The winter evenings in Murree had always fascinated Sila. She loved the din of a buzzing town with the calm hills in the background. The juxtaposition was mesmerizing.

But lately, these small wonders of life had lost meaning for her. She glanced outside for a brief moment and then focused back on her hands, bunching them in her lap. From the driver's seat, Naheed looked at her, her eyes full of concern.

"Are you alright, Bachay?"

Sila nodded wordlessly. Naheed knew probing her wasn't the wise thing to do right now. Their visit to Dr. Khan was subdued but it still had nothing to do with his diagnosis of Sila. Emotional upheaval and lack of concern for her physical health had finally taken their due, resulting in her resorting to her bed since yesterday. The pregnancy scare was also an outcome of the extreme emotional stress she was in. Though, that had been cleared even before they went to the hospital.

She had been silently detached through it all, speaking only when it was absolutely necessary. That alone was enough to cement Dr. Khan's assessment. Her prescription was in her purse but it could never concoct the remedy she needed.

But what did she need?

The events from a while back swirled before her eyes. Her acute panic, his calm disposition even though he had been as shaken by the implication of her hunch coming true, so them, so in tune. As if everything was fine between them. For those five minutes, everything else took a backseat.

And then came the reality, rushing back. The only acceptable conclusion to her doubt, because they couldn't afford anything else. But it broke her heart to pieces and apparently, his too.

Sila closed her eyes to keep the hurt at bay. What was the point of thinking all that now?

The car came to a stop. She tucked her hair behind her ear and unbuckled her seatbelt, only to be shocked to see her surroundings. The parking of a famous cafe on Mall Road came into her view, instead of the entrance to Dak Bangla. Sila turned to Naheed who had already reached her side.

"Their vanilla and brownie delight fully lives up to its name." She said, holding Sila's hand. Sila opened her mouth to protest, to tell her she didn't want to go inside but she didn't have the heart to. Her Ammi was trying to divert her mind, to cheer her up and it'd be rude to thwart her attempts.

So Sila gave her a waned smile and followed her as they walked through the door. Maybe she needed this detour to think straight. Maybe it'd be futile. She wasn't eager to find out.

After getting their order, instead of taking their table, they went further inside. The cafe had an attached space to have a stroll. In stark contrast to the bustling sitting area, this section was devoid of fanfare. Sila was thankful for it.

She refrained from checking the place out. Her eyes remained on the cup in her hand. The ambiance had nothing similar to Delli's but it was all she could think of.

When would it get better? She wanted to cry then and there.

Naheed held her hand and that brought Sila out of her misery. She tried to compose herself. "Ammi, I think we should head back."

Naheed pointed toward the dessert in her hand. "We will, Puttar. Let me just finish it. Enjoy the view, you too. It's beautiful."

Sila didn't comment on that. Just took a small spoon of vanilla delight and munched on it slowly. She didn't have the immediate urge to throw up. Progress, at least somewhere.

"Did you tell Aahil about your health?"

Her question was sudden but expected. Sila shook her head. Naheed smiled lightly. "Why not? Since he's your first pick whenever you're in crisis."

Sila made a face. "Seriously, Ammi? That's entirely different. I doubted that I was pregnant. So, naturally. I was going to contact him only, given he was the father."

"Given, he's going to be the father of any child you bring to this world," Naheed added, matter-of-factly. Sila bit her lip but didn't contradict her.

"All I'm trying to say is, he's the first person you look for whenever you're in any distressing situation. No other thought. No inhibition. You just have to tell him. That kind of reliability isn't easy to come by, mere betay. Especially for someone like you who never relies on others. And he handled it well, didn't he?"

Sila didn't meet her eye. That gave Naheed the answer she was looking for. She nodded, caressing Sila's shoulder.

"This gives me hope that not all is lost. You two can work this out. Rest, you know better but as your Ammi, I just hope that you're able to see this is worth trying for. Worth fighting for and worth waiting for for."

She concluded. This was the boundary she couldn't tweak with more than she had.

The ride back to Dak Bangla was silent but the uproar inside Sila was deafening.

Five minutes. That's all he had asked for and she gave in, before her mind could come up with doubts, before she backtracked, before that night came rushing back to the curtains of her mind.

She hadn't contemplated on the why's of this decision. Maybe it was the outcome of such an exhausting emotional movement they had shared. But she had no control over it.

There was so much clutter inside her. She was not happy with herself. She was once again giving him a chance to hurt her. But she was also curious to see where would this go. Would he finally muster up the courage and tell her everything he never did? Part of her was ready to be disappointed, to regret this leap of faith.

Gosh, she was going to lose her mind. She dropped herself on her bed as soon as she entered the room. Massaging her temples, she glanced at her phone.

"Don't ruin this, Aahil. If you do, it will finally break me."

She whispered a broken plea. And for a moment, her heart believed that he wouldn't.

𝄞

Taking her shawl out of the cupboard, Naheed glanced at her husband. He sat in his armchair, a frown marring his face. That was nothing new neither did Naheed have to guess what was it about.

"Ikram, she's better now."

He grunted, shaking his head. "At what cost?"

Naheed opened her mouth but he cut her. "Why can't we ask that Ameerzada what has he done to her? Where is he now? And don't give me the excuse that Sila doesn't want him here. Sila's condition tells us more than her words do."

Naheed sat on the edge of the bed, contemplating his words and if she was honest, she had no rebuttal. She had always found Ikram's disdain toward Aahil unwarranted. That hadn't changed even now but he had raised an important point.

Faseeh and Sabah had been ambiguous about Aahil's whereabouts. They had centered their visit and their conversation on Sila. Sila said that she needed space from her relationship and Aahil but the last couple of hours had made it glaringly obvious that she needed Aahil more than she realized. But she won't ever ask him to come to her.

But he needed to. They were fully capable of sorting the mess in their relationship but for that genuine effort from both sides was required.

Otherwise, this situation would never see a turn. And Sila didn't deserve that. Naheed and Ikram looked at each other. A solemn silence settled between them. But they had not much to break it.

𝄞

Faseeh watched through the window, as Aahil followed his physiotherapist's instructions. His face was impassive and his movements almost mechanical. Faseeh's brow scrunched. His physiotherapist urged him to move his arms and he did so effortlessly. There was not even a smidge of happiness on his face.

The only time he showed some emotions was during his walk therapy and that was still an uphill task for him. He clenched his jaw when his attempt to stand on his feet met with failure once again. And then he refused to cooperate with his physiotherapist, much for her chagrin.

Faseeh sighed and turned away from the window.

Dr. Noordin pushed his hands in his pockets and walked toward his cabin, with Faseeh following suit. Once they were inside, he took his seat and asked Faseeh to do the same.

"This was what I hinted at, Mr. Jahangir."

He began solemnly. Faseeh ran a hand on his face. Noordin continued in a serious yet sympathetic tone.

"Aahil doesn't realize that patience is the biggest weapon in the journey of TBI recovery. All the pep talks and counseling sessions are falling on deaf ears. His recovery is going to be a slow and steady process. He's doing fine by the medical standard but it's not a magic trick that he'll get back to his normal life overnight."

Faseeh had known that. This was the first thing Aahil's doctor had drilled into his mind right after Aahil's surgery. This was going to be a long and painstaking journey but if luck had it, and Aahil was determined, he'd get his normal life back with only minute remainders of this life-altering accident.

But his health wasn't the only avenue Aahil was fighting on. He had lots more on his plate. The collective pressure was wearing him down.

"Aahil is being impatient and in doing so, he's neglecting the recovery milestones he's achieving every day. He has his eyes on the long-term goals but focusing on short-term wins is the key here. His neuropsychologist has reported restlessness, aggression, and sleep problems. These are common changes after TBI but we want to facilitate Aahil in any way we can."

"What do you suggest, Doctor?" Faseeh asked gravelly.

Dr. Noordin folded his hands on the table. "We can push Aahil's hospital discharge earlier than expected. The change of scenery is going to help him. He's been cooped up in here for almost two months now and it's justified on his part to show his annoyance. But seeing the circumstances under which Aahil was brought here, the secrecy surrounding his accident, and subsequent treatment, I thought it wise to discuss this with you."

Faseeh placed his fingers on his chin, in deep contemplation. He had protected Aahil as his most prized possession. It was a herculean task to keep his accident hidden and to pry him away from the scrutiny of the media and their enemies. It had been successful as till now, no one had got a hint of what had conspired here. It was his earnest effort as a father to keep the remnants of his son's reputation and privacy intact. Aahil was on a tabloid joke and Faseeh would never let him become one again.

This hospital had been a safe haven. Taking Aahil out of here was going to be a huge risk.

Were they ready for it? Eventually, they had to. He couldn't stay here all his life. Faseeh shuddered to think of the possibility. Still, it would be earlier than intended. But his Doctor was the one to suggest it.

Faseeh had to make a decision. After all, it was about Aahil's health. And he'd never compromise on that.

𝄞

His physiotherapy session had concluded for the day, much to his relief. It was no longer a testament to his steady recovery, but rather a reminder that he was yet to stand on his feet.

And if he couldn't even stand properly, how would he rush the hell to Murree, to Sila?

That was about it and that alone was enough for a cloud of despair to come over him, drenching him in its downpour.

She had given him five minutes of her day but they weren't enough. For the love they shared, for what they had been through, they couldn't be enough. It was a huge win when it came to her but a small effort when he was concerned.

The ringing of his phone brought him out of his reverie. The name there made him gulp his unease and his emotions.

"Hello." He croaked, trying to sound normal.

"Aahil, bachay. How have you been?"

Naheed's gentle voice reached him loud and clear. He clenched his fist by his side. "I'm fine, Ammi. How are you?"

Naheed sighed. Her relief was hard to miss, finally being able to talk to him. In the initial phase of his hospital stay, Naheed and Muaz had tried a lot to contact him but he was technically not able to respond. His motor functions wouldn't permit him.

But

Even now, when he was able to talk, he hadn't tried to do it with them. Amal, Reen, and Haleh lying to Muaz so he wouldn't visit him was another thing but he was totally capable of a conversation over the phone.

Then why?

Because he had no freaking idea what to say to them. It wasn't his health that pulled him back, but his regret and embarrassment. He had been such a disappointment. How hopeful Ammi was that Sila had finally someone who would make her his priority. That the arrangement of convenience had bloomed into something real. She had always been so kind to him, treated him no less than Sila. And then he went ahead and broke Sila's heart and Ammi's trust.

He had no idea to what extent had Sila told her about what conspired between them. But he hoped she hadn't sugar-coated his lapses. He deserved the less-than-warm treatment that Amal had dished out to him after returning from Murree.

"I'm good, Betay. I began to wonder if you'd forgotten me. No contact, nothing from your end. That's not how you go about things after the crisis hits you."

She hadn't lost her motherly tone. Aahil closed his eyes regretfully. "Ammi...I...I..."

Naheed waited for him to say something. She needed to know where he stood in all this but it seemed he didn't have much to say.

"Sila is hurt, Aahil. And I'm certain that's not how you'd want her to be. No matter the circumstances, a human's core never alters and it isn't in you to not care for her when she's so down."

His grip on the phone tightened. Naheed continued. "And I'm not just Sila's Ammi. I call you mera beta and mean it wholeheartedly. I know you're hurting too. Then what is the point of this distance? It's not helping either of you."

How he wished it were that simple.

"Sila doesn't want you around but she needs you, Aahil. There's a world of difference between the two and that makes it all the more dire. If you come here, things will improve significantly. Sila will feel better and you will too. This distance is doing more harm than good. It works when two people are uncertain about each others' presence in their lives but you are incomplete without Sila and so is she, without you."

She paused, waiting for him to say something but a heavy silence on his side shook her a little. Was she crossing a line? Did she say something wrong? Why wouldn't he say something?

"That's it, Puttar. I hope you didn't mind me meddling in this matter but what can I say, Maa hoon na, I can't see my children in pain. Allah Hafiz."

The beep of the call ending reverberated in the silent room. He placed his phone on the table silently and looked at his empty hands.

Literally and figuratively.

An anguished cry lodged in his throat. The room swirled before his eyes. Agitation and helplessness hit him like a tornado. He stumbled, even though he wasn't standing. The anger, the frustration, and the turmoil broke their barriers. He pushed his medicines to the floor. His wheelchair, this room, the fluorescent lights—everything reminded him of why he couldn't reach out to her, even when she needed him. He held his head in his palm, the shooting pain made him cry out loud. And suddenly, he could see the edge of a bridge, the speeding car, the impact. The collision.

"Aahil!"

The panicked shout and then there were arms around him. His vision finally cleared and he saw his father before him.

"Baba."

A sob broke through his lips. Faseeh held him close, trying to provide him with the solace. Aahil clutched onto him, shaking his head. "Please, Baba. Save me."

"It's fine. I'm here!" Faseeh reassured him, his voice betraying his panic. Aahil hid his face in Faseeh's arms. "Please, Baba! I don't want to be here. I can't breathe. I can't!"

His words were an anguished whisper. Faseeh caressed his hair as he pulled him some more into his arms.

He knew what was to be done. There were no two ways about it.

𝄞

Amal glanced at the untouched tray of food and then at her best friend.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Her worried query hung in the air. Haleh nodded slightly but that was not good enough for Amal.

"Use your words and if that's so, why aren't you wolfing down the pasta?"

Haleh shrugged. "I'm not hungry."

Amal glared at her. "You're worrying me now."

Haleh looked at the plate in front of her and took it gingerly. "See, I'm eating."

Amal threw her hands around. "Honestly, what's going on with you? Why are you so ...detached?"

Oh, that'd be one heck of a tale. Haleh mused, chewing the pasta slowly. She rolled her eyes. "Amal, stop channeling the mother in you. That's Reen's forte. I'm fine. Just a little bit moody. PMS."

Amal wouldn't have believed her but her period was around the corner so had to. Subdued and silent wasn't Haleh's PMS M.O. But Amal kept that thought to herself.

"I'm going right now. Inam-Ud-Din is blowing my phone but once I'm back, we need to talk." Amal warned, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She had an evening exam to conduct otherwise she wouldn't leave Haleh's side until and unless she knew what was wrong with her.

Haleh saw her retreating back and pushed the plate away. She had no appetite, just an endless pool of confusion and despair she was wallowing in.

The manila envelope was in her side drawer, secure as a dirty secret. She hadn't told anyone about its contents. She herself had a hard time coming to terms with it.

Baba Jaan. His real identity he'd never deemed important enough to share with her. Her parents and their brutal murder.

Mahad.

She shook her head subconsciously. It was such a pathetic thing but this link it this fiasco hurt her the most after her parents' truth.

Yesterday, when the initial shock subsided, disbelief took its place. She refuted the material proof before her even though it made absolute sense.

But the more she thought it through, the clearer it got.

Mahad's hesitation around her during Aahil and Sila's wedding. Baba Jaan's visit got scarce. Mahad's initial fumbling whenever she visited his home or office.

"Islamabad?"

"My family is settled there."

What a fool had she been. Why did she never give Baba Jaan's family any thought? But it never crossed her mind that he was deliberately keeping this information from her. She was always told he was a distant relative. But he was more than that. Those photographs with her mother were telling enough.

She left her bed and stopped close to her incomplete canvas. Her fingers traced the lines she'd sketched with precision. But now, she wasn't sure if this painting would ever see the light of the day.

Her phone pinged in her pocket. She absentmindedly took it out and glanced at it. But the notification bar made her do a double take.

She wasted no time in unlocking it.

Agha Murtaza Lashari is attending a conference at his Karachi HQ as we speak.

The number was unknown. Haleh hesitated just a beat but then wrote a response.

Who are you?

The reply came in the next ten seconds.

A well-wisher who knows everything about your past but isn't trying to keep it from you, unlike the people you trusted.

P.S. I hope one envelope was enough to enlighten you.

A shiver ran down Haleh's spine. She gulped and pocketed her phone as if the conversation stayed before her any longer, it would eat her alive.

A shady well-wisher. Just her luck.

But the information she'd gotten stayed with her. It took her a minute and her mind was made. Picking up her purse, she was out of her room.

The InDrive pulled outside Lashari Group of Industries Head Office. She got out with a thudding heart and came to the security check. Why was she doing this? There was nothing to confirm, then why?

Was she still hopeful that she hadn't been tricked? Naivety once again. Oh, Haleh, when will you learn?

The guards didn't ask her much, used to her unannounced arrivals by then. She took a step forward when she stopped in her tracks.

A group of important-looking men came out of the door. There was a foreign delegation with them and they were immersed in a friendly see-off.

Haleh's eyes sought out Baba Jaan immediately. And right next to him, Mahad.

She closed her eyes in regret.

Mid-sentence, Mahad fleetingly glanced at the security check and the next moment, he forgot to breathe.

No.

Haleh looked between him and an equally stricken Baba Jaan. Her gaze was enough to convey her disappointment. She didn't say a word and turned to leave.

That's when Mahad knew he had to rush.

"Haleh!"

He called her name, catching up to her on the sidewalk. Them and sidewalks, a story of its own. He would've laughed at the predictability of their patterns but mirth was not even the last thing on his mind.

"Haleh, stop."

He finally reached her side and held her hand to stop her. "Listen, I can explain this. Just give me..."

But he stopped when she looked down at his hold on her. She didn't try to pry it away.

"Leave. My. Hand."

The words weren't loud but they had been clear as the sky overhead. Mahad bunched his hand by his side.

Haleh turned on her heel, without giving him a backward glance.

And she was going to gift him a painting.

Fool.

𝄞