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*

Arhaan

"Bhai, are you sure?" Ahad asked me, uncertainly.

As Armaan and Maheen left home, Nazia and I explained our decision to my younger brother and his wife.

I felt a little guilty at not seeing my son and his wife off, but I was mentally drained and my disappointment in him overshadowed the guilt anyway.

"It all had to come down to this. Maybe it's best for the kids and their growing families." I nodded. "You and Zoya can find a place of your own with us in Askari if you want. Fawad and Jasmina will come there soon as well. We'll live there. The house will be sold off, and the money from the sale will be equally divided amongst all of the kids."

Naz and I had talked about it most of the night, and now it was time to discuss with Ahad and Zoya.

"We were also thinking of giving Billu the option of moving out after marriage anyway." Zoya nodded, looking at Ahad. "I suppose this will work out better."

"The kids won't agree, Bhai. You know how adamant Ismael and Ibrahim are about moving out." Ahad spoke grimly.

"Ahad, we'll explain this to them. In the long run, this will be beneficial for them." I continued. "Face it, times have changed. Kids like their independence now, and there's nothing wrong with that. None of them will hate the idea of independence, you'll see."

"I think Ismael will feel it the most." Nazia spoke softly to me.

"He'll understand. His thinking level and style matches mine to a great extent. He'll understand my point of view." I was convinced of that.

It hurt a lot to sell off the house that my parents had purchased before my birth. But I was worried that soon this home will once again become a family politics battlefield, even with Armaan gone. Before that happened, we had to think sensibly as the elders and take this step.

"You are making a lot of sense, Bhai." Ahad nodded.

"We'll discuss this with the kids as soon as possible." I said.

I leaned back in my seat, closing my head, tilting my head back against the soft back of the seat. I imagined myself and Fawad sitting in the garden on warm summer evenings, having chai while conversing in Punjabi. I imagined our wives pacing around, talking and laughing. I imagine our kids and grandkids visiting us, and the excitement of seeing them all there. I imagined a beautiful retirement with my siblings and my best friend.  It was truly a dream.

I had to admit, I had been inspired by Fawad to take this decision. Although he had daughters, who married and moved away, we could do the same regarding our sons, and find ourselves a smaller place. I've often wondered over the years if things would have been different with Sadia had we lived on our own, but instead of dwelling on that for too long, I promised myself to do everything that I could to ensure that my kids never ended up in such a situation.

I looked at Ahad. For decades our families had lived together. But just because Zoya and Naz got along amazingly, it would be unfair for us to expect our daughters-in-law to live in a similar situation. Yes, they got along right now, but this could change in the future, and before it turned ugly, it was wise to take this step.

"The Sheikh family home will be sold off." I announced my final decision once again, to my wife, my brother and his wife. 

****

Zaid

I was waiting impatiently for Noor. It felt like forever since I'd last seen her, even though it had only been days. 

The domestic arrivals of Islamabad Airport wasn't very busy at this time, fortunately, providing me a clearer view of the doors where the passengers were exiting from. 

I checked the time on my wrist watch, before glancing back again through my sunglasses. Where are you, Cupcake?

And then I saw her, my sweet Cupcake, walking towards me dragging her medium sized rolling trolley bag. She had left her heavier party outfits back in Lahore, and had just returned with the necessities. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore a plain black kameez with chudidar and a black net dupatta with red and green floral patterns. 

"There is she! My favourite person to cuddle!" I said, in a tone only loud enough for her to hear. "Assalam Alaikum, my delicious Cupcake!"

"Walaikum Assalam!" Her cheeks were pink and her eyes sparkled as she looked at me.

Noor was home, with me, where she belonged. 

I took her luggage from her, dragging it behind her, while taking her hand in mine. I'd been provided with a temporary car and accommodation while we were here, and I took Noor to where the beautiful white Audi was parked. 

I chuckled as I thought about how I had sent Billu a photo, and he had immediately recognised the car model and the year it was released. Billu was an underestimated (and unexpected) genius, Ma Sha Allah.

"What a beautiful weather." Noor looked up at the cloudy grey skies that threatened rain. The smell of wet earth filled our noses, making us breath in deeply...until the smell of exhaust fumes made us cough. The perfect mixture of natural beauty and human-caused pollution, a mixture of our modern world. "When we were in the plane, the raindrops were splattering the window, but the plane was shaking almost scarily, so I couldn't enjoy the view." 

"Did you wish I was there so that you could hide in my arms?" I teased her lightly.

"I wish you were there in Lahore with me." Suddenly her expressions turned serious, and she looked away absent-mindedly.

"What's going on?" I asked, concerned.

"Armaan is causing a lot of drama." She sighed. "I'm worried about Taya Jaan and Tayi Jaan." 

"Yaar, yeh Armaan ko ho kya gaya hai?" I sighed. 

*"What has happened to Armaan?" 

"He's so rude these days and has no regards for anyone." She looked annoyed. "The way he spoke to poor Amara..." 

"I don't see what his issue is. He has amazing parents, caring brothers,  a loving sister, plus Ahad Chachu and the rest of your family. Ma Sha Allah. Plus he has a steady job and a beautiful home. Why is he causing unnecessary drama?" I shook my head. After witnessing so much grief in my family, it p***ed me off that Armaan was throwing a tantrum over potential problems. Ungrateful a*****e.

Yes, I know that problems shouldn't be compared, but what I would do to see my family as happy and content as the Sheikhs (Ma Sha Allah), with no dark shadows of the past clouding any happiness that we faced. And Armaan was just causing unnecessary problems in a perfect family.

"I'm legit worried." Noor sighed, as we settled into the car.

"Have faith in Allah." I reached out and placed a hand over her thigh. "Arhaan Uncle and Nazia Aunty are too good, Ma Sha Allah. Everything will fall into place for them, In Sha Allah." 

"In Sha Allah." Noor smiled weakly. "Taya Jaan deserves all the goodness of this life and the next life, Zaid. He has lived a very selfless, very compassionate life, Ma Sha Allah." 

"He is a rare gem." I nodded, proud to be associated with such an amazing family, with such an amazing human being.

****

Noor hit the books the moment we got home, after days of holiday. 

"I legit don't even remember the function of each tooth." I stood behind her where she sat at the desk, studying diagrams of teeth with detailed explanations. "How do you remember? All I know is that I used the frickin' things to chew food." 

"Zaidu, are you familiar with the term 'dentist'?" She blinked up at me. "They are people who specialise in teeth. It's kind of their job. It's kind of what I'm studying to be."

"Wait..." I leaned down, placing my hands on her shoulders. "I know another thing about my teeth. They love nibbling here," I gently took her earlobe between my teeth. 

"Zaid, let me study!" She groaned. "I have missed so much study time these last few days." 

"Well, I have missed Noor Time." I massaged her shoulders. "You can study all day tomorrow, when I'm off training young idiots." 

She giggled. "Teachers or trainers should not talk about their students like this."

"Not to their faces anyway." I kissed the top of her head. "Come on, Cupcake. Didn't you miss me?" 

"Is the purpose of a molar to grind or crush food?" She asked.

"I am guessing that's an obvious question, and I don't remember the answer, but I'm guessing it's a yes?" I grinned.

"I'm going to give you a lesson or two about teeth." She opened her mouth, gritting her teeth together. "I'll teach you about biting, and nibbling..." She looked cheekily at me, wrapping her arms around my neck.

"Oh God, all this talk about biting and chewing is making me hungry." I said. "Shall we order some pizza?" 

"Yes, definitely. I haven't had a pizza in days. The usual?" She grabbed her phone. "It's my turn to pay, before you moan." 

"No, it's my turn. You paid the last time." I complained.

"No, Omar Bhai did by ordering all the way from Lahore on the app. So that time doesn't count. It's still my turn." She shrugged. "Go and find us something good to watch on TV please. You want Coca Cola or Fanta?" 

"Surprise me." I walked out down the hall towards the living room. Grabbing the remote from the coffee table, I turned the TV on.

While I waited for Noor to come out, I messaged Omar Bhai.

<Zaid: How's Mamma? How is the rest of the family? Has Papa cut down his working hours, as we suggested?>

My brother and I had both advised our father to reduce his working hours because he was taking too much stress onto himself. Papa was hesitant, but we were stubborn as well. With two sons, Ma Sha Allah, he shouldn't be working this hard.

<Omar Bhai: All well, Alhumdulillah. Did Noor reach safely? All okay there?>

<Zaid: All good. Tell Mamma I'll call soon, In Sha Allah. It's probably her nap time right now, right?>

<Omar Bhai: I'm not home, but yeah, she does sleep at this time.>

I missed home. It was funny how the definition of home changed for me. When Noor returned, it felt like home here. And now that I was missing my family, I felt homesick again for my real home.

Noor entered the room. "Pizza and drink ordered. What did you decide?" 

"I haven't yet, but the other day I was thinking about Jurassic Park." I muttered. "And how hilarious it was that the man was sitting in that little toilet stall, hiding when the T-Rex ripped the entire shed away, leaving the man cowering in front of the creature on a toilet seat."

"I was terrified when I first watched it." Noor admitted. "I had so many nightmares about it that Mama had to sleep beside me for one whole week. She had already warned me not to watch it, but Billu and I watched it with Iman, Ibrahim Bhai and Armaan. We all got in so much trouble with our parents, but poor Mama had to come and sleep beside me." 

"I was there, remember! I'm the one who suggested it." I laughed.

"Oh yeah, you were part of us troublemakers." She lay down on the sofa, resting her head on my lap. "We all had some crazy times, didn't we?" 

"They were the best times." I smiled. "Ibbi and Mani came up with the best pranks."

"Yes, and they received the best punishments as well." Noor giggled. "Like when Taya Jaan made Ibbi Bhai wash the cars with the drivers after he terrified Dado by placing a fake snake in the car that she was going to work in." 

"Or the time Ibbi and Iman climbed up onto the tree after dark, and scared the living daylights out of Hania Appi and Ismael Bhai." I laughed again. "They were both not allowed to go out to the amusement park with us the next day, and Fawad Uncle and Arhaan Uncle didn't listen to anyone on this."

She sat up and studied me, quietly. "Did you ever feel like the Sheikh family home had been the Central Headquarters for all of us? That was where we all normally met, where we all had some amazing times as an extended family, and we have the absolute best memories there."

"Yeah, it always felt like home to me, to be honest." I agreed. "The way Ahad Uncle, especially, had always made us feel like a part of the Sheikh family." 

"Zafar Papa means a lot to my Papa." She held my hand between hers. "He keeps saying that he had no idea where he would have been if it were not for Zafar Papa." 

"I think we all underestimate what Ahad Chachu means to my Papa. Everyone keeps saying that Papa pulled your Papa out of the dark side, but Chachu has been an incredible support to Papa. Despite the class differences, Ahad Chachu has been there for Papa through thick and thin. May Allah always keep their friendship going strong. Ameen." 

"Ameen." 

I wrapped my arm around her. "I love this independence with you, Noor, but for me our real home is where my parents are, where my brother and his family is. Life seems quieter and not quite complete without them." 

"I have to agree. I'm so used to them all now that it feels weird being on our own." 

"I can't wait to go back home." I kissed her forehead.

"Me too." 

For some people independent life is a blessing, it's a dream. But now that Noor and I had lived the best of both worlds, we wanted our normal life back as soon as possible. Amidst the chaos and the noise of the Zafar family was where we belonged. Yeh khamooshi hamain raas nahin aati jaise.

*It's as if this silence/peace doesn't suit us.

Thank you Allah, for my family. Alhumdulillah.

****

Muraad

"Sakoon mil raha hai na, Munna? Main kabse keh rahi thi, sir main tayl lagwalo." Ammi massaged my hair with the oil.

*"Are you feeling relaxed, Munna? I was telling you for so long to let me rub oil in your hair."

"Ammi, don't call me that!" I groaned at my childhood nickname. "If Amara hears this..."

"So what? Munna is such a cute nickname for you." She said. "And she's your wife. She should know everything about you."

"Not my childhood nickname." I muttered, feeling like a sulking child.

We were on the rooftop of Nighat Khalla's house after Amore and I had returned home from her appointment. The doctor had cleared Amara to fly, but had reminded us to reduce the stress in her life. The three of us were flying to London tonight. 

It would actually be the very first time that Ammi was going to be present at one of my international tournaments. She had attended matches within Lahore a couple of times, but never out of city, let alone in another country. It made me beyond happy.

I had, of course, invited Nighat Khalla as well, but she was afraid of flying and nothing we said could convince her. "I'll support you from here." She had simply said.

My mother's fingers running through my hair was making me sleepy and I closed my eyes, even as I sat on the ground in front of her.

"One day, long in the future, you will thank me for your thick hair, Munna. In Sha Allah." She said. "I won't be here then, but you'll remember me fondly this way." 

"Ammi, may Allah grant you with a long life and good health. Ameen."

"Your Nana Jaan, Allah bakshe, had so much pride in his hair. It was so thick, even in old age." She spoke nostalgically. "He always used to say that his mother used to oil his hair weekly, no matter what."

*Allah bakshe: May Allah forgive him.

"I remember, when I used to sit on his shoulders as a kid." I smiled.

"Well, one day, when your kid sits on your shoulders and rubs their tiny hands in your thick hair, In Sha Allah, ask him or her to thank their Dado." 

Amara walked up the stairs, drinking from a glass of fresh orange juice made by Nighat Khalla. My mother and her cousin had been constantly pampering my wife. 

"Why does she get to have all the delicious food and drink?" I asked my mother, nodding towards Amara.

Amara grinned at me, while Ammi lightly smacked the back of my head.

"She is the one carrying the baby, Munna. If it had been you, you would be the one getting pampered." My mother just had to reveal my nickname.

And, of course, Amara picked up on it. "Munna?" She looked amused.

"Thanks, mother. Now I won't hear the end of it." I sighed.

"Isn't it an adorable nickname, beta?" Ammi asked Amara, clearly in the the mood to tease.

"Oh, it's so sweet and cute!" My wife giggled. 

"See, I told you?" Ammi was speaking to me now.

"Amara is making fun of me, Ammi." I stood up. "I'm sure Nazia Aunty can let me in on some secrets as well." 

Amara frowned. "You wouldn't."

"You think I'm just going to stand around and let you make fun of me?" I looked at her amused. "You wish, Amara. Let me just call Nazia Aunty." I pretended to reach for my phone.

"Aunty, stop him! He shouldn't trouble me!" Pouting, Amara walked over and sat down beside my Ammi.

"Muraad!" Ammi's tone was filled with warning. "Don't trouble her." 

Two can easily play this game, Amore. I will make you pay for this. I stared at my wife, a small smile on my face.

She raised an eyebrow challengingly, half-hiding behind my mother.

"Let me go clean up." Ammi stood up with a soft groan. I reached forward to help her up, immediately. "Munna, don't tease her." Screwing on the lid of the bottle of oil, she made her way towards the stairs.

Distracted for a few moments, I looked back towards Amore and saw her sneakily trying to get away from me.

"So...feeling cheeky, right?" I moved towards her.

She stood up from the charpai covered with bedsheet that she and Ammi had been sitting on. "Muraad, stop!" 

"I didn't even do anything." I grinned.

"Muraad." She warned me, raising a finger, moving around to get behind the charpai. 

I got onto the charpai on my knees, and reached out for her, grabbing her wrists, pulling her closer. She was staring at me wide eyed.

For a brief few moments, we were at peace at home. Yes, this wasn't our home, but it certainly felt like it. I'd grown up in an area like this, so I felt comfortable here, despite all the fame and luxury that I'd experienced over the years.

"Bolti band ho gayi?" I whispered, when she dropped her gaze and blushed.

*"Cat got your tongue?"

"I wish I can call you by that nickname, but that would kind of be an insult to our relationship, considering that it's a nickname one often calls their child by." She smiled, her eyes sparkling.

I moved closer to her, and she started breathing rapidly.  

"MR MURAAD!"

For F**k's Sake! I glanced around, and saw a few people standing on the rooftop of surrounding houses, holding up their phones. "Oh, for the love of..." 

"When are you going back for the World T20?" One of the young boys asked, shouting across the rooftops.

I closed my eyes, exasperated. Here was that one negative aspect of being home as a cricketer for the national team: there really was no privacy. "Come on, Amore. Let's go downstairs." Dropping her one wrist, I kept my hold on her other hand and led her towards he stairs.

Armaan's words rang in my ears, about fame ruining my family life, Amara's life. 

Why the f**k can't I get just a few moments of peace in my bloody personal life?

****

Amara

I noticed Muraad's mood deteriorate after how our playful mood was interrupted on the roof, so I decided to do something to cheer him up. After a quick phone call to Ismael Bhai, I entered the living room, where Muraad was now watching the cricket match between other teams.

I sat down beside me, and held up my phone in front of him. "When I first read The Princess Diaries as a child, I wanted to change my name to Amelia, and begged my parents to change it." 

He glanced down at the phone, and saw the photo of me in a tiara, and a gorgeous sparkling lavender gown, dressed up like a princess. A genuine smile appeared on his face.

"I was convinced that I was a secret princess as well." I told him. "I certainly behaved like it." 

"This is adorable." He looked at me, his gaze warm.

"I was so stubborn that I wanted to be called Amelia that Mama got fed up of me. And then Papa told me that I was his princess, but I didn't need to change my name for that. Princess Amara was a beautiful name, which cheered me up, I guess." 

"Well, you're certainly being thrown into the media eye like a princess." He spoke sarcastically, staring back at the TV.

"And I agreed to marry you knowing what I'll face." I cupped his face in my hands, turning it gently to face me. "Muraad, I love you and I don't care about this fame, and I know that you're sick of it, but we just need to accept it as a part of our lives." 

"What if Armaan's right? What is our children's childhood going to be like, constantly in danger of being harassed by bloody reporters!" 

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." I got off the sofa. "I'm happy with you, Muraad. And I would never give up my life with you for anything in the universe." I held out my hand. "Now, come on. There was something that I really wanted to try for a long time!" 

"What is it?" He asked, curiously.

****

We were playing cricket...well, a cricket video game. We'd picked up the games console and the World Cup game from Billu, and the two of us were now playing it together at our own flat.

With his sleeves rolled up, Muraad had a crooked smile on his face as he focused on the game as if he was playing actual cricket. Meanwhile, I was just playing for the fun of it.

"Amore, you really suck at this, sweetheart." He chuckled.

"Show off." I gently nudged him in the ribs with my elbow.

He pressed the buttons repeatedly and rapidly, swinging a sixer on screen. I tried to rush my player forward to catch the ball, but failed miserable.

Six! The words appeared red and bold on screen.

"Don't mess with an all-rounder." He winked at me.

I tossed the controller aside, and placed my hands on his cheeks, frowning thoughtfully.

"What?" He looked puzzled.

"I'm just trying to measure how big your head is, because that ego certainly seemed to have inflated it." I giggled.

"Hilarious." Wrapping an arm around my waist, he pulled me onto his lap, also tossing his controller aside. "So, you're telling me, Mrs Amara Muraad Azeem, that you wanted to try playing a cricket video game for a long time?" He sounded sceptical.

I glanced down at his shoulder, where I was resting one hand. "I wanted you to have a small reminder that no matter how much your fame bothers you outside this home, you can always get away from at home, by doing crazy normal activities like these with me." I placed my hand on his arm. "I know Armaan Bhai's words have really gotten to you, but you need to ignore them, like I'm going to do from now on. He showed no regard for his parents, so there's not much that we can expect from him." 

He looked away thoughtfully. 

"Muraad, I'm willing to be the wife of a cricket superstar in the media eye. I'm willing to face the publicity, the attention." I told him. "Just as long as, in the privacy of our home, we forget all of it and we just be ourselves. We cannot let that come between us. At home, you're not a cricket superstar, but you're Muraad, my husband. You're a cricketer, I accept it and I accept the fame, but please don't let this become at issue when we're at home. At home, we leave all the drama outside." 

"It just p***es me of that I can't even get a few private moments with you alone on the bloody rooftop!" 

I shrugged. "It's a part of a package of being a celebrity, I guess. But that's okay. We don't even need to romance or be playful in a place where people can see us. We can leave it within the four walls of our home, and that's okay. But I don't want this to become an issue between us. I'm telling you, that I have no problem with your fame. I have accepted that it's a part of your working life, and it's something that I'm willing to face for your sake. It's all worth it, being your wife." 

"I'm sorry, Amore. Armaan's words had been really bothering me, and after what happened on the rooftop, it made me think that he was right. I'm the reason it all happened."

"No." I shook my head. "It's all my fault. I'm the one who made a cricket superstar fall in love with me. I mean, I can't really blame you, have you seen me?" I dramatically tossed my hair over my shoulder. "I am the one who decided you were good enough to be Mr Amara, and I married you, so I guess I am the one who invited fame into my own life."

"You're right. It's your fault." He pulled me closer and softly kissed me along the neck. "Why did you make me fall in love with you? Why couldn't you have pretended to be interested in cricket the first day we met?" 

"Too late." I grinned. "You can't back out now." I patted my belly as our lips were just inches apart. 

He pressed his lips against mine suddenly, and the result of the kiss was so strong that he groaned lightly and I gasped. Intense sparks seemed to spread all over my body as our lips seemed to be competing against each other for who could kiss with the most passion. 

Muraad was feeling awful because of my brother's words, but I was hoping that I could prove to him how happy I was, and how the fame was just a slight inconvenience compared to my passionate and soulmate-level love for my husband. 

"Amore, I'd give up cricket to keep you safe." He said breathlessly as we came up for air, resting his forehead against mine.

I shook my head. "I don't need that. I just want you to promise that when you're at home, you'll always be the sweet, carefree guy that you were when you were getting your hair oiled by Aunty. At home, you're not a celebrity: you're a husband, a son, a father-to-be. And regardless of whatever happens in the public eye, let's promise to not let it come between us. If I have an issue, I'll speak to you directly. I don't need my brother to do it for me." 

"I promise,  Amore." He kissed my forehead, before scooping me up into his arms.

"Muraad, we need to leave for the airport in a few hours." I reminded him.

"We'll be done by then. Hopefully." He winked at me, carrying me into our bedroom.

My heart was beating fast, and my body seemed to be already preparing itself to be loved by him in the privacy of our bedroom.

And as he took me to a whole new level of high, I realised something. My home was where Muraad was, no matter where we were. Whether we were in the public eye, or in complete privacy, it didn't matter. 

I belong with him. He belongs with me.

Together: it is where we belong.

****

"S**t! We're late!" Muraad scrambled to get ready after the shower.

Nomi Bhai's phone call that he was arriving soon with Nausheen Aunty, had woken up up from our peaceful slumber after a beautiful session of intimacy.

"Told you! We shouldn't have..." I began to say.

"I have no regrets regarding that, sweetheart." He said, zipping up his trousers. "In fact, I feel refreshed after that."

I wanted to smack my palm against my forehead, but I didn't even have time for that as I made sure that all our documents were safely kept in our bag.

I was wearing a long grey tunic-style shirt and black maternity tights, and was just pulling my hair up in a ponytail, when I felt his gaze on me. "What?" I looked over, curiously.

He walked over to me and took me in his arms. "I love you. Thank you." 

"I love you too. But why are you thanking me?" 

"I know that you know that Armaan's words got to me, and I know that you've been doing everything to make me feel better." He kissed the side of my head, as he was holding me sideways. "I know how much you hate this attention on you, and yet you're still willingly accepting it for my sake. You're incredible, and I'm not kidding, but making love to you is worth missing my flight for." 

"I knew what I was getting into when I married you. But I chose to be your wife, nevertheless. I hated the attention, but I loved you. And to be with you was worth all this publicity." 

"You loved me back then? How long have you loved me, Amore?" 

"I think I fell in love with you the day of the food truck." I told him, honestly. "The day you, a cricket superstar, stepped in that trailer to help me hand out food packages. Your down-to-earth, caring nature made me fall in love with you from that day onward, Muraad. That's why it hurt so much when I thought that we couldn't marry." 

"The day the media called you my girlfriend." He shook his head.

We smiled at each other, remembering the fateful day.

"As for you being blamed for the media behaviour towards other people in my family, just remember these wise words by my father: 'It is our intentions and the way that we behave that holds us accountable for something.' This means, you're only at fault if you said or did something to cause certain consequences. We attracting media attention because you're a cricketer does not hold you responsible for the way reporters and idiots behave." 

He looked at me thoughtfully.

"If Armaan Bhai's words impacted you so much, mine should impact you even more." I told him. "I know my opinions, my words, hold importance to you, Muraad. Focus on these, not on things he said in anger." 

For a while he just held me in his arms, repeatedly kissing the side of my head. I wanted to turn off the lights and get back into bed with him, but his phone started ringing, indicating Nomi Bhai's arrival.

****

I was silently crying as we drove to the airport, the darkness of the night shrouding my tears. Muraad was at the front with Nomi Bhai, while Aunty was dozing off beside me.

I didn't have the chance to say a proper goodbye to my parents, and leaving them this time in a stressful situation like this was very hard for me. I didn't want to go. I wanted to rush to the Sheikh family home and hug both my parents tightly.

But as we arrived at Allama Iqbal International Airport, I knew it was too late. 

A huge surge of homesickness overwhelmed me, to the point that I didn't even want to get out of the car. 

I sat frozen there, even as the others got out. 

Why is this so difficult?

I had a habit of attempting to cheer up my loved ones if I saw them upset, especially my parents. And for the first time, I felt like a failure for not being able to put smiles on their faces. 

I glanced out of the window at Muraad, who seemed to be speaking to a senior airport official, who would take us through the VIP entrance.

"I don't want to go, Muraad. I don't want to leave home." I whispered in the silence of the car, staring at my husband and he smiled and talked to that man.

I glanced down at the documents folder in the bag in my lap, and pulled out my passport from inside it. My hands shook as I bent forward and slid my passport underneath the driver's side seat. 

I pushed open the car door and got out, taking a deep breath.

Am I really going to deceive my husband, simply because I'm feeling slightly homesick?

****

Would Amara continue her act of losing her passport and stay behind?

This was a bit of a filler chapter, but I wanted to write something.

It was also important, in my opinion, for Amara to reassure Muraad that fame did not mater to her, and that he meant the most to her.

The Sheikh family home will be sold off. How do you think the kids will react to it?

Will Arhaan get his happy retirement dream, surrounded by his siblings and best friend?

Thoughts and comments?

Thank you for reading and don't forget to vote!