu or Mrs. Wadia, their househelp Saleema Baji, and Uncle Jeff.

"I'll keep that in my mind."

"You should." Amal settled her bun as she looked at him through her kohl-rimmed eyes. "I plan on taking you home someday. Banu Auntie comes from the generations of Zoroastrians that resided in Karachi decades before the partition. Family tales pass on so her knowledge about pre and post-colonial Karachi will help your research for your book."

"I'm really looking forward to it. That will give me some insight into the city's history. "

His response made her smile widen. "We'll conduct interviews soon. For now, you should just try to take it all in."

That he did. As they came to the empress market after a short while and from there to the Bohra community landmarks. Their next destination was St. Patrick's Cathedral.

"My school is in this area as well," Amal told him. Raed was in awe of her spirits. It was a regular summer day but not once could it deter her. Her drive moved him as well otherwise he wasn't at all used to this heat.

Exploring the cathedral, they drove around in Amal's car. "This area is so rich with sights worth your time and every penny, that covering it in a whole day isn't possible. Also, I don't want to do it in haste. You need to absorb everything at the right pace."

Their next stop was Swaminarayan temple. The area around was a world on its own, housing Hindu and Sikh communities. Amal took a long drive, almost an hour, and at last, stopped at Manghopir.

The shrine of the Sufi saint and associated crocodile sanctuary. The stark contrast to the running metropolis was evident. There were people here, lots of them, but the tranquility wasn't just around the crocodile pond. Raed observed the activity keenly. The meat the visitors presented to the crocodiles. The hot springs were said to have healing qualities.

"According to the records, the shrine is here for centuries and so are the crocodiles. Manghopir is also the patron saint of the African descent Sheedi community. They inhabit mostly Lyari and speak Balochi."

"They think highly of the crocodiles." Raed noticed. Amal followed his gaze and nodded. "They do. It's their belief that this way, their afflictions will see their end."

"Belief." Raed echoed. "Rather beautiful thing it is."

"Is it? If puts into a wrong notion, it can destroy the masses."

"Yes but here, what these people believe in is belief itself. The belief that their adversaries will lessen. They aren't harming anyone with what they do."

"You speak highly of belief. Am I right to assume that you also put unflinching trust in what you believe in?"

Raed paused, as if reminiscing something. Then as an afterthought, he shook his head and smiled sardonically. "That's what my people live on for the most part. It's hard not to cling to it. What about you?"

Amal gave it a thought. "I'm not sure. I don't feel that strongly for anything."

"Maybe you do but you haven't realized it yet?"

Did she?

Maybe.

If it weren't for the belief she had in her grandmother's love, she wouldn't have come here leaving a promising academic career behind her there in the USA. It was her belief that made her stand against her own family to safeguard Ghar and its residents.

Her changing expressions were in Raed's focus. He smiled. "Guess all of us have our belief set in something. Even if we don't realize it."

By then they had reached Amal's car. "Where to now?"

Amal's lost state lasted for just a while. She was again in high spirits. "While exploring Karachi, there are big three associated with the city."

"And they are?"

Amal opened her side of the door. "Diversity. Hospitality. Inclusivity. You saw a glimpse of the first just now. Though, the whole picture will take some time to make itself known."

"So, now, are we onto test the second?"

Amal shook her head. "No. Now we rest for a while as the heat is doing a number on me so I can only imagine what it must be for you. We meet up again in the evening and I take you to Burns Road."

"What's there?"

Amal wiggled her brows. "The best food street in the whole world."

"Let me get this straight. Food is the big fourth?"

"No. It's the essence. Karachi and food, one can't be without the other. So, be ready. You are going to fall in love."

His reply was just a slight smile and shrug. But both of them were oblivious to the far-reaching implications of what she'd said.

𝄞

"Trust this woman to never pick up her phone," Mahad grumbled. The call, once again, went unanswered. Giving up on it, he locked his car and stood facing the shoot premises.

Once in a while, dutifully, he'd take Alina out for dinner or just to drive around. She'd never admitted it but she loved these outings. The suffocating drill made sure the few hours of respite felt blissful.

He had an idea that she was the head stylist for Rimsha so by the rule, that's where she ought to be. If not, he could always ask the main man, Mr. Director. He thought confidently, as he asked a crew member for Rimsha's compartment. He was right outside when the door opened. The woman didn't see him at first but when she did, she grinned.

"Mahad!"

He had also seen her. Pocketing his phone, where he had once again dialed Alina's number, he walked up to a beaming Tabana.

"How are you Tabby? It's been a while."

The mid-aged makeup artist and one of Alina's few close friends in the industry hugged him sideways. Alina had often commented on his outrageous charisma conceitedly. Mahad was never humble about it. It wasn't his fault that ladies found him charming. Sans one. His mind shouted but he shut it up. Now wasn't the time.

"I'm great. And I know, right? You have grown busy and the same goes for me."

"Glam world still being a pain?"

Tabana canted her eyes. "You have no idea. One of the many reasons why I love cool and calm Alina so much. Never a tantrum. Just business and class." She then glanced at the closed door of the van. "Some people could learn a thing or two from her."

"Woah. Do I smell drama?"

Tabana sighed and leaned in as if about to share a secret with him. "Rimsha isn't so bad but today, she's been nothing but a major petulant child. I wonder what has gotten into her. You know those who are by nature insufferable, you can say oh, it's the way they are but Rimsha had her good days."

"Maybe, she's going through a rough patch?" Mahad wondered.

"Whatever it is, Mahad. She better get it sorted soon because I'm tired even though I wasn't the one who came under the fire. Did you talk to Alina? That was very unprofessional of Rimsha. I'm still reeling."

Alarms blared around Mahad. "What? Did something happen?"

"Of course! Why would I rant to you if it didn't? And gosh! She didn't tell you it seems."

In the next few seconds, Tabana replayed what she knew of Alina and Rimsha's argument today. It was more of Rimsha's outburst than anything. Tabana had gone out as she didn't want to overstep but she had seen Alina coming out of there flushed and angry, with a nasty yellow stain on her white dress.

"I don't know what happened there but Rimsha crossed a limit and I can't stress this enough. You're in a professional setting, for fuck's sake. Act like it."

Tabana went on with her spiel as she left Mahad to get to her ride, not before instructing him to check up on Alina.

They he would but he needed to do something else first.

Your Highness was in his royal den when Mahad found him. Osama stopped the footage he was reviewing and looked at him, surprised by his sudden arrival.

"Mahad?"

"Do you know where's Alina?"

Osama was clueless. Mahad cursed under his breath. "You're fucking idiot, Sam!"

"What the hell you're on about? Don't create a scene! It's my workplace."

"Tell that to your girlfriend."

"What—" But as if enlightenment finally chose to bless him, he pursed his lips and glared at Mahad. "Rimsha isn't my girlfriend."

"The way she goes ballistic with her territorial tendencies, she might as well be." With that, he narrated to him all he knew and when he was done, he took a step forward and raised his finger at Osama in a warning. "If Lina is blaming herself for this shitshow somewhere right now, I will make your life hell, Siddiqui. Have no doubts. And no Jahangir will be able to save you from me."

Osama was tempted to put him into his place but more than that, he was worried for Alina and pissed at Rimsha.

Mahad's phone rang in the same instant and the relief on his face, seeing the caller ID told Osama instantly who was it.

"Where the hell are you, Lina!" Mahad asked urgently and whatever she said on the other hand both relieved and confused him.

"Yeah, stay there as long as you feel right. Just keep in touch with me and if you for once thought you were responsible for someone else's actions, I swear to God—"

Her assurance must be enough to silence Mahad as he nodded and finally cut the call muttering a bye and take care.

Finding Osama's inquisitive and somewhat concerned gaze on him, Mahad scowled and turned to leave.

"She's at Wadia House and you're coming with me. We need to talk."

"Last time I checked, I didn't take orders from you."

"Pretty dumb of you to think I'm ordering you around. It was a warning, Sam, and before it becomes a threat to your safety, behave and cooperate. Let's fucking go now."

Osama, with his scowl still intact, didn't argue after that and obliged. All of them knew an angry Mahad was a force to be reckoned with and only a certain Jahangir could put up with his plain threats.

𝄞

"Are you really going to sulk into the night?"

Amal asked, tired of the general environment around the house. She'd always heard when your married sisters come to visit, it's an occasion to celebrate. But Sila here had brought with her an air of disappointment and general negativity. What to do about that? Amal never got the memo.

"Cut my call. Told me he's busy and till now, there's no sign of him. Who the hell he thinks he is?"

"A husband who has a life other than you, Sila," Haleh told her, not caring for the daggers she shot her way. Sila folder her knees, resting her face on them. All the while a look of frustration stayed there.

She had gotten the job, as everyone knew. Was it her fault that she wanted to celebrate it with him? Him, who was suddenly busy today? What happened to those dozen text messages he sent to everybody of authority in his family to stop his father from conducting meetings after meetings?

"You know what, you're not the only one who should be offended." Rameen blew on her nail paint, satisfied with how the color looked. "You are here because he ditched on you. Which makes us your second option."

"Exactly!"

Both Amal and Haleh were in agreement. "They are right. Women do change after getting married. Their whole idea of happiness is now a stupid male. Pathetic, if you ask me." Haleh kept up with her assessment, even though she had two cushions thrown her way by an enraged Sila.

"It was my fault that I came here."

"Yeah, you wish you were sucking faces with your husband right now."

"If she were that lucky, she wouldn't be about to pop a vein."

Rameen didn't say a word but her infuriating laugh was enough to fuel Sila's fury. She got up, sulking some more, and slung her purse over her shoulder, ready to bolt when there was a knock at the door.

"If it's Auntie Banu asking what's wrong, don't say anything. Just push Sila toward her. Rest will be self-explanatory."

Haleh giggled at Amal's comment as she opened the door but instead of Mrs. Wadia, she found a nervous and distressed Alina standing there.

Behind her, the rest of the girls also shut up immediately. Alina gave them a waned smile as Haleh let her inside.

"Hi. Do you guys mind if I dump my problems on you all?"

Amal was the first one to pat the seat next to her. That put them all into action.

"Come here, Alina. We could do with new problems. Sila's have bored us to death."

"Where's the lie!" Haleh agreed so did Rameen. Sila and Alina's eyes met for a second and the reassurance there reinstated it for Alina that she had taken the right decision by coming here.

𝄞

Of all the ways Danish envisioned this day to go, sitting in Aahil and Sila's apartment wasn't even the remotest possibility for him. But here he was.

As per the plan, he and Aahil reached the workshop with Sila's car in tow. The owner, Qavi Bhai met them with his trademark good manners and a strong stench of Paan and Gutka. He checked the car thoroughly and with a smile, told them that they need not worry. He'd work his magic and it'd be as good as new in a few hours. That was some consolation. Aahil was keen on getting it done today itself. So, they waited there in the workshop as Qavi Bhai and his helpers worked on Chaand Gari.

It was after hours of patiently waiting. Aahil told him that he could go but Danish refused. Qavi Bhai told them that he had replaced the spare parts and mended whatever was wrong elsewhere as well. The car was ready to be taken away and Aahil wasted no time in testing it himself. The big relief on his face as the car roared to life.

Once the matter was sorted, Aahil didn't forget Danish's helping hand had played a vital role in getting Sila's car fixed so he offered him to have tea at his place. Danish refused, not finding it in himself to agree with the plan but Aahil insisted and at last, Danish took up the offer.

In retrospect, that offer wasn't entirely because of Aahil's gratitude. It was also an attempt on his part for starting over. Both of them had made a sketch about each other based on someone else's experiences. In Aahil's case, Sila's, and in Danish's case, the media. This was the first time they got to know each other without any outer interference and if they were true to themselves, they couldn't be more wrong. Danish wasn't a conceited jerk, though his treatment of the relationship with Sila was and would be a bone of contention as Aahil knew he had messed up big time there. But as a person, Danish was not an immediate cause of annoyance. And Aahil wasn't an asshole rich snob, as the media tried to portray him and as Danish secretly wished him to be when he first heard his and Sila's name together. Good ol' times. Danish thought.

"I don't know if Sila's aware of my arrival here," Danish said, looking around as Aahil served them both straight out of the refrigerator Coca-Cola.

"Sila's at Wadia House right now. And even if she were here, I'm sure she'd do what I'm doing right now." Aahil said genially. That put Danish to ease considerably. Aahil knew Sila didn't hate the guy. He had never heard her cursing him. So, that was also a sign that having him over wasn't a bad decision.

"I told you, it wasn't needed."

"It was, dude. After your help today, it for sure was." Aahil tipped the can in Danish's way. Silence fell between them after that. But it wasn't uncomfortable.

But not for long.

The rattling knock at the door startled them. Aahil scowled and got up to open the door. Danish stayed behind, alert.

"Move aside, Jahangir."

Mahad marched inside followed by an equally enraged Osama. Both of them didn't even acknowledge Aahil as they reached the lounge.

"Who's he?" Mahad asked, eyeing Danish.

"That's Danish. A friend." Aahil stood in the middle, doing the introductions. "And Danish, this is Mahad and Osama who seem to be in the middle of something." He narrowed his eyes at his best friend and arch nemesis. "What the hell is going on?"

"Ask this four-eyed twat."

Aahil wasted no time in turning to Osama. "Sam?"

"Lashari is way out of line here."

"When Lashari isn't?"

"Lashari is in the mood for violence so you both better not test him," Mahad stated matter-of-factly. Then his eyes landed on a confused Danish.

"Who's Lashari?"

Mahad pointed toward himself. That was good enough for Danish.

"His girlfriend misbehaved with Lina today."

"She's NOT my girlfriend."

"Why don't you tell HER that?"

Aahil's somber face told that he had understood the matter here. Danish was not so lucky. He cleared his throat. "Ummm. I think I should get going."

But Aahil shook his head, trying to tell him to stay put. Two people can intervene better if it comes to blows and seeing how pissed both Osama and Mahad were, there were high chances of that.

"Tabana told me. She was there when it happened. That woman threw her juice at Lina. Doesn't take a genius to know why she'd do that."

Mahad glared at Osama.

"Where's Lina now?" Aahil asked, concerned.

"At Wadia House. She can do with some female advice. You see, we men are mostly clueless." His eyes were on Osama as he said that. Osama had enough of his outrage.

"I wasn't there when it happened, Mahad. That's why I was clueless when you came to me. Also, till now, I have given no hint to Rimsha that there can be a possibility of us. So, stop throwing all the blame on me. Not when I'm the one who's trying to sort things out with Alina while she all but ignores me or runs away as soon as she spot even my shadow."

"Pretty early to realize that you too need to talk. I wonder why is that?"

Osama braced himself. "I want closure."

A heavy silence fell in the apartment. Mahad kept on looking at Osama. "Closure? What for?"

"So he can move on," Aahil answered on Osama's behalf, and finding no contradictions from the man, Mahad chuckled humourlessly. "I see."

"Got a problem with that, Lashari?"

"I've got a problem with you, Siddiqui. I don't like your face." He rounded on Aahil. "Told you that he needed this fact drilled into his thickhead but you were the one preaching the ten benefits of keeping boundaries. Your ideas suck, Jahangir. You also do."

"What fact?" Osama was tired of this.

"The fact that you're a selfish jerk who always thinks of himself." Mahad thundered. Osama was taken aback by the exclamation.

"After all these years, you want to reach out to her because of your own reasons. Not because you finally want to know how she survived the years after your breakup. Hasn't it always been this way, Sam? You lose yourself in your own bubble, lost in your own version of things. You say Lina never opened up but you tell me, did you ever try for it? And now when you are trying to, it's because YOU want to move on and you need a clean slate for that. Where's Lina in all of this, Sam?"

Osama stumbled on his feet but his gaze never wavered from Mahad. Aahil moved to hold him but Osama stopped him. "Do you also think this way?"

Aahil held him by his shoulder. "Sam, why do you think I always asked you, in whatever capacity, that you and Lina need to talk? In the beginning, you brushed off every possibility of it. You were hurt. The wound was too raw. I get that. But I hoped, no, we hoped that down the lane, you'll push aside your misgivings and give her a chance to explain to you why she broke things. I know it wasn't easy. With Adeel in the picture for a while. That stung. I understand that as well. But the thing is, after you, Lina also closed herself in a shell and built a boundary no one can breach. She's never opened up about her pain, Sam. And you and I both know, that decision must not be easy for her."

"If you think it was, you never knew her or as usual, were too engrossed in your own heartbreak that her pain didn't even cross your mind," Mahad added, none too gently.

Aahil's hold on his shoulder tightened, reassuringly. "We should've pushed you more. But there's just so much we could do as your friends, especially when you and Lina both centered your pain around each other but ran from each other only and didn't let anyone else mediate. Lost in your own head never works well. Ask Danish."

Danish, who had contended himself with the fact that he was a background detail wasn't pleased. "Dude?"

Aahil smiled sheepishly at him. Danish sighed. "But he's right. This is exactly how I lost Sila even though we had quite a nice start." He searched Aahil's face for any sign of discomfort, after all, it was his wife Danish was talking about but Aahil remained as calm as before.

"I had my issues and I shut her out completely. Cost me our relationship and I realized it when it was almost over. Communication is the key and in our case, she was trying her best to reach out to me but I was a fool. You can say, in your case, the other person doesn't want to but who knows, the other person needs just the strength through you they can't muster themselves?"

Danish's words put the seal to something monumental. Osama didn't look at any of them. He was lost in thoughts. Aahil and Mahad couldn't help finding a little hope in them. Something they hadn't, for years.

𝄞

Alina played with her watch and kept her head low. But her ongoing worries made it impossible for her to distract herself.

"I still can't believe I was so wrong in reading Rimsha."

"Not your fault, Alina. Even though unintentionally, you never came in between her and her love interest as well before." Rameen assured her from where she was perched on her bed.

Love interest. Something picked at Alina's heart. Her love interest was her great love. So much so that every person in this room had already picked up on it even before she decided to tell them.

"You and Osama need to talk," Sila concluded. Alina could hear mild agreements from everywhere.

"That's the hardest part. Talking."

"It wouldn't be as hard as your fear is making it out to be. You two dating for four years, Alina. That's supposed to give you at least some consolation."

"If anything, that terrifies me more."

"What are you exactly afraid of? And no, I'm not asking you to share with us your reasons for breaking up with Osama. As you said it's only just that he gets to know those before anyone else."

That's what she had said when she told them bits and pieces of today. They were surprisingly forthcoming about her desertions.

"Everything. But the most terrified I'm of entirely losing him. Not that I already have him but the feeling that my reasons will make him hate me as much as I hated myself then, that frightens me. He might not have thought then that what a mess he had fallen in love with, but he might do it now."

"I don't believe it." Haleh pushed aside her cushion and sat up straight. "Yes, I don't know the guy but I think he's not capable of hating you, Alina."

"I second that. He still looks at you with so much tenderness. That's how I figured that you two have a history together. Gaze tells a lot."

"Same!" Amal and Haleh agreed with Rameen.

"They are right. Though I got to know the details through my husband as well, the unsaid between you two was not hard to miss."

Sila held her hand in hers. "And that time, we were a bunch of strangers, Alina. Still, we saw through it. That's how your and Osama's love is. A love like this deserves a try to mend what is broken and if not, to part ways on a bittersweet turn. Not to leave everything hanging in between."

"And you yourself said that that he wants to talk. Then what's the harm? Take this leap. It might not turn out in your favor but it's a need at this point, Alina. Give in to your fear today and down the line, your regrets will catch up to you. Not just Osama, you owe this to yourself as well. The emotional turmoil is taking a toll on you. For your own sake, sort it out with him. If something has to go wrong, then be it."

Her fears still clawed at her but even through the haze, Alina could see the reason.

He needed that. She too.

If not for them as a couple, she needed to have this leap for them as individuals.

And it was already way overdue. Years.

𝄞

"I hope whatever you were busy in, paid off well." Even though she tried, the hint of hurt was hard to hide from her voice.

"It did. I'm satisfied with how it panned out." He sounded pleased with himself. Sila left the ledge surrounding their building perimeter. She had gotten home a while back and instead of going up to their apartment, she chose to walk around in the night tranquility as the sea breeze blew pleasantly.

"I enjoyed with girls too. It was good to pay them a visit."

"If you enjoyed it, then it was worth it."

"When are you getting back home?"

She asked, entering the elevator.

"It will take me some time."

"How much?"

"Two hours at the most."

He'll be back late at night. She tried to keep the dejection at bay but it made its presence known. Of all the days, he had to be neck deep in work today?

"I'll hit the bed as soon as I'm home. I'm tired to my bones. So, don't expect me to wait for you."

"I don't. Take as much rest as you can."

Reaching her floor, she settled her purse over her shoulder. "I'm almost there. Will see you in the morning then."

"Hmmm. Good night."

"Yeah, night."

She disconnected the call and taking languid steps, stopped outside the familiar door.

But before she could fish out her key from inside, the door swung open and a smug-looking Aahil stood there with his arms folded on his front.

"I should've known!" She pushed him aside but her full-fledged smile gave her away.

"You didn't expect me to give more importance to good-for-nothing work over surprising my wife?

"When did you come back?"

"It was a day off for me."

Sila was surprised. "Day off?"

"Yes. Lots of errands to run."

"What kind of errands?"

He led her to their bedroom. "Let me think. Had to take Chaand Gaari to the mechanic." He handed her the car keys which she accepted with visible amazement. "Took me half a day as the workshop was in Gulshan, thanks to Danish who told me about it and also accompanied me there."

"Danish?"

"Yes, him. Then I had Lashari and Osama call on me without any notice."

"Alina came to the Wadia House."

"I've heard. It took a while to knock some sense into Sam but hopefully, now, he'll be on the right track."

"Alina is also now more confident about talking to him."

"That's good to know. Then I had to make a quick stop to get my wife her new job gift. Took me a while to come up with it but at the last I did."

He pointed toward the opposite corner of the room. Sila followed his gaze and sure enough, found her new work table there. She had been wanting to get one exactly like this for months.

"Then I went to get her favorite cake and Chinese takeout from her favorite restaurant. To end this day according to the theme, we will do what she wants to after dinner. Something tells me her pick will be a long drive or a walk around the building. I'm up for both. It's her big day so everything should be according—"

With sure, determined steps, she came close to him and held him by his biceps. He stopped immediately and looked at her.

"You're the best, you know that right?"

Aahil grinned, mischievously. "Of course, I do. We talked about it just today morning but if you want to state it again, who am I to stop you?"

Sila bit her lower lip, trying to suppress the unbridled joy she felt from within. Raising on her feet to cover the small distance between them, she pecked his cheek.

"The best. Stated again."

Peering into his eyes from this close, Sila found herself lost. And when in her daze, she tried to move, he stopped her from doing so, by snaking an arm around her waist.

He moved his face closer to hers. The playful energy was all gone. Something far more palpable had taken its place. His stubbled jaw came in contact with her cheek, and she closed her eyes, relishing the feel of it. Angling his face, he kissed the side of her face as his free hand cupped the other side of it in his palm. "Congratulations."

And Sila could say, finally, she was celebrating.

𝄞

It was after cake and dinner. Aahil had guessed it right. Her pick was a walk around the building.

"So, am I right to assume that you and Danish are kind of friends now?"

Aahil shrugged. "Too early to say that but we did reach an understanding today."

"If it happens, I'll fully support it. He can be a good friend. He, Reen, and I were inseparable during our university days."

"I was aware that you knew him for a long time but didn't know, this long."

There was no malice in Sila's body language even though the topic of the discussion was her ex-boyfriend. "Yeah. I know the way he treated our relationship before its eventual downfall doesn't vouch for it, but he's not a bad person. Once upon a time, he was one of my go-to people. We were exactly in tune when we started seeing each other, our aspirations for the future were the same. But."

Sila paused. Aahil was listening to her attentively, not once did he try to stop her. Sila had expected this ease. She wasn't surprised by it. Only Aahil Jahangir could look genuinely concerned while his wife raved on about her ex.

"But at last, things did go south. Danish had a lot going on in his life for a while. When he came to see me at Jahan or when you found me on that road."

"Crying."

She overlooked Aahil's correction. "He hurt me repeatedly only to tell me that he was not doing fine. I hope he's in a far better state than he was at that point. Nothing seemed to be in his control except our relationship so that's where he asserted that authority. He could be mean to me, use harsh words, and could act nonchalant but couldn't tell me he was going through a crisis. That's why even though I still care for him as a friend, I knew we couldn't go on with this relationship. I had no hope for us after all that. The rest is, you know, history. Our history, might I add. It pushed everything else to the side."

Aahil gave it a thought. "I think he views it more or less the same way. He's not defensive of how he behaved, instead, he takes full responsibility for it."

"Did you two talk?"

"Not specifically but I prompted him to knock some sense into Sam. He did. And that's where he said all that."

"That's good to know. Since we are on the subject of exes, you can also have the favor. Your ex made quite a noise during that clusterfuck. Vent away, Husband. This is our no-judging zone."

His response was a deep sigh. Sila raised an eyebrow. "That bad?"

He ran a hand through his hair and chuckled softly. "It started well if I'm being honest. The middle was also somewhat tolerable but it was the end where I could just shout; what the fuck?"

Sila was thoroughly invested. And that gave Aahil the incentive to go on, without any prompting, at ease.

"I was never up to Vaneeza's standard of perfection and she seemed okay with that. But one day, she had this idea that the cookie-cutter boyfriend material her parents had envisioned for her, I didn't come close to that. And suddenly she wanted me to be everything I wasn't. And when I refused to fill in some stupid statement criteria, she got angry. Her every argument would start with the same demand; I don't put in the effort and I damn well should. I won't sugarcoat my own vices here. I was also a stubborn son of a gun who didn't want to be dictated around just for existing the way he did. Vaneeza wanted a lot from me and I couldn't give it to her. This relationship was doomed. It could've ended amicably but she went ahead and got engaged to another guy while I was out of the city. The onus of which was also on me because again. I never put in the effort. Touche."

"She hadn't broken things off with you when she got engaged to Ali Jatoi?"

He found Sila's disdain cute. "No. But I no longer hold this against her. In fact, I hope our wedding situation has given her the opening to leave that abusive tool."

He said seriously. He wasn't viewing Vaneeza's situation as a bitter ex, just like Sila didn't hold anything against Danish for their failed relationship. As people who had come out of long relationships before their marriage to each other, both of them were over that and could look back at all of it with sensibility and a lack of prejudice.

As they resumed their walk, Aahil intertwined their fingers. Even the silence between them was companionable.

"Aahil?"

"Hun?"

"Why are those kids glaring at you?"

He followed her vision and groaned. The kids from the morning were shooting daggers at him.

"Don't tell me you have a situation going on with them as well."

He scratched his neck. "I might or might not have been rude to them in the morning."

"God bless! Why??"

"They were making fun of our Chaand Gari!"

"Our? Who are you and what have you done to Aahil Jahangir?"

His reply was a sheepish smile. Sila tugged at his hand as she started walking away from the ledge.

"What are you doing?"

"Do you know how to play football?"

"Of course! Don't insult me. I've been watching and playing that sport almost all my life."

"Get ready then."

"For what, exactly?"

Sila glanced at him as she neared the ground the kids were playing at. "Getting reacquainted with them and mind you, your football skills will work as a buffer. Can't have the cuties hating on you when everyone and their mother knows you are amazing with kids."

"I doubt they'll let me play."

"Don't sound so sure without trying."

She hurried toward the ground and he let her take him wherever she wanted to. No questions asked.

𝄞