It seemed that the jubilation surrounding the inauguration of a new Jahan hotel would last for days to come. The family had returned to Karachi but the event was far from over. Faseeh Jahangir, in particular, was in high spirits. For an outsider, the reason for it would obviously be another successful business milestone but those close to him knew that sound professional dealings wouldn't make a man like him look so at peace.

The ease in his demeanor had everything to do with his last offspring.

Even with the evident changes in Aahil's handling of his life, the whole lot of the Jahangirs had expected him to backtrack, as he had always done in the past. His usual disdain for responsibility was anticipated but to their surprise, it never came. He was present at every meeting he was asked to attend, trying to be useful in whatever meager capacity he could, seeing it was far from his area of expertise.

That was good enough for Faseeh. More than good. There was a familiar ache as well, the wish that things were different for Aahil but they couldn't do much about that when Aahil had enclosed that life in a box, locked it, and hurled the key into the depths of the sea he lived at the outskirts of.

At least now there was some consolation that he wasn't completely wasting his life away, boarding the flight to a new country every few months, seeking escape but calling it wanderlust. That had got to mean something.

"Uncle, your tea." His reverie of thoughts was broken when Sila poured him a cup as Jamil placed the tray on the table. Faseeh's smile deepened. His impeccable ability to read people had come in handy once again. He'd say it was his and his family's luck (his son being the luckiest of them all) that this girl was a part of the family. "Thank you. Come sit." He gestured to the seat beside him.

Sila did so, without much hesitation. During the initial days of her marriage with Aahil, she was the most intimidated by Faseeh, seeing his no-nonsense attitude but she quickly learned that was a detail for his professional decorum and had no place in his personal life; his family, which she was a part of now.

As she settled on the sofa, Faseeh began the discussion on the inaugural, something they hadn't gotten the time to do because of the tight schedule. Faran, Adan, and Nawar also took part in the conversation. Sila noticed, with warmth spreading in her heart, that it was not a professional discourse, but rather a teatime discussion among the family members who were all involved and everyone had something to add.

Her eyes darted toward the other side of the TV lounge. The kids were busy in some game on the tablet, Arsh was the main player, and Hanah was cheering him on while Zain sulked beside them, whining that he deserved a go as well. Dado and Sabah Auntie were checking the menu list for the upcoming party, as the food at every Jahangir gathering was always approved by them first.

The person she was the most interested in, however, was the most nondescript detail of this whole picture, sprawled on the couch where Sabah sat, his head resting in her lap and a cushion covering his face.

"Oi, you Mama's boy! Get over here and give your input." Adan did what Sila was about to do as well. He remained unfazed, though. Just slipped the cushion from over his face, looked at them, and shook his head.

"I'm alright here. No thanks."

"Leave him be, Adan. It's not like he and I quote 'actively participate in the discussion." Sila said with a hint of resignation in her voice.

Aahil flashed her a knowing smile. "See, she knows the deal."

"Not active participation, hun?" Adan returned his smile with her own. It was another thing that was way more evil. "Says the guy who actively showed his disapproval when Mauve alone was being considered for the events."

He wouldn't be Aahil Jahangir if he let his beloved sister have the last say. "That disapproval wasn't misplaced. Good thing Baba has better business insight than you and my wife always lives up to the expectations. Now I'd like to go back to my nap."

Surprisingly, Adan didn't try to prolong the back-and-forth. She sat in her seat with a knowing smirk on her face. Sila played with the ends of her hair, trying her best not to show how affected she was. His easy declarations always took her off guard and as usual, he was amused, his wink at her proving it.

His nap time was once again disturbed but he accepted the commotion with a grin as Arsh, Hanah, and Zain flocked to him, asking him to play the hardest level of the game with them. He obliged without any grimace.

It was after his late evening tea owing to his nap, that he retired to his old room to freshen up. Sila soon followed and when she came inside, he was standing in front of the mirror, setting his hair.

"Ready to leave?" He asked as she closed the door behind her. His genial smile, the laidback countenance, the good boy aura.

Such a farce.

Behind this dutiful husband's mask was a sly a-hole who just wouldn't give up. Didn't she pick on his obvious attempt at not touching her? Oh, she NOTICED! Normally, he'd have a hard time keeping his hands to himself so what happened now?

His stupid declaration at their wedding reception. That happened.

She wasn't a fool to not see what he was trying to do. But she refused to break. Giving him that ego boost? She'd save the world from that catastrophe. But that didn't mean it was easy.

Not at all.

In the past few weeks, they had grown so used to the casual intimacy between them. The ease of it all came naturally, so much so that she wasn't even surprised. They fell into that routine and never looked back.

Until now.

And the jerk knew. He knew what effect it had on her. His knowing smirk said it all. She was slowly getting too pissed to pull him to her and—

No! Focus!

That's what he wanted. That's what he was trying for. She raised her chin, shaking her head. "Not really. There's a birthday party in the neighborhood. The kid is Zain's friend and he insisted that I also go with them. I'm game and have already told Nawar Bhabhi as such."

He shrugged. "Works with me. I also have someplace to be."

Such a liar! He didn't have any place to be. Sila narrowed her eyes. "Zain also mentioned that the birthday boy has a crush on me. I know his tendency for storytelling so I have to see my cute admirer for myself."

His smile vanished immediately. Here! Take that. She flicked her hair back and folded her arms but he recovered the next second, much to her frustration.

"Do that and send me the pictures. A man has to know his competition."

"He will win fair and square." She hiked a shoulder.

"That he will, seeing the authority is already in his favor."

"Jealous of a 10-year-old?"

He flicked her nose. "Hardly. Just pointing out your special treatment. You don't get to call me a nepo baby after this." Saying that he took two deliberately slow steps toward the door.

"I'm off then. Enjoy your time with the Kindergarten Hall of Fame. Give me a call when you are free and I'll pick you up."

"No need for that. I'll come home with the driver. And seeing how much fun I'm going to have at the birthday party, I think I'll crash here." She pointed around. His old room had a bed, much to his frustration this time.

"This bed is one cough away from collapsing."

"It won't collapse on me." She dismissed his unsolicited opinion.

"But you will be uncomfortable with it throughout the night. Don't forget." He raised his finger to emphasize his point. "We have a packed day tomorrow."

Sila held his finger and dropped his arm smoothly. "Correction. I have a packed day tomorrow. Have to make a trip to Adan's office to get my dress for the party. I have to go shopping with the girls. Then there's my salon appointment. I don't think I'll get time to even breathe properly."

With everything she counted from her to-do list, his sour expressions deepened. Sila stifled her evil laugh. He hated being ignored and she had every intention of doing that to get him in line.

The protest was just there. She was sure of—

"Fine by me. You should spend time with the girls, Nawar Bhabhi and Adan. After all, making your husband your sole focus after marriage isn't healthy at all."

BLOODY HELL! His infuriating grin was back. She could literally translate it to 'You thought, wife.'

She couldn't say much in retaliation. Her plan had backfired. Of course. So, she resorted to glaring at the back of his head as they came downstairs. His secretive smile was infuriating. In fact, his whole personality was.

As he bid his family bye and went out of the house, she was still shooting daggers at him. Should have been subtle because when she turned around, the rest of Jahangir women were eyeing her with interest.

Sila sighed. "I hate him."

That earned her some exasperated laughs (Adan and Nawar), an endeared smile (Sabah), and a disappointed sigh (Mrs. Irshad).

"Welcome to the club." Adan leaned into her seat. Sila's long face stayed intact, though.

"Sila, come here." Mrs. Irshad beckoned her, her voice all business-like. Sila took slow steps toward where she sat. The taste of defeat was still very bitter.

"Now, listen to me very carefully." Dado leaned forward conspiratorially as if imparting her with the wisdom of ages. Sila knew it was time to pay attention.

"These Jahangir men might look suave, charismatic, and real charmers,"

"Might? They are, Dado. Though that's highly debatable when it comes to your youngest grandchild." Adan interrupted. Mrs. Irshad's face alone could tell she didn't appreciate the disruption but Adan didn't look a bit fazed.

Dado put her eyes back on Sila, as serious as before. "They are. I have to agree with Adan. The whole lot of them. I know because I married one, I birthed and raised one, coddled two as a granny,"

"Still coddling." Adan coughed. It was Sabah to send her most disapproving glance Adan's way. Her response was a shrug.

"And now I'm seeing the latest generation going on the same path as their elders. The thing, however, is that these Jahangir men also have something else in their blood, generation after generation. It has never changed." She smirked as if the most fun part had just begun. "Being putty in their wives' hands."

Sila looked around and as if confirming Dado's declaration, Sabah and Nawar nodded their heads while Adan seemed proud.

Mrs. Irshad continued. "Your grandfather, may his soul rest in peace. What a man he was. He laid the foundation of the empire you see today, a shrewd businessman and whatnot but the moment he was through that door," She pointed toward the entrance. "He was just my husband. I could ask the man for the world and he'd tell me to say no more and get to it."

Sabah chuckled softly. "You are more or less aware of how it goes with Faseeh. I'm just going to say we are now the grandparents of three cute kids but his care and love for me are the same as they were during the phase when some stolen glances were all we had."

Nawar placed the cushion in her lap, a content smile on her face. "The same goes for Faran. Every day I'm grateful that a decade or so back, I stepped outside my best friend's party to get some fresh air and bumped into him. Knew he was it for me right away and through our dating phase, the difficult five years of long-distance, our chaotic wedding, the ups and downs of marriage, and two kids, my faith in us is as unflinching as ever. And part of the credit goes to him for being my husband but still retaining the ability to be my lover."

Sila knew the relationship portfolio of this family was freaking stellar but knowing about it, as always, filled her with so much warmth. Goals, literally.

"I know that imbecile can be a real pain when he wants to be." Mrs. Irshad took over, her tone stern but couldn't hide the fond undertones. That imbecile was her favorite grandkid, after all. "But he's part of the same clan. Use the inherent power you have on him. Trust me, it's not difficult."

"But he's a force to be reckoned with when he sets his mind to something." Sila didn't even try to hide her exasperation.

"As if. Have you seen how he looks at you? Just play your cards," Adan's tone grew suggestive. "Right. And he'll cave."

"He definitely will." Nawar echoed.

"You just have to know when to push them to the edge and they'll come to you as if there's nothing else to do in life." Mrs. Irshad's smirk said it all. This was her experience speaking.

Sabah took Sila's hand in hers. "He is not as strong when it comes to you. And no, don't deny it. I'm the mother and I can just tell."

"Heard her, Sila?" Adan lounged as if she had just sorted a grave issue. "Get him to his knees. Give us entertainment."

"Don't be too excited. He's your brother." Sabah rebuked but it didn't have the needed intensity, as if, deep down, she was with Adan on this. She also wanted to see it happening.

Sila's confidence rejuvenated. It was time to get to the next level. And she'd be damned if she'd let him win as he did with the kid's video game today.

𝄞

Making sure the Pulao was ready, Zeb picked up the stack of plates and made her way out of the kitchen. She had just crossed the threshold when the pile was taken from her hands. She stopped and as expected found him standing there.

"What did we talk about, Osama? Don't interrupt my cooking time."

He shrugged, already walking towards the dining room. "You said you didn't want help with cooking but I'm setting the table. It's hardly any interruption."

Her eyes darted between her son and husband. Mikaal stood, leaning on the long table, checking the dessert he had prepared while Jodi was in charge of the Salad and Raita. Once again, her solo venture had become a team effort.

Owing to the hectic nature of both her and Mikaal's jobs, they didn't have much time to spend like this. Small joys such as family cooking time were scarce. Osama never minded it though. What his parents lacked in their physical presence, they made up to him in their emotional support. There was never a time in his life when he needed them and they weren't there for him, with their understanding and care. There never was a communication gap. As a family, they believed in talking and sorting instead of brooding and hurting in silence.

"What do you think? Will Baba let us eat his cooking masterpiece or should we just chance a look and consider ourselves lucky?"

Mikaal dismissed him. "My effort paid off today so I'm just going to ignore your misplaced critique."

"We will be the judge of that."

Jodi smiled at Osama's high spirits. She and Zeb exchanged a look. Osama didn't see it, though. He was busy trying to get a spoonful of the dessert, much to Mikaal's dismay.

The lunch followed the same pattern of ease. Their talks flew and all three of them couldn't help noticing Osama's smile that never dimmed. They prayed that it'd remain the same way. It had been a long time coming and they had missed seeing how beautiful happiness looked on him.

Since the main course was prepared by Zeb while Mikaal whipped up the dessert, Jodi and Osama took it upon themselves to take care of the after-lunch fuss.

It was way after that when Mikaal had sat in front of the TV to watch a Cricket World Cup game and Jodi, out of habit, went to her room to nap for a while. It left only Osama and Zeb. Both of them were on the lawn, having their tea with silence between them.

Even though Zeb was very much focused on the warm beverage, she'd glance at her son in between and whatever she'd come across from up close, that'd make her satisfied to no extent.

Osama finally halted his movements. "You can ask me about it, you know."
Zeb shook her head. "What for? It's doing this." She pointed at his face. "So it's all good. More than good, actually."
Osama chuckled at that. Zeb took another sip of her tea. "I've always wanted to see you this happy, Osama and I hope Alina is the same way. That kid also deserves it."

"She is. We have lots to catch up on, to make up for the time lost between us. We're taking it slow, one step at a time."
Zeb had full faith in her son to make it work because he truly wanted to. And when it came to Alina, he'd always want just that.

"You might be a bit disappointed, though. In the beginning, when we hadn't even gotten back together I was still so hung up on Alina that I ignored Rimsha's obvious interest in me. In fact, I turned her down."

He stated it as a matter of fact. There was no hesitation in his stance. Years of communication always came in handy during times like this where he'd come clear to his parents without beating about the bush.

"I don't regret it. Leading her on was going to be a bad move. I couldn't do this to her and to myself...and now that I know better, to Alina."

Zeb leaned forward and held his hand in hers. "Osama, I don't hold it against you that you couldn't give you and Rimsha a chance. Goodness, no. My priority was and will always be your happiness."

She caressed his fingers, stopping at an old scar. He had gotten it while riding his bicycle when he was ten. It hurt a lot but he said it was alright when she kissed it better.

"No mother likes to see her child suffering. After Alina, you were a shell of your former self, Osama. You had stopped embracing happiness. I don't hold it against her. That child had a messed up home life. I'm sure she didn't fare better than you but it was a fact. You two were not together anymore."

Osama's hold on her hand tightened. Zeb looked deep in thought. "I've known Rimsha for quite some time. I enjoyed her company. It's always fascinating seeing the world from a younger person's perspective. When I got to know about her interest in you, I was thrilled, honestly."

She chuckled. "She didn't hide it from me and that time, in her, I could see a second chance at love for you. I was hopeful that if you gave it a shot, you'll be happy together. I didn't give her any hope that it'd work. But in my heart, I clung a smidge of that, though. It had been years since your and Alina's breakup and someday, you'd have to move on. I wanted you to do that. Not as an obligation but as naturally as you could, no matter how long it took. I was looking at all that from a mother's perspective and I'm not ashamed that I wanted my son to start living life again. But."

There it was. But.

"Your refusal to move on was as it had always been. The same certainty. I knew what you and Alina had was magical but I was also hopeful that you had years to push it behind you and you'd done that but now I see, it was never a bygone. Your feelings for Alina were as pure and as raw as the day when you first told me about her. There was no place for Rimsha or anyone else. That was quite an awakening. I couldn't stop Rimsha because I hadn't pushed her on that path in the first place but I stopped imagining a future for you both. Instead, I started praying for your and Alina's past to get resolved so that you both could be each other's present and future as well."

Here she was. His mother was one of those elders the youngsters could go to with their every problem. She just knew what to tell you. It was a godsend that she was around him and it was a lifelong commitment.

"And it seems my prayers have been answered." She added.

"Something like that."

She stood up, taking the tray with her. "You don't know how relieved your father and I are that you chose your happiness, finally. Be good to yourself and to her, Osama. Your love has brought you two this far and it'll take you further as well. Just don't leave each other's hand again."

"We have no plans for that."

"Good to know. Are you leaving?"
He left his chair, nodding. "Yes. Alina's shoot ends in fifteen minutes. I'll pick her up and then we have plans."

His nonchalance couldn't fool her though. She saw right through him, his childlike excitement made her laugh lightly.

"What?"

Zeb shook her head. "Nothing. I'm going to pack lunch for Alina. I know you two have plans but she loves the Pulao made by me."

"That's a good idea. Very good idea if I'm being honest." He followed her inside the house. Zeb looked behind her at him. Anyone who saw him could say he was finally living.

May it stay the same way, always. That was her new prayer.

𝄞

The call for pack up came like a summons from heaven. Alina had been at it for the best part of her day so she deserved to celebrate now that the shoot was over.

People said apt use of her contacts had brought Tina Khakhwani where she was now. Alina differed. As someone who'd worked with the astute designer many times, she could say with conviction that was her professionalism, the key to the throne Tina sat on, as one of the most sought fashion designers in Pakistan. The woman just knew how to get the best out of everyone on her payroll and the result was always both satisfying but the aftermath often left them all exhausted.

Alina made her way out of the trailer after waving goodbye to the models. Their job was the hardest, getting into one heavy bridal jora after the other. She didn't miss her days of being one. She was certain.

Her phone pinged in her pants pocket. She didn't have to check it to see who it was. She hastened her pace to get out of the premises which was a Bristol Hotel in Civil Lines. As soon as she came to the sidewalk, she found his car at some distance. Gesturing for him to stay put, she reached the vehicle and got inside.

"Hi!"

She greeted him and leaned against the seat.

"Hey. Hectic day?"

"You have no idea."

Osama had already pulled the car out of the vicinity. "It was the Tina Khakhwani shoot, no?"

"The very one." She had straightened in her seat by then.

"I've heard about her crazy schedule."

"She's a monster when it comes to getting work out of her team. I respect her a lot for it but gosh, my tired limbs and aching back hate her."

Osama looked concerned. "That bad?"

"I'm still up for whatever you've planned for the evening. So, no, it's not that bad."

Osama smiled. "That's good to know but first, we have to replenish your energy."

He gestured behind. Alina extended her hand and found some packed plastic containers on the backseat. The aroma alone was enough to remind her she was famished.

"Pulao?"

Osama nodded as he swiveled the steering. "Mama sent it for you. You like her Pulao, don't you?"

"Like? I love it. That's so sweet of Zeb Auntie. The moment I came inside the car I wanted to ask you what this delicious faint smell was about."

She removed the lid and dug in. Osama could see how right his mother was to pack him a late lunch for Alina.

"Want some?" She offered. Osama shook his head, his smile deepening.

"Suit yourself because I can't wait to finish this all by myself."

He chuckled as he saw her gobbling it down. "It hasn't changed much, has it?. What was that? My food is mine and,"
Alina laughed. "Yours is also mine."

"Yeah, that. You were insane when it came to food."

Alina canted her eyes at him. "You never complained, though, always gave me yours."

"I was big on sharing is caring. Was kind of blind when it came to you."

Alina felt she couldn't say anything now. He raised an eyebrow, urging her to contradict him. As if she would.

As if she could.

The rest of the ride was spent in small talk and food, the former was both of them, the latter just her.
It still felt surreal how they had fallen into their old routine just like that.

There was work needed to mend what was broken but the beginning had been quite promising, if she was honest.
And he was honest too, dedicated to do this again, differently this time because the cafe he had stopped the car outside of made Alina widen her eyes with both surprise and anticipation.

Chester-Coffee-Clifton aka 3-C. Their favorite hang-out place, where they had their first date and the last goodbye.
She was so lost in the nostalgia, good and painful memories, that she didn't realize when a tear rolled down her cheek.

She also had no clue when Osama got out and opened her side of the door. He held his hand out to her. The hesitation lingered for just a fleeting moment. She placed her hand in his as he made her stand next to him.

"Let's do this right." He whispered, wiping the tears off her face. The drop stayed on his thumb and fell unceremoniously to the floor. Alina could hope all the heartache would also, one day, have the same fate.

As they walked through the door, the familiarity of the place hit them right in the heart. From the interior to the furnishing. They could even see some of the known faces on the staff as well.
Some places retain their vibe and Alina was thankful that 3-C was one of those. Chester wasn't around. His son ran the operations but Osama made it a point to inquire about the old man. They were relieved to know Chester was here in the early hours.

They'd meet him during their next visit. Both of them didn't voice it but meant nothing else. This place would be important in reviving what they had lost.

Alina wasn't in the mood for coffee. As usual. Her eyes were fixed on the assortment of ice creams. She and Osama shared a knowing look. They were here to relive and to retrace. To be in love, to be stupid, to be seventeen again.

So, naturally, when they got out of the premises, their once favorite pick in ice cream was in their hand. Alina went for a Vanilla Brownie and Osama for a Mocha Coffee mix. Sweet, bitter, and overly cliched but so was childhood and love. They weren't complaining.
As they stopped close to Osama's car, he held her by her waist and made her sit on the bonnet. Another old pattern. Alina couldn't stop her smile. She also couldn't take her eyes off him.

"David used to live in this area, didn't he?"

Osama nodded. "Yes, the next block."

"He and Jodi were so cute but they are not together anymore, I think."

She settled his skewed glasses as he took a spoonful of his ice cream. "Yes and no."

"How?" Alina asked, offering him her cup. He grinned, knowing too well she was being generous because she wanted to taste his ice cream. Taste was a bit of an understatement. She wanted her share.

He took her offer and in return, presented his ice cream to her. As per the norm. "They went out a few times over the years but then Jodi started ghosting David. She's a bit of a commitment-phobe. But David is one persistent son of a gun. He still shows up sometimes with flowers and chocolates. Says he's ready to be her retirement plan because she's his."

"Cute! But Jodi hates chocolates, though."

Osama wiped a spot of vanilla from her lip as he grinned. "Still, she eats all those David brings for her. Never heard her complaining."

Alina couldn't help her laugh at that. She also couldn't help noticing she and Osama were eating from the same cup.
They looked around at the thoroughfare. The traffic in this residential area wasn't as bad, by Karachi's standards.

"Do you remember that one-time Aahil and Mahad invited themselves to our date?"

Osama grimaced. "God, don't remind me."

Alina's chuckle morphed into a full belly laugh as the details came to her mind slowly. "Mahad pissed you off so bad with his theatrics that you chased him on the sidewalk like a hellhound." She pointed across the street. "Me and Aahil were there, enjoying the show, laughing like mad hyenas."

"Those two have always been insufferable when they team up. Good that they don't do it often."

Alina swatted his arm. "Don't be mean. They are our biggest supporters."

"Doesn't make them any less insufferable." His words might be indignant but his voice and face hinted at the opposite.

Silence stretched between them and for the first time in years, it wasn't heavy with the unsaid. Osama tucked her hair behind her ear. "I talked to Mama. I knew it's something you're worried about but trust me, she's happy for us."

That didn't surprise Alina. Even though Rimsha was dear to Zeb and she had envisioned a future for her and Osama, there was no way Zeb would hold this against Alina. The woman wasn't built this way.

She had every reason to keep Osama away from Alina when they first started dating, as she was aware of Alina's home life and had met Mahvish a couple of times. But she didn't become a hindrance in her son's love story even though, at that time he wasn't an adult. So, her opting for that, now when he was capable of making his own decisions, was independent, and a legal adult, was impossible.

"I was worried, I'm not going to lie but I also knew that Zeb Auntie would be supportive. She's always been. As for me, I haven't told my parents yet and I don't think I will anytime soon. They have the ability to ruin every good in my life, especially Mom. So, I'm not taking any chances."

Osama caressed the side of her face. "It's good to see that you no longer let your parents walk all over you."

"Wasn't easy. They are still very much present in my life and to some extent, I want them too. You can't pretend your parents are dead when they are very much alive. That's not possible for me. But I'd have to draw some boundaries because it was getting toxic. Very toxic. It still is but not as it was before. As you saw it when were together."

She held onto his hand cupping her face. "That was the first thing I did when I was left alone after I...yeah I broke up with you. You were gone. So were Aahil and Mahad. I stayed connected to them through social media. But it wasn't the same. There was so much to do, my relationship with my parents, limiting my modeling assignments, and branching out. In the beginning, it was difficult, then along the line, it became liberating, especially when my parents were concerned. But for the most part, it was lonely. Without you, everything felt incomplete. Even though I had my reasons to do what I did, and my emotional dependency on you became glaringly obvious when you weren't here, that doesn't mean that I didn't miss you."

She stifled a sob. "I really missed you, Osama. I missed you so much. Without you, everything was colorless."

He pulled her closer, but somehow it wasn't enough. Then he chuckled softly, but there was nothing humorous about it. "I didn't fare any better. The first few months at Harvard were hell for me. I moved like a zombie. In hindsight, that was rather pathetic. High school romances often come with an expiry date. You part ways when your choices do not coincide. But it was never the same for us, Alina. You were it for me. My present and future. But then, all of a sudden, you were my past. I had a hard time dealing with that. Really hard time. I was angry, confused and frustrated. But even through all those negative emotions, I did miss you, Alina. I missed you so much. Without you, nothing made sense."

Alina snuggled more into him, breathing in his familiar scent. "I'm so glad we're doing this. After everything. Despite everything."

"So am I."

She looked up at him as he dropped a kiss on the side of her face, making her smile. All that hurt felt meaningless at that moment.

"Do you want to head home?"

Alina shook her head, closing her eyes.

"Not right now. This is good."

"Damn straight because I don't want to leave just yet."

"Then we stay."

So, that's what they did.

𝄞

It was past midnight when she reached their place after an eventful evening. The birthday party, dinner with Nawar and Adan, and then spending some more time with her in-laws.

She enjoyed it but that didn't mean his absence didn't nag at her. But he was sticking to his motive and she was sticking to hers.

If she thought he'd go down without trying, she had another thought coming. Her phone kept on buzzing with his texts.

Trying to ensure meaningless petty arguments ✔️

Sending her a picture of Chinese takeout from her favorite restaurant ✔️

Tempting her with a movie night with whatever she picked ✔️

Last but not least, sending her a selfie of enjoying a football game ✔️

He knew she was not into sports but that was far from his intention.

He was shirtless. Yeah, that was certainly his intention.

And she'd be a hypocrite if she said she didn't consider leaving everything and heading home. He had her there.

Almost. She could give herself a pat on the back for her will of steel. Otherwise, who'd ignore THAT?

And after that, there were crickets from him. Sila stood in the middle of their bedroom, seeing him on his back, fully clothed in his white tee and gray sweats, asleep, apparently.

"I don't understand your lore. Watch football naked but go to bed fully clothed."

"Shirtless, asterisk." He pulled the pillow some more under his head. "As someone who left me on read, you're awfully concerned about my clothes or lack thereof."

Sila perched on her side of the bed. He squinted at her and then looked away.

"Get off your high horse. I had such a great time so; I'm not going to end this day with meaningless banter with you."
He opened his mouth to say something, but then pursed his lips. With a grumble, he shifted to the other side, his back facing her. "Yeah, whatever."
Sila wanted to laugh at his frown but refrained from doing so.

"Zain wasn't lying."

"A first." He muttered.

Sila ignored his quip and continued.

"The birthday boy, Saad did have a crush on me. His face turned beetroot red when I gave him his gift. That was the cutest thing I've ever seen. His mother couldn't stop laughing."

"That's great, cover your parenting lapses with guffaws."

Sila covered her face to stop her giggle.

He was a menace when he wanted to be petty.

"Do you realize he's just ten?"

"How about he and his mom realize that?"

Sila got up, walking toward the wardrobe to get her PJs out. "Be as salty as you want. I'm off to take my bubble bath."

"Are you sure? You had such a great time. I'm sure you don't need a bath. You're already relaxed."

"That I'm. See you in an hour. Go back to sleep, grouch."

An hour later, when she slipped beneath the covers, freshly showered and wearing her favorite Pajamas, she shifted closer to his side. Given up his pretenses, he was wide awake, scowling at the ceiling.

"Aahil."

Her voice was low and breathy. He whipped his head in her direction. Sila ran a hand on his stubbled jaw. He looked close to delirious on a mere touch.

"Turn off the lights."

"Really?" He whispered his arms already by her torso.

Sila moved even closer, so their breaths mingled. His eyes lingered on her lips for longer than necessary.

"Yeah, so that I can sleep. A long day tomorrow, remember."

Bucket full of ice water. His expectant face fell and then hardened. He pulled off the cover and not sparing her a glance, was out of the room, switching the light off on his way.

The door shut behind him with a faint click. Sila finally let out the laugh she was holding. Gosh, it was too much fun. Why didn't she do it before?

She could hear voices from the TV lounge. Friends rerun.

He wasn't watching it; she could swear her non-existent estate on it. He wasn't a fan of the show. The exaggerated laughter after every punch line would only make him roll his eyes.

So the fact that it was on meant that he was too bothered to skip to something else.

"Oh, Sila, you're so winning this."

She mumbled to herself as she closed her eyes.

𝄞

Continued in the next part