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Aspen (flower): Fear
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Under the guise of hanging out with Abeer, I'm spending the day with Rameez.

At first I was a little hesitant, Abeer's cautious warnings about my changing personality ringing in my ears. But when I saw the informal itinerary Rameez sent me, a pleased flush rose in my cheeks. He remembered the tiniest details from our conversations—how I loved hay rides and cornfields, how I had been craving mochi donuts for days, how I was dying to watch the sunset atop our town's famous rock point. He had planned the day out for us with all my activities and interests in mind—not only would it be incredibly rude of me to reject his offer, but I would personally be very heartbroken to not be able to spend the day with him, too.

As I'm heading out, I kiss my mom's forehead. She walks me to the door and furrows her brows. "Where's Abeer's car?"

Shoot. I was not expecting my mom to bid me goodbye since she always used to be in her room. My heart thuds against my chest as I scramble for a response. "Oh, I just asked her to wait by the neighborhood entrance so I could get some walking in." I chuckle nervously.

She nods, and for a moment guilt crawls up my throat at her immediate and blissful acceptance of my lie. Then I wave and head down the street to where Rameez's car is waiting.

"Hi," I say brightly as I open the passenger door.

He looks up from his phone, breaking into a breathtaking smile when our eyes meet. "Hey!" he says as I settle in and lock my seatbelt. "How are you?"

He seems genuinely happy to see me. The realization causes color to rise to my cheeks and dispels any anxiety from spending the day with him. "I'm good!" I chirp. "How are you?"

"Excited," he says breathlessly, switching gears and putting his foot on the gas.

"Me, too," I say, nervously playing with my fingers. The exhilaration I'm experiencing is so foreign that I have to take a breath before saying my next words. "I really appreciate this, Rameez," I say quietly. "The way you planned out the whole day, your attention to detail, seriously, I appreciate it so much."

He clucks his tongue. "Stop thanking me. I wanted to spend the day with you. Also, I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" I squeal, then blush at the amused expression on his face. "What kind of surprise?"

He quirks his lips and throws me a sidelong glance. "Wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, would it?"

"Sorry, sorry." I mime zipping my lips shut and throwing away the key.

He chuckles, then strategically maneuvers the conversation into different territory in a way I've begun to envy. "We'll grab food first and then head to the farm. Sound good?" I nod, jittery with excitement.

"Hey," Rameez says softly after a couple moments. "I'm glad you came."

"Me, too."

. . .

The day is absolutely, heartbreakingly perfect. Every moment feels straight out of a dream. I eat mochi donuts and drink apple cider to my heart's content, and we take the hay ride three times. As we're driving away from the farm, we pass by a seasonal carnival and I squeal when I see the giant Ferris wheel. Rameez chuckles at my childish excitement, then immediately heads to the carnival. We ride the Ferris wheel, eat churros, and I laugh until my cheeks are stained pink.

It's so beautiful I don't want it to end.

We're currently sitting on top of our town's famous rock point, arms crossed over knees as we watch the sun begin to set. I sigh contentedly, leaning my head against my arm.

"Rameez," I whisper, afraid to disturb the stillness and the peace surrounding us in the chilly October air. "Thank you."

"For what?" he murmurs.

"For everything. For today. I..." I lift my head to look at him shyly. "I couldn't ask for a better way to spend the day."

His eyes twinkle as the last few rays of the sun are setting. He cocks his head to the side, gauging something from my expression. He must find what he's seeking, because suddenly he's leaning forward slowly and I'm holding my breath.

Rameez places a gentle kiss to my forehead, and my eyes flutter closed, shock and pleasure warring inside me. I open my eyes as he leans back, a shy smile on his face as he watches me.

For some reason, I'm unable to form words. The feel of his lips on my forehead still lingers, and I resist the urge to touch my forehead and savor it. I break into a soft smile, and he grins back at me.

Then, in a moment of sudden panic, the smile vanishes from my face and I stand quickly. "Oh, my God."

"What?" Rameez immediately stands with me, concern etching between his brows.

"Oh, my God, we missed asr," I gasp, heart beginning to thump frantically.

For a moment, there's a relieved expression on Rameez's face, as if he was afraid I would say something about the forehead kiss. Then he blinks. "Oh. Shoot, you're right."

I look around, trying to find a suitable place to pray. "Do you have a prayer mat? It's almost maghrib now, we should pray both."

He shrugs out of his fleece and places it on the ground. "Here, we can pray on this."

I stand there clutching a hand against my heart, too disturbed by our missing a prayer to move.

I haven't missed a prayer in years. I'm definitely not the most religious person and I have a hell of a long way to go, but I've always made it a point to keep my prayers consistent, especially since Arafat passed away.

"Hayat?" Rameez's voice breaks me out of my distressed thoughts. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I just..." I take a deep breath. "Can't believe we forgot." I glance at the fleece. "Won't this get dirty?"

He shakes his head. "It's okay. Let me get another one from my car, and we'll pray together?"

I nod wordlessly. As he jogs back to the car, I inhale deeply and watch the sunset. It's breathtaking, orange and pink hues decorating the sky in vibrant colors. I've always been fascinated by how sunrises are usually more pink, and sunsets more orange. As if the sky knows we need a softer hue to begin the day, and a darker one to complete it.

I sigh, placing a hand against my chest. My heart is still rapidly beating, and I squeeze my eyes shut. I can't believe I was having such a good time with Rameez that I missed a prayer. The thought upsets me more than I expect it to, and suddenly Abeer's words about how I've changed are nagging me again.

Rameez returns with another hoodie and spreads it on the floor behind and to the right of the fleece. We take our places and he begins leading the prayer. I'm so distressed that I'm unable to focus properly, and suddenly I want nothing more than to go home.

On the drive back home, I'm quieter. Rameez notices, because he attempts conversation at first but we lapse into silence when I become unresponsive.

When we're outside my house, I turn to him. "Thank you," I say quietly. "For today. I really enjoyed it."

I turn to go before he grabs my hand, gently squeezing it. "Hayat," he murmurs. "Are you okay? Did I do something to upset you or—"

"No, no." I shake my head. "Don't worry about it. I'm just a little tired, is all."

"Okay." He nods, but I can tell he doesn't believe me. He hesitates, then reaches into the backseat and grabs a gift bag, handing it to me. "Your surprise," he murmurs, avoiding my eyes.

I take it and slowly remove the gift paper from the top, pulling out the item inside. I spread it out on my lap and gasp when I realize what it is.

"You got me a floral printed lab coat?" I whisper, running my fingers over the material in awe.

He ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. "I just...wanted to give you something small for whenever you decide to go to college and med school. And...you love flowers, so—"

I cut him off by leaning forward and embracing him impulsively. Rameez is frozen for a moment before he wraps his arms tightly around me, burying his face in my hair.

"Thank you," I say quietly, voice thick with emotion.

He rubs a soothing hand against my back. "You're welcome."

I pull back and smile, the anxiety from earlier having dissipated. "I should go now," I say. He nods and I wave goodbye as I exit the car.

I trudge up the driveway to my front door, taking a deep breath before turning to wave at Rameez. He waves back as I unlock the door, then drives away once I'm inside.

I have no time to process the past couple of hours because as soon as I enter, my mom rushes up to me and shakes my shoulders. Her eyes are bloodshot and her nose is puffed up, as if she's been spending the past hour crying.

My heart immediately bursts out of my chest.

"Hayat!" she says frantically, continuing to shake my shoulders. "Have you spoken to Ihsaan? Where is he?"

"Ihsaan?" I say, my body registering the tension in the air before my mind is able to. My teeth begin to chatter as terror spreads throughout me from the expression on her face. "No, I haven't s-spoken to him. W-Why, what happened?"

I know my mom is still treading dangerous emotional waters, so I had been texting and giving her updates all day so she wouldn't worry.

"He was supposed to be back three hours ago and he's still not here. I called him so many times and he's not picking up. Hayat," my mom's voice breaks and fresh tears roll down her face. "Hayat, what if something happened?"

I feel as if someone has just dumped cold water all over me. My eyes widen at her words, breath beginning to come in sporadic bursts. "W-What?"

Mama begins to sob, frail hands letting go of me as she presses them against her temples. She shakes her head back and forth, managing to let out a stream of barely comprehensible words—"What if something happened?"—before she collapses on the floor.

For a moment, I'm too stunned to move. I stare at my mom with growing horror, filled with a dread so cold I feel as if I'm turning to ice.

Then I remember Arafat's words from seemingly a lifetime ago. I visited him during a particularly stressful shift at the hospital once, and had marveled over the levelheaded way he handled hysterical patients.

"How do you do it?" I asked him, baffled.

He snapped his latex gloves off and threw them in the garbage. "We have to remain clinical and focused, always. You know when you're on a flight and there's really bad turbulence or other technical issues, but you see the calm smiles of the air hostesses and you become relaxed again, even if something's potentially wrong? Medicine as a profession is the same. People trust us to put them at ease. We're the air hostesses, they're the travelers. We have to remain calm at all times."

I break out of my trance and place Rameez's gift bag on the foyer table. I bend down, taking a shaky breath as I grasp my mom's shoulder. "Mama," I whisper. She doesn't seem to hear me and continues to sob, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Mama," I repeat, sharper this time as I gain my bearings. My teeth are still chattering, but I slip into the facade of the brave daughter.

I've always been good at pretending.

"Mama, nothing happened to Ihsaan, okay? He's fine. He's fine." I'm not sure if the words are more for myself than for her, but I have to say them. I squeeze her shoulder and retrieve my phone from my purse with trembling hands. "Where's Papa?"

"At w-work. He said he had to stay late for a project."

"Did you call him?"

She shakes her head, breath hitching as she cries. "I didn't...I didn't want anyone to worry. And your dad is always worrying about me anyways..."

She trails off and my chest clenches at her words. Ihsaan's scolding really affected her, perhaps a little too much. She's taken a complete one-eighty since that day, so much so that she's afraid to voice a concern so as not to be an inconvenience.

"Mama," I say quietly, heart thumping against my chest. "We're family. We have to take care of each other." I unlock my phone and dial my dad's number.

He picks up on the third ring. "Shehzaadi?" he says, inserting cheer into his weary voice. "How are you?"

I swallow, losing my nerve at the glimpse of happiness in his voice. "I'm good, Papa, how are you?"

"Good, beti. Sorry about being late today. I'm caught up with some things. Everything okay? Are you back home? Did you have a good time with Abeer today?"

I place a hand against my throat, unable to voice the purpose of my call.

"Shehzaadi?" Papa says, concern lacing his voice now. "Hello? Everything okay?"

"Yes!" I chirp, heading to the living room so Papa can't hear Mama crying. "Yes, sorry. I was wondering...do you have Ihsaan's office extension, by any chance? I know it changed when he got promoted, and I forgot to save it."

Paper shuffles at the other end of the line. "Ihsaan's office extension? Yes, I have it. Why, is everything okay?"

"Yes!" I exclaim a little too quickly. "Yes, everything's fine. Actually...I wanted to surprise him with something at his office one of these days, and I wanted to ask his coworkers something." I'm momentarily fascinated by how easily the lie rolls off my tongue.

"Oh, okay. That's so sweet of you, beta. I'll send you the number right now."

When Papa disconnects the call, I dial the office number and extension he sent me. The receptionist picks up the phone, inquiring about how she may help me.

"Hi," I say hurriedly. "I'm Hayat, Ihsaan Amanullah's sister. I wanted to ask if he left work yet? He hasn't been picking up the phone."

"Ihsaan?" I hear the click clack of a keyboard on the other end. "Yeah, he clocked out almost three hours ago."

"Oh," I whisper, dread coiling my insides. I avoid my mom's eyes, which are piercing me from the foyer area as she mutely waits for me to provide her with the reassurance I don't have. "Did he mention going anywhere else after work?"

"No, not that I know of, sorry." Her voice is sympathetic.

"Okay," I barely make out. "Thanks."

As soon as I end the call, my mom rushes towards me and grabs my hand. Her grip is so strong that I resist flinching. "What did they say? Is Ihsaan at work?"

I shake my head mutely and she sags against the sofa. "Mera beta," she cries, agony lacing her words. "Something happened to my beta, I just know it."

"Nothing happened." My voice is razor sharp. "Nothing, okay?" I grab a bottle of water from the kitchen and open it with trembling hands, holding it out in front of my mom. "Please calm down, Mama. I'm sure he'll be coming soon."

My mom thrusts the bottle away and places her head in her hands, shoulders shaking with sobs.

I cap the water and pace around the living room, frantically thinking of what to do. If I tell my dad, he will leave work immediately and rush home, and I don't want him to drive recklessly as a result.

Maybe I can tell Abeer? Or Rameez? But what will they do? I would succeed in nothing but making them worried as well.

My mom's sobs intensify, and I bite my lower lip, contemplating the most feasible solution.

Before I can overthink and go back on my decision, I'm grabbing my phone and calling the only person I can think of.

He picks up on the third ring.

"Mikaal?" I say hurriedly. "Are you home?"

"Yes, I am. What's wrong with your voice? Is everything okay, Hayat?"

"No, nothing is okay." My voice breaks, the composure I've been carefully constructing since I came home crumbling. I press a hand to my forehead, taking a deep breath before relaying the story to Mikaal.

"Oh, no," he says when I'm finished. "Okay, you guys don't worry, alright? I'm going to figure this out."

"Wait!" I cry, panic clawing its way up my throat when I realize he's going to disconnect. "What are you going to do?"

"I'll figure it out, Hayat, don't worry. My mom and I will be over in a few minutes, okay?"

I end the call, my teeth beginning to chatter again. Edging closer to my mom, I grasp her hands and place them in my lap, attempting to ground myself despite feeling like I'm going to fall into a never ending abyss at any moment. Memories from five months ago flash back in spurts in my mind. The happiness of Princeton's acceptance letter right before the horrifying call from the police, the terror as we rushed to the hospital, the shock when we visited the morgue instead of the ICU, the deafening numbness that took over when I lifted the white cloth and saw my brother's face.

I shiver as I recall that night, and my mom turns to me and wraps her arms around me despite falling into despair herself.

"It'll be okay," I whisper against her temple. "Mikaal and his mom are coming. It'll be fine. It'll be fine." I continuously repeat the words like a mantra until the doorbell rings.

As soon as I open the door, Mikaal's mom rushes forward and embraces me tightly. "Don't worry, Hayat." She smooths my hair. "Ihsaan will be fine, Insha Allah."

Those are all the words I need. I sag against her, throat clogging with the tears I've been holding back. Mikaal enters behind her and throws me a reassuring smile.

Auntie heads to my mom and Mikaal nods towards the kitchen. I follow him with shaky legs, and for a stupid, distracted moment, I fumble over my appearance.

Mikaal turns to me once we're in the kitchen. "Okay, I called Riaz and the others to ask if they knew of Ihsaan's whereabouts. They didn't, but Riaz has his location." His voice is comforting in a clinical sort of way. I figure this is how he must be talking to his patients. "Ihsaan's phone is probably dead, but his last location shows he was on the highway, and there's a massive slowdown due to traffic. Riaz and Zaroon are heading there right now and will update me soon, okay?"

I can't form a reply. His voice seems to be coming from very far away, as if my ears are blocked and his words are attempting to pierce them. The expression on my face must concern him because Mikaal snaps his fingers and ducks his head to look in my eyes. "Hayat? You okay?"

I blink, nodding quickly. "I don't know why I didn't think of checking his location."

"It's okay. You were worried. Don't beat yourself up over it."

I fumble with my hands, suddenly remembering the last time Mikaal and I met. We were in this very kitchen, and he was sitting at the table with red eyes and a puffy nose as everyone surrounded him. I was standing at the far corner of the kitchen, wanting to melt into the ground from having pepper sprayed him.

I tug a strand of my hair as I mumble, "I'm really sorry again about last time. I really didn't know it was you, and I panicked, and—"

"Hayat." Mikaal huffs out a surprised laugh as he runs a hand through his hair. "Are you serious? Stop apologizing. That's really not a concern right now, and I already forgot about it."

My cheeks heat, embarrassment crawling through me again. "I know, I just—I still feel horrible about it. And I..." I trail off at the exasperated look in his eyes, then clear my throat. "I'm sorry, I forgot to ask if you wanted water or something—"

I break off when Mikaal shakes his head and begins to chuckle. An odd sort of pressure builds in my chest as I watch his eyes light up. "Hayat," he says. "Can you stop? There's no need to be hospitable right now. Just relax, okay?"

Nodding wordlessly, I make my way to the living room. Auntie is soothingly rubbing my mom's hands in between hers and constantly throwing me reassuring smiles. The four of us sit in agonizing silence for a couple minutes, eyes constantly darting to Mikaal's phone in hopes of an update from Riaz or Zaroon.

Until we hear the sound of a car pulling into the driveway, then the jingle of keys as someone opens the front door. Seconds later, a weary-looking Ihsaan steps inside.

The relief that envelops me is suffocating in its intensity. My mom cries out and rushes towards him, wrapping him in a hug and sobbing against him. His eyes are wide with confusion as he slowly returns the embrace.

"Ihsaan," my mom sobs. "Thank God, thank God. Where were you, beta?"

My brother's eyes dart to mine, then trail to Mikaal and his mom. His brows furrow.

The picture of him standing in our foyer area, weary after a day of work, is one my horrified subconscious had begun to convince me I would never see again. I'm so relieved by it that my knees crumple, and I sag against the sofa. Mikaal's mom squeezes my shoulder reassuringly.

"There were...three accidents on the highway," Ihsaan says in a voice of bewilderment. "So much traffic it was impossible to drive. I left you a voice note once I got on the highway—did you not get it? My phone must have died before it sent, and I haven't been able to find my charger for days—Mama, why are you crying?"

My mom shakes her head back and forth against Ihsaan's chest, tears streaming down her face. My brother's baffled expression morphs into one of guilt as he wraps her more tightly in his embrace. "Okay. It's alright, Mama. I'm sorry," he whispers against her temple. "I'm sorry, Mama."

Slowly, I muster the strength to walk towards Ihsaan, tears blurring my vision. He wordlessly reaches out for me and encircles me in his arms with Mama.

"You're trembling," Ihsaan whispers in my ear.

"You...you scared the sh** out of me, Ihsaan," I whisper back.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, rubbing my back soothingly. "Won't happen again."

Later, when Ihsaan has profusely apologized to Mama and she's stopped crying, and Mikaal has notified Riaz and Zaroon that Ihsaan has safely returned home, he and his mom stand to leave.

"We should get going, Layla," Auntie says to my mom. She turns a stern glance to Ihsaan. "Beta, your mom was very worried about you. Be careful next time, okay? May Allah always protect you."

"Ameen, Auntie. I'm sorry to have troubled you." Ihsaan says sheepishly, ducking his head.

She shakes her head and smiles. "It was no trouble. I'm glad Hayat called us."

Before they leave, Mikaal pulls Ihsaan to the side and murmurs something in a low voice. I strain to hear him over Mama and Auntie's voices.

"Look, man, you gotta be really careful," Mikaal says with folded arms. "Don't let anything like this happen again. Your family is still really vulnerable; anything could send them over the edge."

"I know, I know." Ihsaan blows out a sigh and shoves a hand through his hair. "I just—I lost my charger and my phone was dead and there were multiple accidents on the highway and the traffic was insane—"

"I know. I understand. But with the delicate place your family is at right now, you need to be really careful. Take extra precautions. Borrow someone's charger or phone or something like that. Just keep them posted so they don't worry." Mikaal pats Ihsaan's shoulder and my brother nods.

As I watch the two of them, an odd sensation spreads throughout my chest. A strange warmth, as if my heart had become a dark place, and suddenly a soft glowing light is spreading throughout it, illuminating every nook and cranny.

A sensation I'm becoming weirdly familiar with every time I am in Mikaal Zaman's presence.

. . .

Assalaamu 'Alaikum (peace be upon you),

The irony is that I despise love triangles, and somehow I'm writing about one. :')

The only good love triangle ever written is in the Once Upon A Broken Heart series, change my mind about it.

Anyways, sorry for the bombastically late update. I just graduated college and have been incredibly busy lately. I'm going to try to update more frequently now, though.

Thank you for your patience and thank you for reading!