© All copyrights belong to StarsAndMoon1447 on Wattpad

*

Noor

There was complete and utter silence in our family home as we watched Muraad Bhai collapse on the field, right in front of our eyes.

"Allah!" Mamma cried out, horrified.

"What the...?" Zaid stared wide-eyed at the screen.

Amara. My selfish mind immediately went to my best friend, and tears filled my eyes. 

****

Armaan

The moment my brother-in-law fell unconscious during the live match, Mama cried out in shock. I had just returned home moments earlier, just in time to witness this.

"Arhaan!" She clutched onto Papa's arm as if he could do anything from here. "Ibrahim ko phone karain! Amara ko sambhale woh. Ya Allah, sehat tandorasti de Muraad ko. Ameen."

*"Phone up Ibrahim! He needs to take care of Amara. Oh Allah, please grant good health to Muraad. Ameen."

"Jawan bacha hai. Allah achi sehat ata farmaye. Ameen." Papa looked at Ismael Bhai. "Beta, Ibrahim ko phone milao."

*"He's a young guy. May Allah give him good health. Ameen."
"Son, call Ibrahim."

Ismael Bhai nodded and immediately began to dial our brother's number.

"Meri bachi akeli hogi. Main Jasmina ko phone karti hoon." Mama seemed to be speaking to herself. 

*"My daughter must be on her own. I'll call Jasmina."

Ismael Bhai handed the phone to Papa, before turning to her. "She's not alone, Mama. Ibbi went to the stadium as well as Hamza Bhai and Taif Bhai."

Although Muraad Bhai had given them VIP passes as well, the three boys had chosen to watch with the crowd, rather than the VIP lounge where Amara was going to be. 

"Nazia, I think you should visit Muraad's mother. She must be absolutely panicking right now. Give her your support and reassurance." Papa said. "Rabia, beta, if you don't mind, go along with her. Ismael will take care of Eshal."

"Yes, Papa." Rabia Bhabi nodded. "I'll take Irhaa." She turned to Mama. "Mama, pray for Muraad Bhai. There's no dawa more powerful than dua." 

*Dawa: Medicine.
Dua: prayer.

"Maybe you should call Fawad Uncle?" I suggested. "He's a senior cardiothoracic surgeon, he has worked in various hospitals around the country, and especially within London itself. He can find out the full details through connections."

"Good idea." Papa nodded. "I'll get Fawad to handle it. With him there, we can all be reassured that he will do his best to get the best possible care for Muraad." 

****

Amara

"Amara, sabr karo, chanda. Mat ro itna. Aapki aur baby ki sehat ke liye acha nahin hai." Jasmina Phupho had her arm around me and I was leaning my head against her shoulder and crying hard.

*"Amara, stay calm, sweetheart. Don't cry so much. It's not good for your health, as well as your baby's."

"Fawad gaye hain na? Woh dekhlainge sab." She kissed the top of my head.

*"Fawad has gone in, hasn't he? He'll see to it all."

"Why did Uncle go? Is this something to do with his heart?" I sat up, looking at Phupho worriedly.

"Your Uncle went inside because as a senior cardiothoracic surgeon, he has authority and he can find out what happened." She explained.

Ibrahim Bhai was pacing the hall in front of us, while Dania Bhabi sat on my other side, clutching my hand. Issa had been left with Hania Appi and Hamza Bhai at their home.

"You don't understand, Phupho. I'll die if anything happens to my husband." I quietly started sobbing again.

Phupho, who had a tear running down her cheek, smiled sadly. "Trust me, meri jaan, I know more than you think."

"Muraad..." I looked at her helplessly.

"Pray for him. In Sha Allah, he'll be fine."

Ibrahim Bhai was constantly getting calls from back home, especially from my worried parents, while I kept getting calls from a terrified Nausheen Aunty. I spoke to her the first time, but I was crying so hard that Phupho took over and now she was answering the phone. I couldn't even imagine what my mother-in-law must be feeling right now, being so far away. Muraad had wanted her to come, but she said that she would join us for the later matches, as this one had been a warm-up.

Suddenly, we noticed Fawad Uncle coming out, looking grim.

I stood up immediately, followed by the other ladies. "How is he, Uncle?"

Ibrahim Bhai faced him, looking tensed.

"Are you aware of any allergies that he might have?" He asked.

"A-Allergy?" I was confused. "N-No, I'm not sure, Uncle. I don't think so. Maybe I will check with Aunty. Why?"

"Muraad suffered from what is known as an anaphylaxis attack. It's basically a severe form of allergy attack. An ECG was performed and it was all normal, so Alhumdulillah, this wasn't a cardiac issue." Uncle looked at Phupho. "But please contact his mother and find out if there's any food that he can be allergic to."

"So, what does that mean? Is he okay?" I was a little confused. "Why did he collapse? I don't understand." I shook my head, trying to cause the haze inside my head.

"Anaphylaxis attack is when the body has a severe reaction to a trigger such as an allergy. Everyone knows the common, mild symptoms of allergy: like rashes, sneezing, extra. The severe reactions can cause dizziness, unconsciousness, a fast heartbeat, etc." He began to explain to me. "This is what happened to Muraad. If he or his mother knows what he's allergic to, that's helpful, but if he doesn't, the doctor will refer him for an allergy test to identify what triggered this*."

*I'm not a genius lol. I did my research from the NHS website. 

I dialled Muraad's mother's number for Phupho and handed the phone over to her, before turning back to Fawad Uncle again. "Khudana Khwasta, if this happens again, what can we do?"

*Khudana Khawasta: God forbid.

"Have you ever heard of an EpiPen?" Uncle asked me.

I nodded.

"Muraad will be required to keep one at all times, two if possible." He explained. "It's an adrenaline auto-injector, which can help stop an anaphylactic reaction." 

"Would athletes even be allowed to use an EpiPen?" Dania Bhabi wondered out loud.

"For medical purposes, why not? There are athletes who keep an EpiPen to prevent severe allergic reaction, and they have medical approval, which is fine*." Fawad Uncle replied.

*I don't know for sure if that rule is true or not, but this applies for fictional purposes.

"He'll be okay, right? This won't cause any long-term problems, right?" I asked Uncle, anxiously.

"As long as he immediately identifies the triggers- if he doesn't know already- and as long as he keeps an EpiPen with him at all times, it would be fine, In Sha Allah." He reassured me.

"That's my duty now. I'll take full care of him, In Sha Allah." I was determined. "There will be no negligence from his side as long as I'm around." 

Phupho and Fawad Uncle exchanged a knowing smile, as my aunt wrapped her arm around my shoulders and kissed my temple. 

"Let me go call, Arhaan. He's being a pain as usual." Uncle smiled in my direction before walking off.

"You okay?" Ibrahim Bhai walked over to me and ran a hand over my head.

I nodded. "Muraad theek hain, Alhumdulillah. Meri jaan main jaan waapis aagayi hai." 

*"Muraad is okay, Alhumdulillah. I've got life back within myself." 

****

Kiwi.

One slice of Kiwi fruit was what had triggered this reaction.

Aunty had been unaware of any allergies, so the doctor had questioned me about what he had eaten before the match, and I'd told him about the breakfast we'd had at the hotel, along with the complimentary bowl of fruit that they had given us. The rest of the fruit, Muraad usually ate, no problem, and I told this to the doctor. Fawad Uncle had fast-forwarded the process, and Muraad had been taken to the allergy clinic within the hospital itself, and it turned out that Kiwi fruit was the culprit.

Meanwhile, while all this was being done, I was shown by a nurse how to do an EpiPen. Taking me into a spare room, she had shown me exactly how to administer the EpiPen, and also made me practice on a dummy. The medical team was going to show Muraad as well, but as they said, it was important for his spouse to know as well.

Until now, I hadn't had a chance to see my husband, and I was desperately eager to see him.

"Amara?" 

I looked up and saw Iman coming down the hall. "Hey, Mani."

"Sorry, babe. I was in the A&E at St Michael's today so I couldn't come here earlier." She stopped in front of me. "I'd hug you, but I came directly from my hospital, so hospital germs and all..." She shrugged. "How are you? I got the update on Muraad Bhai. In Sha Allah, Papa said that he'll be okay." 

Ibrahim Bhai had to take Dania Bhabi home as Issa had been crying nonstop at Hania Appi's place, but he said that he would come back soon. Phupho had gone outside to speak to Mama on the phone, explaining everything in detail. Yes, Papa and Fawad Uncle had already discussed this, but it was mandatory for the mothers to discuss as well, right? 

"In Sha Allah." I nodded. "He scared the life out of me, Mani." 

"I can imagine." She nodded. 

"I'm so grateful to Fawad Uncle for speeding everything up. I know it's an emergency, and they would have done so anyway, but it's really good to have a doctor on our side, especially a senior doctor." I said. "He has done a huge thing for me, and I will be grateful for the rest of my life." 

She smiled. "He not only did his duty as a doctor, but he had to look out for his best friend's family, didn't he? We're all Team Farhaan, after all."

Once, a long time ago, when our family (Papa, Mama, my brothers and I) visited London, we were all discussing Papa and Fawad Uncle's friendship, and Ibbi Bhai and Mani had decided that we were all Team Farhaan. It was crazy and a little silly, but we were barely teenagers then, so we could use childishness as an excuse.

"And Arhaan Mamu would have done the same for us, if God Forbid, Taif or Hamza Bhai had to face a situation like this." She said. "Family looks out for each other, Amy."

I focused on her. "How are things with you and Taif Bhai?"

"Sometimes we rarely see each other, and when we do, it's hard to let go." She admitted. "The things we see and experience every day makes us want to cherish each other, and our family in general, even more. "

"I can't believe you're that same Iman Fawad who always used to do what your parents specifically asked you not to do." I grinned.

"I regret that so much now, Amara, that you won't believe it." She said. "I've seen people cry and beg for the lives of their loved ones after we tell them that they're no more. I've seen a couple cry together, because the husband had last stage leukaemia and was admitted into the hospital, possibly never to go home. Life is so fragile, and we tend to forget that. We waste our time, Amy. We should spend our time strengthening our bonds, not weakening them."

For some reason, I thought about Armaan Bhai. He was my brother and I loved him so much. I maybe the youngest in the our immediate family, but I had to admit, I had influence over my parents, similar to the way Ismael Bhai did. I was a weakness for both Mama and Papa, and if I stand up for my Armaan Bhai and his wife, my mother would melt as well. She had already started to ease down, but if I showed full support for my brother, I knew that it would be much easier for her to come around. Papa was easier anyway, and although I did not blame my mother at all for her hesitance, I knew it was going to take some effort to bring her around.

****

I walked into the room, my heart pounding hard against my chest. 

Muraad was sitting up, with the bed raised up, a drip attached to his arm, as well as other wires and stuff. I'm not a medical expert so I didn't exactly recognise what they were for exactly.

For a few moments, I just stood there by the doorway, staring at him, drinking in the beautiful vision of him alive and well in front of me. Alhumdulillah. 

Before coming to see him, I'd headed to do some Shukranay Nafl, to thank Allah for bringing my husband back to me. The image of him collapsing would forever haunt my memories, but at least he was okay now, thanks to the immeasurable mercy of Allah.

His eyes were closed, but I knew he was awake because he was tapping a finger against the side frame of the bed.

"If you ever do this to me again..." I spoke softly.

He opened his eyes and looked at me, a smile instantly appearing on his face. "Amore." 

I walked over to him and placed my hands on his cheeks, unable to believe that this wasn't a dream. "You're okay, right? You're really here in front of me, alive and well?" 

"You can pinch yourself and find out." He teased, reminding me of the moment on the ferry when he had appeared after some damn good planning by my family.

I kissed his forehead, leaving my lips linger there for a long time. The salty wetness on my lips made me realise that I was crying silent tears. 

"I'm okay, babe." He placed a hand on my waist. "Alhumdulillah." 

I sat down beside him, sobbing soundlessly, clutching his hand in both of mine and pressing it against my belly. "Muraad, you scared the life out of me! I felt like I was dying."

"Don't say that." He said. "May Allah bless you with a very good health, and a very long life. Ameen." His gaze dropped to my belly. "How's our baby? You didn't trouble it too much by overstressing, did you?" He looked back at me and raised an eyebrow.

"Overstressing? My husband collapsed in front of the entire world, for no obvious reason. Why would I be stressing?" 

"Sarcasm is your mother tongue, Amore." He said, fondly, tugging at a stray lock of my hair. Sighing, he stared up at the ceiling. "At least I can still play." 

"Play?" I felt angry. "You care about playing? I'm sorry, but cricket is the last thing that I give a damn about right now. You are okay, and that's all that matters to me." 

"I get what you're feeling, Amore, but cricket is my life. It means everything to me." 

"Well, you mean everything to me and the baby!" I stood up, fuming. "As your wife, and the expecting mother of your child, I'm sorry but I don't care about cricket right now."

He chuckled, wincing slightly. "I'm winding you up. Relax." He grabbed my wrist. "I am glad that I can still play, but I can imagine how terrifying it must have been for you. I know that I would never put anything else before you, so I'm not going to sit here and prioritise my happiness for still being able to play, over the anxiety that you probably suffered."

"You really shouldn't annoy your pregnant wife, Muraad." I sulked, almost like a child. "Waise, sach main, agar aapne dobara aisa kiya, to chodongi nahin main aapko." I playfully slapped his chest lightly.

*"Anyways, seriously, if you ever do this again, I won't spare you." However, it can also mean 'I won't leave you'.

"Yehi to main chahta hoon, ke aap mujhe na chodain." He winked.

*"That's what I want, for you to not leave me."

"To theek hai. Chodhke chali jaaongi main aapko." I told him.

*"Okay, fine then. I will leave you then."

His jaw clenched, and the heart monitor that was connected to him started beeping faster. "Don't say that, Amore. Please."

The vulnerability that he was displaying right now, I knew for a fact that he would never show in front of anyone else. I grew up with three brothers and a Billu, so I knew that males found it hard to display their weaknesses. I felt guilty for making him feel that way. "Dekhlain. Chipki rahon gi aapke saath hamesha ke liye. Tayar hain?" 

*"Consider it. I'll be glued to you forever. Are you ready for that?"

"Chipaknay ke liye hi to Nikah Namay pe dastakhat kiye hain." He smiled.

*"I signed the Nikah Nama to remain glued to you." 

"I'm sorry, Amore. I hate the idea of you having to go through so much stress because of me." 

"Why are you apologising?" I wrinkled my nose. "You didn't know about this allergy."

He tilted his head back against the bed and closed his eyes again.

"You okay?" I reached up and brushed his hair off his forehead.

"I'm drowsy." He muttered. 

"Go to sleep." I kissed his forehead again. I stood up, feeling thirsty.

"Don't go anywhere." He spoke sleepily. "Stay." 

"I'm just going to get some water. I'm right here." I told him, smiling. "When you wake up, In Sha Allah, we'll video call Nausheen Aunty." I felt bad that I hadn't thought of that while we were talking, but I had been too overwhelmed with relief to consider her. It was terrible, I know, but it was natural. 

Right?

Was I a bad daughter-in-law, selfishly considering myself over his mother, who was a world away and worried sick about him?

****

"They are going to keep Muraad in here for a night." Phupho told me. "Come home with me. I've asked Ibbi and Dania to come over as well with Issa. You're pregnant. Let me take care of you, meri jaan." She ran a hand over my head.

"I want to stay here the night, Phupho."

She shook her head. "Absolutely not. Taif has a friend who works at this hospital, and he will check on Muraad. And they'll contact Fawad if necessary. I'm not allowing my pregnant niece to stay here. Aur baat na mani to main Nazia Bhabi ko phone karloongi."

*"And if you don't listen to me, I'll call Nazia Bhabi."

"Baat to main aapki bhi maanlongi, Phupho." I leaned my head against her shoulder. "Mama ki daant nahin khani, ke kyun dheet ban rahi hoon."

*"I'll listen to you as well, Phupho."
"I don't want to be scolded by Mama for being adamant/stubborn." 

"Shall we go?" Ibrahim Bhai had come back to pick us up.

"Phupho, Muraad wanted me to not go anywhere." I told her. "I want to stay." 

"Beta, I'm sure Muraad wants your comfort first and foremost." Phupho said. "We'll come back early in the morning, okay?" 

I nodded. "Okay." 

It was difficult to leave, but I was developing a back pain, and I really needed to think of the baby as well. 

My life is connected with yours, Muraad, but my baby's is connected to mine, and as much as I don't want to leave, I have to think of the baby.

As I began to leave with my Phupho and Bhai, I received a message, and I glanced at my phone.

<Noor: I wish I could hug you right now, but just know that I'm thinking of you. Love you, Amy. Stay strong, stay positive and have faith in Allah. We're all praying hard for Muraad Bhai. 🤗>

<Amara: Love you too, Noor. You're always that rainbow after rain. 🌈🌧>

Muraad and I had a lot of people with us, if not physically, but even as a moral support. Their duas, their love will always be there for us, and that itself was one of the biggest blessings of our lives.

****

Armaan

I stood on the terrace, staring down at the pool in the garden below. I heard footsteps behind me, and just by the sound of those shoes, I knew it was Ismael Bhai. Once you got to know someone well, you even recognised the sound of their footsteps, the way they walked.

And I'd almost slept with Maheen without even knowing what her favourite colour was.

Almost.

"Okay, what's going on with you? You've been very quiet today." Bhai patted my back, stopping beside me.

"Did Mama and Papa realise that I'd been gone the whole night?" I asked, quietly. I knew that he and Billu knew that I had been gone. I also knew that they wouldn't have told my parents, because it's like a code between siblings and cousins.

"No, and it's best that they don't find out. They're too stressed out right now." He replied. Standing with his hands clasped behind his back, he was a stark reflection of Papa. Ma Sha Allah.

"I didn't cross my cultural limits." I said, honestly.

"I didn't question you." 

I looked at him. "Aren't you judging me?" 

"I'm nobody to judge you, Armaan. Especially when, Islamically speaking, there's nothing wrong with this." He put his hand on my shoulder. "You're sensible, Armaan. You let your anger get the best of you, but I know that you know what's right for you and what's wrong. I'm not going to question you, because frankly, it's not my business. I only came here to check if you were okay, because you were so quiet." 

"I made a badua." I blurted out, feeling my eyes well up with guilt.

He looked at me, surprised. "You what?" 

"When Mama wouldn't talk to me after my behaviour with Amara, I started to feel Mama resenting Maheen, and it really got to me. And Maheen could feel the coldness, Bhai. She could feel that Mama was starting to have resentment, and I couldn't see my wife feeling bad about it. So I remember thinking to myself, 'Amara ke shohar ke saath kuch bura hoga na, tab usay pata chalay ga spouse ki takleef kya hoti hai.'"

*"When something bad happens with Amara's husband, only then she would understand the pain of a spouse."

Ismael Bhai ran a hand over his face, exasperated. "Why would any brother in the world wish that for his sister?"

"I was angry. I didn't mean it."

He stared straight at me, looking unimpressed. "Run through every incident in your mind, Armaan, and think about how many times you've used the excuse: 'I was angry.'. Only then, you will realise how damaging anger can be." 

"I didn't mean to wish ill on her or Muraad Bhai." I shook my head. "She's my little sister. I would never want bad for her." 

"Just don't let Mama find out about this." He looked exhausted. "You're repenting, you regret this. Just ask Allah for forgiveness. But if Mama finds out..." He patted my shoulder. "Bohat achay ho tum, Armaan. Bas raasta bhatak jaate ho kabhi kabar. Khayal rakha karo, mere bhai. Agar Maheen Bhabi tumhari biwi hain, to hum sab bhi tumhari family hain. Ghussay main ek din koi bada nuksaan na karjaana, Allah na kare."

*"You're a very good person, Armaan. You sometimes stray off the right path. Take care, my brother. If Maheen Bhabi is your wife, we all your family as well. Don't cause major damage in your anger, God forbid."

While I was repenting, and intending to control my temper in the future, the result of my past actions would start serious drama in my life.

****

WARNING: Sensitive, mature topic here, but unfortunately this is reality based as well

Maheen

The harsh banging at the gate made me run to the veranda, and unlock the door, thinking it must be an emergency in the neighbourhood. I opened the gate and saw a group of angry women standing there, staring at me.

"Yeh sasti harkatain kahin aur jaake karo!" A lady yelled before I could even say 'Assalam Alaikum'.

*"Go do these cheap acts elsewhere." 

"Rukhsati se pehle hi saari saari raat ladka iske ghar main ghuzarta hai. Astaghfirullah! Na Bhai ghar pe, aur Maa ke to hosh-o-hawas he ghum hain." 

*"Before rukhsati the boy stays over the whole night at her place. Astaghfirullah! Her brother isn't even home, and her mother is not in her senses." 

"Mere shohar hain woh. Shariyatan haq hain hamara ek doosre ke saath." My voice shook even as I tried to remain confident.

*"He's my husband. We have a religious right to be together."

"'Hain woh'." One of the ladies mocked me. "Bacha hai tere agay, kudiye. 'Amma Ji' lagti ho uski."

"He's a kid in front of you. You look like his 'Amma Ji'." 

"Nikah ki to bezati na karain aap." I told her. 

*"Don't insult the ritual of Nikah."

"Bulao Nauman ko. Dafa kare woh tumhain yahan se." 

*"Call Nauman. He should get you the hell out of here."

"Woh kya kehte hain angrezi main? Haan! Cougar! Is jaisi cougars ka to yehi kaam hai: apne se chote, ameer ladkay phasana."

*"What do they say in English? Oh yes! Cougar! Cougars like her do this on regular basis: trapping younger, wealthy boys."

I began to shut the gate, but one lady stepped in between, stopping me. "Nikal jao hamare mohallay se, warna jeena azaab kardainge tumhara aur tumhare Bhai ka."

*"Get out of our town, otherwise we'll make yours and your brother's life miserable."

 Nomi appeared behind me. "Assalam Alaikum. What's going on?" 

"Poocho apni behan se. Tumhari ghair mojodgi main us ladkay ko ghar bulati hai." The first lady said, accusingly.

*"Ask your sister. In your absence, she calls that boy over."

"You mean her husband?" Nomi raised an eyebrow.

"In our culture...." A lady began to argue.

"Is culture above religion?" Nomi questioned.

"Well, no..."

"Are you prioritising people's traditions and rituals over a God-given right?" 

The ladies shut up then, looking awkward and embarrassed.

"Zina is haram. Public display of affection is frowned upon." Nomi continued. "And we respect that. But what right do you have to forbid a husband and wife from meeting in the privacy of a home? What right do you have to question a girl's character for being with her Nikahfied husband?" 

I was so, so proud of my brother.

"She's not going anywhere." Nomi told them. "If you all have a problem, you can leave the mohalla and go!" He slammed the gate shut, leaning against it with a sigh.

"Thank you, Nomi."

He looked at me, quietly. "I trust you completely. And, you know what?  This isn't about trust. You both are married." He shook his head. "I'm just worried that if the wrong people find out about it..."

I was worried about that too. In today's social media times, and with us being known as relatives of Muraad Azeem, anything we did was bound to blow up, positively or negatively- mainly negatively. 

And each single incident seemed to be the spark that would set fire to the relationship between me and my mother-in-law, leaving behind nothing but ashes.

****

And I wasn't wrong.

Social media and evening newspapers were covered with photos of Armaan leaving my home, looking down the road as he straightened the collar of his shirt.

There were mentions of how Armaan was relaxing with new wife, while his brother-in-law collapsed on the field on the other side of the world. 

I could imagine how articles and photos like this could be used to provoke people, but I was terrified at my parents-in-laws' reaction.

****

Arhaan

Media had hounded the street outside our home, so much that I couldn't even go to work.

"Dr Arhaan, how's Muraad?"

"What happened to him?"

"What about your daughter? It must be devastating for him, right?" 

"Excuse me, I need to leave. I have a work emergency. Can you clear the path please?" I called out, rolling down my car window slightly.

And then crowds of civilians joined the reporters, and they were starting to get angry. They started to swear at Armaan, blaming me and my wife for raising him like we lived in the West.

The back window of my car was suddenly smashed as people began to demand that Armaan faced punishment for blatantly disrespecting our culture.

And suddenly something hard hit me in the back of the head, seemingly a rock. I barely had time to react when I felt a sticky wetness there. Blood.

I was being attacked because people chose to prioritise culture over religion.

**** 

I have no problem against our culture. Different cultures are beautiful. However, this is a common situation where people start acting like judge, jury and executioner regarding other people who they feel are acting 'immorally'. This is wrong, and should be stopped.

As Muslims, put religion first, and if religion allows something, leave it be. Don't harass, abuse or insult people on the basis of culture. I'm not saying this to you readers, but I'm saying this in general.

As for Muraad's condition, that's another point worth mentioning. People should be aware of allergic reactions and how severe they can be.

Do you think Armaan's badua is forgivable?

P.S: I briefly thought about Nomi being Amara's second chance. Don't hate me!

Thoughts and comments?

Thank you for reading and don't forget to read.