As far as standard days go, today was going too good for Amal. Her schedule at the university was sorted. Inam-ud-Din was not trying to mess up the free time on her hands, Sami had gone home to meet his folks, and there was no conference to organize, no event to supervise, and nothing that demanded her immediate attention.

Easy. Light. Per her liking.

That was before the call.

She was sitting in her office, ready to leave as soon as off hours rolled in, when her phone rang with an incoming call.

From the USA.

Usually, her reaction would be a cheery smile and a little apprehension, but now, there was only dread and nothing more.

As far as sisters go, Zahra calling her was never a good thing. Go figure.

With a sigh, Amal picked up her phone. There went nothing.

"Hey, Zahra."

She mumbled softly, hoping for the other person to get the hint.

"Glad to know you still pick up calls from your family."

The scathing drawl. Amal wanted to scoff at the predictability. Just Zahra.

"How are you? It's been a long time."

It wasn't a jibe at Zahra's lack of contact with Amal. It could've been but Amal didn't believe in serving cold fury to her immediate family. No matter what, they were kith and kin, and she had to tone down the sass.

"Can we come to the point? You and I both know how superficial these preliminaries are."

Ouch. Amal ran a hand through her hair. The knots weren't there before or she failed to notice them. Much like the strained relationship with her family. The knots appeared every so often but the tag of the family stopped her from doing anything about it.

"Yeah, sure. By all means."

That was all the incentive Zahra needed, it seemed.

"I won't sugarcoat my words, Amal."

This time around, Amal didn't even try. A scoff left her lips. "That'll be such a difficult thing to do, I'm sure."

The sarcasm wasn't well accepted by Zahra but Amal was not going to play nice. Her niceties were for family and Zahra hadn't called her as an older sister, rather the shrewd lawyer she was, successfully so.

"Are you hearing yourself? This is why I had to take matters into my own hands."

"As far as my knowledge goes, there's no matter that'll need a lawyer to intervene."

"You're refusing every solution Baba and Mama have put forward."

Amal sat straight in her seat. She knew this was Zahra's reason for calling her but still, hearing it from the horse's mouth had her guard up. She wouldn't be going down without a fight, least of all, before Zahra.

"Their every solution entails one thing: sell off Ghar. And I'll never let that happen."

Zahra took a deep intake of breath as if she was dealing with a petulant child. That infuriated Amal some more. Well played, Mama Baba. They had very cleverly given the reins in Zahra's hands. It meant they were done playing nice. They didn't want to give into Amal's tenacity, so had to choose their biggest contender to solve this issue for them. Zahra would always be their choice to do the hard work.

It hurt Amal immensely that they were that desperate to get done with Ghar. What pained her more was the fact that she still had no say in the family matters. For them, she was still the youngest child.

"I won't let you do anything to Ghar, Zahra." Her voice was steel, even though she didn't feel as brave as she let on. But fake it till you make it.

"You're in no position to decide that." Zahra rebuked. "It's going to be a collective decision. And for that, you need to act sensibly."

Amal chuckled humorlessly. "Back to the basics, aren't we? You tell me to start acting my age. I tell you to shut up. I'm done playing that part, Zahra. I'm mature enough to understand why it's you who's contacted me regarding this matter. Do tell my dearest parents that I'm ready for everything they throw my way, you included. But I'm not giving up on Ghar. That's the least I can do for Ammo."

The silence on the other hand was deafening. The Amal from the past would've accused Zahra of forgetting their grandmother as if she had never existed but the older Amal was naive. This Amal knew better. She had made her peace with the fact that her family wouldn't ever feel as strongly about Ammo and Ghar as she did. And it was okay. For the most part.

"I appreciate your dedication, Amal. But maybe it's time to look past your own version of the truth."

"The truth, My dear Zahra, is going to be a bitter pill so let's not get into that."

"Surely. But truth is not always what you deem right."

With that, the call ended. No goodbyes. No promises to reach out again. That was Amal and Zahra in a nutshell.

Amal placed her phone back on the table. The fight left her slowly, leaving behind remnants of a struggle that broke her heart once again. She tried to keep it at bay but a tear etched itself on the corner of her eye. She didn't wipe it. That'd smear her kohl and also the hurt she had gotten familiar with but not accustomed to.

𝄞

She'd always loved the contours of the sky during sunset. Hues of orange, interspersed with yellow, a hint of pink, and the sea in the distance.

Before coming here, she had never realized how deeply her love for sunsets ran. Every evening she was transfixed by the same tapestry. To her, it always looked new. Another variation of the marvel of nature.

But today, standing on the balcony, she couldn't bring herself to enjoy it. The radiance of the sky had lost its meaning. The placidity of the sea, the hum of life, the tranquil cacophony— all colorless, a background noise. It felt like weather outside and she was stuck in the dark dungeon.

She heard slow and uncertain footsteps behind her. He hadn't come out of their room all day and missed out on lunch as well. He was apparently ignoring his family's calls as well. She knew because now those calls were directed toward her and she had to make an elaborate lie yet again. Jet lag. Travel fatigue. All those words came in handy. He might be feeling it all but she wouldn't know as he hadn't told her.

Now that he was here, the silence was, once again, their unwelcome companion. Sila held the railing, not even waiting for his voice to fill the crevices. What'd that do? She pushed her hair behind her hair and turned to leave. Silence was no longer her preferred language, neither was she fluent in it.

But he was quick to understand her intention. He took a step forward and now it was her, him, the endless sky and unfathomable sea behind.

Sila's gaze remained fixated on him. Tousled hair, two-day-old stubble, smile a thing of the past. His face was sullen as if he hadn't had one comforting thought in so many hours. Her heart went out to him. The urge to gather him in her embrace was daunting. But the vestiges of his touch when he pushed her hand away were still there. It stung as if she had been doused with something acrid.

So, she willed her hands to remain where they were.

"Good that you are up. Everyone is blowing my phone to find out about your whereabouts. There's only so much I can do that too convincingly. You should call them and as you're on it, start with Sabah Auntie."

Her tone was neutral, with no hint of bite to it. His face contorted into an expression of agony. She took a step back and maintained some distance between them.

"I'll leave you to it."

She had been terse and precise. Drawing boundaries when she knew it was absolutely necessary. She loved him, God! She did but right now, he had every trick up his sleeve to break her heart and the sad part was; he had no idea. He was so lost in his own mess to realize this.

She refused to be the heartbroken one. Not by him. That'd break her soul as well.

So leaving him to deal with the family was her trick to buy them some time. Yeah, that could work.

Only, it couldn't.

Her hand was in his. The soothing embrace. The gentlest of the touches. Uncertain. Afraid. Yet firm enough to soothe the ache his rejection had left before.

Her eyes welled up.

"Sila...I..." Words eluded him. He pursed his lips and cursed under his breath.

Sila shook her head. "If you're about to apologize, don't."

Her gaze fell on their hands, what a perfect fit. Could she say the same about them at that moment?

"Aahil," She looked up at him. She was in his sole focus but for how long? Just now a mere flash from his past and he'd be too jumbled up to even let in through the the door.

"I've told that before but my idea of marriage is what I've seen my parents sharing all through theirs. Right till my father's passing and even after that. Companionship. Trust. Life partners are not mere accessories to each other."

He closed his eyes but Sila wasn't going to have any of it today. "No. Look at me. I understand the circumstances our marriage took place in but does that make it any less real? No! Someone wise had told me a while back that we didn't sign on that piece of paper for show. It tied us to this bond and all mine is his to take care of and he will. What about that now? Why wouldn't he let me take care of him?"

She wiped her tears and gave him a look that was enough to show her disappointment. "What do you think marriage entails, Aahil? Roasting each other? Trust? Some deep conversations here and there, trips? Teasing, laughter, wholesome bonding moments, and sex. But what about the harder part? The part we are facing in our marriage right now? Where you stay mum about your past and I keep on guessing with the crumbs I'm getting?"

"Sila, listen—"

"No, don't Sila me. If you're not going to tell me the truth about your past, I don't want to hear anything else."

She couldn't help it anymore. It was boiling up for days, weeks actually. His silence over something that was affecting their relationship had hurt her deeply. She could expect this evasiveness from anyone but him, maybe that's why it hurt more than it was supposed to.

"What is there you don't know about me? My history with Islamabad, my parents, my life at Wadia House, the problems between me and Abbu, and whatever happened between him and my father! I've never hidden anything from you, Aahil. Because I trust you with my life! With my vulnerabilities. It's so painful that the feeling is not reciprocated. You don't trust me enough to give me at least something about the big chunk of your life in Boston!"

Aahil looked away from her. Sila knew he wouldn't say anything. She hadn't expected him to. This is where he turned into a stranger to her. Someone she had a hard time figuring out—a stark contrast to the laid-back and easygoing persona of her husband.

"You left, Aahil. Without telling me much. And here I was, getting worried sick for you. Do you have any idea how I spent my days here? I was anxious and clueless! And then I had to improvise so many lies toward the family. This is how it's going to be from here, right? You'll be messing things up and I'll make excuses for you?"

She cupped his face, looking right into his eyes. "We can both do way better than this, Aahil. I'm ready but it's you who needs to let me in. It always comes to locked doors when it's about us. I'm ready to stand outside for however long you want me to. Just open the door, hun? Just try....Please?"

She let her hand linger. Just to savor this moment where she wished her earnest plea had resonated with him.

But then she was gone, leaving him to his thoughts. Wise enough to know when to leave someone be. Loving someone shouldn't make you beg for them to see sense. Some sort of sanity should prevail.

He hung his head, hearing her moving around the house. She was probably getting started with dinner.

Life had left him to square one once again. Sometimes he desperately wished he hadn't gone to Boston, hadn't followed his dreams, hadn't desired such a high-profile career for himself. He could've been a musician in Pakistan as well.

But that wouldn't be enough.

His drive to be on top, the confidence in his craft to be the best. Wasn't that the bane of his existence?

How liberating it'd be to let go of the past. But for that, he needed the closure.

And he'd have to dig six feet under to get that closure.

There were two instances in his life where extending his hand had made him regret everything.

One was when he asked Zarrar to be his friend.

The other was when he tried to stop the inevitable from happening.

Both brought nothing but destruction to his life.

And here he was once again.

He craned his neck and saw through the glass door, that she was in the kitchen.

About to lose something that had started to mean more than anything that mattered to him.

His old therapist called his trauma something in his professional jargon. He called it the monster that wouldn't leave him.

But maybe it was his time to leave the monster.

He watched Sila silently mixing ingredients for whatever she was sorting out for dinner.

Because if the stakes meant he'd lose her, he might never recover.

𝄞

She believed there was nothing in this world an hour-long bubble bath couldn't solve. Tonight she got proved wrong.

Her usual shower time failed to bring the calm that it usually did. Dressed in her white trousers and peach camisole, she aimlessly skimmed through the book she had chosen for the nighttime light read.

While he paced the length of their room, trying to console his distressed family, particularly his mother. Sila refused to be of any help. Leaving it all on him. He didn't complain. Not that he was in any position to do so.

"Mama, I swear I'm fine. I'll come to meet you tomorrow so you can see for yourself. It was just a trip."

He reassured Sabah for the umpteenth time. There was something said on the other hand that halted his movements. He sighed and looked at Sila.

She didn't need to guess what it was about. She nodded her affirmation and he put the phone on speaker.

"Sila?" Sabah's voice pierced through the silence. "This guy says that everything's alright. But I want you to tell me the truth."

They both looked at each other. Sila swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Yes, Auntie. Everything's fine."

She said loud enough for it to reach Sabah. It seemed she needed Sila to cement what her son had been telling her for the past half an hour.

Aahil turned off the speaker once she had said her good night to Sabah. Sila switched off the lamp and turned away, ready to call it a night.

Aahil followed suit shortly. Sila felt him behind her. Part of her craved his embrace. She had gotten accustomed to sleeping in his arms but she had survived the last two days. Surely, she'd survive tonight as well. And she didn't want him to see her teary face.

But her resolve had to bend when his arms came around her. Sila closed her eyes in anguish. Aahil rested his chin on her head, tucking her closer to him.

"We're not fine, Aahil." She mumbled.

"I know." His reply was barely above a whisper.

"I hate lying to your family that we are."

"You won't have to again."

She turned around to face him and once she did, his fingers wiped her tears slowly. "You won't answer anything to anyone. It's my responsibility and I'll see to it."

"What else you'll take full ownership of?"

He cupped her cheek, caressing her skin, taking her tears on his fingers. "Whatever mess we are in, it's mine to take care of and I'll do it."

"Promise?"

The hope in her voice, he felt a punch to his gut.

Pulling her closer, he kissed her forehead, taking his sweet time. Whom was he reassuring more? Himself or her, they couldn't say.

Sila closed her eyes. Why did every hurt feel miles away when she was in his embrace? She'd think about it in the morning. For now, both of them had just found their home and they needed to forget everything else.

𝄞

Setting her purse by her side, Rameen rested her chin on her palm and looked around at the ambiance. Finding this cozy ice cream place on the side of Tariq Road was not easy. The evening hustle from the windows looked like a distant world even though, she had just gotten free from it.

She peered her eyes away from the regular Karachi evening rush and focused on the person sitting before her.

"So, it's going to be a thing now?"

"What?" Danish asked feigning ignorance. Rameen held her chuckle and her elation. He hadn't once checked his phone since the time they were here.

"Danish, it's the third time this week that you are giving me a ride back home that too with a detour to an ice cream parlor."

He shrugged. "Perks of having our workplaces in close vicinity. I'm quite bummed that you didn't call me on your own."

Rameen narrowed her eyes at him. "As if I had to. My family is enough to broadcast my problems to you."

That was true. Sila was Rameen's designated driver for life but too bad now she lived in the farthest corner of the city. That left Rameen with commute issues that were yet to be sorted.

"You should've mentioned it to me, Reen. It's not feasible for Afzaal Uncle to give you a pick-and-drop. I'm your safest bet."

"Yeah, I know. He's mentioned it quite sometimes by now. But I can always hire a Rikshaw or book a ride." She challenged as their order came.

"Who in their right mind would waste half of their pay in transport fare? Your words, not mine." Danish took a spoonful of his ice cream and gave her the not-so-gentle reminder.

Rameen made a face. "Where's the lie in my statement?"

"No lies but shouldn't you get back to learn driving?"

She dismissed him with royal indifference. "Please. I'm a corporate hustler pulling a 9-5 every day. I can't take time out for something like this."

Danish laughed at her expression. "Just say you are never getting any good at it."

Rameen pretended he was talking to the air and not her. Her driving skills or lack thereof were always the topic of hilarity among her friends and family.

Rameen's indifference gave way to peals of laughter as if her brain had unlocked a hilarious memory regarding her driving shenanigans.

"What is it?"

She swallowed her bit of ice cream cake and faced him the remnants of her laughter still there. "I just got reminded of you giving me the driving lessons. Gosh, you were about to burst the vein."

Danish raised a hand defensively. "Come on. You were shit on purpose."

"I don't like driving. It makes me anxious. Too much responsibility."

She went back to the gooey goodness in front of her but Danish had suddenly gotten ansty. Rameen gave him a questioning look. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I had such a nasty temper those days. Always a carton full of stress and bad energy."

Rameen suddenly looked alarmed. "Danish—"

"Don't deny it. You and I both know that's true."

Rameen had to cut her words because Danish was right. Only that she wasn't happy to do so.

"I still don't know what came over me. Maybe, it was my circumstances but whatever. I could've and should've been a better friend."

"You were, Danish. Don't you dare say otherwise!"

Rameen leaned forward in her seat so he could hear her better. "What's wrong with you? Even through all that life threw your way, you were a damn good friend. You helped Sila with her semester-end project, you took time out every evening to teach me how to drive. I still remember you stayed with Hashir in the hospital overnight when his grandmother had a stroke, even though you had to report to the office at 8 sharp for your internship."

Danish listened to her listing his good deeds with baited breaths. She had remembered it all when he himself had forgotten it.

"All I'm trying to say is, that your circumstances might have made you detached for a while, but you were never a bad friend. You're the person I will always ring up in the middle of the night to have a practical solution to any of my problems. Because that's what you do the best, Danish. You don't give someone your empty words. You buckle your seatbelt and go looking for solutions for them. Now, is that much appreciation enough, or should I let my ice cream cake wait some more? Mind you, Karachi's heat will make it a waterdown mess and that'll be an absolutely worst thing to happen."

The heated words ended with a light laughter. Without waiting for his approval, she dug into her plate.

But Danish had a hard time looking away from her. When Rameen felt him looking, she raised her head.

There was something in those eyes that made her look away. She diverted the topic to some anecdote from her sister's trip to northern areas she had found hilarious.

Danish also gave his own tidbits about his colleague who was going to ask his long-term crush out.

Mundane talks flew as time often does.

But that one moment stayed between them, as a neglected detail. As a profound awakening.

𝄞

Since the moment he had woken up, there was only one thing on Aahil's mind.

To make amends with Sila.

He knew what it entailed to do that. She wouldn't accept anything other than the truth. His truth. The truth he had run from a considerable amount of his life. The truth he'd rather bury in a secluded corner of a remote island and forget that place ever existed.

But he'd promised Sila and how well his aversion to the topic had served him. His family was fretting over him. His and Sila's relationship had taken a hit.

It was enough. He was done being a failure when it came to his people. So, when the clock struck 5, he was on his way to EFvent's main office. The bouquet was on the seat next to him. The fragrant apology. He hoped it'd help.

And then...

The key was secured in his pocket. He could feel its weight and what he was about to do.

Staying true to the labels put on him by his family and his previous doctors, he refused to give Sila any hint of his past. Whatever she got to know was through other sources, or when he had no other choice than to tell it to her.

His music career wasn't just about its tragic end. It had seen its good days as well. Those days that made him cherish life to the fullest.

Today, he'll take her to one such place.

His old studio in Cyrus' office. The place that had seen his emergence as a musical phenomenon. The place that was him in the most intimate and personal manner.

She deserved to know that place. She deserved to know that her husband wasn't always a blithering fool, a jumbled-up mess. When his trauma didn't direct his every move.

That'd be a perfect beginning to let her into his world. The world he also was a stranger to now. Both of them would embark on this journey together and maybe through her, he'd gather enough courage to stand tall and face what he always ran from.

It was a thought. He just hoped his demons wouldn't catch up to him. Not when he was about to take such a monumental step.

With a mixture of uncertainty and dread, he got out of his car. He was about to open the passenger side door when his eyes landed on the entrance.

His hands stopped where they were.

So did the world. For a split second, everything faded.

There's the thing about monsters. They never forget your address, always lurking in the background, ready to strike.

There, coming out of EFvent's main entrance was Sila.

And beside her, in step with her, with a grin on his face and the countenance of an old friend, was Zarrar Hassan.

𝄞