The auditorium fell into complete silence, the air thrumming with anticipation. The audience didn't take their eyes off the stage, not even once.

He pushed himself more into the wall, behind the curtain lest he should be seen.

Obscured. An anomaly. A misfit.

A stark contrast to the musician on the stage who gave his admirers a charming smile. His hands hovered over the piano keys. He closed his eyes. The audience leaned forward in their seats. Their anticipation rested on their faces.

With his smile intact, the musician let the magic begin.

The notes surrounded him—one after the other. The sparks flew. The spell remained unbroken.

He watched, from his perch behind the curtains. His eyes took everything in. The music descended the stage and embraced the audience, they welcomed it with open arms.

The musician's gentle fingers beckoned the keynotes. They had never refused him anything so why would they then? They were in the palm of his hand, their safest abode.

A keynote stopped by him. How it reached the far edge of the auditorium was out of his understanding.

But with a callous shake of his head, he turned away.

It waited.

He didn't budge.

It stooped. Fell. Lost its meaning.

But stayed nonetheless.

He rested his head against the wall. His eyes closed. He didn't want to look at the keynote. He didn't want to perish.

The musician had left the stage and walked down the stairs. The audience's applause and love were with him, every step of the way. He slowly made his way toward the exit. But his echoes took charge. They were there, around his admirers, as if reminiscent of him. A memory to cherish. To look back. Until the next time.

And just like that, the musician was out of the auditorium.

He scrambled to his feet and followed him. The people were still seated as if already waiting for the musician to return. They refused to part with him even though he was no longer there.

He rushed outside through the backdoor. The chilly wind hit him in the face. He looked around frantically when his eyes fell on the pavement.

Under the lamppost, its canary glow that illuminated the sidewalk stood the musician. His hand was enclosed within hers.

Her.

He took a sharp breath. The musician touched her cheek. His fingers trailed a path down her short hair. His hand rested on her shoulder.

She smiled up at him, stars in her eyes. Lifetimes that she carried in her hand. And in each one of those, she was his earnest prayer. A reward. And he was the epitome of her love—conqueror of her heart.

The musical notes formed a halo around the lovers, securing them in their cocoon. Hand in hand, with sure steps, they walked toward the unknown.

He watched them go. The distance was a stab in his heart. He fell to his knees.

He brought his hand before him. Busted knuckles. Blood everywhere.

And in the midst of that, was a torn polaroid.

Her.

It was hers.

He stood up on shaky legs. Behind him were the shore, the calm waters. He walked toward them, bunching the picture in his hand.

Defeated. Vanquished.

He stopped close to the water. His reflection gazed at him sadly.

The face of the musician.

He was the musician.

Bereft of everything he had once upon a time.

The piano note he had turned away from earlier, stopped by his side. He looked at it. And then at the torn picture in his hand.

Remains. Scraps.

He sat on the sand. For a long time, his gaze was fixed on the fathomless sea beyond.

But once in a while, he'd look behind at the road he'd just left.

Where did that road lead to?

He chided his heart. But its protests were loud.

That road. That unknown path.

But was it?

𝄞

His eyes slowly opened to the familiarity of his parent's place. His vision adjusted to the bright lights. He craned his neck sideways. Before he could utter a word, his mother's welcomed embrace surrounded him.

"Are you alright?"

Sabah asked, caressing his hair. He nodded, still dazed. He didn't remember much. As if it were all a lucid dream. In succession. The dream. And the dreamlike reality before that.

The musician and his muse. The auditorium. The unknown calling out to him.

Aahil and Sila. The music room. The callback. The piano welcoming him home.

He immediately tried to sit up. Sabah was by his side. Her one stern eyebrow raise was enough for him to stay put. Normally, this wouldn't work on him, both he and Sabah knew that. But this was far from their normal anyway.

Putting the pillow behind him, she cupped his face. The panic his state should've invoked in her wasn't there. Her eyes were teary, but not due to anguish.

She looked at him, a bit proud, somewhat uncertain as if this reality wasn't a remote possibility for her.

Aahil bent his head. His mother's gaze at him was full of pride, a sentiment he couldn't share. Not in the slightest.

And Sabah had seen right through his reservations. She narrowed her eyes at him. He averted his gaze. She shook her head and brought him closer. Aahil immediately sought her warmth. The one pursuit in his life where he would never had to try hard. It was always by his side.

The door opened with a faint creak. Sabah glanced at the person who stopped by them. Faseeh's smile was the warmest they had seen in months. He ruffled Aahil's hair. It would take a while for it to grow back to its previous thick mop but for now, this would work.

For now, everything would work.

"Everyone's waiting for you two for dinner."

His voice was tender. Sabah tilted her head and beckoned Aahil to join them. His parent's expectant faces were enough to make him nod in agreement even though the idea of food was not appealing to him.

He let them help him to his wheelchair, feeling both blessed and ashamed to put them through this. Not just through his physical health, but the mental block he'd been in for years and had consequently, pushed his parents and his whole family into a never-ending cycle.

When they reached the dining hall, the beaming faces of the rest of his family came into his view. Dado, Faran Bhai, Adan, Nawar Bhabhi, Misam Bhai, the kids, Jamil.

All of them were barely able to contain their emotions. The kids might not have understood why the elders were so jubilant but they played their part.

"You aren't leaving without dinner!"

Sabah's exasperated voice reached Aahil over the dim of cheerful chitchat. He looked up from his hands and found her glaring at an amused Mahad.

"Not even in my nightmares, Auntie. I just need to take a call and then I'll join you all."

He assured her.

"Just say you're going to send Osama Chachu a picture." Zain put in. Mahad's eyes twinkled at that.

"You know what, little menace? Great idea."

"I'm not little!" Zain protested.

"But you, for sure, are a menace." Mahad bobbed his head and left from there but not before nodding in Aahil's direction.

The exchange was fleeting but it conveyed a lot.

From taking Aahil to his apartment, being there for him during such a crucial moment without overstepping, and taking care of his family's worried queries when Aahil was in no condition to do so. Dazed. Exhausted. And lost in his own mind.

Mahad had done it all effortlessly. He had also eased Aahil's predicament by giving his family an idea of what had transpired at his place.

Aahil couldn't have done it. The implications were too raw just yet. The aftermath was taking a toll on him.

He ought to say thank you but they had never felt the need for these formalities. Mahad hadn't done anything new. In the same way, Aahil wouldn't have done something out of the ordinary if the situation was reversed.

This was their normal.

Aahil saw his retreating back and then looked at his family once again.

It had been such a long time since he had witnessed this joy as a companion on their dinner table. The last time it happened was probably during the initial days of his marriage.

He felt a pang in his gut.

And suddenly, everything had taken a backseat. It was him, his self-repulsion, and the memories.

Sila.

The win his people were silently celebrating had lost its meaning.

Just the loss remained. Her.

Aahil smiled at something the kids were discussing. But it didn't reach his eyes.

How could it?

Among everything and everyone that mattered to him, the one person who should have been right by his side wasn't.

And that made every win a loss.

Every bright side, a dark facade.

Everything into nothing.

𝄞

Aimlessly strolling the backyard in this weather was probably a foolish move. But this was the only place that came to her mind. She didn't want to go to her room. She had already exhausted its energy with her troubled thoughts.

Sleep eluded Sila. As per the norm. Ammi was worried by this pattern but instead of a long lecture, she went inside the kitchen, and soon Sila had a mug of hot chocolate in her hand. If she wasn't going to sleep, might as well enjoy the heavenly goodness. Sila was thankful for her thoughtfulness. That was another thing her own thoughts were all over the place to fully acknowledge Ammi's gesture.

Standing by the railing, Sila looked around at the tall pine trees. The thickets covered the back of the house. From the upper storey, the hills beyond were visible. Her family's estate never lacked aesthetic value. That was her problem and it never crossed her mind to stop by and admire the natural beauty it boasted.

She took a tentative sip. The sweet beverage didn't have the desired effect but it was still a thing of comfort. Sila placed her other arm on the railing and rested her face. Her vision was directed at nothing in particular.

Once again, a phone call was all she could think of. Under normal circumstances, this situation would have been hilarious. But hilarity in her life had long left with a silent goodbye.

It hurt. Every aspect of it.

But nothing could ever top the hurt his phone calls evoked.

How painfully he had asked her that. Hating him? Was he out of his mind?

But wasn't this the whole issue? His lack of trust in himself. His self-repulsion. The idea that he deserved nothing good. It was the main culprit behind him losing his connection to his music.

Sila pursed her lips. It was the second time in a row that he was in his music room when they talked over the phone.

The music room he avoided like a plague when they were together.

What should she make out of it? Was he finally trying to reconnect to that part of his life that started his downfall? It was plausible. And if he were doing that, Sila couldn't be prouder. He had finally started to address this giant issue in his life. Maybe, pushed by the heartbreak he had gone through.

Heartbreak. There was no other way to put it. She had no doubts about it anymore.

If he was trying to fill the void she left, with the reverberations of his music, Sila was happy for him. At least, he had acknowledged that he couldn't keep it buried all his life.

Would it be better if he had had this realization while she was in his life?

Yes.

It'd be nice if she didn't have to face the brunt of his choices. This self-assessment could be done without breaking her heart in the process.

But Sila couldn't be bitter. Not about this. Not about him.

Before he was Aahil the musician who lost himself and crushed her hopes under his feet, he was Aahil, the love of her life. Her husband.

And she'd always be happy for him to go back to his music.

His healing on that front was vital for him to move further in his life.

As for her, well, that was a thing to ponder for later.

What he said to her, what he did to them. It wasn't the time for that. He was already wallowing in his self-hate. Regrets were gnawing at him.

She couldn't be cruel. Not when he was at his lowest. This wasn't how Sila Nouraiz loved Aahil Jahangir. She'd give him the space. It was his time to figure things out on his own.

This wasn't about her. It shouldn't be about her.

She nodded to herself and took a step back from the railing. She had made her peace with it then why did it hurt?

She wouldn't cry.

But a treacherous tear did fall down her cheek. She wiped it quickly as if this moment was a secret to even herself.

She had turned around to leave through the sliding doors when she found the person standing in it.

Abu's pointed gaze was full of concern. Sila bent her head as she passed him by. He opened his mouth to say something but then stopped himself.

Once again, both of them didn't say a word to each other.

Once again, she stifled the urge to complain to him as she'd done when she was ten.

Once again, he stopped the need to cuss the ameerzada out who brought her to where she was.

Sila went to her room and Abu went back to his news.

As usual.

𝄞

The elders' good mood had rubbed on the kids as well. It was probably after weeks they had seen everyone exuding such easygoing energy when it came to their favorite uncle.

After dinner, they were adamant about spending time with Aahil. The prospect was always welcomed by him. So, he was with the kids in his room with Jamil by their side for support.

The rest of the Jahangirs, instead of retiring to their rooms, had gathered in the living room.

Mahad leaned on the sofa and raised an eyebrow at Adan. She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah! It did end well but don't pretend you didn't play along with Aahil's insane idea."

Mahad shrugged. "A win is a win."

Adan couldn't argue with that logic. Mahad and Aahil teaming up had never culminated into anything good. This was probably a first so she couldn't even blast on them.

Sabah wiped her tears, for the umpteenth time. Beside her, Faseeha smiled and took her hand in his. It was surreal for him as well. Their son, who had written something off his life, something vital, that was part of him, had just turned back to him. How could they not rejoice?

Faran patted Mahad's back. "Adan is trying to thank you."

"We all are." Mrs. Irshad's red-rimmed eyes whispered of her somber mood. Every person in the living room was feeling overwhelmed. Even in their wildest possibilities, they hadn't thought of this. Nawar leaned into Faran, providing him with the solace he might need and Adan hid behind Misam, her tears only for her husband to feel.

Mahad looked at the somewhat elated and somewhat dazed faces of the Jahangirs.

"I know you guys were worried. Aahil's setback has affected him more than anything. But only he can pick up the pieces. And the good thing is, he's not trying to dodge. We all expected him to, given his track record. But he truly wants to work this out."

Faran nodded. "We understand this, Mahad. It's just that for us Aahil's safety comes first. We always want to play safe. You can't blame us after what happened to him the last time he fell."

That was the reason behind all the coddling Aahil had gotten over the years. But there's an end to everything.

"Aahil really wants to work on himself, Faran Bhai. And to do that, he'll have to revisit some dark places, change his patterns, and get out of his comfort zone. We all will have to see it happening. He'll fall. But he will get up as well. Just give it to him to figure this out on his own."

Adan was the first one to agree to this, as this had been her stance all through the years. Providing Aahil with escape routes and throwing luxuries at his feet wasn't the route to his recovery. The graph is never linear. Some hard edges had to be touched. And it was Aahil himself who had chosen this path, after all.

At long last.

The rest of the Jahangirs were finally forthcoming about this idea. They wouldn't be if Aahil's reconnection to his piano hadn't happened just a few hours back.

That monumental shift had changed everything.

For the better. That was the hope of everyone sitting in the living room of the Jahangir Residence.

𝄞

Going to the office had never given Mahad the jitters. It had very little to do with his familiarity with his family business since he was just a boy and a lot to do with his confidence in his abilities. He didn't remember a day in his professional life where he was scared to face the challenges.

But today, was a first. One of its kind.

He twirled the paperweight in his fingers and focused back on the door. Any moment now, Haleh would be here. She was particularly not a tardy person. His tenure as her client once had given him this insight. He was before time, that was another thing.

From his place, Dada Jaan warily looked around. He was not fond of the fact that Mahad had decided to be a part of this meeting but Mahad couldn't care less. He knew that sitting this one out was not an option and respectfully, he was over listening to his grandfather. He had already paid a hefty sum for that.

God knows it was about to get worse. She hadn't invited Dada Jaan to the Wadia House, nor did she agree to come to Mahad's place.

She was already drawing boundaries. Keep it formal, and Mahad wouldn't be able to tell anyone how much he hated her silent treatment. If he had done her wrong, he would have accepted whatever she dished out to him without saying a word, but here, he was also being treated unfairly. This was what he'd get for reminding his grandfather time and again to come clean with Haleh.

What a shame.

His thoughts were interrupted by the desk intercom. The curt message was precise.

Haleh was here.

In about two minutes, the door was knocked at. Upon finding the cue, she pushed the door open and entered the room.

Her immediate reaction on seeing the people seated inside was a scowl. It didn't surprise Mahad that it wasn't directed at his grandfather.

He was the sole recipient of it. As expected.

"Take a seat, Haleh." He nodded toward the plush couches. His stance was full of challenge. He wasn't going anywhere.

Her scowl deepened. But then she sighed. "Yeah, fine."

Whatever. Not that she cared. He wasn't a fool not to understand her underlying jibe.

Not caring for the hostile air around, Baba Jaan immediately got up and patted her on the head in a fatherly manner. Haleh's stiff shoulders slumped a bit.

"How have you been, bachay?" He asked, his voice full of warmth and hope.

Haleh looked up at him. Her face gave nothing away. "I'm good. What about you?"

His reply was a defeated shrug of his shoulders with a resigned smile. Mahad's heart went out to his old man. They might have been at loggerheads since this fiasco, but he would never forget how affected his Dada Jaan was by Haleh's behavior. She had every right to be cross with him but he hadn't taken it well.

Wordlessly, Haleh took a seat before Dada Jaan. Mahad took it in without saying anything. He might've fought his way to be here but he wouldn't be speaking over her. That was not why he wanted to be a part of this conversation.

"I know I've hurt you, bachay." Dada Jaan began remorsefully. "I hid such an important thing from you. I lied to you and conveniently omitted facts from you. I take full ownership of my actions."

Haleh looked away from him. In doing so, her eyes collided with Mahad's. The moisture pooled there in those couldn't be hidden from him. Not that he already didn't know she was crying.

"But I want you to know that my intentions weren't bad. I didn't keep the truth from you because of some banal reason. It was a choice I made when I promised your mother your safety. I knew, telling you everything would expose you to so much and I could never afford that."

"And who are you to decide that? Shouldn't it be my choice? It's about my parents, after all."

She had posed the question without losing her calm. Dada Jaan shook his head. The rigidity Mahad had encountered whenever he tried to fight Haleh's case before the man was back. He closed his eyes momentarily. This wasn't going to end well.

"Some truths are better in the dark, Haleh. They are buried for a reason."

A derisive chuckle left her mouth. She was about to lose her calm. Mahad tried to extend his hand to hold her but what right did he have?

None.

"How convenient, Baba Ja—Mr. Lashari!" She amended abruptly and if that didn't imply where they stood, what else would?

"Why am I the last person to know about the tragedy that affects me the most? It's my family we're talking about! How can you hide the truth behind my parents' death and look me in the eye with such confidence?"

Agha Murtaza Lashari took a step forward but stopped when Haleh gestured for him to. He sighed and ran a hand on his face.

"I have no defense other than your safety, bachay. There's so much that you don't know. That I would never want you to know."

The words were barely out of his grandfather's mouth when Mahad knew he had messed up. He immediately looked at Haleh who shook her head in disbelief.

"You still don't get it, do you? Some things in life are bigger than life itself, Mr. Lashari. Getting to know you didn't lose your loving parents in a car crash but they were brutally snatched from you in a planned murder! The grainy images of their bed bodies. The gruesome details in a local newspaper, another piece of news to them, not your whole world. You won't get it."

Agha Murtaza Lashari was stupified and so was Mahad.

What?

What was she talking about? How did she get to know about her parents in such detail? Before Agha Murtaza Lashari could pose this million-dollar question, Haleh had got a hold on herself.

"I don't deny the things you've done for me over the years. The love you showered on me. I'm truly grateful for that but I can't bring myself to be around someone I can't trust anymore. Especially, when you are still not seeing things from my perspective. I don't expect you to. Or anyone for that matter."

She looked up at him. "I need distance. I need time. It's too much for me. Everything has happened in a span of such a short time. I wish I could come to you with the ton of questions and confusions I have but you won't tell me a word then, what's the point? I want you and your family to stay away from me, Mr. Lashari, and I will do the same."

She wiped her tears and without waiting for his answer, turned to leave.

Mahad stood in her way, blocking her path.

"Listen to me, Haleh."

"I don't want to."

"You can't just leave like this,"

"Watch me."

She tried to maneuver her way around him but her petite frame against his strong build didn't provide much avenue for sidestepping. When she knew she had no way out, she looked him right in the eye, stabbing him through her glare.

"Let me go. You can't stop me. You have no fucking right."

Mahad narrowed his eyes. Haleh stood her ground. Her words were acrid to him. The implication was even more so. Haleh clenched her jaw, frustration, hurt and betrayal shone in her eyes.

"Mahad, janay do ussay."

The rage rolling off them both had spurred Agha Murtaza Lashari to action. Being the responsible adult, he'd have to do something to diffuse the tension. Both were hot-headed. Both wouldn't go without a fight. It was just his luck that he knew both his kids well.

"Haleh, go home, bachay. We will only talk when you want to. You have my word."

Haleh wanted to tell him that wouldn't happen but gulped her scathing response and the ball of tears. She resorted to just nodding in his way. Mahad stepped back without breaking the stare down. Haleh wasted no time in dashing out of there.

Mahad watched her go. He closed his eyes in regret.

Why couldn't he stop her?!

Why wouldn't she listen?! Damn!

𝄞