"It's Ren-de-r-inggggg."

Bob didn't stop there, "It's been rendering yesterday, it's rendering today and it will render tomorrow. My future seems so bleak to me, Saad."

"You know it's not wifi's fault, it's just our fate."

"My fate's an awful bitch."

"I am going to block my ears if you are going to speak like that, " Saad said, inserting a finger inside his ears.

"Oops, Sorry!" Bob cried out, "Who will listen to my vents if you don't?"

Bob was a newbie intern in the firm and Saad was assigned to train the fifteen-year-old boy who has his eyes set to become a graphic designer.

Saad nodded, silently opening his laptop to open After Effects and other apps to complete his pending work.

"I am stupid but I don't need to know that. Don't make me realize that," Bob exclaimed, shaking Saad's shoulders, "That's why I adore you, Saad. You are the mindful one among us."

"Criticizing yourself isn't going to speed up the GPU, Bob," calculating in his mind about what to fix, what to change, and what to add to the layout.

"See, you are the mindful one."

Saad chuckled, shaking his head and zoning out his friend to concentrate on his design. The people in his internship workspace were very friendly, loving, and kind. Except for Bob, he was immature.

"Siddiqui, Glad to see you again, " His Boss chimed as he entered the room filled with cubicles.

Saad smiled warmly as he focussed to curate the cutout properly. It felt good to be back to work. His vacation had been delightful with Samad getting engaged to his love.

As the word settled on his brain cells, his hold on the mouse involuntarily tightened. The reflection of the screen in his glasses was prominently visible but if someone looked deeper, they could see his pupils losing their focus, getting lost in thought.

"Ctrl + A to select all?" Bob asked from beside him.

"Yes," Saad replied, coming to his senses as he pulled his Harry Potter glasses up, "and Ctrl + B for making the text bold," he repeated.

Before Saad took a few days off, he was teaching Bob to memorize the shortcuts. He repeated all the commands he had memorized, laughing at the end for successfully remembering the shortcuts.

"I am sure before this internship ends, I am going to become a pro," Bob gleamed.

Saad chuckled at him, "You are such a kid, now if you could let me work-"

"But my design is still rendering," Bob groaned, making the other one laugh even more.

Saad didn't know how his day passed with Bob constantly nagging him to lend his ears, eating lunch in the subway with his coworkers, mismatching fonts, and organizing his unruly desk which was also Bob's doing on the two days he had taken off.

"I am home," Saad called out from the threshold, removing his shoes. Sighing in relief at the scent of coming back him from work.

"Come over here!" His mother called from inside the kitchen.

Saad followed the voice. The L-shaped kitchen counter was full of electronics, oil bottles, and a clean burner in the middle. His mother moved a bowl of khawa in his direction. "Is the milk spoiled again?"

"What should I say?" Shabna exhaled, her fingers wiping the sweat on her forehead.

"Shouldn't you be keeping this for Muhammad?" He asked, even though he liked the sweet with all his heart.

"He had it yesterday, Saad. Better have this before he comes, shabash!" she gestured, moving towards the sink to do the dishes.

"Mom, it's okay."

"It's not okay, it's hina-unsafefi to eat it by himself, and I love all my children the same, I cannot keep quiet when I know you like it too," Shabna went on, scrubbing a frying pan. "I have made aloo paratha to amend him."

Saad looked at her back to him, her care reminding him of the time when he was her only child, even though adopted. He had the house to himself, his parent's attention to himself, and their love for him alone. It had been euphoric.

His sibling's arrival brought him a lot of joy too. They completed their family. Sometimes differences of opinion arose, and mindsets clashed but Saad knew, he had lived a life of adjustments before, it was easy for him to play the role of a bigger brother. So he made sure his siblings didn't make any adjustments in life. He would make sure they will be on the safe shore, even willing to sink into the deep sea.

"What are you thinking? Eat before he comes," Shabna turned to him, her eyes disapproving.

"On my way," he grinned at her, opening the drawer beneath the burner to grab a spoon.

"Your hands hold magic, it's melting in my tongue."

"Stop icing me. Go sit and eat," she shook her head, her chuckles warmed his ears as he opened the sliding glass doors to go to their small backyard. He saw his Dad digging in the black mud to plant the vegetable seeds they had bought online.

"Finally," Maahi exclaimed looking at Saad holding the bowl of sweet, his hands opening the cover containing the dry seeds, "All day she was blabbering about giving the Khawa to you."

Saad smiled gratefully, his sacrifices were never unseen. His parents adored him. He knew they loved him more than their children.

It was almost Maghreb when the Dad and son walked inside, their clothes soiled and shirts soaked in sweat. "Shabna, don't forget to kiss my hands for the wonders I have done in the backyard."

"PDA, Dad," Muhammad groaned from the couch.

"You live in the US, you are watching Netflix, and so, you lose the right to speak PDA."

"I am heading to shower, " Saad announced, walking inside his room.

"Good. After showering, let's go to the masjid," Maahi called out from behind.

Saad nodded without turning, hearing the noises of Khadija and Muhammad fighting over the TV. Muhammad wanted to watch Manifest while Khadija was explaining to him that the last season of Never Have I Ever has been out, and Muhammad told her to back off because what he was watching was also the last season.

"You should have taken the remote first if you wanted to watch," Muhammad grunted.

"The house is not written in your name and so is the TV-"

"Kids," Maahi loudly groaned, "Is this a fish market?" he asked looking around, his gaze settling on his wife who was trying to block her ears. "It's time for Maghreb, off the TV and Muhammad, Come with us to the masjid. It's not good for men to pray at home."

Khadija stuck her tongue out and Muhammad rolled his eyes, begrudgingly throwing the remote on the couch. "Let me do my wudhu first."

"I will start the car by then," Saad said, walking towards the threshold.

Returning home and after dinner, cleaning up, and having tea together, Saad was about to go to his room when his brother called him by his name, "Did you happen to have khawa today?"

Saad's breath stuck in his throat as he turned around, his hand going to the back of his head to rub his hair, "Why... Why would you think so?"

Muhammad measured him up and down, "I wanted to add milk to my tea, it's not there. I heard Mom asking Dad to buy a carton on his way."

"Oh!"

"Was it spoiled again? Did she give it to you?" he further enquired.

Saad's lips filled with moisture and lying seemed to be a good option, he glanced on both sides, everyone in his house had gone to bed. Asma and Jesima stayed in Anjum's house. His palms turned cold. He didn't like the feeling that creeped through his spine, of not feeling home in his home.

"Why do you look like a deer caught in a red light?"

"Yes. It was spoiled and Mom gave it to me."

Saad loved Muhammad like a brother but it bothered him whenever Muhammad didn't treat him as one. And hearing his answer, Muhammad's lips turned into a menacing smile. "You know, It's not like I don't like sharing. I particularly don't like sharing with you," he said, his index finger pointing to Saad.

Saad didn't ask why. He didn't dare to put his heart on a platter to be stomped. But Muhammad answered his unasked question.

"You are too good to be true."

Muhammad wanted to speak more but he decided not to. He remarked Saad one last time before storming up the stairs.

For a long time, Saad stared at the place his brother had stood seconds back. Wishing, pleading to Allah that his brother never said those words. His throat clogged and his breathing was lethally slow - making his Adam's apple bobble up and down.

This is why,

This is why I stopped liking kulsoom long back.

Because what was once an emotion that set his heart on fire, was now a wrath that will set his family on fire.