*I know the title doesn't match the song name BUT do listen to it as you read the chapter. You'll not regret it. Trust me. 

The call had ended.

The call.

She staggered away from the bed, staring at the silent device. The exchange of words echoed in her ears.

Taking several steps back, she ran a hand through her hair and reached for the bathroom door. Once inside, she bent down on the basin and splashed her face with water.

Again.

And again.

Emotionally she had never felt this drained and physically she had never been this exhausted. Of all the scenarios she had envisioned for this talk...this was not it. She didn't have high hopes that he'd reached out. After the way it ended, she didn't delude herself into thinking that he'd have it in him to contact her.

After all, he hadn't done that in the past two weeks.

But it happened. She was numb to see his name flashing on her screen.

Aahil (The rich husband)

Her immediate response was to decline it but he acted like the stubborn son of gun that he was. He tried again. And once again.

For how long could she ignore him? She answered the call. Anger was there, frustration too. And the longing.

She hated it the most.

She had every intention to rebuke him, but the reality sank in the moment the call connected.

Their first contact after that fateful night. He was there, probably sitting in his apartment in Karachi and she was here, in Murree. Two weeks had it been, but in effort, might as well be two centuries.

What a freaking turn their life had taken, and for all the wrong reasons. Did they ever see this coming? No one ever does.

How do you come to terms with the enormity of something like this? She, for the life of her, couldn't.

At that moment, the fight left her all at once. She was hollow from within, the end of a dark tunnel, her life. Her anger dissipated. Vulnerability filled the crevices.

She could say only his name. She hadn't shouted. Hadn't asked him to go fuck himself. Everything that she had the right to tell him, she said none of those. The words that did come out of her mouth were broken whispers, complaints that should've never reached him. How could the tormentor alleviate the repercussions of his torment?

She should've been angry. She should've been bellowing. She shouldn't have attended the call.

But all she did was plead.

And all he did was agree to her every plea.

Just as she would've liked.

But it only made everything worse, if that was possible. Her own emotions were messing with her brain. The constant battle had worn her down. To be contented that he agreed to everything she'd asked of him. Or to be heartbroken that she had to ask that in the first place. To give a resolute answer that it'd be never her again or to cry her heart out about why it happened to her!

And he said wait for him.

The audacity to ask this from her! Wait? What was she supposed to wait for, exactly? And after all that he'd done? If he was finally ready to face his past head-on and deal with that, why did it have to be after breaking her heart to smithereens? Couldn't the awakening come earlier? Why did she become the collateral damage?

And where the hell had he been these two weeks? Her absence wouldn't have taken this long to settle in. She hoped.

Was it the same story all over again? Him being too hung up on the bygones that even her departure hadn't affected instantly?

Was she wrong to think that?

The kids said both of them were on vacation. Certainly, a lie was told to explain why their uncle and aunt were not in the picture these days.

But what if that was the truth? What if, he had followed the same pattern and flew out of the country to find an escape?

From everything, generally.

From her, specifically?

The Jahangirs had avoided mentioning him in their calls. At least they knew it was too early to drop his name casually in their conversation when it was he, who brought her here.

She held her head in her palms. This...was not going to end well for her. She needed to put her mind at ease.

Wasn't it the reason why she had left? She wanted to run far away from the wretched end to all her hopes and dreams regarding a future with him she had dreamt with open eyes.

She was only being harsh to herself this way. She was a human. This melancholy, confusion, and yearning had left her useless for everything else.

Why couldn't the hurt be at bay?

She asked him to stay away. He respected her choice. Case closed.

But who'd tell this to her treacherous heart?

She wouldn't be able to. She had never been able to.

𝄞

Danish glanced at the untouched bucket of fries and then at Rameen's silent form. He sighed, shifting closer to her on the car bonnet, and touched her shoulder.

"Come on, Reen. It's your favorite."

She shrugged softly, without saying a word. Still, not deterred by her lack of enthusiasm, he brought the bucket close to her. Fries were her feel-good food and right then, she needed to be cheered up.

She gingerly took one and chewed on it, taking her time.

"If you're so distraught yourself, how are you going to give Sila the support she needs?"

Rameen smiled dejectedly. "There isn't much I can do when I'm sitting so far away from her."

Danish's eyes softened. It was mainly about this, among many other things. "You know it's her choice to keep her distance."

"I know. I don't necessarily think it's a good choice."

Danish chuckled earning a glare from her, but her frustration soon gave way to her dejection.

"It's not fair, you know. She doesn't deserve to suffer like this. She deserves to be loved. I don't know why that is such a hard thing to come to be."

Her nose had gone red and tears glistened in her eyes. Danish threw his arm around her. She leaned into his side, seeking the solace she knew would be there.

"If it's any consolation, Aahil doesn't seem like the kind of person who'll go back on his word."

Rameen snorted. "You're a man. You can say that."

"Hey! That's not very nice."

She rested her head on his bicep. "Pardon my sass. I don't feel like minding my words these days."

Even through his indignation, he couldn't help his chuckle. Rameen smiled softly and took a handful of fries from the basket.

They did make her feel better.

And the fact that she was finally smiling did the same to Danish. He leaned against his car, her by his side as the silence surrounded them, under the soft moonlight.

The spell was broken by Rameen. She raised her head at him. He was already looking down at her.

"Wapis chalein?"

"Abhi to aye hain."

Her uncertainty remained for a beat. But then slowly, she placed her head back on his arm.

So they stayed.

For as long as they wanted to.

𝄞

"Lina, slow down the waterworks."

Mahad grimaced into the camera. Alina glared at him through the screen. He shrugged, pushing the phone into Aahil's direct view.

"Don't believe me? You can see for yourself. He is fine."

She sniffed. "That doesn't look fine to me in the slightest."

Mahad shrugged. "Maybe. But he's a tough fella. He'll live."

"Okay," Osama interjected, taking the phone out of Mahad's hand. "It's time for you to get out of here."

But respecting his friends' wishes wasn't Mahad's forte, sans in exceptional cases, so all he did was make himself comfortable on the couch. Osama muttered under his breath as he brought the phone closer to Aahil. He was still not able to raise his arm to hold it but he managed to give Alina a soft smile.

"He's rocking it, isn't he, Lina?"

Mahad's unsolicited commentary did nothing to stop Alina from crying her heart out. He pursed his lips, looking away.

"I'm...fine, Lina."

Aahil's gentle whisper did the opposite. She wiped her tears when more ran down her cheek. "Yeah, I can see that very well."

Her reaction wasn't an overreaction. The picture of Aahil confined to his hospital bed with his functional abilities hindered, and the bandaged head was not an easy one to digest.

"Listen, you oaf." Alina raised her finger at him, donning the mask of a strict sister. "This should be the last of you making a joke out of your life. Just enough, Aahil! This should stop right here. Get better. Get healthy. And please, for the sake of everything, get your Sila."

Nothing she had said was easy. But nothing Aahil won't do.

"He will. He has no other choice."

Mahad drawled again. Aahil glared at him. And they were back. If that didn't mean a step toward getting back to his normal, they didn't know what else would.

For the sake of Aahil's comfort, the call was cut short. Osama went outside, leaving Mahad and Aahil alone.

"They are going strong."

Mahad mumbled. Osama was right outside in the corridor. He had switched from video call to voice call. By the looks of it, he was consoling Alina, listening to her grievances patiently, and then, with his love for her right there on his face for the whole world to see, he'd whisper reassurances to her.

In this aspect, they were the same Osama and Alina from high school and Mahad and Aahil were grateful for it.

"Today, Dada Jaan and Baba are coming to see you."

He informed Aahil, casually munching on an apple from his fruit basket.

"Will...they take...you back?"

Mahad laughed. "You wish, asshole."

Aahil ignored him. The normalcy, for the most part, was back in the room. A cherished and welcomed companion.

But his world was as devoid of it as ever.

"You can't just pick up your phone and dial my number. You can't just trace your way back to me. It doesn't work like this. It shouldn't work like this. Not when you broke me the way you did."

The words came back to haunt him. Their impact was as heartrending as before. He hadn't recovered. He wouldn't recover.

This promise was the heaviest price he'd pay for his sins. The silence had a cost. He dished it out to her in copious amounts. Now, when he needed his words to salvage the broken, he had lost them and his power over them.

Karma.

He ran away from her questions, even when they were out of concern, not curiosity, out of love, not scorn, out of the good of her heart, not her need to know what her husband had been up to when she was not in his life.

And now, fate had the last laugh. He was incapable of taking a step toward her.

So the least he could do was respect her demands. This wasn't going to be about him anyway. He had had his moment, and he used it to royally fuck up their lives. This was hers, it was going to be on her terms. Case closed.

But missing her was the only thing he had the power over, the authority here was with him.

So, he was going to miss her at every opportunity.

Everyday.

As he did then.

As he was doing now.

That was enough for now.

But was it?

𝄞

"Are you sure you don't want to come inside?"

Haleh asked, feigning innocence. That earned her a mean scowl from her best friend. Amal shook her head with more force than necessary.

"We've been through this, Haleh. If you want to go, I'm not stopping you but I am not going."

"Geez, don't puff steam. I was just asking out of courtesy."

"Get lost. And that's me being courteous."

Haleh stepped out of the car. "Your manners are truly commendable. I trust your offspring to drop f-bombs as their first words."

Amal grimaced but before she could grace that with a scathing reply, Haleh had run inside the hospital premises.

Lost in her thoughts, Haleh informed Adan that she was there as she walked toward the elevator. She was about to turn the corner when she came to a sudden halt. Her eyes widened. She retraced her steps and stood in the lobby. Looking around frantically.

But no one was there anymore.

"Haleh?"

She turned around and found a confused Amal walking toward her.

"You forgot your carrot cake in the car."

Amal drawled angrily but the confusion on Haleh's face was enough for her to get worried.

"What happened?"

Haleh pointed toward the spot she'd been staring at. "I think I just saw Baba Jaan."

Amal was incredulous. "Really? Is he in Karachi? And what is he doing here?"

Haleh's confusion immediately turned into unease. She took out her phone and dialed the number.

In their car, Agha Murtaza Lashari was immersed in a deep conversation regarding Aahil's health with Mahad when his phone rang. The name flashing on it was unexpected. A worried scowl graced his face but when he answered it, his voice had a gentle cadence.

"Baba Jaan?"

"Jee bachay."

Realization dawned on Mahad. There was only one person his grandfather used this endearment for. His expression got grim, his face taut.

"Are you in Karachi right now?"

Agha Murtaza hesitated for a bit. Mahad's eyes were boring into his, silently judging him for what he was about to do. In the backseat, Mehrab Lashari also looked perturbed.

"No, bachay. Why would I be there?"

The sigh of relief left Haleh's mouth. Her smile was back, not an ounce of distrust in her for the person she considered no less than her family.

"Oh, okay. I just thought that I saw you here. But then again, it's not likely that you'll come to Karachi and won't tell me."

Her clarity. Agha Murtaza hated the predicament he was in.

"You said it. How are you, bachay?"

"I'm good. When will you visit Karachi again? I miss you. It's been so long. Are you fine? The last time you took such a long gap in your visits was due to your health issue."

He smiled sardonically. "I'm fine, don't you worry. Old bones often crack. I will come to Wadia House soon. Just tell me what should I bring for you?"

"Nothing. I can get everything from here. I just need you to visit soon. That's it. Now, I'm going to hang up. I'm actually in the middle of an errand. Bye, Baba Jaan."

And just like that, the call was over.

Mahad eyed his grandfather who didn't have it in him to face him at that moment.

"She must be there at the hospital. She almost visits daily to see Aahil."

Mahad informed him gravelly. His grandfather nodded, without saying a word.

"I don't have to tell you how much she trusts you Dada Jaan. This lie is going to break her. That's all I have to say."

"He's not wrong, Baba Jaan." Mehrab interjected. "Haleh should know the truth. Your reasoning can do more harm than good. Trust once broken can never be revived."

There was a heavy silence in the car after that.

Agha Murtaza Lashari was in deep contemplation. Mahad hoped he was thinking of coming clean to Haleh because this charade had gone too far and too long.

It was after dropping his father and grandfather at the airport, he was on his way to his office when a text popped up on his phone.

"You weren't there at the hospital."

He smiled.

"Work commitments."

"Someone said he is the CEO and he decides his work hours."

"You for sure keep note of what I say. Interesting."

"Now that's how you kill a conversation. I'm going.

P.S: I left you a piece of carrot cake but now I'll ask Adan to have it."

He couldn't help but laugh at that.

But the dread was there all the same.

More was at stake here than his grandfather realized.

More han he himself realized.

𝄞

The drastic change in the vibe of their group calls hadn't registered with them but it was an accepted reality now. There wasn't much to laugh and rejoice when one of them was going through the roughest patch of her life.

"How was your day?"

Sila looked at Rameen's expectant face and shrugged. "The same. Elma called."

Haleh and Amal were also attentive. Sila pulled the duvet over her legs. The dark clouds had gathered around Murree the whole day. The last rain of the fall was upon them which would officially commence the winter season.

"She asked about my health. Was miffed that I left without notifying her."

She told them with a detachment they had never seen her showcasing regarding her career.

"Then?" Amal asked.

"She wanted me to know that as an employer, she was not happy with my sudden disappearing act but as a woman, she understood my plight. She knew that things onward would be shaky the moment he talked over me and made decisions on my behalf."

Rameen scowled. So did Amal and Haleh. Sila looked done with this already. "I didn't contradict her. I had nothing to say in anyone's defense. The crux is. She wants me to take my time but inform her when I can rejoin."

"And when that'll be?"

Sila regarded Haleh's question. "Honestly, I have no idea. It's pretty sad that the job I had gotten with sheer hard work is now in jeopardy. Elma is being nice but at the end of the day, she's an employer. When I'm not available, she will have to look for someone else. And my mental anguish doesn't allow me to even think of going out there as a normal person, with the normalcy of life in full swing."

She fiddled with her ring finger but the absence of the piece of jewelry made her bunch her fists to the side.

"I'm not going to pretend that this hasn't hit me hard. I can't. I'm a mess these days. In such circumstances, going back to work is not even an option."

"So what?"

Amal threw her hands around. "You have worked your ass off for years, Sila. Focusing on yourself for a few months won't kill you. Your savings are intact right?"

Sila nodded.

"Here you go. Prioritize your mental health. You are the most important person right now."

Rameen and Haleh nodded, in complete agreement. Sila looked down at her lap. "What is it, Sila?"

At Rameen's question, she looked up. "I let a man ruin my life, Reen. That's pathetic if you ask me."

He ruined his life too, Sila.

"But." Sila continued, too lost in her emotions to notice her friends' discomfiting silence. "Whether it's because of a man, this hollowness I feel is valid. And Amal is right. After working tirelessly for so long, I deserve to give myself the time to heal. I'm not the kind of person who'll use work as a distraction. Work is work. So I'm going to sit this one out."

"Do it. And for God's sake, you're sitting in a hill station. People come here to take a breather. Use this opportunity. Go on a walk around Mall Road. Drink the soup for me. Gosh, I can still feel the taste."

Haleh's rambling curled her lips into a faded smile.

She had felt light after talking to the girls. Probably in days. When Ammi out of habit, asked her to join her on a stroll around Mall Road, Sila didn't have the heart to refuse her this time around. She was subdued after Muaz's departure. Her rebukings aside, he was her son and best friend rolled into one.

Snuggled into her coat, she followed Ammi through the bustling market. They stopped outside a soup kiosk. She couldn't take more than two sips.

The weight of remembrance clogged her throat.

The guitar on the display of a music shop made her quicken her pace. The familiar model of a car reminded her of so much.

She needed to go back and get inside her covers. And probably cry her heart out.

Their evening stroll was close to an end. Ammi had just picked up some things from the local grocery shop for breakfast when the clouds thundered. The droplets tumbled to the ground and embraced the hills and their surroundings lovingly.

The first rain of winter.

In the corridor of his floor, he gestured for Adan to stop his wheelchair next to the glass window.

The temporary arrangement was a new addition to his life. Unless his physiotherapy bore fruit, he was to use this chair as compensation for the lost mobility of his legs.

He didn't mind it much. The road to recovery was going to be long. He had made his peace with it the moment he had got to know the extent of the damage his body had endured.

But right then, looking through the glass, the reality of his life became a background noise.

The clouds thundered. The droplets tumbled to the ground and embraced the city and its surroundings, hesitantly.

The first rain of winter.

Rain and Karachi weren't exactly the best of pals. But the fifteen-minute window between normalcy and utter chaos was a gentle reprieve.

He watched the water streaking down the window pane. The blurred outline of the rust-colored hospital building. The almost empty road at the backside of the premises.

And the flickering lamppost.

Under which, he saw a car. Two people inside it, straight from a kiosk in Johar, after ravishing the Theley wala soup. The guy muttered something. The woman shifted closer and kissed him.

The car zoomed away, they went back to their home.

And the droplet wasn't on the window pane anymore. It made a home somewhere between his palms and he covered his face with his shaky hands.

Sila helped Ammi with the groceries. Her clothes had drenched during the run back home. She discarded her coat and was wiping her hair with the towel when the curtains on the window flew on the tunes of the wind. She sighed and came close to bolt the flap when her eyes went outside.

Down there, on the winding road, a car was parked, its headlights on.

Two people came outside of it.

They were slow dancing.

Soft touches, stars in their eyes, the slow rhythm.

She blinked and silently bolted the window, moving the curtains to their place.

The rain stayed outside.

She didn't let it in.

Didn't let it make a well-known path down her cheeks.

She had done that enough already.

𝄞