Pretending to be lost in work while his brother sat before him was not a convincing performance. Aahil knew that, and so did Faran. His probing eyes vouched for it as well.

"Don't you have anything important to do, Bhai?" Aahil finally broke the silence. His tone didn't betray any sign of unease.

Faran leaned into his seat. "As a matter of fact, I do. But this," He pointed toward Aahil. "Is where I'm needed more. What's the matter?"

Aahil feigned ignorance or tried to. "What do you mean?"

Faran sighed. Trust this one to make things difficult. Always. "You were distracted throughout the meeting."

Aahil chuckled. "As if usually I'm the most active person in the conference room."

Faran pursed his lips. If one thing his brother had mastered the art of, that'd be deflection.

"You are not yourself these days, Aahil. And try all you might but I can see through your bullshit."

As expected. Aahil's eyes bored into his laptop screen. It had gone blank a while back, but that didn't make much difference. Maybe, he wasn't good at pretenses.

"Why don't you take a few weeks off? Get on a plane and do what you enjoy?"

His attempts at making Aahil talk had been futile. Not something that surprised Faran. The next course of action was to be supportive of his coping mechanisms. Adan would call it detrimental but Faran disagreed with it. He had years to get used to Aahil's patterns especially, when he refused to open up.

"Take Sila along. You two didn't get the chance to go on your honeymoon."

Aahil shook his head. "I can't do that, Bhai. Sila is busy with an important event. I don't think she'll be able to get an extended leave."

He also didn't want to insert himself into her work life, more than he already had. He didn't say that to Faran. With so much to unpack, the honeymoon was the last thing on his and Sila's minds.

Faran's silence grated on Aahil's nerves. He had thought he was able to put on a good I'm-fine show before his family but it seemed he had overestimated his abilities.

"It's nothing, Bhai." He tried to punctuate his reassurance with a smile. Faran didn't reciprocate it.

"You know, it's not a bad idea to contact Dr. Mohiuddin."

Aahil looked away. The old man wouldn't be too pleased to see an obstinate patient back. Aahil didn't want to go the therapy route again.

It also meant something was definitely wrong and he wouldn't want that reality check to add to the list of problems at his disposal.

"And why would I need that, Bhai? I told you, I'm fine. Stop worrying unnecessarily. Didn't you mention lunch with a foreign delegation? We're getting late for that."

Faran knew he was trying to win an already lost battle. His brother had never been good at this. If he were, he wouldn't have done such a shoddy job of locking his past away.

"As you say." He stated defeatedly and got up. Aahil followed suit. They were about to leave his cabin when Faran held him by his shoulder.

"Listen,"

He made him look at him, as he had done so numerous times throughout their lives. The only difference; life and its problems had lost their triviality.

Faran's hold was reassuringly firm. "I'm always here for you. Don't try to fight your battles alone, yaar."

Aahil felt his throat constricted. He couldn't utter a word even if he wanted to. And Faran didn't need his affirmations. People who mean the world never do. He simply pulled him into a hug and that was what Aahil needed. He hid his face in Faran's embrace and willed the tears to remain hidden as well.

𝄞

The unbreakable silence in Zarrar's studio was akin to the calm after the storm. When the tornado has splintered the wood, the holes in the roof, a home tetched with love tilted on its axis.

Zarrar's eyes racked over Sila's face. The satisfaction was tangible. He could touch it if he reached his hand. He'd love to do that. After a long time, he'd felt this euphoria coursing through his veins.

But for now, the show must go on.

"You must be devastated, Sila." His voice held the remorse of the world. "Aahil? The Aahil we all know? It sounds far-fetched but it is the reality. There's a reason why it is under the rug even after so many years. Aahil hates even the mention of that part of his life. And any person who's a reminder of that tragedy is considered an enemy by him. Look at me. I was his best friend. Someone who tried his best to save both Aahil and Maya. An eye witness to whatever went down there. And here I'm, blacklisted by his family's empire while he pretends that I don't even exist."

He shook his head dejectedly and turned away from her.

"That's the truth your husband has been running away from, Sila. It hurts me to see him this way, and Maya, that unlucky girl. The tragedy of it all. You have to trust me Sila when I say—"

"I don't."

The small yet firm whisper made him whip around. Sila glared at him, her hold on her stuff firm as if she was about to flee.

"Excuse me?" Zarrar asked in a sharp tone.

"You heard me, Zarrar. I don't trust a word you've just told me."

He closed his eyes momentarily and looked at her as if she was in a miserable condition and needed all his sympathy. "I know it's a lot to take. I completely understand your apprehension."

Sila shook her head. "I'm sorry but I won't be giving a stranger the benefit of the doubt. Now if you'll excuse me."

She took a step toward the door when Zarrar blocked her path. "I'm just looking out for you, Sila."

She rolled her eyes. "Really, Zarrar? All you did was malign my husband and try to prove yourself a harmless bystander or better, an unsung hero. Pretty convenient, don't you think?"

Zarrar's jaw clenched. A vein popped on his forehead. The familiar urge to cause some damage crawled under his skin.

He reeled the monster in and spoke in an empathic tone. "As you wish. It's not like you'll get the truth from anywhere else. Not from your in-laws, your husband's friends, and least of all, from him."

"And it's your issue. How?"

Sila scoffed and wasted no time in leaving his studio.

Zarrar saw her retreating back with clenched fists. As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, his fingers curled around the photo frame and the next moment, it was smashed on the floor. The glass shards flew around. Zarrar saw the destruction with an eerie calm.

He took a deep breath and settled his hair.

His plan hadn't worked all the way out. No worries. It was time to use his trump card.

𝄞

She left Zarrar's studio as if everything around her was on fire. It might as well be. Not once looking back, lest the shadows crept up and inched closer, she stopped only when she was in the safety of her car.

Holding the steering, Sila tried to even her breathing but it was of no use. Her eyes burned and a sob finally slipped through her lips.

It wasn't easy, putting Zarrar into his place. How dare he! Her subconscious was right. Coming here was the worst decision her professional obligations compelled her to take.

Those words tumbled out of his mouth. The surety.

Aahil. Mistakes.

Maya.

No. Sila shook her head. She wouldn't believe Zarrar. Who was he anyway? A mere stranger!

But wasn't her husband the same? A stranger when it came to his past? Didn't he shut her out every chance he got?

The reasoning her mind came up with stumbled her. She hurriedly started her car. She needed to get out of here.

But could she tune out the reverberations of Zarrar's words? Not likely. They came back to her throughout the drive to her place. Going back to work was not even an option. She tried to keep the tears at bay but they had a mind of their own.

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

"A union like this is too good to be true."

"She just wanted to be loved."

"He made her feel worthless."

"And with the baby in the picture..."

His voice chased after her. Hounds of hell. Her world crashing down. Only she knew how she reached her place. All attempts to put this God-forsaken meeting behind her were proven futile. Opening the door, she almost slammed into the table. Getting ahold of her anxious heart, she dropped herself on the couch.

The voices. Again.

"Come on!" She whispered-yelled to herself. This was all a sick joke. Aahil? Her Aahil? No!

She had to put her hurt aside and think of it wisely. Aahil wouldn't hide such a thing from her. It was the same Aahil who never shied away from talking about his relationship with Vaneeza, pointing out his own vices, for crying out loud!

But it was also the same Aahil who shut himself in his shell and refused to utter a word of his past to her. Didn't she remember the first time she mentioned his music career to him? His outburst had shut her up for good.

And when he went to the USA without telling anyone, his family's shocked and anxious reactions weren't so old that she'd forget all about it. Whenever it came to his past, they treated him as if he was fragile, and would break with just a slight push.

They were also hurt by what he'd become. That didn't come out of a vacuum. There must be a reason. Not as grave as Zarrar told her. No. She wouldn't believe the venom he'd spewed.

And his music. Didn't she know what he was capable of? The depth of his music, the passion he had.

What happened that he turned away from it and never looked back? Even if she discarded Zarrar's claims, Aahil's elusiveness, his inhibition, and his regret—that shone in his eyes when he came back from the USA, that wore him down, breaking his spirits—wasn't there without any reason. Something of his magnitude had to have a cause. A major one at that.

She held her head in her palms. So many questions, and a myriad of confusions. But answers? Not a single one!

And she refused to get those from anyone but the person who meant the most to her. Only him.

𝄞

He had just reached the parking lot when his eyes darted across and found Sila's car. She was home early. His brows scrunched. As far as he knew, she was working on an important event so her untimely return from work had him worried.

But he was in no position to ask her the whys. He had lost that right the moment he talked over her. That was another addition to the long list of things he regretted immensely.

But he had no other choice. Did he ever have any?

He sighed, shutting off his car. He needed to make up to her. Everything else could wait. Her words from last night haunted him. Why did he always have to push away what mattered to him the most?

With hunched shoulders—a countenance that spoke of his fatigue, literal and figurative, he made to get out of the car when his phone rang.

The caller ID both confused and alarmed him.

"Hello?"

The loud sigh made him warier. "Never a dull day in your life, hun?"

Aahil pursed his lips, tired. "What is it, Shamyl? And please be quick. I don't have the whole day for your theatrics."

Shamyl grumbled under his breath. "As if. What was Sila doing at Zarrar's place?"

The phone almost slipped from Aahil's hand. "W...what?"

"Yeah, what! She was seen outside his residence slash studio a few hours back. What is it? Are you suddenly pals with Zarrar Hassan? Do you have any idea how bad it is for optics? Your family has him blacklisted, Jahangir.

Aahil felt underwater. When every voice is an echo chamber, your reality included. Sila went to meet him? And if Shamyl knew it, he was meant to. This was no coincidence.

"Aahil?"

Shamyl's probing voice put a halt to his racing thoughts.

"I'll talk to you later."

"But—"

Aahil ended the call and dashed to the lobby. He had seen her car in the parking lot. At least that was a consolation that she was back. But he wouldn't be satisfied unless he saw her.

At a record speed, he reached his floor and entered his apartment.

The relief he felt from seeing her sitting on the couch had him close his eyes and lean against the wall.

She was fine.

But his little chat with Shamyl made him open his eyes slowly. He found her standing near the table, eyeing him apprehensively.

He left the wall and took slow but deliberate steps to reach her.

She opened her mouth to say something but he beat it to her. "Did you go to meet Zarrar, Sila?"

She hadn't expected him to know. Her surprise was telling of it. Aahil's eyes narrowed. "You did, didn't you?"

Sila looked him right in the eye. "Yes, I did."

He cursed under his breath and reached her side in long strides. "Why?" His query was almost helpless.

He held her by her shoulders. "Why can't you just trust me on this, Sila? You know me, don't you? I won't ask you to stay away from him without any reason, right? Then why?"

His voice had raised an octave at the end.

Sila wanted to tell him that she didn't go there by choice. She also wanted to ask him the damn reason. The same spiel from him was tiring now.

"I—"

She started but the ball of tears lodged in her throat. She composed herself or tried to. Why couldn't she just get done with it? Why couldn't she keep Zarrar's accusations at bay?

Aahil was about to say more when his eyes landed on the table.

And suddenly, he was a statue. Of stone. Of dread. Of fear.

Sila followed his gaze. The lyric journal lay there. A mere stack of papers but a concrete wall in its impact. Between them.

"What is it doing here?" Aahil asked, his voice small, a whisper as if he were holding onto a secret for dear life.

Sila braced herself. This or doom. Now or nowhere. "Who's Maya, Aahil?"

Her words were suspended in the air. Each syllable was tangible. Each reverberation was an echo of the incoming doom.

"Maya. M.A.R. Who is she?"

She repeated, more earnest this time. Aahil took a step back. "What did he tell you?"

Sila shook her head. "It doesn't matter—"

"It does!" He seethed. He might as well be screaming at the top of his lungs. Sila had expected him to evade, as he had always done whenever the question of his past was raised. But he was frantic. As if the mention of Maya was the unspeakable truth.

"What did he say to you, Sila!" He repeated his question. Sila had never seen him like this.

A stranger.

"What?" He bellowed agonizingly.

"He...he told me about you and Maya, your love affair, and the...baby... her...her suicide."

Sila choked on her words. Aahil's hands fell to his side. The movement had a finality to it. Sila inched closer to him. Her fear was right on her face for everyone to see. But the one before her, to whom it was directed, could he see it?

"Look at me, please. It doesn't matter. Whatever he said, Aahil. Just tell me the truth. Tell me he's lying. Please."

She pleaded. What had she come to? What had she become? But right there, she didn't care for anything but him and his denial of all that Zarrar had implicated him for.

But Aahil didn't even see her.

"No, this can't be..."

He mumbled, his breathing labored. He stepped away from Sila. She tried to hold him once again.

"Aahil—"

She said, half complaint, half plea but he stopped close to the opposite wall and took out his phone. Sila attempted to get closer to him but he raised his hand to stop her where she was.

As if she came any closer, he would lose it as if her presence was grating on his nerves.

He scrolled through his contacts. His thumb hovering over a number he had vowed never to ring. Whenever he tried to delete it, a voice inside his head stopped him.

The voice was right. So was Zarrar. He would need it.

He dialed the number. His heart was in his throat. His fingers were trembling. He could feel his whole system was close to collapsing.

"Took you long, don't you think?"

Zarrar's amused voice reached his ears. Aahil wanted nothing more than to maul his face. Why did he ever let him in his life? And why did the monster always come back as a recurring nightmare?

"Don't do this, Zarrar."

"Why not?" He asked, humoring him.

Aahil shook his head frantically. "We had a deal."

"The deal's off." Zarrar deadpanned. Aahil raised his hand but bunched his fist. If Zarrar was in front of him, his knuckles would be bloodied.

"She doesn't deserve this. She's dead. What more harm can you cause her?" He said through clenched teeth.

A derisive laugh escaped Zarrar's mouth. "Death is not the ultimate destruction. You, of all people, should know this. Say hi to Sila. A good sport, that one. See you soon." He chuckled and added as an afterthought. "Preferably on the screens."

With that, the line became dead.

And Aahil slumped to the floor, his fingers bunching in hair. Sila had seen the exchange with mounting unease but his reaction had her scrambling to reach his side.

"Aahil..."

She held his wrist. He looked at her fingers. His bloodshot eyes bored into where their skin touched. Sila hoped he'd let her be there for him. This was bigger than what she had thought.

But he simply pried her hand away, never pushing it harshly.

Then why did it feel like he was carving her heart out?

"Don't,..." Sila mumbled but he had already gotten up. Running a hand through his hair, he was out of the apartment.

Without sparing even a glance in her direction.

𝄞

She was still staring at the place he'd just left. The fleeting touch of skin, him maintaining his distance.

He pried her hand away.

Wasn't the first time. But did it hurt any less?

Sila hugged her knees, looking at nothing in particular. The scene played before her as a broken reel. The hurt was palpable but the worry gnawed at her. Where had Aahil gone to? She had no idea. She couldn't sit here waiting for him to show up. God forbid if something happened to him—

NO!

She frantically looked for her phone but couldn't find it anywhere. Must be in the bedroom. She got up on shaky legs and rushed inside.

Her eyes quickly surveyed around. On the table, under the covers, maybe somewhere on her vanity. She was in the process of turning the bed upside down when the familiar ringtone startled her. She scrambled to get her device, hoping against hope that it was Aahil's call. Wishful thinking? Perhaps. A fool's dream? Certainly. But she couldn't stifle the hope burning within her.

But her anticipation died the moment she saw the caller ID.

Shamyl Sheikh.

Cold dread clutched Sila's heart. Why was Shamyl calling her? This could never mean any good.

The ringing stopped when she failed to pick it up. Sila could see the notification on the screen but instead of giving him a callback, she pushed her phone away as if it were on fire.

Shamyl's call wasn't the only notification she saw.

Apparently, her Twitter was unusually active today. She was being mentioned repeatedly, her profile handle had never seen such traffic.

Not since the last time she was in the news for all the wrong reasons.

Sila gulped. Sweat beads poured onto her forehead. She maintained a distance between her and the device as if that alone would be enough to turn things over.

But Shamyl wouldn't call her for random chitchat. He had never. He was Jahan's PR head. Something must've happened for him to contact her.

Was it about her? Or...Aahil?

That thought spurred her to action. Pushing her fear to the back of her mind, Sila picked up her phone and dialed Shamyl's number.

"Dear one, you almost gave me a heart attack!"

He exclaimed as soon the call was connected. Sila opened her mouth to say something when he beat it to her.

"Are you alright?"

She cleared her throat so that her hoarse voice wouldn't give her away. All that crying hadn't been kind to her. "I'm fine, Shamyl. What's the matter?"

His immediate response was a sigh of relief. Sila could hear a commotion behind him. He relayed her words to someone. Her confusion got intermixed with trepidation.

"Shamyl—"

But he was not on the line anymore. There was a slight shuffling and then came Faran's anxious voice.

"Sila, are you home? And where's Aahil?"

She had always seen her brother-in-law in control and command of his surroundings. Hearing him on the verge of losing his calm was a first.

"I'm, Faran Bhai. But...I don't know where Aahil is."

Her voice cracked at the end. She couldn't do it anymore. Why it was happening to them? And the irony was, she didn't even know what 'it' really was.

"I'll find him. Don't you worry. Stay there. Don't go looking for him. Just inform me immediately if...when he comes back."

She nodded as if he could see her. "What's going on, Bhai?"

She asked the million-dollar question. Faran's silence spoke of his hesitation. "It's nothing we can't handle. Just leave it up to us, Sila. I want you both safe. Nothing else matters more."

The call ended after that.

Sila glanced at the screen while Faran's words rang in her ears. Safety? If that didn't skyrocket her worry.

The Twitter notifications were right there in front of her. She clicked on the bar, turning a deaf ear to her mind's warnings.

The app loaded to her home tab. She opened the notifications. Her nerves were about to give up but she mustered the courage.

The bell icon was all about people tagging and mentioning her in the replies to a number of posts.

"You should see this. Oh my God!"

"Did you know?"

"This is awful! Feeling so sorry for you."

"Babe, shouldn't have gone after that bag. Now see what you've gotten yourself into."

"Rich dudes are always a red flag."

"I think she knew. The name of the Jahan empire was too tempting to let go. That's why she just didn't care."

That was the gist of most of the comments she came across. With each jibe, her anger and frustration reached its pinnacle. She scowled at the screen, tempted to put these people in their place but...

What caused them to say all this?

That was the hard part. But today everything had turned out to be hard. So, she clicked one of the posts.

"When your past is too messed up that even your family's riches aren't enough to save your reputation."

Below was a picture of Aahil and...Maya. All smiles, as he held her close and she whispered something in his ear.

"Heard her name is Maya."

A solo picture of Maya.

"I've also heard she worked in an exclusive club. That's where Aahil met her."

Maya's pictures. Dancing as if she was the only one in this world. Her grin held a world of happiness to it.

But the real world was not the place for happiness. Its face was too ugly. The replies below vouched for it.

"Damn, look at that."

"Will totally tap that. Next."

"Seeing that body. I'd see why someone would want exclusive access to her."

She was dressed in a top and jeans, for God's sake. Sila felt disgusted to her core.

"Jahangir hit the jackpot with this one."

Another set of pictures. They were candids. Whoever was behind the camera, she was completely comfortable with him. The intimate smiles and poses gave that away.

As if she trusted that person fully.

And thought these pictures would stay between just them.

There were more. Those Sila didn't dare to open. The lewd tweets still showed up.

As if they would never end. As if the whole of Twitter was littered with those.

"Oh, my! Guys? The TL says he knocked her up?"

The picture was captured in a hospital. Maya was crying, her head resting on Aahil's shoulder.

"Oh, yes. The sources are saying it's true."

"It is also saying the baby wasn't his? She had another 'exclusive' arrangement going on behind his back."

"Lmao! Not to be that person but what a weirdo."

"Whore's the word you're looking for."

Sila looked away. She couldn't read more of this. The filth was too much to bear. The dehumanization! The absolute lack of humanity!

And the discrepancies. Zarrar had said Aahil met her at her father's diner. He also portrayed their love story as a fairytale romance with an unfortunate ending.

But the mess on the internet told a different tale. Where Aahil was a womanizer freak and Maya was nothing less than an adult joke.

Zarrar...

Many tweets she'd come across were from general Twitter accounts but every once in a while, there was a profile with Zarrar's display photo, coming up with a new fact.

The exchange between him and Aahil came rushing back to Sila. Aahil's pleas. She couldn't hear what Zarrar had said but it wasn't anything nice. That she was sure of.

In her lost state, she absentmindedly touched the screen. The feed reloaded and the tweet that came on the top made her gasp out loud.

Nothing could've prepared her for what was before her.

Maya's lifeless body. The pool of blood around her. Her pale face. Her half-closed lids.

"Word on the street is, she k!lled herself because he abandoned her."

"Dude? Don't be callous. Delete it."

"I will. But I'm not going to lie I'm very satisfied with karma today. For years this empire has Zarrar blacklisted which made many others question his integrity. Sponsors pulled out of deals when he was trying to find his footing. This serves them right!"

"From where are you getting this information, by the way?"

"That's for me to know. 👹"

The phone fell out of Sila's hand.

The Japanese ogre emoji. Zarrar's preferred mask for his concert entries.

Something churned inside Sila. Disgust. Helplessness. Bile rose to her throat. Such cruelty. Insensitivity. Someone's life made a joke for the masses. Someone's death became a celebration for a fandom.

A setup. All of it. It was all his doing. She had no doubts about it.

"Oh my God!"

She covered her face with her palms.

She didn't know what she felt more. Extreme worry over Aahil's safety. Or inescapable sorrow for Maya.

Or both.

But what felt the most in that instant, was the apprehension.

She could feel doom was just right there, about to knock at her door.

𝄞

For the past several years, he had lived with the realization that sooner or later, the last of his destruction would come to be. And when it did, he wouldn't be able to stand strong against it. He'd crumble like a fallen leave amidst the storm.

But nothing of that sort happened. He breathed through it. He didn't fall to his knees. The tears didn't pool around him.

He watched it all unfolding with a detachment that would've scared the former him. But the former him was naive. A pathetic fool if he was honest.

Tucked in his car, he had seen the doom hitting his world in real time. A smear campaign on the internet. A tactic straight from the handbook of enemies who weren't beneath playing dirty.

Maya was there. All over the social media. The pictures she would never want to go public. Details she would be livid to find being associated with herself. Things that would make her cry and lose her beautiful self.

And suddenly she was there again. In his arms. Her limp body. Her shocked gaze. Her bloody mouth. Her garbled words.

She'd died in his arms again today.

He failed to save her.... again today.

Aahil's breath hitched and he choked on the mere air. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't. He...what should he do?

His car door burst open. The gust of fresh air hit his face. Some semblance of color returned to his pale face. The air slowly entered his lungs.

"You okay there, man?"

He looked up. His next-door neighbor stood there, eyeing him weird and worried. Aahil nodded through his labored breathing.

"I saw you struggling so had to do something." He explained. Aahil got out of his car. He had returned to his place a while back but stayed in the parking lot. But his time was up.

"Thanks."

He patted the neighbor on his shoulder and took slow and tired steps to reach his apartment. Once he was outside, he struggled to find his keys. Must be there in his pocket but were they? He had no idea.

But the door opened the next moment. Sila's face appeared on the threshold. She had her phone pressed to her ear.

"Just now. He's in front of me, Faran Bhai."

Aahil sidestepped her and stood in the middle of the TV lounge. Sila had ended the call. Her undivided attention was on him but for the first time, it wasn't welcomed by him.

He turned toward the kitchen area and poured himself a glass of water. Sila tried to do it for him but he simply pushed her hand away.

He was leaning against the table, taking small sips when his eyes darted around and found Sila's phone lying on the table unceremoniously.

He tipped his head in that direction.

"Why it's there? Why aren't you scrolling through the internet?"

Sila's gaze was both, imploring and accusing. "And why would I do that?"

"I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that the answers to all your questions are there. Be their guest."

He threw the glass in the sink. It was a miracle that it hadn't shattered. Sila flinched but recovered immediately.

"Aahil..." She took a step in his direction. "I understand—"

"You know what, Sila? You don't. And that's the fucking problem."

This was the harshest tone he had ever used with her. Sila stood there, stricken. He ran a hand through his hair, agitatedly. "Go ahead. See for yourself. See that even after death you can be destroyed. Go. And you'll know how easy it is to tarnish someone's reputation who can't even defend herself."

"I don't believe a word on there!" She declared but it only made him angrier.

"But everyone else does! That's the whole point!"

He faced away from her, breathing heavily to rein his frustration in. Sila glared at his form but her eyes were teary.

"Why did you go there, Sila?" He muttered helplessly. "Why wouldn't you listen to me? This is what I wanted to prevent. I stopped you because I knew this was bound to happen."

She reached his side and made him face her. "I didn't go there by choice! And why would I know what he would and wouldn't do!? Did you ever give me anything of your past even as a warning?"

"There you go again." He chuckled humorlessly. "My past! The root of every problem. Why do you want to know about it? What would you possibly do with the information, Sila? Can you change it? Fucking no. Then let it go, for fuck's sake!"

Sila was equally enraged. How could he?! "This is why! Look at yourself, Aahil. You're blind to our suffering. Our marriage is struggling because your unresolved trauma is messing everything up. I wish I had known beforehand that your past would affect us this way! This is not a temporary arrangement! A commitment as important and serious as marriage can't go on like this!"

He bent his head to look her right in the eye. His anger was so foreign that Sila had to remind herself that this was her husband. Her Aahil.

"It was never in my plans but we have no other choice, Sila. Remember how this marriage came to be? I knew my inhibitions. I knew my problems. But it was going well. We were happy. But then it all came crashing down. You—"

He chewed on his words as if stopping himself from saying something he shouldn't. Sila stumbled back. How easy it was for him to say it as if their union was just that. A choice. They weren't just happy. They were falling in love. She had fallen in love with him, for God's sake. Did this relationship between them didn't mean to him what it meant to her?

"What?" Sila wiped her tears. "Say it. We were doing good and now we are not, and it's somehow my fault?"

Aahil turned around, again. As if he couldn't stand her. "Yes, yours. All of it!"

The accusation hit Sila harder than a push down the railing would've.

"What did you say to Zarrar that he did all this? Why couldn't you stay away as I had told you? Why..."

He was still stuck there when she was trying to gather the pieces she could see their relationship shattered into. Would he ever come out of the shadows of his past? Would he see how detrimental it was for them?

"...Now it's all there. The lies she can't prove wrong. I couldn't save her once again. It should've never come to this, Sila."

Sila held him by his shirt front. "Stop!"

He struggled. "You would never understand. I don't expect you to!"

Sila wouldn't have any of it. She had to try. "I do! But I won't stop trying to solve this puzzle because I can't see us this way, Aahil. When I know your past is hindering us from becoming what we can. What we should. I wouldn't stop trying because this marriage is no longer a choice for me. It defines my relationship with the man I love."

He pulled himself out of her grasp. "Guess what? I don't bloody care, Sila! Nothing you say will justify this mess you've created for me and especially for Maya. This is bigger than both of us. Bigger than anything. And..."

He stopped.

So did Sila's hold on him. It slacked and slowly, she pulled her hand to herself. The reverberations of his words stayed between them. Alive. Tangible. Her glassy eyes probed into him. His were trained on anywhere but her.

"I...Sila,..."

He mumbled. Tried to get the words out but couldn't.

Sila waited. Just now. He'd say something to cushion this fall. But would his words really do anything?

They might. If he uttered them.

But he didn't. He took a step back from her. And another.

Then he took long strides to get away from there.

The door shut behind him. And Sila collapsed to the floor.

𝄞

It could have been minutes since he was gone. Or probably hours. Sila wouldn't know. For her, he was gone the moment he trained those harsh eyes on her.

She told him she loved him. The words that she never got the courage to say to his face.

And he said he didn't care. Just like that.

She chuckled. When it turned into a sob, she hadn't realized but suddenly, all around her, her sobs collided with the walls and came back to jeer at her.

Not her Aahil.

Because her Aahil would've cared. But was he ever hers? Or she was living a fool's dream. Why did she expect any other outcome? How a man entrenched deep in his past would have an opening for love? Or maybe her love was worthless

But he didn't care.

And he wasn't her Aahil. Her Aahil was probably a dream she saw with open eyes. And now she was wide awake and he was gone.

And this wasn't their home. It was a prison. She wasn't free. She was caged.

Prisons are meant to be escaped from. He was shackled by his past. But she wouldn't be tethered by her love.

She had loved him. More than she could've.

And in the process, she had lost more than she should've.

Not anymore.

He might not have the ability to let go of his past but she had to muster the courage to let love go and fly. In some other universe, in another lifetime, she'd grasp right onto it.

But in this life, she would let it slip out of her hands. It was a castle on shore. A cloud in the sky. A fleeting thought. A distant dream.

And she no longer believed in those.

She got up and packed her things. Roughly half an hour. That was the time it took Sila Nouraiz to pack herself and be ready to leave not only Aahil Jahangir's house but his life as well.

Not her Aahil.

𝄞

"The man I love."

"The man I love."

"The man I love."

The lapping waves of the sea seemed to be repeating these words to him. Holding the railing, he closed his eyes.

Love.

What a foreign word. But what a familiar feeling. Love. It used to be a key on the piano. The strumming of the drum. The strings of the guitar. Melody. A symphony. His.

But then it was lost.

Love. Lost.

Love became a prison. And he was never good at escapes, no matter how much he told himself otherwise.

He forgot love. Erased its vestiges.

But love came back. Slowly. Crept along. Right beside him. Hidden. Without his notice. Love, sometimes a broken down car, a glare, a whisper amidst the people, a good-natured lie, a trip to the police station, short hair, cherry lipgloss, a ring, a sleepy grumble, a breathy whisper, morning tea, biryani in dinner, the winding roads of Bhurbhan, the nightlights of Karachi, the reflection through the rearview mirror, the lilt of stereo in Parsi Colony, the burning hot soup from a kiosk in Johar, the sandwiches of Delli's.

Love.

Most of it.

And Sila, all of it.

He sat down, leaning against the railing.

But he said he didn't care.

He didn't bloody care.

A tear rolled down his cheek.

And then he cried like a baby. He cried for everything. For the life he missed out on. For the love he lost before and for the love he was on the verge of losing now. Sobs raked his body. Wasted potential. And now loser in love. Why do some incidents have the power to shape your whole life? Why does the box you put yourself in always lose its key? Why the trauma isn't as easy as the knee scratches were in childhood? The scars remain but they don't become monsters.

Music. Love.

Love. Sila.

And he shut himself to both.

Told both that he didn't care.

And what a disaster that was.

Was it preventable?

Maybe not.

But would he try?

Absolutely.

Would he succeed?

When had he ever?

But he still ran.

𝄞