Amal huffed, which amused the person on the other end if his chuckle was to go by.

"Are you enjoying my plight?"

Raed leaned into his couch. He had just returned from a late-night meeting with his agent and would usually want nothing but to crash, shutting the whole world out. Amal's call didn't come under this category.

"What are you worried about? You didn't want your sister to continue with the plan of selling your ancestral house, and so far, she hasn't done anything. Aren't you relieved?"

Amal considered his question. She should have been. When she took Zahra to Ghar, she had expected her to inspect the whole house, put a price on it, and call all the brokers in the area to find a suitable proposition.

Only, Zahra did no such thing. She had been reacquainting herself to her birthplace. Most of the time, she was out, and the irony was; that her trusted contact to drive her around was, unsurprisingly so, Amal.

That would've been a perfect opportunity to find the lost sisterly love. Sadly, that didn't come to be. Even with her harmless conduct, Zahra was...still Zahra. She hadn't tried to approach Amal without necessity. She was cold toward the Ghar ladies, which hurt Amal, rather than making her mad. Those women were so full of love, so caring. Zahra giving them the cold shoulder was a personal slight.

Yeah, Zahra might've stalled her plan but Amal had no reason not to doubt her intentions.

"Far from it. It's jarring because I can't understand what her deal is. Clearer intentions would've been much appreciated, thank you very much."

"Maybe, give her some time? Or talk it out with her? What if she surprises you?"

He almost hoped she would, that his intervention hadn't gone to waste.

"I wouldn't be too sure if I were you."

Amal said almost too quickly. Her voice lacked the conviction she tried to convey. Hoping Zahra would mend her ways was too much, but she hadn't declared war yet, which was...odd.

"Okay, enough about me. You mentioned meeting your agent today. What does she say?"

Raed smiled. "The draft is coming along well. She has some points to convey which I will be considering during my next writing session. Constructive criticism is important. And if things go well, I might make my next field research trip to Pakistan sooner than I intended."

This was the best news Amal had received recently. "That's great! So when can I expect you back in Karachi?"

Knowing that wasn't essential, in any capacity. But Amal still wanted to.

"I'm yet to see when things work well with me but I'll share my schedule with you anyway."

Telling her about his arrival when it was not scheduled yet wasn't essential but Raed still wanted to.

"I'd like that. Come on, take some rest now. I also have to get back to my class."

Raed didn't need to be told twice. He was already late as hell to call it a night. But he wasn't pissed about it.

Amal leaned against the couch in the staffroom and stared at the ceiling. Calling him in the middle of a hectic day at the campus wasn't on the cards but she did it anyway.

And she wasn't perturbed by that.

𝄞

After lunch, she told Ammi she was going for a drive. The prospect was exhilarating for Naheed. She hated that Sila had confined herself to this house. Seeing her dispirited and desolate wasn't an appreciative sight for Naheed.

Ikram had given her a searching look but chose to remain silent. Sila mumbled a faint bye over her shoulder and left the house.

The chilly wind was the first thing that embraced her. She pulled on her coat. Toying with the fob, she unlocked the car and got inside.

She stayed in the car for ten minutes, clueless about what to do next.

Where should she go?

Where could she go?

Her life had always been a roller coaster. Her job made sure that she was on her toes all through the day. Slacking off and tardiness were unknown to her. And she enjoyed having that clarity.

But now?

The road before her was murky, literally and figuratively. She'd lost her motivation for...life and that was the most heartbreaking realization amidst all the heartbreak she was the focal point of.

She took a deep breath, willing the thoughts of better times at bay. They never helped. Instead of bringing a smile to her lips, all they did was break her some more.

And more.

She couldn't spend all her life nursing her wounded heart. That would kill her. It was already a slow poison. She hadn't come this far in her life to just throw it all away.

She'd weeks to mourn the love she lost and she grieved, she did. She let it consume her whole being. She let it ruin her.

For how long?

She wasn't just Sila, a wronged wife, a heartbroken lover. She was also Sila who valued her career and her relationships, who had a life beyond romanticism. Who had built herself from scratch and who had always aimed for the sky.

Losing that girl in her was as heartwrenching as the wounded woman in her.

And for the sake of that girl, she had to get out of this dark place.

Letting her demons ruin everything dear to her, a tale she'd seen up close and she hated how it ended.

She wouldn't be another recipe for disaster. One was enough.

Closing her eyes to muster her strength, she started the car and slowly drove out of Dak Bangla's vicinity.

The winding roads of Murree weren't difficult to navigate. Her pace was slow and careful. She didn't know where she was going or what she was looking for.

The only consolation was, that she had broken the curse. She had won and got out of the house.

That got to mean something.

Google Maps app was her lone companion, even though, it was pretty unreliable. The kind strangers on the road helped her a great deal.

When she left Dak Bangla, she had no clue where she was going.

But when she stopped outside Jahan Bhurbhan, a derisive chuckle left her mouth. And a sheen of tears appeared in her eyes.

She was a gone case. Oh, Sila.

Memories came rushing back. The easy smiles, the last time she was here. The unspoken promise of a forever together. Hand in hand. They could see their future panning out right there. A dream with open eyes.

Such fools.

Forevers don't last on uneven foundations. Rocky beginnings might not warrant a perilous journey ahead but what about the disastrous middle? When you're well into your life story, hopeful that it'd see a beautiful end that would cement your forever but it all just comes crashing down.

And there she was, once again, walking through the unchartered territory. Dangerous quagmire. Uneven waters.

Just run away!

The whisper came straight from her mind. She ought to. She had come out of the house to feel better, not to feel everything all at once.

But this was a viable option and she didn't have many of those. This was her safest bet. She had no qualms about accepting that.

Uncle Faseeh's offer wouldn't have expired. The one thing the Jahangirs never missed was looking out for each other. She could just barge inside, introduce herself and she'd be immediately part of the event management department.

Nepotism if she was honest.

Oh, someone would've lots to say to this. Endless jokes on her expanse. How the mighty have fallen. He'd be so proud. He'd be insufferable.

The thought brought a smile to her face.

Normalcy. What a beautiful thing. Hard to find and harder to keep.

You only know it once you've lost it. The monotony is precious. If only she could go back and relive it all.

Enough!

She was done for if, on every turn, her mind would get distracted this way.

Pulling herself out of these thoughts, she crossed the security check after fulfilling the required protocol. She didn't want to use the Jahangir card just yet. She was almost ashamed to do so but logically and practically, she couldn't ignore the ease this situation had stored in for her and God! She needed some ease in her life.

The narrow path, illuminated by ornate lampposts on both sides, opened to a vast parking area. It took her a while to find a suitable parking spot and once she was done, she stood there, eyeing the ivory building ahead. The staircase bifurcated into to left and right sides. She knew which way to go. She wished she wouldn't remember how she knew that.

But who had ever fought nostalgia and came out victorious?

A silhouette was right by her side as she took slow yet determined steps toward the lobby. An infuriating remark or two would've been loudly uttered by then, or maybe, a suggestive whisper, as he bent his head to reach her ear, she would've jabbed her elbow to his side, hissing at him to behave. It would've only made him smirk and continue with his shenanigans.

Sila pushed her hands into the pockets of her coat and held her head high. Her eyes were hard and her stance rigid.

The silhouette vanished into the air. As everything it entailed already had.

"Good afternoon, Ma'am. Welcome to Jahan Bhurban. How can I help you?"

The receptionist graced her with the perfect professional smile. Sila reciprocated it and leaned forward a bit. "Good Afternoon. Can you connect me to your manager?"

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Is there any issue?"

The man beside her had also looked up. Sila felt unnerved by their curious stares. She was shit at this. What should she do? Call Faseeh Uncle?

She cleared her throat to mask her nervousness. Putting your contacts to use was embarrassing. She was realizing this just now.

But she had to suck it up and be grateful that she had a chance with her emotional well-being still very much affected.

"I'm Sila Nouraiz. Mr. Faseeh Jahangir's daughter-in-law. I need to discuss an arrangement with your manager which, I believe has already been conveyed to him. So, you could please call him here?"

The receptionist's eyes widened. She shared a look with the guy next to her and nodded rather too quickly.

"Yes, of course, Ma'am. We've been notified by Mr. Qazi. I'll just inform him that you're here. Please have a seat. I'll be quick."

Everything after that happened in quick succession. The manager, Mr. Qazi was there in a matter of minutes.

"Mrs. Jahangir! It's so good to finally see you here!" He greeted her with a bright smile which Sila reciprocated with a dim one of her own. The man was explaining to her that they had directives from the higher-ups for days to accommodate her in whatever capacity whenever she showed up.

"I will not take more of your time. The event management department is gearing up for a star-studded reception party. Let's get you introduced to the team. This way, Mrs. Jahangir."

He showed her the way and Sila followed him.

The Jahangirs' generosity and familial love trumped everything else once again.

And the tag of Mrs. Jahangir pierced her heart, time and again.

What a pity. Tags stay. People don't.

𝄞

Zoning out was his favorite sport these days. At the same time, he hated it. Quite a contradiction but that was his life lately.

"Aahil." A gentle tap on his shoulder and he shook his head slightly, looking sideways at his mother. Sabah smiled at him, running a hand through his hair. "We're not in the lounge yet."

Aahil nodded, pressing the button on his wheelchair. Sabah's gentle coaxing was the only time he wouldn't be immediately put off by the idea of immersing himself in the normality of life.

Her hand comfortably rested on his shoulder once they reached the lounge. Aahil didn't look at her as Sabah bent down to face him.

"Once in a while, getting out for fresh air wouldn't be too bad, hun? I don't think moving from one four-walled room to another equates to a change of scenery. Come out of here, Aahil. Putting yourself in a box has got to stop now, don't you think?"

She pointed to his temple. Her words were uttered with utmost love but they were firm. The stagnation in Aahil's life wasn't easy to come to terms with for anyone but Sabah was the most affected by it. Dr. Noordin had warned them that more than Aahil's physical health, his mental capabilities had taken a hit. He was trying but he still wasn't able to get himself out of the haze he was always surrounded with.

She knew he wouldn't say much. She hadn't expected him to. They reached the lounge silently where Mrs. Irshad was already seated with the fruit basket.

"Your mother and sister should be rewarded generously for making you leave your room, boy." She remarked hotly but when Aahil stopped close to her, she wasted no time in holding his face and leaving a chaste kiss on top of his head. Her eyes glistened but she wiped the tears and brought the plate of sliced fruits toward him.

"I'm not hungry," Aahil told her but her glare was enough for him to sigh and take a small bite.

"See! My obedient grandson is back."

"He's still at the office." Aahil deadpanned.

Mrs. Irshad's laugh echoed in the TV Lounge. Sabah couldn't help her chuckle. These tiny moments where the old Aahil would make a comeback were the most cherished part of her day.

Both the ladies talked about everything under the sun, indulging him in the conversation, and asking for his opinion. Aahil wasn't a fool to not see what they were trying to do. This was the collective family effort these days. Adan, Misam, Nawar, Faran, his parents, his grandmother, his friends, and even Bacha party and Jamil. Their sole purpose was to make him part of the conversation. Anything to take his mind off things.

That was another thing it was mostly a miss and sometimes a hit. His emotional upheaval would make him shut down the whole world and when he'd get tired of the noises in his head, he'd seek his people, the assurances.

After a while, Mrs. Irshad had to retire to her room for her nap. Her blood pressure and heart reports were not exactly under the normal category so precaution and rest along with prescribed medicines were vital.

Sabah had to give the kitchen staff instructions about the dinner so she also, inconspicuously left him there.

That was her way of telling him that he wouldn't be holing himself up in his room for today at least.

Her motherly tactics put a slight smile on Aahil's face. Eventually, he'd have to leave the lounge.

He had a scheduled call to make. And after that, some amends.

He was about to follow through when he stopped. His eyes darted across the wall. He reached there, his eyes fixed on the mounted photo frames.

Grandpa Jahangir. Dado. His parents from their infamous dating and subsequent newly married days. His, Faran, and Adan's chaotic childhood, a kindergarten blob making his teenage siblings' lives miserable with his antics, their academic achievements, and their wedding portraits.

Faran and Nawar.

Adan and Misam.

Aahil and Sila.

The last row was dedicated to the Bacha Party. And his wedding. The latest monumental happening of the Jahangir clan.

He ran his eyes on his and Sila's somewhat bemused, somewhat confused faces.

A chuckle escaped his lips. He looked up, another row, row after row. The wall was ever-growing, the Jahangir family ever-loving.

And to someone who knew the history, one thing stood out.

Their love for the generational talent their youngest son was.

He gulped.

He knew.

For he was the history and that youngest son.

Mama and Baba, standing in the audience, clapping for him as he won his first music award in school. Dado listened with eyes closed as he sang a Muhammad Rafi song to her. He and Faran in front of Berkeley. The snapshot of the first album he composed. Adan and him arguing after his drum-jam. A family photo from backstage of one of his few shows. And a blurry photo of him playing the piano as his back faced the camera.

A subtle but profound collection of memories. He was all over this photo wall. As if that part of his life, that extension of his being was the most cherished aspect by his family.

He bent his head and turned away. Staying here wasn't going to be easy. Not anymore. All his years of visiting this house and he had never noticed how his family had lingered on the part of him he had long buried with his hands.

"What a pleasant surprise!"

Faran exclaimed as soon as he entered the lounge. Seeing Aahil here was indeed a refreshing sight. Faran bent down in front of him holding him by his shoulders.

"Good?"

Aahil nodded, without meeting his eyes.

"Did you have your meals?"

Another nod.

"Medicines."

One more.

"Therapy sessions?"

And one more.

"Then let's go inside. I have good news for you."

Aahil looked at him questioningly. Faran smiled. "Sila has joined Jahan Bhurban. Today."

Aahil blinked back the moisture pooled in his eyes. Sila.

She was finally trying to break the shackles his love bound her to. Aahil looked down at his hands. The wall behind him seemed to mock him.

How many people his love had shackled? They were trudging along him when he didn't know where he was going.

"Aahil—"

He looked up. "Bhai, can you take me home?"

"Home?" Faran opened his mouth to tell him he was sitting in one but then stopped.

Aahil's imploring eyes. The fear there was laced with longing.

Faran shook his head. "No."

"Please, Bhai."

Faran looked at him helplessly. "Yaar! Why do you do this to yourself."

Why? Because the enormity of his loss had, once again, dawned on him. The photo wall was a tiny glimpse of it. So was the implication of his heartbreak. The echoes.

But there was a place which had witnessed his downfall twice. Where he had lost everything twice.

And he needed to see the implications of it. When he mindlessly razed everything to the ground then why was he afraid to witness the ruins?

"You will get both you and me killed, one day. The accusation of spoiling you is also on my head. Guess they are fucking right."

Faran gritted his teeth and went inside the house. When he came back, he had a snapback in his hand. He put it on Aahil's head.

"Keep your head down."

Aahil didn't need to be told twice. Faran started moving toward the main entrance of the house but he was on the edge.

A voice at the back of his head was screaming that giving into Aahil's request this time around was not right.

Not at all.

𝄞

The first thing Sila felt when she was brought to the banquet hall, was the judgment.

Palpable.

All eyes were on her as Mr. Qazi introduced her to the team. They hadn't been subtle in their assessment.

Not the kind of professional decorum she had expected. But she couldn't blame them. She had heard that this company had worked hard, earning a name for themselves, and landed a contract with Jahan. Now seeing someone who was here on her connections mustn't be a beautiful sight.

When in reality, she was the victim of her circumstances, more than anything.

The team head, Reeta Parakash welcomed her with a professional smile intact but the same was not true for the rest of the members especially, a guy and and girl whose hostility was enough to make her roll her eyes.

Seriously?

Mr. Qazi had left her with Reeta. Sila had half the heart to follow him out of there.

Was this a bad idea?

She leaned against the table and looked around. Most of them had gone back to their work but the furtive glances were not fooling anyone.

"Hey, Sila." Reeta reached her side. The tension must've compelled her to diffuse it. She couldn't have this vibe going when they had such a huge event approaching in a week.

"It's nice having you on the team. Mr. Qazi mentioned it to me a few days back. I thought you'd join earlier."

She was trying to make small talk. After all, Sila's status as the wife of the youngest Jahangir son preceded her. Sila sighed. She couldn't blame anyone. She had opted for this.

"Hey, Reeta." She smiled or tried to. "First of all, I want to apologize to you and your team that I barged in without any notice."

Reeta grimaced, bummed that Sila had picked up on the hostility. No shit.

Sila continued. "Honestly, I'm not sure if I'll be here tomorrow. I just want to let you know that even though I came here solely because of my father-in-law, this has been my professional field for years. So, if you're thinking I'm a novice, please don't."

Before Reeta could reply to that, Sila heard a loud snort from behind Reeta. A scowl appeared on Sila's face when she saw a man, not older than her, smirking there. He looked at her mockingly. Sila regarded him. Her eyes lingered on the checklist in his hand.

"Hadeed!" Reeta called him, trying her best to convey the severity of the situation but he refused to back down. Sila nodded, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

"It was nice talking to you, Reeta." Sila nodded in the flabbergasted woman's way and then narrowed her eyes at Hadeed.

"Your checklist needs revision."

His smirk immediately vanished from his face. "What?" He spat.

Sila pointed toward the sheet in his hand. "You can only put a checkmark in front of your vendors once the event is over. If you think you have that sorted, good luck. It's Pakistan. You don't manage the vendors, they manage you."

The dumbfounded expression on his face made her want to roll her eyes. She had dealt with such entitled tools all the years she'd been in this profession.

"Half your vendors are related to either the bride or the groom as you've mentioned. That is going to make your event day high-risk. Treat them as the guests to the couple or the vendors you are relying on. Your call to make."

She finally turned toward the exit. "Good luck."

She didn't wait after that and only stopped once she was in the parking lot.

This was a bad idea.

𝄞

When the car stopped in front of the residential building, Faran glanced at his brother. Aahil hadn't said a word throughout the ride. Not that Faran expected him to.

His own doubts were loud enough for him anyway. He didn't have a good feeling about this but he had always been miserable when it came to Aahil. His teary eyes and pleading voice. Faran hated to see his brother like this. He deserved so much better than what life had dished out to him.

Aahil's snapback hid his face well. To be on the safer side, Faran had used one of the back entrances to the building, the access to which was not easily granted but when you have money and connections, you always have a way.

As they got into the elevator, Aahil gulped his unease. He still didn't know why he was there. But the glimpse of his life that once was and the news that Sila was trying to rebuild the life he had shaken through its core, was too much.

And sometimes your destruction is your salvation. Two parts of his being were etched on his soul. He had gotten them fully in this place.

And this place was where he lost them. Banished his happiness. Embraced his ruination.

Sila.

Music.

Nothing.

They entered the familiar floor. This hallway had been witness to their blossoming love. Gentle handholds when they were back from a long drive, whispered proclamations as they stumbled through the door, and crashed on the couch in a heap, lips and hands lost in each other, silly arguments as they returned from another trip to the workshop when Chand Gaari refused to behave.

The same Chand Gaari which was right now secured in one of Jahan's underground parking lots.

Faran unlocked the apartment. He hadn't told that to Aahil but on that fateful dawn, Aahil had left his keycard lodged in the door. Faran was the one to retrieve it when he visited just to make sure everything here was secure.

The gust of stale air, heavy with memories, rushing here and there, voices, chasing him, embracing him.

Aahil was sure, that if he were on his feet, he would've collapsed by now.

Everything was as he had left it.

As she had left it.

Their sanctuary, where their disagreements had taken the cadence of playfulness instead of fierceness. Where their love took its first breath. Where it nurtured and grew into their pillar. Where they found lifetimes within the ordinary.

The place where he threw it all away. Where he refused to see the disaster he'd made of his dream.

Where he spent days and nights poring over his compositions, playing his instruments, where he'd turn his magic into a song. Where he'd mix and master the tunes he was in love with.

Where he had to hide when everything burned down. Where he found himself in the deepest pit of his personal hell. Where his demons laid him gently onto a bed of glass shards.

Where his regret clawed at him, breaking his skin, turning the floor crimson, and cackling when he struggled to breathe.

Aahil took it all in and then looked at his phone. He turned to Faran who immediately understood what he wanted.

With a sigh, Faran nodded. "Okay but don't take too long. I can't leave you alone for an extended time."

With that, he left, closing the door with a soft click.

Aahil went further inside. His destination wasn't their bedroom.

It was the door on the far end that had closed many others for him.

He pushed it open. It was unlocked. But it had long been established that some doors let you in even when they're open.

The graveyard of a forgotten world welcomed him. The buried hopes and dreams. Aahil pushed down the urge to run away, closed his trembling fingers in a fist, and went on.

The white sheets were akin to shrouds. He stopped by the only thing in this room that wasn't covered with it.

Aahil raised a trembling hand but then flinched it back.

Wiping his tears, he picked up his phone and dialed the number.

His scheduled call.

His only anchor.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

Four.

And it got connected.

"Sila."

He called out her name and half expected her to come out of their room, her arms akimbo as she called him a dunce to let everything accumulate dust this way.

Silence.

"You went to Jahan Bhurban today. I heard. I hope it went well."

He asked expectedly but as usual, only silence reached him from the other side.

That didn't deter him. He wouldn't let it deter him.

"And about my day, well, I love you, I miss you, and wait for your call. That's about it."

He continued as if she'd asked him about it. As if he just needed an excuse to say.

A sharp intake of breath. His also hitched. The uncertainty from the other side made him want to hold onto something.

He placed a hand on his piano.

The grim from the surface coated his finger. He didn't flinch it back. It was the only anchor grounding him when everything around him was submerged in troubled waters.

"I don't mind your silence. At least you're listening to me. I never gave you even that."

He chuckled. Her muffled sniffle gave her away instantly. Tears clogged his throat but he stayed put.

"Your silence is my first payback for what I hurled your way. "

I don't bloody care, Sila.

The reverberation of his scathing reply to her earnest love declaration came back to haunt him. He was already in the graveyard of his dreams. Ghosts of his cruelty jeered.

"I've visited our place for the first time since you left." He said, looking around. One more dagger amongst many.

Sila's eyes widened.

Aahil continued. "And it seems like every nook and cranny is angry with me. The flowers in the vase are crumbled and wilted. You used to change those every day."

Sila rested her head on the pillow. A tear traveled down the bridge of her nose and seeped into the soft material.

"The duvet on the living room couch is devoid of any creases. For the first time, I haven't made a mess but you're not here to see it."

Another tear.

"I don't think the last batch of Chinese takeout we ordered from your favorite place is there. Mama got the spoiled food discarded. But that time I didn't tell you. Your pick is better than mine. I thought I'd let you know tomorrow. Tomorrow never came."

Aahil leaned forward and rested his head on the grimed surface of the piano.

"And I'm sorry, Sila."

Sobs racked Sila's body. Tears fell down Aahil's face and gathered on the piano.

"I'm sorry."

Another earnest apology. Directed at Sila or to music.

Who knew?

"I'm..."

His breath hitched.

Sila sat up with a start. "Aahil?!"

He shook his head.

"It's...okay....I'm fine....."

The pained whisper pierced Sila's heart. The urge to reach out to him and hide him close to her was empowering.

But she wasn't there. And that made all the difference.

Aahil didn't budge from his place. An aloof Sila on the other side of the call. The music room was covered with years of dust.

And him.

What a disaster.

The call ended the next second. The screen went blank.

There, outside the house, Faran's phone instantly lit up with an incoming call. He picked it up with a mixture of confusion and nerves.

"Faran Bhai? Have you accompanied Aahil to ou... his apartment?

Sila's worried voice reached him loud and clear.

"Yes but..."

"Please take him back. He's....not fine. Please..."

She pleaded. Faran didn't need to be told twice. He opened the door and went inside to find Aahil.

Sila cut the call and dropped herself on the couch.

In about fifteen minutes, she'd make another call to Faran to inquire about his well-being.

And then another.

The tug of war between reaching out to him and safeguarding her heart.

And her.

What a disaster.

𝄞