Putting his phone on the side table, Faseeh rubbed his forehead but it did nothing to ease the frown of worry. Sabah shifted in her seat, waiting for him to say something.

"Someone broke into Attique-ur-Rehman's hospital room despite the security."

The bit of news was as shocking for Sabah as it had been for Faseeh. "Is he fine? I hope he is!"

Faseeh nodded. "Initially, he was not but now he's doing better."

A sigh of relief left Sabah's mouth. But it was short-lived. "Who could it be? It's been years and we haven't got news like this before. Who wanted to harm him?"

"I've asked the same to the hospital authorities. They said they have provided whatever information they have to Aahil."

He told her but didn't look relieved by the fact. Sabah held his hand. "He can take care of this matter, Faseeh."

Faseeh wanted to believe her, to have the faith she showcased in their son but unfortunately, he couldn't. "He should've at the least let us know. If not us, Faran."

"You still don't trust him." Sabah pointed out, accusingly.

Faseeh pursed his lips, trying to rein in his frustration and to some extent, his hurt as well. "I don't and I won't ever. That place and what happened there shattered who my son was. The person who came out of those ashes, I couldn't recognize him. With such a devastating track record, I don't trust him to handle anything related to there all on his own."

"But he's doing better now!" Sabah protested vehemently, her voice lacked the conviction her words boasted.

Faseeh felt for her. She was a mother so, she thought with her heart. But the reality often didn't align with her wishes. They wouldn't know if Aahil was doing better or not. His past was a forbidden topic. For years, he refused to break his silence over it. Nothing they said or did worked on him. Words of affirmation, familial support, therapy, and every attempt to revive his music career—in vain. As if their herculean efforts were simply nothing to Aahil. He had made up his mind, had let his demons govern his way forward, and never for once, tried to fight what life had thrown his way.

"He must be ashamed that you'll have to go there and sort everything out. That's why he didn't inform you." She suggested, hopefully.

A sardonic smile graced Faseeh's lips. "Sabah, I will gladly shoulder this responsibility all my life if it means I'm helping my son with his feelings of guilt. Going there alone is a stupid idea but when has our son made sound decisions when it comes to Boston? I don't want him to go through another mental breakdown. I still can't decide what is worse, seeing him forgetting his potential, and his talent but trying to live his life, or mustering the meager courage to face his past but failing miserably? That hurts me the most as a parent. It always will."

That time when that tragedy struck Aahil was raw in Faseeh's memory. He was in pieces. Faseeh didn't expect him to be brave about something like that but only he knew how hard it was to gather Aahil in his embrace and try to tell him it was going to be okay.

"Sila knew about his plan. That's got to mean something." Sabah whispered, broken but still hopeful.

"I hope your assumptions are correct and he isn't hiding his past from her. As much as I want him to stop pretending that it doesn't exist, part of me hopes that Boston is left far behind in his life. He's not alone now. Sila is his life partner. His problems will eventually hurt her as well. For her sake and his own, Aahil needs to resolve this once and for all. He can do it. I know my son. I hope he doesn't realize it when it's too late."

Sabah wished with everything she had in her that it wouldn't come to that. But the fear was palpable and somehow, she couldn't keep it at bay.

𝄞

When Haleh came to the restaurant, getting her favorite Lemon Shake was the sole agenda on her mind. She placed her order and opened her phone to scroll through her Insta fyp.

That was another thing, that it had been fifteen minutes since her order had arrived but she was too immersed in the photos to focus on it.

The internet was acting up, so, she opened the gallery to pass the time. The first batch of pictures were those she had snapped at Margaret's Home.

Needless to say, once she began, it wasn't easy for her to stop.

She had seen all that before but only cursory. Now that she had the time, she couldn't help the happiness that swelled within her. The kids radiated absolute joy, their smiles were her brand of contentment. She prayed for it to stay the same because these munchkins deserved this and more.

Haleh flipped the current picture when the next one halted her movement.

He sat among the kids, pretending to be offended by something they had said but the mischievous spark in his eyes shone bright.

Her heart did a quiet somersault. The reaction left her speechless. She gathered herself, cursing at the unexpected reaction, and opened the next picture.

Too bad that also featured him. He was busy in what felt like an enlightening conversation with Matron Elise, who also seemed to be equally invested in what he had to say. Freaking lady charmer.

There was no winning for her today. She grimaced audibly. People around would've found it weird but she didn't give a hoot about what they thought. More pressing matters were her priority.

Her betrayer of a heart wasn't supposed to be a treacherous bitch this way. She gulped and looked away from the picture.

Ha. Nice try.

One second passed. And then another.

She made a face. Cursing God knows whom and putting her focus back on the picture.

She could swear even his picture was making fun of her. She rested her chin on her palm and with a sigh, kept on.

But with every picture with him and the kids, something warm bloomed inside her. She tried to repress it, call it the lack of food but who was she kidding? The effect was there to stay and linger.

Lost in her musings, smiling, frowning, and chiding, she hadn't realized she had company. Her reverie was broken when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She immediately turned around and found Imran standing there with a raised eyebrow.

"Hey! I thought you were busy!" Haleh greeted him and gestured toward the empty text across her. Imran wasted no time in taking it.

"Never busy enough for my selective few customers. What are you up to?"

She rolled her eyes. "Rummaging through every nook and cranny of my phone. Why's your internet service down today?"

"There's some issue. Maybe, someone overdid with the Insta reels?"

Haleh had the gall to look innocent. It was no secret. She was certain, by then, she had made a record in watching reels sitting in this restaurant.

"You should be careful with your clients, then."

Imran nodded, obediently. "Will keep that in mind. How's the Lemon Shake?"

That reminded Haleh, she had yet to finish the beverage. She took a long sip. It was not as chilled as she preferred but she couldn't blame anyone but herself for it.

"Fantastic as usual. It must've gotten boring for you, now that Raed has returned to the USA?"

Imran gave it a thought and shrugged nonchalantly. "We didn't use to hang out much. I was busy in my job and he was in his fieldwork. But he was a good guy to have as a housemate. On his last day, he paid for his stay even though, I told him it was no biggie."

"Good looks and good manners, then," Haleh commented, earning a chuckle from Imran.

"You can say. You know I made a promise to you and Amal but I wasn't particularly looking forward to letting a stranger into my house. But he turned out to be one of the good ones."

"Haw! How could you doubt our judgment? If we had our doubts about Raed, we would've never insisted on it."

Imran leaned forward into his seat. "I didn't doubt you two. It's just I don't trust anyone that easily. You never know what someone's hiding behind their genuine smiles, and when the reality sets in, it is often an ugly truth."

Inconspicuously, he ran a finger on the even boundary of her phone. His gaze on her was hooded, without blinking. Haleh wasn't attentive toward him, though. She was busy reading the menu book, her hunger had compelled her to do something about it.

"You're a cynical guy, then."

"Everyone should be. You never know who's lying to your face. Doesn't hurt to be on your guard."

Haleh nodded absentmindedly. She had found the perfect evening snack for herself and showed it to Imran as well. Placing her order, she went back to her phone as Imran stood up to do something about her order.

But on his way to the kitchen, he did turn around to give her another long stare.

And once again, she failed to notice it.

𝄞

"Gosh, these kids are so cute!"

Abgina exclaimed as she scrolled through the pictures on Mahad's phone. He stayed immersed in his laptop but gave a full-fledged smile nonetheless.

"You're yet to tell me everything about this day. It looks so much fun." She demanded, perched on the couch. Mahad raised a finger. "Give me a sec. This can't wait."

Abgina rolled her eyes. "What has gotten in you today? Since the moment you've come home, you're glued to your laptop."

Mahad made a face. "Not by choice. You know me. I hate bringing work here but all thanks to your hubby dearest. He needs the report as soon as possible."

Abgina muttered under her breath, something about bad influence. Mahad had to mask his snort. Look who was talking.

"By the way, Haleh's looking so pretty and for a change not ready to maul your face for you."

Mahad's less-than-pleased expressions made Abgina laugh. "You know, I'm not lying or exaggerating. Damn, your first encounter is still fresh in my mind. You should've seen your face. And her fury! I won't want her to be crossed with me if I were you."

"She's not cross with me. Not anymore."

"Are you expecting my congratulations?" She asked cheekily.

"I'm expecting you to stop talking gibberish." He deadpanned. She shrugged and went back to the pictures.

It was after a while when a thoughtful expression fell on Abgina's face. "Mahad?"

"Hmm?" He replied busily.

"Don't you think you should tell Dada Jaan about your and Haleh's friendship or whatever it is?"

He didn't peer his eyes away from the screen. "And why would I do that?"

Abgina heaved herself out of the couch and reached his work table. "You and I both know how protective he's of her. He'll want to know about this development."

"First, it's not a profound beginning of something out of this world as you are implying."

Abgina raised an eyebrow, spelling out 'Are you for real?' without even uttering a word. Mahad looked away, focused on proving his point.

"All I'm saying is, her association with Sila makes her a part of my close circle now. And don't expect me to keep her at bay. That's absolutely rude. I can't be an asshole just to uphold Dada Jaan's apprehensions. Some of those fears and his way of going about them already don't make sense to me."

"How so?"

He stepped away from his laptop, running a hand through his hair. "Gina, she has no idea about her past, her parents' lives, their deaths, or anything else. How is that fair? We all know, in varying capacity what befell her family. Literal strangers to her know her whole life story but she doesn't. That's pretty fucked up. Oblivion might have protected her till now, but when she gets to know the whole truth, the trust issues will not be easy to work for Dada Jaan. She will be devastated and angry. Her trust will be in shambles. I've seen how much she values Dada Jaan. For her, he's one of the very few people she can call her family. Imagine, you trust someone with your life, but he has been lying to you about the same, that too for years. She will not take it well. And she shouldn't. Dada Jaan owes her the truth. She deserves to know how she lost her parents. We have no right to withhold such vital information from her."

Abgina hadn't expected that. She tried to read Mahad. This was not just the opinion of an unbiased observer of the situation.

More than that. Lots more. Did he realize that? Did he have even a slight idea?

But he turned away from her. "So, I'm not going to ask his permission to meet Haleh. I'm still not comfortable with all the details about my life I have to omit, just for Dada Jaan's sake. Let me be as candid with her as I can be, without Dada Jaan's dictation. She deserves this honesty from me."

And why was this honesty so important to him when it came to Haleh? Did he realize how important she'd grown for him?

No. Abgina concluded. And that was dangerous.

Mahad had chosen a difficult part for himself, and he had no idea.

𝄞

Osama had been watching her playing with the ice cream spoon for a while now. She had asked him to get this particular flavor for her on his way to her place. But now that he had, she hadn't shown the enthusiasm he expected to see.

"If you don't want to eat, give it here."

He snatched the tub out of her hands and took a spoonful of the vanilla and chocolate chip goodness. A basic choice of flavor but did it ever disappoint? No. So there was that.

Normally, Alina would've made a racket if he stole her food but she seemed to not mind it this time around.

Osama raised an eyebrow. "Are you still stuck there?"

She grimaced but nodded nonetheless. Osama wasted no time in pulling her toward him.

"We talked about it, Alina, didn't we? Just sign the damn contract. Chances such as this don't come by every day. Make the most of it."

"I want to! But..."

She became quiet, playing with his shirt buttons. Osama caressed her hair. "But?"

"This is where things began to go wrong the last time."

Osama was confused. "This? What are you talking about?"

She swatted at his chest. "The long distance, you dunce. That's when I started to get cold feet. Where all my doubts stemmed from."

Osama held her by the shoulders and made her look at him. "How old were we that time?"

"Barely eighteen." Alina croaked.

"And how old are we now?"

She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Almost twenty-eight."

He flicked her nose playfully. "There you go. We've had almost a decade or more to work on what we lacked, Alina. We are mature, more emotionally intelligent, and secure in our positions in our respective fields."

"I do know that." She held his arm. "And I'm proud of all our achievements, as individuals and as a couple. But it's just an irrational fear, Osama. I don't want anything to go wrong between us the way it did back then. Distance doesn't make the heart grow fonder. It takes away the last chance of rekindling what's lost."

"Good thing unlike the last time, nothing's lost between us. Take this as a challenge, Alina. All those years back, we did everything wrong. Now, it's time to do everything right by each other. Another catch? Those were four years, these are just three months."

Alina snuggled into him. "Talk for yourself. They are going to feel the same to me."

Osama laughed softly. "You don't have to do so much. Just admit it, living without me by your side is what makes you hesitant to go on with the offer."

Alina had to swat him away, once again. "As if you'll be any better."

"I never said I will be."

Alina ran her fingers through his hair. "Three months it is."

Osama cupped her face and kissed her forehead. "Just three months. Let's do this."

Guess, they were on.

𝄞

When she got off work, Sila had no desire to go back home. This had happened for the first time since she moved there after her marriage. But her alternatives were limited. She couldn't go to Wadia House. The breakdown she had in front of Amal, Haleh, and Rameen was not at all pretty. She had tried her best to reassure them that everything was alright between her and Aahil. What else was she supposed to say? They didn't argue. No major showdown. There were no serious issues. Admitting that the change in his energy was enough to make her bawl like a baby was embarrassing, to say the least.

There was another aspect to it as well. For a big chunk of her life, whenever things went bad, she had her girl gang as her immediate source of solution and reassurance. But this time around, she wanted to try it on her own. After all, marriage was a team effort and here, Aahil was her partner. If both of them didn't try, the cracks would lead to bigger fissures and soon the foundation of their relationship would come crashing down. No one else could do much if both of them weren't on the same page. She had to focus on that.

She had this belief in him and her love that they'd be able to talk everything out. She'd just have to wait for his return. Then, she'd share her grievances with him. She'd tell him all about it. What hurt her, what didn't sit well with her, and what needed to be changed. They were able to work through everything in their marriage so far, so, this wouldn't be so hard, would it? Wishful thinking? She hoped against hope that wasn't the case.

But for all that to come true, he had to be home first. He had said a day or two. He reaffirmed that over the text as well, their preferred way of communication these days. She didn't call him. He did, though. They talked for a brief time. That was fine by her. It had to be. She had to draw some boundaries, now that her heart was involved. She also had to make some things clear with her gestures and the fact that his behavior before leaving for the USA didn't sit well with her was one of those.

But Sila was counting every hour on her fingertips. All the issues aside, all the hurt was at bay but for the most part,

She missed him a lot. So much so that it hurt. Clingy behavior? Emotional vulnerability? Did she need to get a grip? All of these perhaps, but she couldn't help it.

Turning off the stove once the gravy was ready, she sighed with relief and took off her apron. Preparing dinner for one was not an exciting task, but rather a tedious chore. With that thought, she made her way out of the kitchen space.

Only to be stopped in her tracks.

At the end of the hallway, the locked room was right across her. The keys were in her possession. Not that it was out of bounds. He had shown it to her, didn't he?

Then there was no harm in taking a tour. She hadn't done that yet.

Maybe, she should now?

The decision was made in nanoseconds. She went to their bedroom to get the keys and in a few seconds, stood before the door with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness.

Unlocking the door was the easy bit. For a long time, she stood on the threshold, unsure of whether to cross this boundary or not.

Like a bandage effort, she finally did it.

The air around the room wasn't stale, given that it was no longer a perennially closed nook of this apartment. Sila took a deft step forward. Her eye took in the room greedily.

Everything was covered with white sheets, sans the piano. Why was it left for the seasons to leave their mark on it, she couldn't tell. But by the looks of it, it also wasn't touched for years.

She slowly took off the sheets from everything.

And suddenly, she was standing in a new world.

It was the most spacious room in the apartment, probably roomier than their bedroom as well. The piano was in the corner where the window opened up to outside. Sila unbolted the latch.

The clear cerulean water of the sea welcomed her with open arms. She could see why he had chosen this corner for his most beloved instrument. This was where you'd lose yourself in music without having any care in the world.

Against the opposite wall, a couch was set. The only thing in this room after the piano that was hard to hide.

There was a small drum set and a coffee table. Stacked against the walls were a guitar and some music posters. Sila rummaged through those. Pink Floyd, James Taylor, Queen, MJ, Led Zeppelin, Bob Dylan, and some other indie artists she had never heard of. Some of them were not even from the global west.

There there were AR. Rahman, Nazia Hassan, Ahmed Rushdi, Vital Signs, Strings, and Junoon, a handmade portrait of Beethoven, a broken stack of vinyl records.

Sila touched everything, soaking in the feeling of his first love.

She stopped at the small shelf in the corner. There was an empty plant pot. When was the last time it was made the abode of a budding seedling? She couldn't say.

In the next section, there was an empty photo frame. Its glass was shattered, but still intact in its place.

It was behind that frame that Sila saw it.

The first thing in this room that hadn't been devoid of its memories, its purpose, and its importance.

It was a notebook, a journal perhaps. Sila picked it up with the utmost care and wiped the grime off it. With trembling hands, she skimmed through the pages.

Lyrics, lots of them, handwritten, pen scratches, ink blotches, doodles, tidbits. But lyrics.

A lyrics book and the handwriting didn't belong to Aahil.

Sila went back to the first page and searched for any mark of identity of the owner.

She soon found it. In the bottom, small, almost negligible.

M.A.R

Who was this M.A.R.? Before Sila could rake her mind to make sense of the initials, the click of the main door had her eyes widened.

Oh, no!

The notebook fell out of her hands. She tried to hurry out of the room but it would be of no use. He was in the entrance hallway which meant he'd see her coming out of here anyway.

Heavy footsteps sounded closer than before. Sila accepted her defeat. There, he had caught her snooping. She couldn't escape this now.

He appeared in the doorway. His and Sila's eyes met. She tried to smile at him. The greeting seemed to be stuck in her throat.

His eyes traveled across the room and with every passing second, his discomfort grew, so much so, that it was evident on his face.

Sila moved quickly. She had to make sure he was alright. But in her hurry, she stumbled upon the same notebook she'd just dropped.

Aahil's eyes zeroed in on it.

He gulped. His fingers trembled. Then he closed his eyes in pure anguish.

Sila could hear the alarms going off in her head.

"Aahil?"

But he only took a step back. His hand flew to his chest, rubbing it. His face was contorted in so much pain.

Blood. So much of it.

Oh, no it was all coming back.

The sinister laugh. The anguished cry. The screech of the tires. The empty promise. The static of the heart monitor. The words. The melody. The voice. The symphony. The dreams. The hollow eyes. The canvas. The shroud.

All his fault.

"Aahil! Look at me!"

He felt arms around him. They felt as if they were manacles. He felt as if he was shackled.

Sila tried to make him listen to her. This was worse than what he went through during ACHC.

"Leave me alone."

"Aahil, let me just—"

"Just leave!!" He bellowed and pushed her hand away. Not being able to stand in this room for a minute more, he rushed out of there.

Stopping inside the washroom, he bent down on the basin. Turning on the faucet, he heaved. Was it his breath or suppressed sobs? A bit of both. His bloodshot eyes stared back at him through the mirror.

He couldn't recognize himself.

There, in the music room, Sila stood silent. As if suspended in a vacuum.

His anguished words reverberated in her ears and the ghost of his touch when he pushed her hand away, refused to leave her.

She couldn't recognize the man she loved.

𝄞