"A S S A L A M U A L I K U M, kia haal hai Abdul bhai?" A man in his late fifties inquired.
His graying hair, wrinkled eyes showing the wisdom age had given him over the years.
"Alhamdulilah sab theek hai! Arrey aap baithain na," Abdul Rehman gestured towards the luxurious mint coloured suede sofa.

"Abdul tumne baray arsay keh baad rabta kiya hai. Sab khariat?" His eyes observing each and every corner of the lavish living room.
"Ji Sajid bhai. Sab theek hai. Darasal mein apni beti Rumi keh silsilay mein baat karna chahta hun," he stated, without hesitation.
"Han tou bolo na," Sajid was confused.

Sajid was the childhood best friend of Abdul Rehman and Kamal. Much like Kamal, he worked hard at a young age and established himself an empire. Now his latest worry was to get his son married and retire himself. Abdul Rehman, who had been out of contact with him for quite sometime now, contacted him out of nowhere, leaving him shocked. Eventhough he had a hint of what was about to come, he did not raise his hopes to much.

"Dekhein Sajid bhai, hum bachpan mein akthay hi palay hain. Woh tou bas beech mein raabtay khatam ho gai jis ko waja sai duriyan bhar gi. Par ab mein iss faslay ko mitana chahta hun. Rumaisa tou aap ki apni beti hai. Mein aap keh betay Raees ka haath mangna chahta hun," he blurted out in one breath.

Sajid stared at him for a few seconds. Thinking deeply about the proposition. Nothing seemed wrong to him with the idea. They had grown up together and knew best how their families were. And of Rumaisa was anything like her grandmother then it would be his goodluck. Unfortunately, he immediately also remembered who her mother was. A woman who had been known for scheming against those that were happier than her. His best friend, Kamal had been the victim of it as well.

"Dekho mein manta hun hum bachpan sai achay dost rahay hain. Aur tumharay khayal mein koi burai bhi tou nahin hai. Magar yeh meray betay ki saari zindagi ki khushi ka sawal hai. Mein uss sai baat kar keh tumhe bataun ga". He stood up, straightening his shirt.
"Allah hafiz. Mujhe zaroori kaam hai," he hugged Abdul Rehman and left.

No sooner had Abdul Rehman left that Munazza entered the living room. She sat herself down on the sofa next to her husband. Waiting for him to deliver the good news.
"Phir kia kaha aap keh bachpan keh yaar nai?" Her voice full of eagerness.
"Usne sochnay ka waqt liya hai," Abdul Rehman stated in a bored tone.
"Le le jitna bhi waqt chahiye. Humari Rumi tou unhi ki baho banay gi," her eyes shining with a dangerous glint.

Meanwhile, Sajid who was exiting through the door, came across Mustafa. Seeing his grown, toned form sitting on a wheel chair being pushed by another handsome man, his eyes shone with tears. To him Mustafa was his son before his own. He had held Mustafa and felt attached to him soon after he was born. After his parents death, Sajid had fought tooth and nail with Abdul Rehman for Mustafa's custody. However, he failed, leading to silence between the two friends.

"Assalamualikum Sajid uncle," Mustafa happily greeted the man who he knew as his father's greatest friend.
"Waalikumassalam meri jaan," Sajid bent down to kiss his forehead.
"Kaisay ho?" The worry wart inside him could not live without knowing.
"Bas theek hun. Aap batain ma kaisi hain?" Mustafa inquired about his wife, Raiba, the woman who was like a second mother.
"Theek hai. Tum kal humaray ghar ana tumhein dekh kar aur bhi khsush ho jai gi," he invited him to his home for dinner.
Mustafa silently replied with an InshAllah and headed to do their own thing.

Rizwan wheeled him to his home office, where he took out a stack of files to sort through. His mind racing. Today seeing the man who he thought of as a second father after long years of teary nights, Mustafa was reminded of all the blessings he had missed out on. He did not have any sincere parent figure in his life. The only one that he did, he was kept away from by his greedy family lest he tell them the truth. Mustafa's eyes shined with tears that had been withheld for years. The pain inside of him bubbling like molten lava.

"Mustafa teray dil mein jo bhi bharas hai bahir nikal de!" Rizwan advised.
"Mujh mein kia bharas ho gi? Mein to eik mazoor, anaat hun. Mujh jaison ki bhala kiya khuwahish ho sakti hai?" The pain in his voice, shining light on days of unsaid words.
"Na Mustafa. Itna mayoos nahin hotay," Rizwan tried to convince him.
"Dekh Mustafa maa baap chahe nahi magar aur bohat chane walay tou hain na? Mazoor sahi magar kam az kam tou apni mazoori mein bhi tou hatay katun sai zaida successful hai!" His words full of sincerity.
"Hmm.. kehtay ho tou maan letay hain. Magar... sach tou kuch aur hai," Mustafa said in all seriousness.

"Must-"
"Rizwan ghar jao aur uncle sai baat karo. Mujhe akela chod do," he pleaded with tears about to drip from his big, expressive eyes.
Rizwan nodded his head and left from there silently. Letting his brother like beloved friend grieve all by himself.

Mustafa shouted out loud in frustration. Throwing his stress toys with full arm force. Being careful enough to not fall down. However, the destruction that he caused in his office did little to satiate his anger. He was out of his head to the point where he did not even know why he was so frustrated. Mustafa stopped himself all of a sudden. Opening the last drawer of his big work desk. Taking out a picture frame.

Inside the frame was a family of three. Dressed in their finest outfits. The parents kissing their childs cheeks.
"Mama. Baba. Aap dono chalay gai mujhe chod kar. Apne Mustafa ko chod kar. Mein kahan jaun? Maa aap meray baalun mein aakar haath pherein na. Baba aap mujhe phirse dantain na. Kyun chup hain aap dono? Mujhe takleef mein dekh kar usse khatam karne kyun nahi aatay!!?" He shrieked.
Sobs wrecking through his body as his shoulders hunched. His tears dripped fast and hard on the picture frame. As he clutched it to his chest. Feeling lonely. Not understanding why they would leave him all alone in a world so cruel.

J A M A L H O U S E, ANDROON LHR
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Hoor stitched the sleeves of the shirt together. Her nimble fingers working smoothly on the silky material.
"Hoor yeh kapray kab denay janay hain?" Ali asked out of the blue.
"Bhai bas jaa rahi hun. Yeh baazu lag jaye bas," she replied, still focusing on the task at hand.

Her parents had gone to her -in laws place to talk about the date of marriage. Leaving her and Ali behind. Her mother had strictly told Ali to accompany her when she went to drop of the clothes at the neighbours place. Claiming that it was not a nice idea for brides to be to roam around all by themselves. She had been forced to return all the remaining clothes, as her mother said as soon as the wedding dates were set, the bride could not leave her home, for it might not be good for her. Typically this rule applied to the grooms as well however, she was sure that no groom would get so much time off of work.

"Bhai aajain chalty hai," Ali nodded his head as soon as he heard Hoor's voice.

The siblings duo left the house, locking the metal door. They walked in complete silence as they delivered all the clothes to their respective owners. By the time they arrived back, their parents were back.

"Arrey aao dulhan betho idhr," Jahan-ara teased Hoor as soon as she stepped foot inside the house.
"Ammi!" Hoor blushed.
"Arey meri jaan sharma le jitna sharmana hai. Ab tou shaadi ki tarikh paki!" She pinched her cheeks.
"Kab ki mili hai?" Ali inquired.
"26,27,28 December. Do mahina baad ki. Unko na tou jahez chahiye na kuch aur. Ab bas Hoor tou aram kar. Aur shaadi ki tiyaari shuru kar!" Jahan-ara kissed a blushing Hoor's forhead.

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