Taking a step back from her vanity mirror, Sila gave herself a scrutinizing look. It wasn't to find any fault in her makeup but to check if the signs of her distress were truly concealed.

Satisfied that she looked presentable enough and sad that it had come to this, she picked up her purse and locking the front door made her way toward the elevator. She was more than fashionably late but that's about hectic work days.

She was grateful for those, though. A moment to herself and her mind would race back to what had happened and she'd be filled with a range of emotions; rage, betrayal, heartache, and regret. Rinse and repeat. She hated being in this limbo but could do nothing about it.

Once out of the building, she looked around and immediately found him waiting for her in his car.

Sila wordlessly approached him and sat inside with the same silence between them.

Her eyes found the gift package on the backseat. He knew she'd be late so had taken care of everything. Normally, such a gesture would make Sila's heart flutter but she found nothing in her. Nothing to find meaning in, nothing to cherish, and nothing to look forward to.

That terrified her. Was she really done with everything him? Or her hurt over what he had pulled off that intense?

Honestly, too many questions and she didn't have the time to dwell on those. They had a dinner to attend.

Alina was flying to Milan tomorrow and had thrown them all a goodbye party. It was a career and personal milestone. She and Osama were going to try the long-distance and seeing their progress as a couple, they all knew it would fare far better than what happened the last time.

Skipping wasn't an option. Not that Sila wanted to. The turmoil in their life aside, she and Aahil had to be there for Alina to be part of her celebration.

Looking straight ahead, Sila waited for him to start the car. He made no such move. She gave him a sideway glance and found him staring at her intently.

It all came rushing back, their last conversation, where she was a blithering mess and he was an oblivious fool. He hurt her and she hurled hurtful words at him.

Sila gulped the unease and tried to focus on her hands. Her fingers fiddled with her ring. Aahil's eyes followed her movement and something akin to longing appeared on his face.

Nothing had changed. They were living under the same roof. They slept in the same bed. Their routines were as they were before. No glitch.

But still, everything had tilted on its axis.

"Seatbe—"

She didn't let him complete and fastened it, sitting straight in her seat. Aahil pursed his lips and started the car.

A sigh slipped through Sila's mouth as she looked outside the window. Couples fight but through their shared routine, they reconcile without saying much. Seatbelts, forgotten keys, missed meals, switching off the lights, pulling the drapes. Slowly, the normal settles in. The gashes remain there, no longer bleeding, but not healed as well.

Have they become one of those couples? The thought was painful to entertain but she had a hard time brushing it off.

Soon, they were in Alina's lane. Sila got out of the car and so did Aahil. She schooled her expression. He also did. She reached for his hand. Not out of need but a necessity.

Couples struggle through their issues and put up appearances because they have to.

Have they become one of those couples?

She hoped not, but right there, their reality begged to differ.

𝄞

Alina and her unofficial co-host were the most perfect thing about the party. Anyone who saw the joy radiating off her and Osama, prayed for it to stay this way for an eternity to come. Mahad didn't come slow with his slew of harmless teasing, but his bright eyes and soft smile gave him away. After all, he had been the captain of the ship for years.

The girls were also invited. Amal and Haleh were into the character, not once straying from the responsibility of the unhinged duo, while Rameen resorted to being the amused spectator.

Sila was glad that Amal had gotten a chance to forget the Zahra fiasco, at least for a while. She had told them about their conversation. The girls hadn't met Zahra but through Amal, they knew she was a force to be reckoned with and Amal would need to muster all her strength for this.

Sila stood close to Alina's bookshelf and took a deep breath. She had been doing that a lot lately. She hadn't visited Wadia House in days, the insane workload being her excuse, and the girls and Mrs. Wadia believed her. She was in constant contact with the girls through their group chat. She was aware of all the mundane happenings of their lives and they believed they were privy to hers as well.

What a lie that was.

Whenever life decided to be funny and threw a curveball her way, she looked for solace, advice, and support from her girls. But not this time around. She was unable to let them in on what was going on. Her heart and mind never came to a unanimous decision.

She had never been deluded by her heart's desires. But in this matter, she was helpless. The situation was before her. Aahil's refusal to address the elephant in the room and his infuriating ways to have the last say in a situation she knew next to nothing about. This screamed an immediate SOS to fetch a plan.

But at that point, Sila's resolve crumbled. Admitting to anyone else—even to her closest friends—that she was having problems in her married life was akin to putting a stamp on this already glaring fact. Was she ready to hear the reality of her and Aahil's relationship from other people? No matter how sincere their sentiments might be?

No. Simple as that.

His elusiveness aside, she still had a fading hope that this was salvageable. They could work through this together and there was no need to involve anyone else, their family or friends. They were adults, in a serious relationship of marriage. Were they so inept in solving their issues that they'd need a tribe to assist them? Sila refused to be that. Call her foolishly optimistic or naively confident.

And even if she told her friends, not to seek advice but comfort, wouldn't Aahil's image be tarnished in their eyes? After all, most of this mess had come to be due to his inability to open up.

That possibility broke her heart.

Despite his vices, she was irrevocably in love with that man. Does love do that to a person? Her troubles were all his doing but any crack in his image in the minds of her people was and unacceptable outcome.

A conundrum, honestly.

"Sila?"

Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Rameen. Sila gave her a thankful smile when she handed her the glass of lychee juice—her favorite.

"Alina is glowing," Rameen said, leaning against the shelf beside her. Sila followed her vision and found Alina and Osama engrossed in each other; hushed whispers as they moved with the slow music, his tender smile, and the stars in her eyes. Surrounded by people but still lost in their world.

"They look so happy," Sila whispered.

"That they do." Rameen took a sip of her juice and gave a sideways glance. "What about you?"

Sila was taken aback. She pulled the glass away from her, lest she cough up the liquid, and tried to give Rameen a mildly curious smile. "What about me?"

Rameen sighed. "I don't know. Call it best-friend-intuition, but you don't look alright to me, Sila. Is something the matter?"

Of course. She was a fool to think Rameen wouldn't see through her facade. But she had to keep it up. If she let even a word slip before her best friend, she'd start bawling right there.

"No. Not really. Work-life is a trainwreck, though. Elma has signed a big contract and the mere planning is exhausting. That might be it. I'm so tired that the moment I'm through the door, I just drop myself on the bed."

She laughed lightly, trying to make the lie believable. Rameen's gaze on her was searching. It darted across the room at Aahil. She pursed her lips and nodded. "If you say so. I'm glad you are here. At least, you get to unwind."

Sila hugged her sideways. "With my favorite people around. By the way, what's the story of the bracelet? I saw Amal and Haleh talking about it in the GC but was too sleepy to ask anything."

It was Rameen's turn to look away. Sila waited for her answer. Rameen traced the rim of her glace and gave her an awkward smile. "Danish and Dareer went shopping for Bushra Auntie's birthday and asked for my suggestions. This caught my eye right away." Rameen showed her wrist where an emerald bracelet was shining.

"But you know Bushra Auntie doesn't like this kind of jewelry. So..."

She took a sip of her juice. Sila found her fidgety for no reason. "Danish must've bought it for you. It's so your style."

Rameen nodded not meeting her eye. If Sila found this reaction peculiar, she didn't pry her. She wouldn't be the ideal person to call Rameen out on her strange behavior when she herself wasn't the most truthful cookie in the lot right now.

Both went back to safer topics which didn't include awkward silences. Sila was relieved that Rameen hadn't dwelled deeper into her somber mood, and Rameen was, once again feeling guilty that a gift wasn't just a mere gift to her.

𝄞

A calming bath after a long day was his wife's go-to relaxation method but he reckoned he also needed one today.

Maybe, that way he'd be able to feel less pathetic than he did right at the moment.

Turning the shower off, he ran a hand through his damp hair and stared at his reflection in the mirror.

All hard lines and grimaces. He looked far from a guy who had his shit sorted, maybe the reason why Mahad had, not so subtly, tried to ask him if he was okay. Osama, even lost in his newly found euphoria, had given him a look or two which translated to 'What's going on?'

He had brushed off their attempts, as expected. In the same way, he hadn't given his family anything when he went to meet them after his trip to the USA. He didn't know if they bought his nonchalance or saw right through it, but he had tried his best to appear in control of his life.

The reality was far from it.

But his friends and family had a knack for blowing things out of proportion when it came to him and his inability to sort out his past for good. He didn't need that mayhem in his life. Everything else was already piling up to mock him. Blunder after blunder. Sila was angry and hurt and he wanted to hurl something, preferably himself, out of the window for creating this ruckus in their lives.

Once dressed in his night clothes, he returned to their bedroom only to find the bed empty. His eyes immediately went toward the balcony. A sigh of relief left his mouth seeing her pacing to and fro on the balcony as she listened to the other person on the call.

She played with her hair with her free hand and leaned against the railing. Aahil took small steps and stood in the sliding doors. She was yet to register his presence.

"You and I both know you have more experienced and talented people on your team for this kind of stuff, Elma. The event will go on as decided. My absence will not cause any dent."

What Elma said in reply made her shake her head. "You're hung up on the publicity and media exposure ZH concert will give us. I understand. Capitalizing on that kind of chance is always a professionally sound decision. But Elma, I'm already neck deep in the Basra Charity Event. The freaking Chief Minister is invited there. That is, logically more important and needs all my attention. If I opt out of the ZH concert, it will not affect us but if I juggle between two important events, my efficiency will definitely be affected and I won't be able to deliver. We certainly can't afford that."

She sat down on the lounger as if exhausted by this back and forth. Elma's next words made her take a sharp intake of breath. "We've been through this. I'm not being coerced into anything, Elma, neither is my husband a controlling Neanderthal, for God's sake. Zarrar is blacklisted by Jahan, and as a family member, it doesn't look good on me to go ahead and be involved with him in any capacity. Not everything boils down to a skewed power dynamic. Sometimes you have to choose family and I always will."

She got silent after that, listening to what Elma had to say. It must be something encouraging because she ended the call right after that with a calm expression on her face.

Which didn't last long. As she got up, her eyes immediately found him standing there. Her expression changed drastically. Hurt and accusations were directed at him, even though she was yet to utter a word.

She took an uncertain step forward and then another. She was about to leave through the door when Aahil held her hand.

Sila took a shuddering breath. Pinching her face to contain her sobs, she put on a brave front and turned to face him.

He was the one to stop her but now, words seemed to lodged in his throat. Sila gave him a sardonic smile.

"Don't act surprised. Whether you took me into confidence or not, my answer was always going to be what I've just told Elma."

She looked so torn. So fragile. His doing. Without meaning to.

"I might know the guy since his first concert but your say will always trump everything else. I just wish you hadn't discarded mine the way you did. We might move past it in some days or months but right now, I'm hurt, Aahil, and I want you to know that. You hurt me."

With that, she gently pried her hand out of his grasp and left, the sound of the door sliding back to its position punctuating her departure.

Aahil stood there, regret gnawing at him but that wouldn't be the first time. Regret and he went long back, old companions. There was so much in his life to lament and repent on that he often had to choose from a list.

But right now, Sila's teary face was on top of that.

He had always regarded himself the imbecile of the century but for putting her through this, he'd never be able to recover.

He had faltered everywhere, not one front where he stood victorious. The shouts calling him a loser were louder than ever.

But Sila juggled his lapses even though every maneuver broke her some more. She had mollified their anxious family when he flew to Boston without notice. She tried to make amends for both of them when all he did was shoot into the void, putting them in harm's way. He knew her girls were her safe space but she hadn't said a word to them about their problems. If she had, avoiding Amal and Haleh's wrath wasn't going to be easy but they had met him as they would under normal circumstances.

And this. She sabotaged her job to uphold what he had done, without even asking her for once. She didn't let his image get marred in front of her employer even though, he had acted on a whim.

His intentions weren't wrong. But when did he have the time to evaluate their correctness? So driven was he by an acute panic to keep Sila away from him. Even his shadow in her vicinity was absolutely unacceptable to Aahil.

He refused to be the naive one this time around. He refused to leave things to chance. He would do anything in his capacity to ensure Sila's safety.

Something he couldn't do then.

Dropping himself on the lounger, he covered his face with his palms. Why did things always have to be this way? Why couldn't he just let it be? Hadn't he caused enough damage already?

The damage, the debris of which was still covering his every path. Even after nearly five years. Wasn't it enough? Losing himself, his passion, his life.

Living with the lifelong implications of what had happened. What he could've prevented.

What, in Zarrar's own words, was his fault. It happened because he was in the picture.

He fiddled with his phone, on the precipice of a decision. He unlocked it slowly and with trembling fingers, opened his WhatsApp.

The archived chats had just one contact. He paused, his thumb hovered over the screen. The name of M.A.R. seemed to taunt him.

With a deep breath, he opened the chat and scrolled above. There were messages he didn't have the heart to go through again, not in the near future. He stopped at a five-year-old voicenote. This, he could do with. This wouldn't make him want to topple over the whole world, for its ruthlessness. This was how he wanted to remember her.

This was how she should be remembered.

He hit play.

"You mothertrucking bastard! What is that birthday wish? Istg I'm going to find you and kill you in your sleep! Do you have any idea I'm being swarmed by texts from our mutual friends? Thank you for making me the butt of the joke and don't you dare say it's a regal name! I will castrate you. The future lucky girl won't be so lucky now, will she? Anyway, I'm walking home. The scene was too rowdy for me. Betty is already plastered, that lightweight. Juno is dropping her off at her apartment. Such a sweetheart. When will Betty see him as more than a friend?"

Pause. Shuffling.

"Ruby Auntie and Baba must be giving the final touches to their surprise. I should wait it out. I might know everything about their plan but I don't want to make them feel bad. Yeah, yeah, even Ruby Auntie. Don't be smug when you listen to this. But yes, I'm warming up to her. You won. I couldn't be a bitch on purpose when she's so nice to me all the time."

A small laugh.

"The length of this voicenote is going to send you reeling, Aahil. But I can't help it. I'm so happy! And I don't mean it in the it's-my-birthday kind of happy. I feel happy from within. I find colors brighter than ever. My pen is leaking lyrics about love like nobody's business. I want to glide across the clouds, and twirl on my way home from the diner, even the snooty Mrs. Ronan can't dampen my spirits with her screeching. I'm just so happy."

A childlike chuckle.

"And the credit for this goes to you. If you hadn't come to my life... Yeah, I would've missed out on a lot of good. Good, that's proving to be life-changing for me. Gosh, your trip back home is getting longer than you said. There's so much I have to tell you. So much I want to share with you. Things I've told to no one else. Come back soon, hun? I miss you. This is going to come to bite me in the ass, isn't it? But it is what it is. I'm going to go now. I'm right outside my place and can already hear Ruby Auntie and Baba's frantic whispers. They are cute. As you pointed out. Bye for now. Will talk to you tomorrow. And for the record, if the next time you wish me with any name other than Maya, I will not be responsible for my reaction! It's Maya, for God's sake! Bye!"

And just like that, it ended. Aahil placed his phone by his side and looked out at the horizon. His eyes were glassy and heartache was as unbearable as ever.

She was right. The length of this voicenote did prove to be a problem. He just wished it was a bit longer. Where she had talked more with unbridled joy punctuating her every word. Joy, happiness, colors, and hope.

All snatched away. Because he was in the picture.

He wiped the tear at the tip of his eye. Sometimes, happiness gives you the utmost pain. Especially when it's as unfulfilled as Maya's.

𝄞

He stirred in his sleep and slowly opened his eyes. The clear sky overhead was a foreign sight. He was so used to waking up next to her face. He looked around and found himself sprawled on the lounger on the balcony. So, he hadn't gone inside the room last night? The quilt covering him vouched for it.

Sila's care which he felt undeserving of still couldn't stop reveling in it. Getting up, he went inside. His eyes darted toward the clock. 8:30 AM. Sila must've left for work. The cold sheets were telling. This meant he was getting late and needed to rush. In no time, Faran would begin blowing his phone.

No matter work was the last thing on his mind. He could always tell his brother that he was taking a day off and it wouldn't change anything. Sila wasn't that off when she said he was handed things on a platter. But he did need a break. The incoming headache was gearing in intensity. He was trying to turn a blind eye to the physical signs of his messed-up mental state but he knew, by experience, the odds would catch up to him. Headache, nausea, loss of appetite—all there to mock him. Soon this would get out of his hands and to prevent that he'd need to pretend all was okay, following his routine to the t was just another measure to ensure that. He'd also need to stay far away from Zarrar and make sure his people were also maintaining their distance.

Sila, most importatnly.

To the general public, Zarrar was a cocky but talented singer, to his fans, he was an angel who could never do any wrong, for people close to and a part of the media fraternity, he was one of the biggest artists Pakistan has produced this decade.

But Zarrar's real face, and probably his ugliest, was known to his former best friend only. He was driven by hatred and naked jealousy.

And to feed these emotions, there was no limit Zarrar wouldn't cross.

He had done it before, and he'd gladly do it again, repeatedly, if it meant Aahil Jahangir's downfall.

𝄞

Resting her head on Osama's shoulder, Alina savored his warmth for the umpteenth time. Winter was weeks away, in the city of lights, it was already a late arrival. But her trying to commit Osama's warm embrace to her memory was for all the different reasons. She sighed, playing with a piece of lint on her jeans.

"Can I—"

Osama shook his head, not turning his eyes away from the magazine. "Don't even think about it."

She harrumphed and slapped his arm away. "Geez, why are you sure I'm going to change my mind? We're sitting in the bloody airport, Osama."

He placed the magazine back on the table, taking his sweet time, and turned to her. "You wanted me to reverse the car and take us back when we got here."

Alina rolled her eyes. "Now a girl can't even be a bit uncertain here." She disentangled herself from him but Osama pulled her closer. Her frown morphed into a smile.

"I think I'm going to miss this the most." She pointed toward his arms around her.

"And I think I'm going to miss you the most," Osama stated, matter-of-factly.

Alina's nose stung with tears. "Hey! That's my line."

"That's our life, Alina." He pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head. The PDA was garnering some not-so-subtle glares from the people around them but Osama chose to ignore it. He was here to see off his girlfriend and the great love of his life. She was going away for three freaking months. He was allowed some liberties.

Alina lingered a little while longer. Both got up the next moment. It was time for Alina to leave. She gathered her stuff and stood there, anxious and perturbed. Glancing between Osama and the departure lounge in the distance.

But his smile seemed to ease the knot in her stomach. She reciprocated it and hugged him tight for the last time.

Only, it wasn't going to be the last. This step was to ensure that only. To thrive in life but together, hand in hand.

Osama took her hands in his and kissed her knuckles. The last time, when he was here to leave for Harvard, she was nowhere to be seen, not at the airport and in his life.

But this was their win, their love had come out of it, unscathed and intact.

How was that not enough to hold onto every good in life?

So, with the same belief in his heart, he let Alina go and embark on this career milestone. She didn't need to be told twice.

When she had broken up with him in the parking of 3-C, she hadn't once looked back on her way out of there.

But she did now. One, twice, thrice.

And each time, Osama's contented smile had given her strength.

This was going to be so good. She could feel it. And her intuition about their relationship had never been proven wrong.

𝄞

Usually, Mahad's trips to Islamabad didn't extend to more than a day or two but special occasions call for special arrangements and his Dada Jaan's birthday definitely fell into that category.

He had been home for the whole weekend, he and Gina being the organizers of the birthday party. Dada Jaan grumbled to see them taking care of even the tiniest details but they all knew being the big softie he was, his frustration was just for show.

The party was in full swing. Mahad left the entourage of Dada Jaan's oldie gang and came to check the catering. Apart from the cake, the ceremony was as a standard Lashari gathering would be. The whole family and Dada Jaan's close friends were there, sans Rony but he had beat them all to wish Dada Jaan and his gift was also the first to arrive. Bloody show-off. Mahad hadn't hesitated to tell this to his face through the video call. Rony's reaction was a shrug. Typical.

The other person missing, whom Dada Jaan considered part of his family, not so surprisingly, was Haleh. Dada Jaan's tender but equally anguished expressions when she called in the morning were etched on Mahad's memory. Seeing Dada Jaan's love for her, she should have been here, among them to celebrate his birthday but they weren't allowed that luxury. Dada Jaan's inhibitions, Bakhtawar's disdain, and the obscure yet glaring history of Haleh's parents proved to be the obstacles.

Her obliviousness might be the most important reason.

Mahad shook his head of the thoughts and opened his phone to make a quick call to the catering service. But instead, he got distracted by his Whatsapp where he could see a new status uploaded by Haleh.

The third of the day.

She had posted her empty Word document in the morning, captioned procrastinating. Then in the midday, she uploaded a picture of a badly shaped carrot cake. This time around, she had posted her half-finished painting.

Mahad couldn't help it. He should've but concern had a very convenient way of making its way into his system when this woman was in question.

He went straight for the voice call. Just texting her wouldn't suffice. It was his lucky day because, after two rings, she had picked it up.

"Hey." He greeted softly and waited for a snarky "What" to be heard on the other side but it never came. Instead, he heard her tired sigh. "Hi."

"Are you really that bored? Juggling between all your talents?" He attempted to joke, hoping to get her back into her usual but Haleh just chuckled.

"Are you really keeping tabs on me?" She asked, the usual bite in her tone hadn't made an appearance today.

"Just an observation," Mahad said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm..." Haleh stuttered. Then, as if she had accepted her defeat, added with resignation. "I'm trying to distract myself but as it is obvious, nothing's working."

Mahad gulped. "Why?"

She paused. Mahad almost thought she'd change the topic but a mellow Haleh wasn't so predictable.

"Today is the birthday of someone very close to me. Someone I consider a father figure. I wanted to bake him a cake and buy him a gift but unfortunately, he can't visit me today. He has his own family, who might want to be with him. They're, of course, related to him by blood so they have got a big claim on his time. I just wanted to be a part of his day but I guess... never mind."

She chuckled. Mahad could swear her voice cracked at the end. The foreign ache in his heart didn't feel so alien this time around.

"Haleh—"

"It's okay. I'm not complaining. Listen, I have an article to finish. I just...yeah... talk to you later."

With that, she ended the call with a soft click. But Mahad couldn't pocket his phone for a while after that.

"Mahad?"

His mother's voice broke his trance. He put a smile on his face as she approached him.

"Time for the cake. Baba Jaan's really something. All this time he was angry with you for ordering a cake and now he won't cut it without you around."

She laughed but seeing his lost state, stopped. "What's the matter?"

Mahad shook his head. "Nothing, Mama. Let's go."

"Who were you talking to?" She asked, trying to search for something on his face.

"The catering guy, who else? Let's not miss out on the highlight of this night." He ushered her toward the party.

The same party he had arranged keeping every tiny detail in mind.

The same party he had lost all interest in, because...she should've been here. It was only right. Celebrating with his family felt wrong after hearing her voice on the brink of tears.

Too immersed in his troubled thoughts he was, that he didn't even realize that he had conveniently lied to his mother.

But he was the only one not to realize it.

𝄞

Now that she had opted out of the Zarrar Hassan concert, Sila was giving her all to the Basra Group event. Elma might have been cooperative, albeit begrudgingly, but Sila couldn't tweak with more professional liberties. The Basra Charity Gala had to be top-notch. It was her way of making it up to Elma for the trouble she had given her in Zarrar Hassan's case.

She was scheduled to finalize everything and get Elma's approval today itself and she was working hard to meet the deadline.

Only to be interrupted by Elma. She had called her in her office.

Sila made her way out of her workstation with trepidation. Lately, she wasn't a big fan of summons from Elma to come meet her. That never ended well for Sila. But putting on her big girl shoes, Sila pushed open Elma's elegantly decorated office door and took the seat before her.

"Sila, how are things coming about on the Basra assignment?"

Sila didn't let it show on her face but she was relieved that this was what Elma had called her to talk about.

"I'm going to finalize everything by the end of the day and get back to you."

Elma nodded, pleased with her answer. But the expression stayed for just a moment. Her gaze on Sila was sharp which made Sila uncomfortable but she wouldn't be Sila Nouraiz if she let her unease be obvious.

"Zarrar wants to have a word with you, Sila."

"What?" Sila asked, surprised.

Elma nodded, solemnly. "I've conveyed to him that you won't be a part of the team I've decided for the concert. He understands, obviously. But as our client, he has a right to know why we the sudden change when he specifically asked you to lead the team."

Sila narrowed her eyes. Just last night, Elma had reassured her that she was okay with her decision, and from her side, the chapter was closed. Zarrar's disapproval of the change of plans must be strong for Elma to shift gears.

"I'm not asking you, Sila. It's an order from your employer. Zarrar is not happy."

Sila had already gathered that. Elma didn't need to tell her.

"So, the least we can do is heed his demand and let him have a meeting with you. He just wants to know your reasons for refusing."

"Elma," Sila tried to rein in her frustration. This situation was getting ridiculous. "I don't think it's a good idea. My decision has been made. I'm not going to work on this project. Nothing Zarrar says is going to change that."

Elma pursed her lips. "If we don't comply, he will call off the deal altogether."

Another shocker. Really? Sila was more confused than ever now. Surely, all of the concerts she had worked on for Zarrar had been a huge success but him going as far as threatening an end to the deal was bonkers. EFvent's other operation managers had a far better portfolio than her when it came to managing and planning concerts.

Elma was tapping impatiently on the table. She wouldn't take no for an answer, that much Sila had gathered. She was already in hot waters with her company. She couldn't afford to lose this job, the chances of which were high, if she refused once again.

"Okay. But my decision won't change. We talked about it, Elma."

She said, getting up to leave.

"As I told you, he just wants to have a chat. I don't think he'll try to persuade you to change your mind."

Sila hardly believed that but nodded nevertheless.

"Also, Sila."

She stopped by the door and looked at Elma.

"I'd rather you go to his office right away." Elma's voice left no room for argument.

Sila wanted to protest but what she could possibly say to Elma? She had to suck it up and get done with it anyway.

The earlier, the better.

𝄞

Zarrar's office, studio, and residence were all rolled into one. The impressive architecture and equally mesmerizing interior compelled you to stop and chance a longer look but Sila had no time to stare and appreciate the state-of-the-art furnishing. She had more important matters that needed her immediate attention.

She was, in every sense of the word, tired of this situation. She hated that Elma had crumbled under the pressure from Zarrar and sent her here to make amends. But that's how the corporate world works. Zarrar was an important client, the one Elma was looking forward to working with. Anything that sabotaged that chance was unacceptable to Elma so here Sila was.

A petite woman guided her through the top floor where Zarrar's studio was along with his residence. Sila was informed that he often conducted meetings in the studio itself, seeing the nature of his business was always music. Sila found that a tad bit unprofessional but kept the thought to herself.

Upon reaching the said floor, Sila was made to sit in the waiting area. She hoped she wouldn't have to wait long. This unplanned meeting was coming in between her planned commitments and that rubbed her the wrong way. She hated slacking at work and the more time she spent here, the more slacking would be there.

Proving her apprehensions wrong, Zarrar called her inside his studio. Sila took a deep breath and walked in the said direction. Let's get this over with.

Once inside the room, she found Zarrar sitting on the single-seater, deep in thought. She knocked at the door and that brought him out of his stupor. He gave her a genial smile which Sila couldn't reciprocate, how hard might she tried.

Her own issues with her husband aside, Aahil's disdain for Zarrar had made Sila a bit cautious around the man. Aahil hadn't told her the reason for his hatred toward Zarrar but one thing Sila knew about her husband, it was not easy, to make him dislike you with such passion. What had Zarrar possibly done to be granted the honor?

"I've been informed that you're no longer helming the team for my debut anniversary concert."

Zarrar began, in a tone that was friendly enough, his trademark style of conversing. His deep baritone more gravelly than it was in his songs.

Sila resorted to giving him a curt nod.

"I see. Does it have to do with my...erm..situation with Jahan?"

Sila sighed. "You already know, Zarrar."

It was his turn to sigh. "Can't say I'm surprised. I kind of did see this coming."

"Then why did you approach EFvent in the first place? If you did see this coming?"

Zarrar leaned forward in his seat. "Because I thought your husband would act sensibly where his wife's career is involved."

Sila glared at him. "Excuse me? I'd watch my words if I were you. I've not come here for this. Keep my husband out of this discussion. Stick to professionalism, Zarrar. This doesn't become you."

His reply was a derisive laugh. "Sticking to professionalism is a bit hard in a situation where I'm being singled out as a villain on purely personal sentiments."

What?

Sila shook her head, incredulously. "A villain? Don't you think that's a bit farfetched? And just so you know, I had the choice to opt out, and I did. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?"

Zarrar left his seat and stood leaning against his vinyl shelf.

"Ask your husband, Sila. He might tell you I'm even worse than a villain. And then you'll know who's making a big deal out of it."

Sila held her bag. "As I said, I'm not here to discuss my husband with you. If the discussion can't stay professional, I need to leave."

She made a dash to the door but on her way, her eyes caught something and she stopped in her tracks.

Zarrar's photo wall was in her direct view but her eyes had zeroed in on a particular frame. The picture featured two boys, in their early teens. One was smirking at the camera, while the other gave it a full-fledged smile.

The smile Sila was so used to, she could recognize it anywhere.

"Ah, this. Your face tells me you've recognized this fella over here."

Zarrar came from behind her and pulled the frame from the wall. He handed it to her. Sila looked between him and the picture with a thousand questions on her mind.

Zarrar and Aahil? They knew each other as kids? And—

"You will never hear it from him. For him, his childhood friend group features only Alina, Osama, and Mahad. But there used to be one more person there, Sila."

He ran a finger over the framed photo. "Limerence, my father's music academy. It was one eventful summer camp there. A boy my age came barreling into the academy and my life and suddenly, I got the best friend I had always wanted. Aahil and Zarrar, the gifted music prodigy and the once-in-a-lifetime singing talent. We never looked back after that, quite inseparable, the duo of us. I was his introduction to the world of music. He was mine to the world outside. A kind of childhood that was. I wouldn't change a thing about it."

Slowly, his smile dimmed. Sila saw the shift with mounting unease. Zarrar put the frame back and stood facing his photo wall.

In her haste to get away from here, Sila had overlooked the rest of the photos on the wall but now that she was fully attentive, she could see her husband featured in so many other frames.

"We made lots of plans. Some worked out. Some didn't. We grew in our craft and our approach toward life as well. Our personalities were in stark dissonance, but our mutual understanding always came above everything else. We both decided that music wouldn't be just a hobby. We were talented enough to make it our vocation and do wonders. So, we started toward that. He got enrolled in Berkeley, and I in NEC. Our campuses were within walking distance. So, the process of music-making never stopped for us. Best years of my life, Sila."

Zarrar took an ominous step forward and stopped at a particular picture. "But that's about the best things. They do not last for long."

Sila could feel listening to what he had to say next wouldn't be a good idea but Zarrar seemed to be oblivious to her sentiments. He was in his own world.

"Her. She changed everything."

He pointed toward the picture. Zarrar and Aahil stood on either side of a woman. She was almost their age. Raven hair that cascaded down her back. Face an epitome of innocence and childlike wonder.

"Maya. or M.A.R as she liked to be called on the stage."

M.A.R. Sila's mind flashed the image of the journal she'd found in Aahil's music room. She gulped. The implications were heavy but they were there on her mind. Who was she and—

"Aahil's first proper girlfriend. And the woman who brought your husband to where he is today, Sila."

Sila's palms turned clammy. She felt her throat constricted. She had anticipated this but why did it feel like she wasn't prepared for it?

"He had met her at her father's diner in Boston. She used to play her music there. They hit it off instantly. There was compatibility, both were musically drawn to each other. Maya was the best jam partner Aahil ever had, his words, not mine. They were all over each other. A sizzling romance. An even more promising music partnership. Sometimes it used to feel like they were unstoppable together. Maya's pen and voice, Aahil's melodies. A union like this is too good to be true. And it was."

He gave her a sympathetic smile. "Maya had fallen hard. For her professional success wasn't everything. Love came on top. But Aahil didn't share her sentiments. He was climbing the ladder several steps at a time, and Maya felt it hard to keep up with him. She came from a dysfunctional family, love was her greed. But Aahil was secure in every way possible. He couldn't understand her. At one point he even stopped trying. And before you know it, their castle of love was crashing down."

Zarrar held her hand. Sila flinched away. The coldness of her skin made a sudden run through her spine. His words were all around her. A jumbled mess.

"I'm sorry, Sila. But I'm tired of my silence. I had seen it all unfolding before me. I did try to intervene. Aahil was my best friend and Maya was dear to me. Such a lovely girl. She just wanted to be loved, Sila. She wanted to be prioritized but Aahil refused to see it. He missed the obvious signs. He made her feel worthless. He didn't do it intentionally. I bet he himself didn't know how bad Maya's emotional state had gone. But they had turned toxic to each other. And with the baby in the picture—"

He stopped abruptly. Sila's face had turned ashen. "A baby?" She croaked, her voice so small willing the words to lose all their meaning.

"Yes," Zarrar nodded uncomfortably. "A baby. She had gotten pregnant. That's when Aahil knew he couldn't deal with all this on his own. He had to involve his family. His go-to move for his every fuck-up. But this was bigger than him, Sila. No matter what, he loved Maya. He couldn't come to terms with the reality that she was losing her sanity because of him. The regret was eating him alive. Maya was vulnerable, alone, and shunned. God, her face still swirls before my eyes. She—"

"Where's she now?!"

Sila asked frantically, cutting his words. She had to know. She couldn't imagine what her mind screamed at her. No. This couldn't be it.

𝄞

Boston, Massachusetts

The early morning air was enough to make her snuggle into her coat. It had rained just a few hours back. As if the weather had come prepared for this visit.

Rubina gave her husband's hand a light squeeze. He didn't have the physical strength to reciprocate the gesture, but his trembling fingers did their best to hold onto her.

She gently wiped the tears from his eyes and bent down so they could mourn this loss together, once again.

Her eyes followed the dead leaves covering the stone. She gently pushed them aside. There wasn't much difference either way. The leaves, the person. Her hand lingered on the hard surface. A face. A memory.

A defeated sigh left her mouth. She turned to her husband and gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "We should leave, Attique."

But his imploring eyes meant they'd stay for a while longer. Rubina obliged. This visit was for his peace. That was another thing that peace had lost their address for the past five years.

Her eyes lingered on the tombstone. Yearning for peace felt wrong when life had been more unkind to those who cherished its every blessing.

The colorful foliage was a stark contrast to the grey stone underneath it. But somehow, there could be no better way to remember her.

Rubina stared at the words. Familiar yet foreign. Reality but still work of her worst nightmare.

But there was nothing they could do about it.

Meherunisa Attique-ur-Rehman, a beloved daughter and a wonderful friend.

You are sorely missed.

And somewhere, behind the ledge, Rubina could hear her voice loud and clear.

"It's Maya, Ruby Auntie. For God's sake!"

Even through the haze of grief, Rubina's lips broke into a smile.

"Oh, Maya, life misses you, my dear. It really does."

𝄞

Zarrar saw her face, pale and terrified. He donned the mask of pity and sorrow and mumbled softly.

"Dead...she took her life."

His ominous words echoed in the room, snatching the last vague hope from Sila.

𝄞