Pressing the doorbell, he stepped back and pushed his hands in his pockets. The guards at the front gate had let him in without any queries. He was sure, by then, his arrival would have been relayed inside as well, as per the norm.

He let his gaze linger around at the premises. No matter how many times he'd been here, the grandeur would always make him stagger, not much, but just a bit. Old money can't stay hidden between the layers. It had to reveal itself. The iron gates flanked by the security personnel, the lush gardens on both sides of the driveway, the ornamental plants and the pool.

“Zarrar, what a pleasant surprise!”

The voice came as soon as the door was opened. Sabah smiled at him with the same warmth he had, by then, became used to.

“Hello, Auntie.” He greeted as she ushered him inside. The opulence of Jahangirs’ lifestyle wasn't more shocking than their welcoming personas. All his time coming here, he had never been received by a household staff. It would always be a family member to welcome him in. He felt important.

“Have you been busy? I expected to see you more over the break.” She said as they entered the lounge.

“Just a bit, practice and sessions with Baba. We decided to make the most of the break.”

His delivery contained a sliver of haughtiness, but if Sabah did notice it, she let it slide. They were joined by Mrs. Irshad, who was already seated on one of the couches, enjoying her evening tea. Her reaction upon seeing Zarrar wasn't any different from Sabah’s. The ladies didn't insist that he join them, knowing full well it was not them he was here to meet in the first place.

“Go up. He's been holed up in his room all day.” Sabah informed him with a laugh.

Mrs. Irshad snorted. “That insolent brat. He told me at the breakfast table that it feels like a creative day today so I'm not allowed to disturb him, all the while hugging me.”

Her words were dipped with affection and a slight smile was on her lips. And suddenly, the chocolate chips in the cookies Sabah had given to Zarrar felt like pebbles to him, their taste acrid.

He wasted no time in getting up as he made his way toward the stairs. The upper floor of the house was as quiet as ever but then a distant guitar note broke the silence. He stood outside the door and pushed it slightly, not giving any heed to the etiquettes of knocking.

He was sitting on the couch, his guitar in his hand. He didn't look up as he tested another note on his fingers and then played the turn again. His brows were scrunched and eyes were focused. Zarrar was sure he hadn't even noticed he had company, fully immersed in his creative spell.

“Working hard, I see,” He commented.
Aahil turned toward him with a grin on his face. “As I always do. You're late by the way. Which part of ‘Get here ASAP’ tells you to take an hour?”

Zarrar made himself comfortable on the couch. “I was busy. Besides, you're the one behind schedule, not me. We were supposed to be done with this two weeks back.”

Aahil sighed, shaking his head. “Z, your schedule, not mine if we're talking facts here. Officially, we are right on track. The performance is in two weeks, plenty of time to work things out. I'm almost done with the melody. Do you want to listen?”

Zarrar’s eyes zeroed in on Aahil’s photo wall and the additions there. He got up. “In a bit.”

Aahil shrugged and went back to the instrument in his hand. Zarrar stopped close to the photos, examining them closely. “A good trip, I reckon.”

Aahil's face broke into a smile. “Good doesn't come close. Just say, we had the time of our lives. Faran Bhai’s choice is always good.”

He saw Zarrar more focused on the Polaroids hanging there. “Alina brought her camera. Good call. We captured so many instant memories. God, it was great. You should've been there, Z.”

Zarrar shrugged. “I didn't have the time.”

Aahil wasn't deterred by his nonchalance. “Neither did I but I made it work somehow. That's how it goes. You make an effort for your friends and family. Faran Bhai asked about you, just so you know. He had an extra spot reserved in case you changed your mind.”

Extra. The word hit Zarrar like the burning edge of an iron rod. He kept his face impassive lest it showed Aahil the sting there.

“I'm grateful for Faran Bhai’s mindfulness but I don't think tagging along was a good idea. Your friends aren't particularly fond of me.”

“That's not true.” Aahil shook his head. “We've been through this. Osama and Alina like you just fine.” He emphasized, trying to put up a good case for his friends.

“They do, I know. But it's not them I'm talking about.” He raised an eyebrow. “I don't think Mahad likes me. He can't even pretend to tolerate me. I don't go around where I'm not welcomed.”

An exasperated chuckle left Aahil's lips. “Gosh, Lashari. Always at the crime scene. But it's not like that. He can be a bit difficult but he's not so bad. I think you two will get along well if you both tried.” Aahil didn't meet his eyes as he said that. Mahad's open disdain for Zarrar was no secret even from Zarrar himself. Mahad had never tried to be subtle about it, either.

“Dreaming are we? I don't think I want to make an effort there. Why should I? He knows me through you and as far as I know, he doesn't like you much either so him having it in for me is granted.”

That was it. Aahil's peacekeeping tendencies gave away. He glared at Zarrar. “Don't talk rubbish. You don't even know him so shut it.”

Zarrar immediately knew he had overdone it. There were two poles in Aahil's life. His friends he had known since he was a baby,  and then there was Zarrar, who was his first link to the musical world. And he wanted both to coexist, side by side, even merge into each other. He tried his best for it to happen but it never quite did. But just because he wanted all his friends to get along didn't mean he'd be open to tolerate insults about one of them. That's where he drew the line.

“Let's get to what I came here for. The tune. Show me.”

Zarrar took his seat once again and tried to steer the conversation to the more important matters. Aahil was quick to oblige. This performance was important. Up until then, they had mainly done some covers, and  renditions, but nothing new from the scratch. Their performances had been confined to their academy's events and school showcases. But this time around, Aahil wanted to experiment.

“Listen up, here.” He told Zarrar as his fingers smoothly worked the guitar. One note. Another. The indentations roused from their slumber and started to dance to his command.

No one could say this was his second best instrument.

“What do you think?” He asked, putting the guitar to the side as the tune came to an end. Zarrar swallowed the unease and smiled. “Amazing.”

Aahil reciprocated it, getting hold of the lyrics sheet from the side drawer. His countenance didn't reveal any sign of trepidation, as if he was prepared and certain of hearing the praise Zarrar had voiced. The confidence in his craft had always been his biggest asset. He knew his composition, he was well versed in his music and his instruments were always in tune with him, as if he was a wizard, keeping them under his spell.

And his creativity. He had gotten bored of performing covers quite early. It was his idea to go with an original single. Nothing too complicated, just enough to showcase that they weren't some wannabes, here just for the vibes and two seconds of applause.

But Zarrar loved that applause, quite literally lived for it. Covers were his forte. No matter how many touches of your own you add to the composition, the vocalist is the protagonist. No one remembers the rest. That's why he didn't warm up to the idea initially, only after his father told him it was a good to get experimental this early in his career.

His father.

Zarrar leaned forward, resting his palm on the shiny wooden surface of the table. Aahil was humming the lyrics Miss Daisy had penned down for them, and drumming his fingers on the guitar, preparing for the practice session.

“Why don't we go and perform it for my father? Get his opinion?”

With sick satisfaction, Zarrar saw Aahil's face losing its vibrancy. He withdrew his hands from the instrument and tucked them in his lap, his fingers intertwined.

“I don't think that's a good idea. He's the head teacher while It's a work in progress and we are just through the composition. Wait till editing, mixing and mastering.”

Zarrar shook his head. “Come on. Miss Daisy is privy to everything and she's also a teacher.”

“That's because she's given us this.” Aahil pointed toward the sheet of paper. The lyrics were scrawled by Miss Daisy in longhand. “So, drop it. We'll involve him when everything is ready.”

From his side, the topic was closed for further discussion but that wasn't the case with Zarrar. He eyed Aahil sympathetically.

“Look, if you're still miffed about what he said the last time—”

Aahil wasted no time in contradicting him. “Z, I'm not.”

But Zarrar continued. “It's okay even if you're. He can be way too blunt in his assessment sometimes.”

Aahil hiked a shoulder, feigning indifference. “It's not that he said anything wrong. Singing isn't my area. End of debate.”

Zarrar bumped his arm with his fist. “Come on. You're not that bad. What about a duet? After this song?”

Aahil laughed lightly, shaking his head. “Duet with THE Zarrar Hassan? Wouldn't even dream of it.”

And just like that, they were back. Their smiles and discussions veiling the unease that had raised its head in both of them. But it was there, indelible. And would remain so, even when they'd no longer remain friends.

𝄞

Pushing open the door to his apartment, Zarrar marched inside. His manner alone could tell he wasn't in a good mood. He threw his jacket on the couch along with his snapback and proceeded to go to his room. He was done for the day.

“Zarrar.”

The voice stopped him in his tracks. Just what he needed right then. Closing his eyes, he tried to contain his temper and stood there with an impassive face, without facing his father.

“You didn't make it to the meeting.”

Zarrar shrugged. “I told you I didn't like the timing.”

Wasif left his seat and reached him. He held him by his shoulders. “I don't see any problem with it.”

Zarrar wanted to pry his hands off but there are some lines you can't cross. “I don't need any career counseling, Baba.”

Wasif nodded in agreement. Zarrar wasn't ecstatic about his acquiesce. He knew these patterns well. His father was treating him as a child who was quick to throw a tantrum but didn't know any better.

“You don't. You just need a new plan and tonight's meeting was especially for that. We don't leave people waiting, Zarrar. That's unprofessional. Don't forget we need them on our side, Son.”

Zarrar’s taut shoulders slumped. Wasif could sense the victory just close by. Sometimes you have to treat your grown up children as kids because no matter how much they claim otherwise, they don't know any better.

“So, let's reschedule for tomorrow, eh? An hour that works for all of us. You can tell me what suits you best and I'll let them know.”

He patted his arm as he stood to the side to light his cigar, the glow iridescent in the amethyst of his ring. He didn't stop talking, as if he had come here with the agenda of drilling into Zarrar's mind the importance of his good behavior and the repercussions of his lapses. Zarrar wasn't remotely interested in all that. His mind was elsewhere. But he nodded every now and then to show he was listening.

It was only when Wasif had gotten quiet, taking languid drags of his cigar when Zarrar looked at him from his perched up position on the couch.

“I saw Aahil today.”

Wasif raised an eyebrow. He hadn't been expecting this. Zarrar looked deep in thought. “With his wife.” He said and then chuckled to himself. “Thought of saying Hi to them but then I didn't want to embarrass him in front of Sila.”

Wasif wanted to interrupt him. It had nothing to do with them, Aahil and his wife. But Zarrar didn't let him.

“I remember I was on tour when the news reached me. Apart from the fact that I knew his wife, I didn't have much time to see other details. Was kind of a scandal, wasn't it?”

Wasif sighed. “Yes, some Jatoi and Jahangir crossfire, as usual and she came in between, that Sila.”

“You once mentioned some damage control, didn't you?” Zarrar didn't look in the mood of letting this topic go.

“It was. The Jahangirs announced their relationship and got them married. They were convincing but some of us are not easily fooled. It seemed to work. The compromise saved both Sila and Aahil from prying eyes and restored their reputation. End of the story.”

The images from the parking area swirled before Zarrar’s face. Didn't look like a compromise to me. He wanted to say but didn't.

“Whatever, it's nothing to us. We have better things to worry about.” Wasif finally said, a warning in his eyes.

Zarrar nodded as if he agreed wholeheartedly. “Of course, Baba.”

Saying that, he got up. “I'm off to my room then. See you in the morning. And don't worry about the meeting tomorrow. I'll be there and you will have my complete cooperation. I might have some suggestions of my own to put across.”

He ignored Wasif’s searching eyes. His change of mood had alerted his father but Zarrar knew when to keep his thoughts to himself. “Good night, Baba. If you want to stay over, make yourself comfortable in the guest room.”

Saying that, he made his way to his room, leaving a confused but nevertheless, relieved Wasif behind.

𝄞

It wasn't Sila's first time attending a concert after party. The occasion presented itself several times throughout her career. She wasn't a fan, though, too exhausted by the time the hour rolled in, eager to wrap it up and go home.

But she realized, quite pleasantly, after parties were her scene when her favorite artist was the host, and to where she had gotten an exclusive entry, all thanks to her husband's connections.

She had seen the camaraderie between Aahil and Cyrus during ACHC. They exuded the energy of old pals even though Aahil was younger in age. He knew Cyrus's family, him telling her the name of their pet dogs was enough to say.

But the extent of this bond dawned on her when Sonia, Cyrus's wife, sought them out as soon as they arrived and gave them a warm welcome. Her manner of treating Aahil was of an older sister, Adan sans the bickering.

Haleh, Amal and Rameen had never faced difficulty in assimilating themselves in a crowd so their expertise came in handy. They took no time in warming up to the people around.

Cyrus and Aahil got busy in a conversation which entailed Aahil teasing him about something while Cyrus pretended to be offended. Sila shook her head when she felt someone standing next to her.

“Always the same with these two.” Sonia said, looking over at her husband and Aahil affectionately. Her warm gaze then turned to Sila.

“It's so nice to meet you, Sila. Cyrus has already had the chance at ACHC.”

Sila smiled softly. “It was more like a chance for me to meet my favorite artist since I was a teenager.”

“Yeah, I know. Best believe Cyrus was very subtle about that detail.” Sila found Sonia's indignation cute.

“Anyways, did you enjoy the show?” Sonia asked as if Sila’s opinion meant something to her.

“Enjoy? I had the best time, Sonia. Cyrus's setlist was curated for fans like me. I'm certain.”

Sonia was beaming. “That's so sweet of you. You know I'm going to have a word with your husband now that I have him here. Where the hell has he been hiding you?”

Sila couldn't help picking up on the subtle signs. She hadn't seen Sonia and Cyrus much in all her time of being married to Aahil. But the way both of them behaved around him, it would seem as if they were once close. Very close. Sila had seen that during the SoundTest event, and at ACHC. But where Cyrus and Sonia’s affections were on full display, there was a hesitancy in Aahil's body language which Sila hadn't seen much before.

“Imagine my shock when Aahil Jahangir called me to ask for a favor. I immediately knew it was for you he wanted the entry privilege. I wasted no time in inviting you guys over here to the after party and look, he came even though it's not—”

“His scene.” Sila completed it for her. “I know.”

Sonia had gotten quiet, all the while searching for something on Sila’s face. What? Sila didn't know. The presual had lasted just for a few seconds but Sila had noticed it.

“Thank you for the invite, Sonia. My friends, as you must have seen by now, are ecstatic.” Sila tipped her head in the direction of Rameen, Haleh and Amal who had joined Aahil and Cyrus, a very hearty conversation by the looks of it.

“Oh, it's no problem. In fact, I should thank you for dragging Aahil here.”

There was another group of people at some distance. A woman gestured for Sonia to come to  them.

“And that's my cue.” Sonia settled her dress. “Host duties. I'll see you around.” She patted Sila's arm. “Don't be a stranger. I'll really like to get to know you more.”

Sila had no problem with that. She'd found Sonia endearing so, when Sonia moved to the awaiting group of her friends, she and Sila had already exchanged numbers.

Sila locked her phone and looked up. Her eyes immediately found him, his gaze trained on her. His lips curled into a grin, not paying much heed to anything else. And suddenly, for her as well, everything else had lost its meaning.

“Oh, Sila is here. She’ll tell you more about it.” Rameen exclaimed as Sila stopped right next to Aahil.

“About what exactly?” Sila asked and in no time, she was fully inserted into the conversation.

She was in the middle of explaining something to an eager Cyrus when she felt a gentle hand on the small of her back. She smiled mid-sentence, without stopping and subtly, leaned into Aahil.
Oh, the euphoria of something as minuscule as this. His hand on her back and his mark on the whole of her heart.
Tiny details. Small crevices. Containing lifetimes within them.

𝄞

Then they drove back home, amidst the city lights, a distorted panorama but it felt as if a town erupting into jubilation, their joyful whispers only for her to hear. The girls stopped outside Wadia House, bidding them both good night. Amal commented that Sila looked a bit dazed. Sila didn't contradict her. That'd be a lie. She was all that, head in the skies, eyes full of stars, drunk on the wonder of it all.

A distant melody, a faint symphony. Aahil said something. She strained to hear it. She was lost in the contours of his face, looking for something, and able to find everything. More than what she needed, but still never enough. Gentle breeze played with her hair, a feather like caress, tucking her in a cocoon, tea boiling in the pot, shapeless brownies with more chocolate chips than anything else, she tore a piece and handed it to him and on that piece a heart was carved. 4 O'clock on a Sunday, the setting sun bathing in the sea, waving at them from their balcony, sticky notes on the fridge, he forgot to do grocery but he brought her Chinese takeout. Hand knitted sweaters, charred wood in the fireplace, Karachi morphed into a cottage in Murree. Ambling around mall road, the first snow in November, he threw it at her, she called him an imbecile and then kissed him under the clear sky, surrounded by the hills.

“Sila?”

Her reverie was broken but the intrusion didn't grate on her senses. “What?”

He chuckled. “Amal was onto something. You do look drunk without even touching alcohol. I said we're home.”

On not getting a response from her, he sighed and proceeded to unbuckle her seatbelt. As he bent down, she wanted to run her fingers through his hair. The thought made her laugh lightly.

“Definitely under some influence.” He muttered as he got out of the car and jogging around, opened her side of the door.
"Can you walk on your own?”

Sila pushed his helping hand away as she heaved herself out of the seat. “Yeah, very funny. Both you and Amal.”

“I asked because you have a sprained ankle.” He raised his hands as if saying he came in peace.

She scowled even though an exasperated laugh threatened to slip her lips. “Dramatic much? It was hardly anything.”

“That twat still deserves a scolding if not the collar yanking. I'll prefer it if it's Dado doing the honors. The woman is scary when she's mad.”

“Good to know she scares you. I'll keep this bit in my mind when I want an ally in tearing you a new one.”

“Trust me.” He flicked her nose as they stepped into the elevator. “You can do that very well on your own.”

“Broadcasting it all for me to use against you when the right time comes. Oh, you're an idiot Aahil Jahangir.”

He shrugged as if being called an idiot by her was an endearment. The elevator was empty, leaving just the two of them inside. Sila leaned against the wall as her eyes swept across his face and then slowly, his whole form.

“Stop staring as if I'm a piece of meat.” For emphasis, he brought the unbuttoned ends of his shirt closer. Sila laughed, not sure if his silliness was endearing or more endearing.

They were inside their apartment, he deposited the car keys to the rack. Sila took off her heels, relishing the relief she felt in her feet. She was sprawled on the couch when her eyes went toward the turntable.

Aahil saw her hovering over it and the next moment, their living room reverberated with the tune of a soft number.

Sila reached him in deliberate steps, and held her hand out to him. “What do you think about slow dancing?”

“Sila, your foot—”

She shook her head, pulling him to her. “Yes or no?”

He snaked his arms around her waist. “Yes. Always, yes.”

That seemed to be it. All of it. They swayed to the music, her hands on his shoulders, his around her waist. He grinned. She couldn't look away. The moon outside the glass window. The placid waters. Another love song. He bent down. Caressed her cheek. She closed her eyes. The song ended. The melody stayed.

“Why didn't we stop for dinner when I said we should?” He asked when Sila turned the music off.

“Saleema Baji has prepared the dinner back home and Banu Auntie hates it when we prefer eating outside over homemade food so, those three never had much of a choice.” She told him as he stood inside the kitchen space, scrolling his phone.

“But we are ordering takeout, right?” He asked busily. Sila blinked, having heard him loud and clear but still unable to say anything.

“Sila?” He called, when her silence prolonged. His voice carried a hint of concern and that seemed to bring her out of her trance.

“Hun?”

“Chinese takeout, right?” He repeated his query, now standing close to her. His eyes were searching her profile for any out of place detail. She hadn't been acting exactly sober the whole evening.

“Yes, yes,” She nodded, more to herself than to him. “Chinese takeout, it is.”

And I think I'm in love with you.

The proclamation inside her was as loud as the rain, as constant as the chirping sparrows on the bougainvillea outside Wadia House, as profound as the sky and as tender as her heart, accepting this turn of events.

He got back to his phone. While she stared outside the window.

Here it went. Everything and nothing. All at once.

𝄞

Looking back at her life, along with a thriving career, Sila had always wanted a family somewhere down the line. Marriage, companionship, kids at a certain point, a good retirement plan.

To love and to be loved, most importantly.

That was her wish. Nothing too complicated. Nothing too extravagant. A simple life. Yeah, that'd be nice.

But the last six months or so had tumbled down all her aspirations. As if a mindless sea wave crashed onto her sandcastle and everything became mud, losing its shape, ready to be morphed into something new.

She built it though, according to the new plan. And she got more than what she had expected. What she had hoped for.

She was so busy in putting together her life, aligning it to the new trajectory, that she never realized when the L word disaster crept up behind her and she only noticed when she was consumed by it.

She tossed and turned on her side of the bed. This was more than she had prepared herself for and she had always had her task sheet ready, checking and unchecking the boxes. This wasn't on any of her to-do lists. What a life!

She was ecstatic. She was a ball of anticipation. Nervous. She wanted more. She was afraid of more. She felt lighter than a cloud. But she also felt as if she had never felt something as colossal.

Was it going to be good? Would she have it as easy as her parents? Or would it end up in a disaster. Why does no one prepare you for this moment? When you feel both dread and delirious. When you want nothing more than to reach out and grab onto love but you also want to cower away and cry into your pillow because this feels so enormous, bigger than you and your small stupid heart?

The side lamp was switched on and her eyes widened. Aahil sat up straight and then, discarding his duvet, got off the bed.

“What?” She asked confusedly. But he paid no heed to her, his slippers on as he made his way toward the changing room. When he came back, the medicine box was in his hand. Sila sighed, dropping her head in her palms.

“I'm fine!”

He didn't look up as he rummaged through the box to find the pain relief balm. “Sure, keep on telling that to yourself. Maybe you will convince one of us.”

She shifted, putting the sheets aside as she held his hand. He finally looked at her, lids heavy due to the interruption in his sleep, concerned eyes and the tube of the balm in his hand.

Sila felt the uproarious waves of her unease finally soothing into a peaceful slumber.

How could she be afraid of this?

She pulled him closer, as his head hit the pillow. She tucked them both under the duvet, and rested her head on his chest.

“My foot is alright as I've been telling you all evening.”

“You have been restless since we got to bed, Sila. I thought you were in pain.” He played with the strands of her hair.

She snuggled some more into him.

“I just couldn't sleep. That's all.” She closed her eyes as his fingers gently moved.

“Does this help?” He asked.

She chuckled. “Everything you do helps.”

“Then, next time, wake me up when you can't sleep. I thought that was established.”

“It now is…” She mumbled and then again. “It now is.”

His one hand was in her hair while the other was intertwined with her smaller one. Sila traced a line on his palm.
There, somewhere, was her heart. And she had a feeling, it was the safest place for it.

𝄞

Part b will be uploaded soon.