2 minutes. A minuscule amount of time. Insignificant in the grand scheme of life. 120 seconds. In theory, something. In practicality, nothing.

But for him, 2 minutes was all it took to turn his life around.

He finally told her everything that was rightfully hers to know. Had always been. The uproar of his lies would never be able to smother the whispers of their truth.

The simple truth. Her. Dot. Full stop. The end. It was long overdue. It should have been the first thing he'd said to her after finding her that night but instead, his life played an ugly prank on him.

How different their lives would have been if he were a bit careful. From the get-go.

If he hadn't said all that to her. If he hadn't driven recklessly around the city. If he hadn't lost his mind. If—

He threw his phone on his bed and agitatedly covered his face with his palms. He loved her. Had always loved her. Despite the lapses in his judgment, despite his shoddy crisis management, despite the epitome of flaws he was, she was his everything.

And how did he tell her that?

Over a freaking 2 minute long call he made in his God-forsaken hospital room.

She deserved fucking better than that.

These words. They should have been their muffled proclamation, as they slow danced in their kitchen or snuggled on her favorite couch, sharing stories from the life they had spent without each other, maybe tangled in her preferred sheets after hours and hours of agonizingly slow yet fulfilling lovemaking because she loved to ruffle him that way, or a long drive on her favorite route, enjoying the street food she picked or—

A sad chuckle left his lips.

Endless possibilities. But where had he brought them? On the precipice of nothing. This beautiful truth became his attempt to come clean with her. Just like it became her attempt at preventing the imminent storm he summoned to their lives.

Did he even deserve anything after what he had destroyed?

He brought his trembling hands before him. In his frustration, he had failed to notice what his physiotherapist would term a win.

His wristwork was smooth when he hurled his phone on the bed.

He angrily bunched his hands in his lap and looked out the window. Now it's your wrist, then it'll be your legs. You and this wheelchair don't have a long stint anyway.

The words of his trainer reverberated in his ears.

Any other person in his place would be relieved if not ecstatic to realize he was making a proper recovery.

But all he wanted to do was scream into the void.

If only he hadn't been such an asshole to his own happiness.

𝄞

She had no idea how long she had been sitting on the floor. The cold wood of the paneled wall dug into her back but she didn't move an inch.

"I...I love you, Sila."

She clutched her phone close to her heart. Her glassy eyes refused to shed tears.

"I bloody well care."

She shook her head, her heart had never felt so heavy.

"None of it, my past, Zarrar's actions, whatever happened that night—absolutely nothing is your ...fault."

She covered her face and palmed her still-dry eyes. The turmoil inside her was a tornado at this point. Ready to break her into smithereens.

"This marriage was never ... a compromise for me, Sila."

Her heart sank and bile rose to her throat. She immediately left her perch and dashed to the bathroom.

Bending on the washbasin, she heaved painfully. The wave of nausea receded slowly, leaving her exhausted. She splashed water on her face and gave herself a once-over in the mirror.

Her reflection jeered at her. Look, Sila. This is what love has reduced you to. She had nothing to fight back. With slumped shoulders, she made her way back to the room and dropped herself on the edge of the bed.

His words refused to leave her. They were around her, a cocoon but it didn't provide her with the warmth she had always hoped they would.

This marriage was never a compromise for him. He cared. He bloody did. None of it was her fault and he...he loved her.

She looked up into the void, gnawing at her lower lip. Ideally, she should've been happier than this. Those words of his that pierced her heart and stabbed her brutally. Now she knew he meant none of what he had said.

And somehow, that made it all the more painful.

So blinded he was in his rage, consumed by the implication of a past that haunted him till date, that he didn't think twice before breaking both his and her hearts. Ruined everything with one flick of his finger. He hadn't been unkind to just her, he had been cruel toward himself too.

And to know it wasn't the first time he destroyed himself.

Hadn't been the first time he pushed away something he loved to bits.

She was imagining it with open eyes, a distant dream. Their love confession, a muffled proclamation as he strung a riff on his guitar. Sitting on the couch in his music room, she'd blurt it out. His fingers on his piano would stop and he'd give her that infuriatingly endearing grin. A heated whisper as he pinned her to the wall, all sweaty after his stint with his drums. Long drive with her favorite songs of his playing in the car, him kissing her knuckles and humming along. Him and—

She closed her eyes regretfully.

They could've had it so much better. They deserved so much better.

It was just their luck that his words made all the difference but none, at the same time. He also knew that. Through his short phone call, he came clean to her. He cleared the air but never once did he ask her to come back or to give him something now that he had explained his sentiments to her.

Which was wise of him because that phone call had left her staggered. Torn. Her mind was already a jumbled mess but now she couldn't even think straight.

A frustrated cry left her lips. What a waste.

The man she loved, loved her back. The person she cared for the most bloody cared for her too. Their relationship meant the same to him as it did to her.

Still, the hollowness was a gaping hole. A deep gorge. A whirlwind.

And she had fallen. Once again.

How happy was she when she fell in love.

And how devastated, when it was finally reciprocated.

Just her luck.

𝄞

Pushing his hands in his pockets, Raed observed his surroundings. Being both, a journalist and a writer gave him the expertise to pick on small details. He couldn't help it. But the waiting area of a law firm didn't provide much avenue for a creative eye.

Good thing his agenda for coming here was entirely different.

"Mr. Ayoub."

He looked at the receptionist. She pointed ahead. "You can go in."

He got up and made his way as directed. It was after a few seconds that he stopped outside a door.

Attorney Zahra Rafiq.

For a meticulous man like him, this situation was way out of his usual dealings but he had taken it up himself, for some very important reasons.

When he entered the cabin, his eyes immediately fell on the woman sitting there. She eyed him warily but her countenance remained calm, aloof even, in stark contrast to her sister whose face alone was a mirror to her every thought.

"Good afternoon." He greeted her with a genial smile. Zahra reciprocated it but the suspicion remained there.

"How can I help you, Mr..."

"Raed Suleiman. And I'm afraid I'm not here for any legal guidance."

Zahra raised an eyebrow. "Then?"

Raed leaned forward, folding his hands. "It's rather personal. My apologies if I'm breaching your professional decorum but I had no other way of contacting you."

Zahra scowled. Yes, he did breach her professional decorum and she made sure he knew it by her mere expressions. At least somewhere both the sisters were alike.

"It's about your sister."

Zahra's frustration mounted. "Excuse me?" She seethed.

But Raed wasn't deterred by her sharp words. If he let her cold demeanor get to him, he wouldn't be able to do what he must. Also, he was a journalist. Less-than-warm welcomes were the requirement of his profession.

"I know the beginning of this conversation is kind of telling of its doomed fate but I ought to try."

"Try harder" Pat came the rebuttal.

He chuckled. "I'm, trust me. Just give me a few minutes and you'll know what I'm getting at."

Zahra didn't grace it with a reply, which was good enough for Raed. Not that he intended to leave without trying his best.

"As it goes, I'm working on my manuscript, and for the fieldwork, I had to travel all the way to Karachi. Wasn't really ecstatic about it. But intrigued for sure. There were bumps on the road, literally and figuratively. I knew I wouldn't last long there. Was convinced that my first trip to the city would be the last and I should say goodbye to my book."

He tipped his head in her direction. "Your sister had other plans."

A fond smile graced his lips. "She took it upon herself to introduce her Sheher to me, with all its beauty and its blemishes. She didn't sugarcoat the vices. But she did embrace them with open arms. She didn't let me question her unflinching love and loyalty towards Karachi. Rather she showed it, without even trying."

He looked at her, his gaze unwavering as if between them, he was the lawyer and was here to fight a very important case.

"My words might not mean much to you but your sister made me warm up to a city studying which felt too precariously daunting to me. That's who Amal is. Her love for her city and her people is infectious. I got to experience it because I put all my begrudged emotions aside, everything I had heard about Pakistan and especially about Karachi. In the same way, she understood my plight, disregarding the years-long propaganda machine that's always working to erase my people's identity."

He looked at his watch and got up. "It's rude to intrude on a personal matter."

"Still, you'll do it," Zahra remarked.

Raed shrugged his shoulders. "Precisely. You're the boss, with the liberty to do whatever you want to with it but it's a request from an outsider who had the privilege to see Amal's love for Ghar, do give her a chance to showcase the same to you. Rest, you know better than me."

He stepped away from her table. "That's it. It was nice meeting you. Thank you for not kicking me out of here when you had the chance and the authority."

He didn't linger after that. He had an inkling that he had overstayed his welcome in Zahra's office.

His work here was done anyway. He hoped it would have the needed outcome. Why was it so important, he'd ponder it later but for now, he needed to be of use to Amal.

𝄞

Her last lecture for the day had just concluded. A piping hot cup of tea was all Unaiza needed after a 1.5-hour-long lecture with the rowdiest class on campus. She had just settled herself on the couch when her phone rang. The name shining on the screen brightened her downtrodden mood instantly.

"Muaz, hey."

She wasted no time in picking up the call. She must've sounded too excited for her liking but there was no time for such considerations.

"Hello. Did I interrupt you mid-lecture?"

She shook her head, not realizing he couldn't see her. "Not at all. I have just gotten free."

"That's great. Have you had your tea yet?"

"I'm about to order. Why?"

She heard the closing of a car door. Her brows scrunched in confusion.

"What do you think about having a cup of tea with me?"

Unaiza raised an eyebrow. "Wait a second. Where are you, exactly?"

He laughed lightly. "See for yourself."

Immediately, she left the staff room and rushed toward the main entrance. Beyond the security check, she could see him leaning against his car.

Her phone instantly rang once again.

"So, about that cup of tea. What do you say?" He asked cheekily. She stifled her chuckle and nodded. "I happen to know a place."

"Finally we're talking. What will it take you to come out of this God-forsaken building?"

She was already on the move to get her stuff from the staff room. "Give me a minute."

"Take two. Just be here. I'm starving."

From simple tea to lunch plans, all sorted. Unaiza couldn't say she wasn't looking forward to it.

Half an hour later, they were in her favorite cafe in the city. A quiet spot in the bustling city thoroughfare. The ground floor of a colonial mansion was turned into a cozy space. These nooks were rare to find in a metropolis like Karachi but thanks to Reen and her friends who had introduced Unaiza to this beauty. Good ambiance and tasty food. The good company she had right then was a bonus.

Or the main reason this place looked better than the last time she was here. Too much to process.

"How was the training session?"

She asked, sipping her tea. Muaz shrugged. "Mostly a snoozefest. I had the chance to skip but I didn't want to."

Unaiza didn't miss a beat. "Understandable. You must be eager to meet Aahil and inquire about his health, his and Sila's issues."

Muaz gave her a long stare. Unaiza couldn't look him in the eye and had to keep her focus on the half-eaten cheesecake slice on her plate.

"That's about it. For the most part. I haven't told anyone at home about my plan. I don't know but I suspect something is going on with Aahil. Wanted to meet him in person to see what the issue is but Rameen didn't let me."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "He isn't around, that's what she said. So did Amal and Haleh. So I had to believe them."

"Had to? What do you mean by that?"

Muaz pursed his lips, in deep contemplation. "Again, the same thing, Unaiza. I don't feel good about Aahil being detached the way he is. It's not like him but maybe I don't know him well enough."

"What does Sila say? Does it bother her?" She asked.

Muaz gave it a thought. "That's only she can tell but she doesn't like to talk about him much, or at all anyway. My parents met Mr and Mrs. Jahangir. And yes, their visit has cleared things up to a great extent but I still feel Aahil should've accompanied his parents, regardless. Sila might say she doesn't need him or wants the distance but who knows, his arrival might put everything into place."

"That's sweet of you. As her brother, you want her to work things out with her husband but look at it from another perspective. Maybe they both need this distance to better understand their feelings and their shortcomings."

"That could also be it." He nodded, giving her a slight smile.

The conversation steered to some other topics. Her job, his posting, their families, her friend's upcoming wedding, his abhorrence for the food at his official lodging.

For two people who were connected over the phone and talked every other day, there seemed to be no dearth of things to discuss and also, places to visit.

Strolling the pedestrian track In Kidney Hill, relishing the companionable silence between them, Unaiza turned to him. "If you had informed me of your arrival earlier, I would've brought your diary with me."

"Maybe, next time."

Unaiza stopped in her tracks, narrowing her eyes at him. "Do you even want it back? I thought it was important to you."

He looked at her over his shoulder. "It is important to me. Did me a solid. But do I want it back? Debatable. It's safe with you so what's the hassle?"

Unaiza was incredulous. Was he serious?

She exhaled deeply. It almost morphed into a chuckle. He had resumed his walk. Slowly, she caught up to him.

"When you drop me home—"

"Am I really going to?" He had to make sure.

"Yes, so when you do, wait in the car for a bit. I'll give the diary to you."

Muaz made a face as if he had swallowed a nasty bug. "Unaiza—"

But he stopped short, feeling the gentle touch of her fingers on his hand.

"It's just a diary, Muaz. Not an excuse. Not at all a reason."

With that, she walked ahead of him, leaving him shocked but equally enthralled.

Not at all a reason.

They didn't need one.

He grinned as he fell in step with her and she reciprocated it with a small smile of her own.

No excuses. No reasons.

𝄞

Since the moment Muaz had left, the air around Wadia House was laden with unease. Amal was not at all happy that they had lied, and neither were Rameen and Haleh but they didn't make a big deal out of it. They didn't have much of a choice.

"I did play along, didn't I? You can't expect me to not show my frustration with this situation."

Amal exclaimed. It earned a groan from Rameen and a glare from Haleh. Alina didn't partake, a silent spectator through the phone.

"Show your frustration all you want but don't be an asshole about it," Haleh said hotly. Amal's response was a shrug.

"Pardon my ignorance. I didn't know being worried that we're lying to so many people is a bad thing. Do you guys realize what a fucking shit show it'll be once Sila gets to know the truth?"

She finally addressed the elephant in the room. Her three friends had nothing to say to contradict her. It was a known truth, only they chose to not say it out loud.

"She'll be devastated. She sounds so low on calls. I hate seeing her this way." Alina said, taking her part in the conversation for the first time. Amal nodded, her thunderous expressions mellowed a bit.

"And just so you know, Amal. Osama is also not entirely sure about the outcome of this whole thing. He's not bellowing like you but he's got his doubts since day one."

"I think we all are aware of what a dangerous territory we have ventured into. Let's hope Aahil knows what he's doing." Haleh added, a mixture of hope and sorrow.

"Oh, he should. After the lengths his unofficial spokesperson has gone to fight his case, the one thing he should know is what to do now."

Everyone knew whom Amal was talking about. It was still unbelievable to them that the one person who showed unflinching support to Aahil was none other than Mahad.

Sans Alina. The amount of time she had spent with the guys, she always knew beneath the animosity, there lay a deep understanding between Aahil and Mahad.

"He's not as confident either. All of us are well-connected to Sila over the phone but he's the one who does it only once in a while. He says her defeated spirits make him feel guilty. It's hard for him too."

Haleh said in the flow, not realizing everyone in the room was attuned to her. And once she did, she stopped abruptly. Amal narrowed her eyes at Haleh.

"He told you all that?"

Haleh got up, nodding her head slightly. "Yes, and what about it?"

Amal's devilish smirk was infuriating. "Nothing. Go on."

"I'm going to my room. I need to get back to my painting."

She made a beeline out of there.

"Our room you mean? And what painting? And why don't I know about it?"

Amal's queries became a distant echo as she closed the door behind her. Stopping by the canvas behind her cupboard, she touched the hard contours of the drawing, all haphazard lines, ready to tell their story.

And she was sure they would. It'd take some time, but they for sure, would. After all, this wasn't a commissioned work. It was a random bout of creativity, a wave of something deeper that hit her in the middle of the night.

She was sure, he wouldn't mind another painting from her. Especially when it'd be just a gift.

The thought didn't make her want to run to the hills. It brought a sweet smile to her face, which was only interrupted by the knock at the door.

Either Uncle Jeff or Saleema Baji. Amal and Reen didn't have the kind of manners to knock before entering.

Her hunch was right when Uncle Jeff stood in the doorway with a manila envelope in his hand. She eyed it curiously. "For me?"

"Yes, Haleh Beta. It just came."

She wasn't expecting anything. With a distracted nod, she took it from him and closed the door. Curious and a bit apprehensive, she peeled off the envelope and sat down on her bed to go through the contents.

Photographs. Lots of it among some other pieces of paper. She gave it all a cursory glance and picked one from the bundle.

Her eyes widened. An excited smile reached her lips.

It was her mother with Baba Jaan. They were standing in a lavish drawing room. She was probably in her teens and he was younger than she had ever seen him. Haleh caressed the picture as if trying to live in that moment. What joy. What a beautiful surprise. Must be Baba Jaan's gift. He hadn't visited for so long. This was his way of making up for it.

The next picture was captured in the same drawing room but it didn't feature Baba Jaan. It was two other people with her mother. A boy and a girl, the same age as her mother was in the picture. They stood by her side, cracking up at something. There was nothing fabricated about those laughs.

Who were these two and why did she feel that she had seen them somewhere?

She gulped her unease. Why would Baba Jaan send these pictures to her? What was going on?

She turned to the next one. All three of them with Baba Jaan. Her mother, that boy, and the girl. Another in the huge lawns of a mansion.

The next picture didn't have her mother in it. Just Baba Jaan with the girl and the boy. But they were no longer the teenagers she had seen in the picture with her mother.

They were...dressed as bride and groom.

It was their wedding photo. Baba Jaan stood with them, content and smiling but the same wasn't true for the bride and the groom.

Haleh's fingers trembled. She took some time to look at the next picture. Those two once again. But with a small boy in the woman's arms. The child grinned into the camera.

A tear rolled down Haleh's cheek.

The same grin she had gotten fond of in the last couple of weeks.

The next wasn't a picture, but a printout of an online tabloid.

The only exclusive shot from the funeral of Mubashir Lashari, the elder son of Agha Murtaza Lashari. He was buried in his ancestral village. Agha Murtaza can be seen in the middle with his younger son Mehrab Lashari and grandsons Armaghan and Mahad Lashari. It is the first time the media-shy, public-eye-evading patriarch has been captured this openly. Photo Courtesy: Amin Asad.

For a long time, frozen in the moment, Haleh couldn't decipher her reality. Just the pictures before her.

Agha Murtaza Lashari....Baba Jaan...

Mahad Lashari....

A sick joke.

What a fool had she been.

She went through the rest of the pictures robotically, as if this bomb of truth hadn't fallen on her head. It was the reality of someone else.

Mahad and Baba Jaan...in each and every one of those remaining photos. His high school graduation, at Yale, from his brother's wedding, from a business conference.

Lies. Deception. Betrayal.

But it was the last two pages in the bundle that trumped everything she had got to know today.

Haleh smoothed out the newspaper cutting. The yellowing parchment was coarse and fragile. Ready to crumble with a mere touch.

The headline on it did the same to her.

Karachi: Clifton Homicide. Husband and wife dead.

May 23, 2007. Unidentified men broke into a house in Clifton-Block 2, in the wee hours and assaulted the residents. The purpose was murder. No belongings have been stolen. The husband and wife succumbed to the wounds on the spot. The sources hint at a family feud.

And right below the news were two grainy pictures of the victims.

Haleh Shams had only beautiful memories of her parents. Nousher Shams and Firuzeh Nousher, wonderful people. Loving husband and wife. Doting parents. A thriving artist and a successful businessman.

But their mangled bodies in the photo...

She threw everything away as if it was on fire.

Fire everywhere. Around her. In her.

And she had never felt so exposed. So scared.

𝄞

The knock at her door brought her out of her dazed state. She craned her neck and it took all the strength in her.

"Sila?"

Naheed reached her bed. Sila tried to sit up straight but her body didn't allow her. Her head was about to split into two.

"What is it, bachay?" She asked alarmed and held Sila's arm. "You have a fever," Naheed exclaimed, worriedly.

Sila tried to get a word out but the mere effort was daunting. An intense bout of nausea hit her instantly. Forcing herself out of bed, she rushed to the washroom and heaved painfully.

Naheed stood in her room, anxious.

When she came out, Naheed rushed to her to hold her again. "Come here."

She made her lie down and pulled the duvet over her. Sila took a deep breath, trying to get her bearings.

"Have you been like this the whole night? Why didn't you call me?"

She caressed Sila's hair.

"The fever isn't so bad, Ammi. It's the nausea and headache that's not letting me rest."

Naheed's heart went out to her. Since the moment she had got here, she had been emotionally exhausted and now it had started to take a toll on her physically as well.

"I'll call Dr. Khan. Or we can go to the hospital. But first, you need to eat something."

Sila made a face. "Please, no, Ammi. The mere thought of food makes me want to hurl."

She shuddered. Naheed's worry intensified. She nodded and made her way out of her room, probably to call Dr. Khan.

Lethargy settled on Sila but she couldn't rot in the bed all day. It made her think and thinking was the bane of her existence.

So, mustering her strength, she left the bed. Taking slow steps, she reached the bathroom and stood before the mirror. Her disheveled reflection stared back at her. She untied her hair and ran her fingers through the tresses. They had gotten longer than her preferred length but for the first time, she couldn't care less.

After getting freshened up, whatever that meant with the headache, fever, and nausea messing her system, she came out and sat on the bed, taking deep breaths. Her eyes darted towards her phone. Since last night, she had shut out the world. Extending her hand, she gingerly picked it up. She needed a quick relief from the nausea. Anything could be of great help.

She was about to unlock her phone when she stopped. Her thumb hovered over the screen.

The time and date swirled before her eyes the more she looked at it.

The date.

Her eyes widened.

No...

The next minute went into frantic calculations and more than once checking her tracker app.

Good God.

She stood up on wobbly legs, for all the different reasons. Her brain tried to conjure different case scenarios for her but she was stuck on a specific point. Even though it was late November and this morning was colder than the previous, she felt sweat beads on her forehead.

"As expected, Dr. Khan is at the hospital. But don't worry. We'll go there and get a thorough check-up. Your Abu has talked to him and Sila?"

Naheed stopped seeing her on the verge of tears.

"What happened?"

She opened her mouth but then shook her head frantically. Naheed was about to ask more when she picked up her phone and dashed out of the room.

Once at the backyard of the house, she ran a hand on her face and throwing the caution and inhibitions to the bin, dialed the only contact she wanted to hear from.

The nurse was taking him for his routine occupational therapy session when his phone rang. He saw the name on the screen and putting the functionality in his hands to the proper use, gestured the nurse to give him some time. She left his room wordlessly.

"Sila?"

He called her name tentatively. He hadn't expected her to call him, not after last night anyway but nothing could've been better than this unexpected turn of events.

She sniffed. "I think I'm pregnant."

Aahil was stumped. "What?"

"Pregnant! My period is more than two weeks late!"

"How—"

But he bit his lip. How? What an intelligent thing to ask. How didn't even qualify here when they hadn't exactly been careful every time that counted. Her aversion to condoms she had never shied away from making obvious, and his inability to think straight when he was consumed by her. Nothing guaranteed a hundred percent protection but they were careful. Well, for the most part.

"This is such a terrible timing. Oh my God. We have a shitload of issues to unpack. I'm here in Murree and you're in Karachi and this is so unfair. I'm going to be sick! I...what do we do?"

She cried helplessly.

That was it.

"Sila, listen to me."

"No, you don't understand! Will we become another couple who resolve their issues by bringing babies into this world? And—"

"For the love of God, calm down and listen to me."

She stopped her spiel. He took a deep breath. "Good. Did you check?"

"No."

"Pregnancy test? Nothing?"

"...No."

"Go and get it done, first. Don't panic. Whatever it is, I'll take care of it. Just do the necessary."

She nodded as if he were sitting before her.

It took her a while to get her hands on three different pregnancy test kits. Ammi, being the resourceful woman had been up to the task immediately.

With a thudding heart and frayed nerves, Sila closed the bathroom door behind her.

The first result came soon.

She gulped and turned it around.

Negative.

The panic left her instantly.

But the relief never came. It should've. But it didn't.

The second result.

Negative Again.

She stifled a sob.

There was no point in going through with the third but she did it anyway.

Yep. Again.

The prospect of being pregnant had thrown her into an anxious spiral.

She was not pregnant.

Then why did she want to cry her heart out?

Her phone rang outside in the room. She washed her hands and picked it up without checking the caller ID. There wouldn't be anyone else.

For several seconds, none of them spoke a word.

But eventually, one of them had to.

"It...was..." She cleared her throat to compose herself. "It was a false alarm."

Aahil hadn't expected anything else. Then why did he feel ... hollow?

Sila covered her mouth to stop herself but she was sure, he knew she was crying. Aahil closed his eyes regretfully.

Kids. Family. They were in their plans. Part of the future they envisioned together. Under normal circumstances, even if they hadn't been trying for it, even if it was unexpected, unplanned, whatever— the different outcome of the pregnancy test would've made both of them the happiest people on earth.

But here they were, where either way, it was only going to add up to their pile of unresolved matters.

And he could blame no one but himself for snatching the normalcy from their lives.

"I'm hanging up." She whispered.

"Please, don't. Just five more minutes."

Ah. The meaning of these four words had completely altered. This time, her sob reached him, piercing his heart.

"I'm sorry, Sila."

"For what?" She asked through her tears.

He rested his head on the back of his chair. "Everything. Every time. I'll keep saying it my whole life. And it won't be mere words. I will rectify every wrong."

How? She wanted to ask but stayed quiet.

He heard it loud and clear.

"The first mistake was snatching my words from you. Treating you with my silence. My words are just for you to hear and in return, even your silence would be a blessing. Just hear me out. I didn't but that's the difference between Aahil and Sila."

Was it? She wasn't sure.

"I won't ask you to come back. I won't try to win you over. You deserve better from me. And I'll give you that. But I want to tell you so much. So much that you don't know. So much that I never said to anyone. Not even myself. I just need your time, Sila. Just that and—"

"Okay."

He was incredulous. "Okay?"

"Yeah, you asked for my time, you have my time, Aahil Jahangir. Let's see what you do with it. Don't make me regret it. Again."

She cut the call after that.

Her words couldn't mislead him. She was ready to regret it. Again. She had to be. With his track record, why wouldn't she?

Too bad this time around, he had no intention of fucking this up.

Not again.

Never.

𝄞