The phone had been silent for a while. But the reverberations refused to leave Sila. They formed a halo around her.

The melody stayed.

The melody.

His melody.

She dropped her head in her palms. Was it real? Had that really happened, or was it a figment of her imagination? Her deepest desire came to the surface and finally started muddling her mind.

But it was the reality. A heartbreakingly beautiful reality.

His fingers had touched his cherished instrument. His magic had been unleashed. The mountain was a speck in his palm.

And she was all over the place.

Somewhere, falling in love with Aahil, her husband, her great love, she'd fallen in love with his music as well. He had no part in it, no husband privilege, no lover advantage. His music had made its place in her heart on its own. He had been part of some of her favourite songs, and she had no idea. Indirectly, unconsciously, she had always loved his music.

So, when that music was there for her, exclusively for her, how could she not fall to her knees?

The importance of this moment wasn't lost on her. This wouldn't have been easy for Aahil. Not at all. Weren't his inhibitions the reason they were where they were?

But he had taken this leap...for her.

You were my reason.

Just like that. Did he realize what these words were capable of doing? What did they mean to her?

He was trying. Something he hadn't done before. Even if he wanted to. Not even then. The door was unlocked, but he never allowed himself to open it.

And now he was in that room. Everyday.

For himself.

And for her.

You were my reason.

She chuckled through her tears. A smile. A sob.

Hope.

Fear.

The fear of it all crumbling down once again. Should she take this leap with him? Her heart was on the line, and it was already in shambles.

Could she trust him? His track record didn't vouch for it. She could put everything past her, but the repercussions would be jarring. She had barely survived the last time.

She heaved a deep sigh. What was she doing? This was about him—his long overdue journey to find himself. The least she could do was be there for him as he navigated his way through it all.

He had played his piano. That ought to mean something. This might not end up like it did the last time. She was afraid, and God, she had every right to be.

But...

She had to take this leap of faith with him. For him.

And in doing so, she would try to safeguard her heart, something she didn't do the last time. Easier said than done, but that was the right thing to do. Otherwise, this fall might bury her deep, never to come back.

𝄞

Placing his phone close to him, he glanced at the blank screen. It was a long call, longer than usual.

But a call nonetheless. An inadequate mode of contact for two people who loved each other. For Aahil and Sila.

What a pity.

His eyes darted around his music room, bereft of its former glory, the comfort it once brought to him. The white sheets, acculumating dirt and grim, the shelves devoid of everything they once boasted. The piano notes were suspended in the air, lest that'd be the last time they came to life.

Treading carefully, tiptoeing around him, Sila's love and his music. Both.

What if he once again changed his mind? What if he succumbed to his demons and shut the door on their face again?

He had all the ability to do that. He had always done that.

Where had it brought him? To nowhere. He was on the precipice of nothing. Submerged in water, his voice echoed but was unable to break through the surface. Caged by his inhibitions.

But those instances, when music did break through the obstacles, what glorious moments, frozen in time.

The melody.

Her laugh.

The notes.

Her words.

Hand in hand.

How could he think that the one love of his life was apart from the other? That Sila didn't bring music with her, and music didn't remind him of Sila.

Her laugh in the banquet hall of Jahan. It had been months to that, but could he ever forget his reaction when he was hunted by his past?

A melody.

That's what it was. That's what it had always been.

Sila and music.

For him. With him. His reward.

And what did he do to both? Shunned them. Closed his door on both.

But they still stayed. Despite everything.

What luck on his part. What misfortune on their part.

And there they were once again. When he needed them the most. Despite being at the receiving end of his wrath.

But that was enough. That needed to stop.

It was his turn now. To make amends. To Sila and music. And one couldn't be done without the other. They were intertwined. His music and his love for Sila. His anchors. His cherished possessions.

It was time to do right by both. He had spent years running away, so far, much so that he even forgot what he was running away from. Toward what? For whom?

It had led him to nowhere.

He was done being nowhere. This ship needed to be moored. Wandering couldn't be its fate all life long.

This love needed to be saved. Yearning couldn't be its fate all life long.

𝄞

Trying to focus on his friends' banter had never been a problem before. He usually enjoyed it when they were being dunce on purpose.

But today, Danish couldn't bring himself to do that.

Fiddling with his phone, he absentmindedly looked outside the car window. A scowl appeared on his face.

When someone is part of your routine, you get well-versed in their patterns. The con? You can also pick up on it right away when they keep their distance from you.

Lately, Rameen has been doing that a lot.

She was going out of her way to avoid hanging out with him. Their daily conversation had drastically dwindled. The last text she'd sent him was to inform him that she'd be taking over Dareer and Rafay's extra study hours.

And nothing.

Danish tried to rein in his frustration, but he was unable to do so. It was out of his understanding. Why was she doing it? He racked his brain to come up with any plausible reason for her to resort to this but came up empty-handed.

And that worried him more than it should have.

"Danish?"

Aliyar's voice brought him back to his surroundings. He grimaced, seeing all eyes were on him.

"What?"

Danish grumbled. Hashir hid his smirk, but Rabeet had no such inclination. He grinned while Aliyar and Faraz regarded Danish as if dissecting him.

"That's what you're going to tell us." Rabeet leaned forward, raising an eyebrow.

Danish grumbled. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Rabeet laughed. "Who are you fooling, boy? I called you for what?"

He counted on his fingers, taking his sweet time. Danish rolled his eyes at the antics while the rest watched interestedly.

"Five times. Yeah. But there was no reaction from you. Nada. That lost? Where? Or dare I say, in whose thoughts?"

Danish put on the best poker face he could, but from inside, he was not so confident. Rabeet was a force to be reckoned with when he put his mind to something other than food, and by the looks of it, he had two dedicated accomplices in Aliyar and Faraz.

"There's nothing like that." He tried once again.

"Come on, Danish. You are sitting among four lads who have had stable relationships for years."

"He just didn't include himself to the party, now, did he?" Faraz raised an eyebrow at Aliyar, who scowled at Rabeet. Rabeet's inability to charm a woman was no news, and to self-proclaimed lovers for their ladies, Aliyar and Faraz, it was a personal slight that he was listed amidst them.

"Ignore them. We have more pressing matters." Rabeet dismissed their incredulous expressions and focused on Danish.

"Han to Danish, let the cat out of the bag. What is going on, Bhai? And most importantly, who's the lady?"

"Why are you certain that something is going on? And there's a lady involved?" Danish asked.

"Well, for starters, you have been distracted throughout the ride to Hashir's place. You didn't say shit when Hashir listed all the tasked he's assigned us for the wedding. There's LOTS to do, Danish. Hashir is bonkers if he thinks we can pull it off."

He stopped mid-rant and composed himself. "Anyway, we didn't stay quiet, especially me, but you were lost in your world. The dumbfounded look on your face is telling me you didn't even know anything until I told you."

"I was aware—"

"No, you weren't. That brings me to my subsequent question. Once again, what is going on, Danish? And don't tell me there isn't a lady involved. You're straight, and also, a man only appears lost like you do right now when he has a lady he can't do without but keeps on messing up with."

Danish opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The sly smile on Rabeet's face was another pain.

"See! As I was saying—"

"We're here," Hashir announced as he stopped the car in front of his house. Danish thanked his luck because Rabeet was the first one to get out. Hashir's mother was an amazing cook. That was self-explanatory as to why Rabeet had switched up so quickly.

Danish mused and walked toward the main entrance when Hashir fell in step with him.

"What did you do to make Rameen ignore you?"

Danish stumbled on his feet. Hashir smirked as he straightened him.

"Did something? Said something?" He continued. Danish gaped at him when Aliyar tapped on his shoulder.

"Whatever it is, apologize. That's the way to start. And don't just plaster a sorry between you two. Mean it. It's Rameen, after all. She'll understand."

"And if she doesn't," Faraz took his part. "It means something is bothering her. Listen to her. And just listen. No need to give your two cents. Just let her vent. Sometimes that's all they need."

Saying that, they all went inside the house, leaving a flabbergasted Danish behind.

What the hell had happened?

Hashir turned on his heel and smirked in his way.

And that told Danish everything he needed to know.

He scratched his neck and stifled his smile. But whom was he kidding? This made sense. This made absolute sense.

Rameen.

Yeah, they were pretty spot-on with that. Was it that evident? Apparently yes.

Was he miffed about it? Had it come like a shocker? Was he grappling for any reason to believe otherwise?

No.

He wasn't. He wouldn't. He was done doing that.

This idiocy had made everything clear to him. As humorous, comical as it was. His clown friends hadn't beat about the bush.

Neither would he.

Why should he? It was Rameen, after all.

𝄞

Rameen regarded Amal apprehensively, who lingered near the door to her room.

"Seriously?"

She said, tired of the back and forth. Amal glared at her but did nothing to go inside the room. Rameen heaved a tired smile.

"What are you so afraid of? It's just Haleh, for crying out loud!"

"Then you do it." Amal pointed toward the door. "Go on. Take one for the team."

Rameen hesitated, making Amal snigger. No one seemed to know what to do with a sulking Haleh.

It wasn't just sulking, anyway. Her off mood ran deeper than that. Something had snuffed out the light in her, and she refused to talk about it. Not with them and not at all with Banu Auntie. That was another thing gnawing at them. In the past few days, Haleh's conversations with Dinbanu had been just the exchange of a few words. Nothing more than that. If that didn't amount to an SOS. Amal and Rameen didn't know what to do to get her to open up. If Sila were here, that'd never be a cause of worry.

"You know what?" Amal finally stopped pacing and glared at the closed door. "I'm tired of this shit."

She discarded the caution and put on her big girl shoes.

Only for the door to open.

Haleh stood there, phone to her ear, and eyed them with a raised eyebrow.

"I didn't have to. They're already here." She said to no one in particular and gestured for them to come inside.

"Who are you talking to?"

Amal asked, but when Haleh raised an eyebrow, she felt like a fool.

"Did she tell you what's wrong with her, Sila?" Rameen sat on Haleh's bed where she'd put the phone and looked at the screen.

"Not yet, but she's about to." Sila waved at her and Amal, who had just stood behind her.

"Is she?" Amal was incredulous. Haleh intertwined her fingers and nodded stiffly.

"I have lots to tell you all."

𝄞

"I have lots to tell you all."

Mahad ran a hand through his hair agitatedly. Before him, Osama and Alina shared an anxious glance while Aahil's scowl deepened.

"What the fuck did you do?" He did nothing to hide his disdain. Osama sent a sharp look his way, which Aahil ignored as he'd been doing his whole life.

"Why are you so sure I did something?" Mahad also had his claws out defensively. Alina looked heavenward.

"It's self-explanatory."

"Look who's talking."

"Someone who knows your tendencies very well."

"Jahangir—"

"Shut up! Both of you!"

Alina seethed. Mahad and Aahil did as they were told. She nodded, glaring at them, and turned to Mahad.

"Is it about Haleh?"

Mahad's eyes widened. Alina looked on, waiting for his answer.

But Aahil beat him to it.

"What about her?"

Aahil's voice had taken a sharp edge. It was Osama who graced him with his meanest scowl this time.

"Will you let him speak?"

"If it's about Haleh, no. He better never speak."

Alina ignored him, focusing on Mahad, imploring him to say something.

Not that he wasn't going to. He had lots to unpack for his friends.

𝄞

In Wadia House, Haleh's recount was punctuated by a heavy silence. She hadn't kept anything to herself. It was piling up for days. She laid it out before her friends with an unnerving detachment.

Amal and Rameen were stunned, and so was Sila if her lack of response through the call was to go by.

In the middle of the bed, the pictures evidence that had come in the post were spread out. Amal couldn't look at them twice. She flinched and held Haleh's hand.

"Tell me you blocked the number!"

The urgency in her voice was not misplaced. Her eyes once again darted toward the pictures. If someone had the gall to send these gruesome details of her past to Haleh, they surely weren't a well-wisher.

"I did."

"Just blocking isn't enough. We need to report it to the authorities. This is plain stalking regardless of the intention." Rameen stated worriedly.

"Even the intention isn't good," Sila said gravely. "I don't think so."

In Aahil's room, both Osama and Aahil were too stunned to speak. Alina hadn't, in her wildest dreams, thought that what she was considering a mild feud between two people with budding feelings would be such a complicated mess.

Dada Jaan, the one they had always loved and respected not just as Mahad's grandfather but as an elder, who had made them his pals.

He was an integral part of Haleh's life as well and, by the looks of it, of her parents too.

"I know you guys must be angry that I hid all this from you, but it wasn't my choice. Dada Jaan is very particular about this one thing. Not that his preventive measures have led us anywhere. Anywhere that counts."

He smiled sardonically. Something in his mannerism made Aahil's scowl deepen.

"But who told her?"

Alina finally voiced the elephant in the room. Mahad's face darkened. "I have no idea, but I will get to know."

"You should." Alina gnawed at her bottom lip. "Because I don't have a good feeling about it."

The three men looked at her as she gathered her thoughts.

"I got to know through Amal that she's not talking to anyone much, but her silent treatment has been the worst for Mrs. Wadia. And now that I've got to know through you that she's keeping her distance from Dada Jaan as well. Which is justified but..."

She took a deep breath.

"Two people who have made her protection their sole purpose, whether their way of going about it was right or not is a debate for another time, but they are no longer in her life in that capacity. That leaves her vulnerable to...so much!"

That made so much sense. Haleh was keeping her distance from Dada Jaan and Mrs. Wadia. A golden chance for someone to worm their way into her life undetected.

Back in Wadia House, Haleh glared at her friends.

"What do you guys take me for? Am I that naive? That predictable?"

Amal opened her mouth to say something, but Haleh beat her to it.

"I'm tired of everyone treating me like I have no mind of my own. I'm not a fragile doll, for God's sake!"

"We never said you were!" Rameen held her, pulling her in for a hug. Despite her frustration, Haleh melted into her embrace. Exactly what she'd needed since the moment she'd found that God forsaken envelope.

"We are just looking out for you, Haleh. We're on your side."

Amal caressed her hair. Haleh wiped a lone tear from her cheek. "I've already forwarded the number to the cyber cell. They have yet to get back to me about it."

The three of them heaved a sigh of relief. Haleh chuckled humorlessly.

"See, I can take care of myself. If it come to it, I can tackle the harsh realities of my life too. But too bad I wasn't considered strong enough for that."

If Rameen, Amal, and Sila had reservations with her statement, they did nothing to make it known. They were here to be with her, not to talk over her. She has had her fair share of experience with that.

"It hurts so much. The people I thought were an integral part of my life. The people I let into my life. And all the time, they were hiding things from me. Things that were personal. Things that I had all the right to know. Baba Jaan, Banu Auntie, M—"

She pursed her lip, looking away, but as she swallowed the last name, another tear rolled down her cheek.

And unbeknownst to her, her friends had noticed it. They just kept the observation to themselves.

A certain Lashari had amends to make.

In Aahil's room, Osama regarded Mahad questionably.

"What are you going to do now?"

Alina looked on hopefully while Aahil huffed, without saying anything. None of them had questioned Osama's choice of words. Technically, Dada Jaan had messed up, not Mahad. But Dada Jaan was irrelevant to this question. And seemed like everyone in the room was privy to that, begrudgingly or otherwise.

Mahad folded his hand and placed them below his chin in deep concentration.

"I will try. My best, might I add. This doesn't end here. The hell it will."

He said, all resolve and conviction, and tipped his head in a certain Dulha Bhai's direction, who looked ready to kill him.

But he had more pressing matters to attend to.

Some amends to make.

The odds were grim, and hearts were at stake.

But damn him if he let that deter him.

𝄞

Her day at Jahan Bhurban had gone entirely different from what she had anticipated. She wasn't wrong to be prepared for the worst, seeing she hadn't been received with the warmest regards the last time she was here.

She had started thinking of looking for other job opportunities in and around Murree. She was already skeptical about this arrangement, and the event management team's reaction cemented her decision even more.

Then came the intervention. Mrs. Irshad had taken advantage of the fact that she couldn't say no to her.

Indirectly, it was someone else who had taken advantage of this tiny detail. She was no fool. She had a clear idea of who goaded Mrs. Irshad to ring her up.

Not so slick, Mr. Jahangir.

But Sila could see the good in this decision. She had gotten a glimpse of it on her first visit, but today it got cleared some more.

Jahan's event management team was struggling with a capital S. No wonder Faseeh Uncle wanted her to step in because God! they needed her.

The relief on Reeta's face when Sila walked through the doors vouched for it.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Sila spent the first half observing everything with a scrutinizing gaze. At Sila's request, Reeta gathered them all for a short meeting, and that's when Sila presented her solution to all the ongoing issues. Not once did she talk over anyone. By the end of the meeting, her new team members were more than willing to tolerate her.

That was good enough for Sila. She wasn't here to make pals anyway.

They all got to work, and staying true to her designation as the operations manager, Sila was on her toes.

And for a while, she was back to her domain.

For a while, she was herself.

For a while, she had forgotten everything else.

She had taken her time, but this was needed. Better late than never. She already felt a bit better than she had all these days. Baby steps, but at least she was trying.

That had got to mean something.

She was walking toward the parking lot, lost in her thoughts, when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around and suddenly, her mood plummeted.

Hadeed smiled at her. She couldn't even wipe her scowl.

"Hi!"

Sila nodded and looked at her watch. He better hurry up. She had no place to be other than Dak Bangla but she'd be damned if she spent more time than absolutely necessary in this self-assured jackass' presence.

"I just thought that we didn't get off on a good footing, so it's better to reacquaint myself with you."

Sila wanted to roll her eyes. "Try not to welcome someone with backhanded gestures the next time, and you won't have to amend your first impression."

He smirked. "Duly noted. Hadeed, by the way."

Sila nodded. "Sila Nouraiz."

His smirk deepened. "I know. You don't need an introduction."

Yeah, Guess her reputation would precede her, no matter what. She slung her bag on her shoulder. "But your checklist still needs modifications."

"Wait, what?"

His smirk vanished as he scrambled to check his phone. Sila rolled her eyes and walked toward her car. Needless to say, he was going to spend quite some time in perfecting his checklist. Good for him.

𝄞

He had been staring aimlessly at the shiny surface of his piano for a while. Sabah had sent Jamil here in the morning. That would explain the lack of dirt around. For the first time, Aahil didn't mind it. Jamil was trustworthy. Someone who had, along with his family, seen him at his lowest.

He was getting tired of the grim anyway.

His fingers hovered over the lid. He wasn't going to play today. He had realized it didn't come as easy. Nothing like before. His fingers still trembled when they made contact with the keys, and his heart would still run a mile a minute when he'd stop.

He averted his gaze and took out his phone. Finding the chat in the archives was easy. Starting a new conversation was an uphill task, but he had to do it.

He was done running. His feet were blistered, and he was out of breath.

Is your offer still up?

He hit send and waited for the reply. He knew from experience that he wouldn't have to wait for long.

Yes.

He hesitated. The doubts clouded his mind just for a moment, but he shook them.

I'll be there tomorrow.

And I don't intend to cancel. Not this time around.

The reply came in after a minute.

I'm counting on that, young man.

See you tomorrow.

And with that, the conversation came to a halt. So did his palpitations.

He ran a hand through his hair and dialed the number. What he needed the most right then. Or always.

She had picked it up after three rings.

"Sila?" He asked, making sure she was there. As always.

"I'm here." She reassured him that she was. As always.

"How was your day?"

He asked. She had returned to Jahan Bhurban today, a fact all the Jahangirs knew.

"Better than the last time. What about you?"

She immediately deflected the conversation back to him. Asking him if he'd played today or if he'd be playing again for her would be too direct. She couldn't take such liberties just yet.

"I just had a brief conversation with Dr. Mohiuddin."

Sila stopped playing with the button on her cardigan. Dr. Mohiuddin? She gulped.

"Are you talking about Dr. Iqbal Mohiuddin?"

The silence from his end made it all clear. Sila closed her eyes.

Aahil looked down at the floor, scratching the carpet with his toe. It took effort, but one day it wouldn't. "Yeah. I'm going back to therapy."

Sila had deciphered that. Dr. Mohiuddin was the best clinical psychiatrist in Karachi. His CBT and psychodynamic therapy sessions were his specialty.

"Aahil..."

"I used to make beautiful music." He said, eyeing his piano softly. "And I'm a lucky bastard to have a beautiful wife, too."

He smiled. His eyes were glassy.

"Can't let all that beauty slip through my fingers because of some ugly experiences of my past. That'll be the worst thing to happen, and I'm done with that now."

"Are you sure? It's not going to be easy."

It had never been. If it were, he wouldn't have fled from every therapy session the moment he had to unfold his past.

"But it's going to be worth it. They told me that all the time. For the first time, I also believe it."

Because the tunnel might be long, but it has you at the end of it. Now this, but then you. The pain, the anguish, but the reward, you. Only a fool wouldn't try to walk through that tunnel.

And I'm done being a fool.

He didn't say it to her.

He would, when he'd be able to stand on his feet and run to her, leaving all his demons behind.

What a beautiful day that'd be. 

𝄞