Chapter 29

Sara felt her heart beating faster than usual, they all were having words with Danish via video call, but as soon as Fayra noticed this she changed her path and went back to her room. Maizah and Anzala didn't mind this action as they thought both of them must be talking to each other so there was no need to talk in front of everyone but deep down Sara knew there was something fishy between Fayra and Danish. She personally asked Danish to share this secret but he dismissed the matter and Fayra was already not paying attention to Sara.

“I'll be back.” Sara sid up from the sofa of the drawing room and walked to Fayra's room.

“Fayra.”

“Hmm?” She didn't look at her mother who was standing there with a tensed expression on her face. 

“Have you talked to Danish?” Fayra flinched at Sara's question and her silence already answered louder than words. 

“Tumhara masla kya hai? Na tum kuch batati ho na apni harkate sudharti ho. Do mahine ho gye hain Danish ko gye huye, kabhi call kr liya kro use. Shohor hai wo tumhara. Main janti hu wo tumhari wajah se gya hai ghar chhod ke.” Sara made sureto lower her voice because she didn't want to attract Anzala and Maizah’s attention towards this topic, but she was angry due to Fayra's stubbornness. 

(What is your problem? Neither do you tell me anything nor do you improve your behavior. It's been two months since Danish left, please call him sometime. He is your husband. I know that he left home because of you.)

“Mene nhi kaha tha unse jaane ke liye.” Fayra looked away. 

(I didn't tell him leave the home.)

“Tum us se baat kro.” Said Sara while passing Fayra her mobile but Fayra gave her a duh look. 

(Talk to him.)

“Kya baat karu main unse?” She shrugged. 

(What may I talk to him?)

“Tumhe Danish se baat karne ke liye kab se topic ki zarurat pad gyi? Tum to ek minute bhi uske bina nhi rehti thi, ab tumhe samajh nhi aa rha us se baat kese krogi?” 

(Since when did you need a topic to talk to Danish? You could not stay without him even for a minute, now you can't figure out how to talk to him?)

“Tab ki baat alag thi, mujhe lagta tha wo best hain lekin wo meri galatfehmi thi.” Fayra muttered but she was angry. 

(Things were different then, I thought he was the best but that was my misunderstanding.)

“Kyu? Ab aesa kya ho gya hai jo tumhara opinion badal gya?” Sara asked with frustration.

(Why? What has happened now that has changed your opinion?)

“Bas, nhi pasand hai wo.” 

(I… just don't like him.)

“Fayra problem batao, ye bekaar solutions na nikaalo. Agar mujhe batane me uncomfortable ho to Danish se hi baat kar ke saare matters ko sort out kar lo. Lekin use avoid na kro, us se baat kro.” Sara instructed but Fayra was frustrated this time.

(Fayra, tell me the problem, don't come up with this useless solution. If you are uncomfortable telling me, then talk to Danish and sort out all the matters. But don't avoid him, talk to him.)

“Kya baat kru? Mosam ka haal puchu unse?” She asked in a loud voice and Sara glared at her. 

(What should I talk about? Ask him about the weather?)

“Haan, wo hi puch lo lekin pucho.” and she walked out of the room. 

(Yeah, at least do this.) 

<><><>

“You.” Danish wasn't expecting this face as soon as he opened the door, he looked at his condition, the process of cooking converted him into a white bear. 

All thanks to flour he spread everywhere by mistake.

“Yeah, I.” She muttered while running her eyes everywhere, she should be the one to be shocked but here Danish was one. “May I ask, ye kya haal bana rakha hai aapne?” 

(May I ask what is this mess you have created?)

“Umm… yes, you can ask but please don't ask because it will be difficult for me to answer.” Danish scratched the back of his head just to make that portion of hair white with flour. Aisha kept watching him for a few moments then rolled her eyes.

“Where is your phone?” She asked after Crossing her arms on her chest.

“It must be…” Danish looked here and there “somewhere…”

“Baba aapko kab se call kar rahe hain… aap phone hi nhi utha rahe.” She complained.

(Baba has been calling you for a long time… you are not picking up the phone.)

“Calling me? Is everything alright?” He asked while searching for his mobile phone and finally found it in the seat of the sofa. Aisha was witnessing the whole scene standing on the doorway, she didn't step inside when a guy was alone in his home. 

“Ji ji, sab theek hai. Wo… main dinner serve karne wali thi aur Baba ko achanak yaad aaya ki unke pyare Danish ne kuch khaya bhi hoga ya nhi, unhone aapko call kri lekin aapka phone to gumshuda tha, isliye mujhe yaha aana pada.” She explained while rolling her eyes one more time, as if she was doing the biggest favour on him, but he didn't mind. “Ab jaldi chaliye mere sath, baba aapke bina khana nhi khayenge aur main Baba ke bina khana nhi khati.” 

(Yeah, everything is fine, I was serving dinner and Baba suddenly remembered that his dear Danish must be hungry so he called you but you didn't pick the call and I'm here.)

(Come fast, Baba won't have dinner without you and I don't eat without Baba.)

“Lekin main to khana bana rha hu… uska kya hoga?” Danish asked, looking at his hand coated with flour.

(But I am cooking food… What about that?)

“Janab Danish Sahab, Aap khana bana nhi rhe hain, atta, chawal ke hatho zaleel ho rhe hain, kindly join us for dinner right away and continue this process some other day. Thank you.” this was the finest insult but Danish enjoyed. In these two months Danish had visited Usman's home countless times, each time Aisha served him something delicious, meanwhile he understood that she disliked him. She was always rude or sarcastic towards him with no specific reason, however he didn't mind this behaviour because she was sarcastic in a friendly way and rude without crossing the border of respect. He also had no interest in Aisha but Usman was surely an important figure for him; that's another reason behind tolerating this friendly insult.

(Dear Mister Danish, you're not cooking food, you're being traumatized by ingredients. kindly join us for dinner right away and continue this process some other day. Thank you.)

“Chaliye ji, hum apni beizzati kisi aur din kra lenge.” Danish removed the apron while stepping towards the door but Aisha again grimaced. 

(Let's go madam, I'd like to be humiliated some other day.)

“Make sure to check if you've turned off the gas stove. Don't blame me for setting your house on fire afterwards.” She jerked her head while stepping ahead and Danish realised he actually forgot to turn off the flame. 

<><>

“Assalamualaikum.” he smiled looking at Usman who was already sitting on the dining table, Aisha didn't waste time and disappeared into the kitchen.

“walaikum as salam, Jaldi aao, tumne pehle hi itna waqt laga diya, Bhuk se jaan nikal rhi hai meri.” Usman offered a seat with a smile and Danish decided to be a little formal. 

(Waalaikum as Salam, come fast, you have already taken too much time, I'm starving)

“Sir aap sharminda kar rhe hain, mere liye intezaar karne ki kya zarurat thi?” 

(Sir you are embarrassing me, why did you have to wait for me?)

“Nhi nhi, sharminda karne wali koi baat nhi hai, Aisha ne aaj Biryani banayi thi to usne kaha ki pta nhi tum kya ulta seedha bana ke khaoge tumhe bula lu dinner ke liye.” Danish looked towards Aisha who was coming out with a stack of plates, her face turned pale after hearing her father revealing the truth without knowing the backstory she created in front of Danish. 

(No no, there is nothing to be embarrassed of. Aisha had made biryani today and she wondered what you will make and eat, so she asked me to call you for dinner.)

“Main kuch madad karu?” He asked when Aisha turned to go back to the kitchen. 

(May I help you with something?)

“Hum itne bure maizbaan nhi hain ki mehmano se kaam karayein.” Jerking her head she walked into the kitchen but Danish stood up to get cutlery and other things to help her. 

(We're not cruel hosts to make our guests work.)

“Jab koi har rooz muh utha ke aapke dastarkhwan par khana khane lage to wo mehmaan nhi rehta.” Saying that he picked up the bowl of curd and plate of salad from the kitchen counter, Aisha saw him for a long moment, her heart beat faster for a moment and she looked away. 

(When someone starts eating food at your table every day, then he is no longer a guest.)

“But you're not family either.” She said when he came back empty handed and passed him the dish of biryani. 

“Some relationships are no less than a family.” He smiled while taking the dish from her hands and walked out from the kitchen. Here in an unknown place these two people were his family, not by blood but by humanity, but Aisha closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 

“He is not that good.” She muttered while rolling her eyes and walked out from the kitchen to join her father and Danish for dinner. 

“How is Biryani?” She asked happily. 

“Nice but…” before Usman could say that salt chilly both were a little extra. A voice stopped him, “It's amazing.” Danish didn't look towards Aisha but his hand was never stopping to pick another morsel. All her hard work paid off here only. 

“Thank you.” She smiled and sat down before serving herself a good amount of biryani but the very first bite revealed the reality. 

“It's not good.” she said and Danish looked up. 

“Have it with plain curd and salad, it will taste good. Don't worry.” And he was again lifting the next bite without bothering to glance at Aisha who was looking amazed at his honesty and simplicity. How could someone be so simple? Especially when he belongs to a great bloodline. 

The dinner was silent. Aisha didn't offer anything to Danish, he also didn't glance at her and after dinner he thanked both of them and started helping Aisha in picking up dishes from the dining table. He was already full but there was something missing. A dessert. He truly wanted something sweet but couldn't ask directly. 

“Don't you people like to have desserts?” Danish asked while putting the dishes into the sink and Aisha suddenly looked at him. She tried to hide her emotions because Danish already named the thing she was craving. 

“I like to have desserts after meals but Baba doesn't like it so…” she shrugged. 

“So make it for yourself.” Danish looked at her but she sighed. 

“Mujhse khud ke liye mehnat nhi kari jaati, kisi aur ke liye to kar bhi leti hu.” 

(I can make an effort for others but not for myself.)

“Ajeeb ho.”

(You're weird.)

“Gareeb bhi hu.” she mocked herself and Danish laughed. 

(Poor too.) 

“Main chalta hu,” he smiled. She nodded and looked at the condition of the kitchen, it was a mess. 

(I'm going.)

“Baba, don't forget to take medicine.” She yelled from the kitchen only. Removing the dupatta which was covering her head and shoulders till a few moments ago she set it carelessly on the chair and started transferring leftovers in smaller pots. She didn't realise when almost twenty minutes passed when a doorbell grabbed her attention. 

“Who can be at this time?” mumbled Aisha and peeked out from the kitchen door. Her father's room  was dark, which means he already slept after taking medicine. Picking up her dupatta she walked towards the door while covering her head. 

“Aap?” she was surprised to see Danish one more time. He smiled and lifted his hand to show something in his hand. She furrowed but let him enter. 

(You?)

“Ice cream.” 

“Wow.” Aisha smiled and Danish looked here there. 

“Where is sir?”

“He slept after having medicine.” she replied and Danish nodded 

“Okay. I'll come some other time. You have it.” He passed the ice cream tub but Aisha looked at him with questioning eyes. Did she tell him that she likes ice cream? 

“Aapko pasand nhi hai ice cream?” Danish was silent in the reply, he liked ice cream that's why he bought an ice cream tub but he felt hesitant to sit with Aisha when Usman was sleeping in his room.

(Don't you like ice cream?)

“Pasand hai, lekin kisi aur din khaunga.” 

(I like it, but… some other day.)

“kal bhi dinner hamare sath kar lijiyega aap, phir ice cream bhi sath kha lijiyega.” she said and Danish's steps stopped to move out from the home. He turned to see the girl who was offering her meal every next day. 

(You can have dinner with us tomorrow as well. Then we will have ice cream too.)

“Mere ghar mein kaha jata hai kisi ka utna hi khao jitna use khila sako, maine aap ke ghar me jitna khaa liya hai uska badla nhi kar sakta main.”

(In my home, we say—only eat as much as you can feed someone in return. I can never repay what I’ve eaten at your home.)

“Kal bhi ice cream le ayega, lekin please ye flavour nhi, mujhe strawberry ice cream bilkul pasand nhi hai.” She grimaced but picked a spoon from the dining table, opened the ice cream tub and took a spoonful of it. Danish laughed at her simple yet effective demand and nodded. 

(Bring another ice cream tomorrow, but not this flavour. I don't like strawberry ice cream.” 

“Konsa flavour khana pasand karengi aap madam?” 

(Which flavour would you like to have, Madam?)

“Chocolate.”

“Done.” 

“Aur main dinner mein kya banau?” 

(And what would you like to have for dinner?)

“Daal chawal.” 

“Done.” she nodded and Danish left. As soon as he stepped in his apartment everything started feeling suffocating. Those walls were cage, the empty home screamed loud that he didn't belong to this place, he was an outsider. 

Ever since he had seen a home full of people, different types of emotions under the same roof but here he was all alone waiting for a moment of company. Throwing himself on the sofa he realised he forgot his mobile phone here only. 

He was here to set his business and unfortunately got only failure with two attempts. Right now, he was  tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally. 

Slumber started consuming him slowly. He didn't want to get up from the sofa, he didn't want to go to the bedroom. He didn't want to stay here. There was a long night waiting for him to pass, he glanced at his mobile screen and… boom…

2 Missed calls from Fayra. 

She called him? 

Was he dreaming? 

Has he already slept and now has pleasant dreams? 

But no, it wasn't a dream. He was all awake now. 

Forgetting everything he called back without thinking twice about time. 

“Hello,” a sleepy voice echoed and Danish smiled, he could imagine her rubbing her eyes and hiding her face in the pillow while covering her face. 

“Soo rhi thi?”

(Were you sleeping?)

“Nhi, adhi raat ko bhooto ke sath kitty party kar rhi thi.” she was frustrated but Danish laughed. How badly he missed this sweet frustration. 

(No, just hanging out with ghosts.)   

“Pehli baar bhooto se jalan ho rhi hai,” He smiled 

(For the first time I’m jealous of ghosts.)

“Soone dijiye, pareshan na kariye.” again a frustrated reply and the call was disconnected. 

(Let me sleep, don't disturb me.)

“Meri kami kab tumhe pareshan karegi, Fayra?” he sighed and closed his eyes. 

(When will my absence bother you,Fayra?) 

<><><>

“Soone dijiye, pareshan na kariye.” She said with closed eyes, frustrated. 

(Let me sleep, don't disturb me.)  

A peaceful slumber is more precious than a jewel. 

Throwing the mobile on the pillow carelessly she hugged the other pillow and slept off. She didn't want any disturbance at three o'clock at night but her mobile started ringing again. 

“Kya musibat hai?” Mumbled the sleepy girl while picking up the mobile with closed eyes. 

(What the hell?) 

“Soone dijiye na Danish, main subah baat kar lungi aapse. Pakka. Promise.” Dangling between deep slumber and half consciousness she muttered. Eyes still closed. 

(Let me sleep Danish, I'll talk to you tomorrow, promise.) 

“Meri yaad nhi aati tumhe? Itni asani se kese bhul sakti ho mujhe? Main to tumhare bina na soo pata hu na jaag pata hu. Tum kese bhul gyi mujhe?” all her slumber vanished, eyes snapped open, breath hitched. Suddenly the well working AC stopped making the room pleasant and she felt sweat appearing on her forehead, throat became dry. All these things just because of this man's voice. 

(Don't you miss me? How can you forget me so easily? I am neither able to sleep nor awake without you. How did you forget me?)

“Bolo Fayra?” 

(Tell me Fayra.)

“Arsh, stop calling me. Now I'm married.” She tried her best to sound angry but couldn't.

“Mujhe tumse milna hai, tum aogi ya main aau tumhare college?” Arsh asked. His voice held urgency but Fayra huffed. 

(I want to meet you, will you come or should I come to your college?) 

“Mujhe nhi milna aapse,” she was angry this time and this guy knew how to handle her anger. 

(I don't want to meet you.)

“Tomorrow, sharp 11, I'll pick you from outside your college.” 

“I won't come.”

“Fayra, let's sort out everything and for that we need to meet, at least once.” She smiled bitterly at this suggestion. 

“Is there any room to sort out this matter? You're too late.” 

“No, no sweetheart. There is still a room left. You can still be mine. Trust me. I'll change myself for you. I'll do everything to make you happy. I promise.” Fayra looked at the mobile screen after removing it from her ear. It was showing an unknown number, now she understood how Arsh could call her when his number was already blocked. 

She cut the call and switched off her mobile. This guy was not letting her move on. Whenever she tried to forget him he appeared from nowhere and reminded her that he was still present somewhere in her heart. 

She closed her eyes again but this time two tears rolled down, absorbed by her pillow. 

She wanted to unlove this guy but how to do so? She had no visible solution. 

<><><>

“Tum theek ho na? Bimaar kyu lag rhe ho?” Touching his forehead with the back of her fingers Sara asked Adnaan who was lazily lying in the bed but not getting up. It was already late morning but he was still half asleep. 

(Are you alright? Looking dull and weak.)

“Where is Fayra?” Instead of replying he asked and Sara sighed. 

 Fayra didn't come to see her father today. It was her daily routine to come and kiss Adnaan's forehead before greeting him a good morning followed by breakfast but today she was nowhere.

 “Lagta hi nhi hai wo hamari beti hai, ya to Fiza ke paas rehti hai ya Mami saheba ke.” Sara mumbled while jerking her head and picked the extra blanket from the bed to fold it properly. Sometimes she felt absent of her daughter because this girl spent the least time with Sara. 

(It doesn't seem like she is our daughter, she either lives with Fiza or with Mami Saheba.)

“Kam danta kar use, tune khud use apne aap se dur kar diya.” Adnaan closed his eyes while saying that and Sara looked at him in disbelief. Her hands loosen the grip on the blanket and she sat down beside him. 

(You're making differences between you and her by scolding her too much. Scold her less.)

“Main sach mein zyada daanti hu use?” asked Sara and Adnaan opened his eyes. 

(Do I really scold her more than enough?) 

“Tu bata, tujhe kya lagta hai?” Holding her hand he pulled Sara to sit beside himself and a wave of guilt ran inside this lady who loved her only daughter too much but showed it less than her disappointment. Yesterday she also scolded Fayra too hard to talk to Danish. 

(You say, what do you think?)

“Tum to use uski kisi galti par dante nhi ho, har baar main hi villian ban jaati hu.” 

(You never scold her on mistakes and if I do I become the villian.)

“Galti par dant lekin jab galti na ho tab pyaar bhi to kar.” Adnaan told in a polite voice and Sara looked away for a moment, 

(Scold her if she is wrong but don't adore her when she is not making any mistake.)

“Wo mere paas baithti hi nhi hai jo pyaar kru. Har waqt idhar udhar rehti hai.” Sara pulled her hand from Adnaan's grip and resumed to fold the blanket. 

(She does not give me time to adore her. She is always here and there.)

“Tujhe pta hai tu Fayra se dur kyu ho gyi?” Adnaan asked and she looked at him with eyes full of pain. 

(Do you know why you distanced yourself from Fayra?)

“You already know. Don't you?” she muttered and set the pillow after placing the blanket on the correct place. “She thinks I don't love her, only you love her. But how do I make her believe that I love her?” Sara added. She was hurt because her daughter never loved her like she loves others or maybe they both never showed love for each other. 

“So tell her how much you love her. Sometimes we need to remind others of our love through words because constant actions lose their charm.” Adnaan's suggestion was considerable. Leaving everything Sara immediately walked towards Fayra’s room. She was laying in the bed resting her head on a soft pillow, her hair spread everywhere, eyes closed. Sara softly shifted her head in her lap after sitting beside her. Fayra opened her eyes, looked at her mother then closed her eyes again. She didn't want to talk to this lady after she scolded her too hard yesterday. Sara didn't say anything but started massaging Fayra's scalp with her fingertips. 

“Kya haal bana liya hai tumne apne baalo ka, duniya bhar ke products use karne ke baad bhi curls maintain nhi kar paa rhi ho tum.” Feeling the rough texture of her naturally curly hair a mother scolded her daughter. She opened her eyes, gave a disappointed look in reply and again closed her eyes. 

(What have you done to your hair? Even after using all the products, you are not able to maintain the curls.)

It was enough for Sara to understand that it's not a good time to scold her again. She kept massaging Fayra's scalp for a few minutes, saying nothing, just noticing dark circles, dark spots and a few new breakouts on her face. 

This girl was not like this. She used to cry aloud if only one pimple appeared on her face. From home remedies to cosmetics she didn't leave anything if a single dark spot appeared anywhere. Her curls were beautiful because she maintained a strict routine for it but now her hair texture was near frizzy and looking like a nest. 

What happened to this girl? 

She forgot to take care of herself. She forgot to smile. She forgot to run from one place to another. Her energetic form vanished, nowadays she walhs tired every time. 

“Fayra” Sara muttered, 

“Hmm?” she didn't open her eyes.

“Do you know whom do I love most?” Sara asked in a hushed voice. Fayra didn't want to open her eyes or talk, she was enjoying her mother's fingers running on her scalp but 

“Your husband.” she opened her eyes and looked at the lady who sighed.

“Who does your father love most?” Sara asked. 

“He loves me the most.” Fayra muttered and Sara felt the same pain she tolerated since the first day she held Fayra in her arms. 

“Do you know, you were a premature child?” Sara asked and Fayra nodded. She knew this fact about herself because she heard her parents mentioning this to doctors a few times when she fell ill in childhood, earlier she didn't know the meaning but now she knew. 

“When I was pregnant my condition was worse. Sometimes I used to feel that I would die during this pregnancy. But I stayed strong just because of you. I used to imagine a beautiful bond between me and my child. I bear all the pains, I waited for you to come to this world. And when finally you came you were so delicate. When you cried for the first time I tried my best to hush you. I literally cried with this thought that something was seriously wrong that's why you were crying too much, everyone tried but Miss Fayra was crying too much then comes your Abba (father)” Sara rolled her eyes, Fayra was looking at her mother silently, she was sharing something like this for the first time. “He took you in his arms and you stopped crying. Without any effort from him. Without even rocking you. He just held you closer to his chest and you slept peacefully.” Fayra was listening to the story silently. 

“This was the second time when I realised that even after all the pains I bore you love your father more than me.” 

“When was the first time you realised it?” Fayra asked. This was the first proper sentence she used, otherwise she was using only a few words. 

“When you weren't even born you used to respond to your father's call. My voice, my calls were unanswered.” Fayra smiled at this revelation. She knew she loved her father but today she got to know how much and from when. But she noticed Sara's eyes filling with tears. 

“You never loved me like I love you. You think that I don't even love you, I did everything to be a good mother but you only see my scoldings, not my intentions. I love you more than I love your father. Even more than I love anyone else.” 

“Mumma aap roiye to nhi naaa.” Fayra sat down on the bed and hugged her mother who was giving a long speech just to prove her love. 

(Mumma, don't cry. Please.)

“I also love you, but what can I do if I love papa more? Moreover, he never scolds me but you always do…” said Fayra to justify her point and Sara sighed.

“Keep one thing in your mind, love has different faces. Sometimes it looks like sweet words and gestures, sometimes it looks like gifts and silent support but sometimes it also looks like bitter medicine and scolding.” Fayra blinked blankly. “I can't see you going towards the wrong path, I scold you to save you. Just like bitter medicine is important to prevent big illness, likewise scoldings and restrictions are important to save you from huge damage.” Sara caressed Fayra's head and pushed her hair away from her forehead and face. 

“Beta agar main kuch kehti hu to tumhare bhale ke liye hi kehti hu.” 

(Dear, if I instruct you for something it's only for your betterment.)

“I understand.” Fayra muttered. She understood one more thing, next topic must be related to Danish and the very next moment Sara proved her correct. 

“Have you talked to Danish?” 

“Yesterday I called but he didn't answer, later on when he called back I was sleeping.” 

“Hmm…” Sara nodded. “Listen to me.” She held Fayra's hands. 

“Danish is a nice man, you also know this. Now focus on what life has given you, not on what it has already taken away.” Sara muttered and Fayra slowly pulled her hands away from her grip. 

Fayra wanted to reply that she was unable to think about Danish as a husband but she didn't want to create another reason for tension in her life. Arsh was already enough for this task. Today she missed her college just because she didn't want to come across him. 

“Masla kya hai? Danish pasand nhi hai ya Arsh ko nhi bhula paa rhi?” For the first time Sara was talking to Fayra in a friendly way instead of being a strict mother.

(Will you tell me your problem? Don't you like Danish or are you unable to forget Arsh?)

“Mummy I still feel odd to call his name without bhai. Only I know how do I manage, he is all good but I don't feel comfortable with the thought of him as my husband…” Fayra shared and Sara sighed. She knew it was the side effect of cousin marriage, especially when Fayra had seen Danish as a brother for a long period. 

“Beta, Danish is a nice guy, give him a chance.” 

“You people said the same about Arsh.” Fayra argued and Sara sighed. 

“Yeah, we said it. But… It's always difficult to see the real face of people but we have been watching Danish ever since. We know him in person.” said Sara but Fayra looked at her with disappointment.  

“But why only Danish? Couldn't you find some other guy? I would accept your decision silently but only him?” Sara kept watching her daughter for a long moment then slowly held her hands. 

“Fayra, Hum aksar kayi neymato ko nazarandaz kar dete hain, ya shayad un cheezo ko neymat samajhte hi nhi hain kyuki wo hume bas mil jaati hain, bina kisi mehnat, bina kisi takleef, bina kisi khwahish ke, lekin un neymato ki value jab samajh aati hai jab wo hum se chheen li jaati hain, ya shayad unki value samjhane ke liye hi unhe hum se dur kar diya jata hai. Danish wo hi neymat hai tumhare liye, abhi use tumse dur kra gya hai, uski ahmiyat samajh jao, agar chheen liya gya to dobara milna namumkin hoga.” Fayra didn't know why but her heart skipped a beat. She felt an unknown fear.

(Fayra, we often ignore many blessings, or maybe we do not consider them as blessings because we simply get them, without any hard work, without any pain, without any desire, but when we understand the value of those, they are already taken away from us, or maybe in they are kept away from us order to understand their value. Danish, is the same blessing for you, right now he has been kept away from you. u

Understand his importance before it's too late, if he is taken away permanently then it would be impossible to get him again.)

“Decision is all yours. I'm giving you six months, you make your mind until Danish come back. But keep my words in your mind, not every action can be reversed, once you let Danish go there will be no coming back. Give your fullest now so that you won't regret it in the future. I'll be with you in every decision.”

“Really? Will you really be standing by my side?” Fayra asked with a hope in her voice. 

“Yes. Pakka. But for now, talk to him, give him some time to understand your feelings, take your time to feel comfortable in this relationship.” Sara didn't say anything after this, she passed Fayra her mobile and walked out from the room. A silent gesture for Fayra to call Danish. 

She took a deep breath and let it go before switching on the mobile and calling his number. 

“Hello.” His voice fell in her ears. She didn't know what to say. Suddenly everything started feeling odd, he was the same Danish with whom she used to talk endlessly but now she was feeling uncomfortable after knowing about his feelings for her. “How are you?” She asked without knowing what those three words did to someone's heart. If he wouldn't be at his workplace he would cry out. Nowadays he was already vulnerable, these small gestures of love were emotional triggers. 

“I'm good. You?” He asked. 

“Hmm… fine.” Fayra replied. And now, there was silence from both sides. Danish had a million topics to talk about but he wanted to listen. On the other hand this girl didn't feel like saying anything at this moment. 

“How is the weather?” she asked and heard a long sigh from Danish. 

“Patjhad chal rha hai, had e nazar tak ek dard bhara nazara hai, har ek girti patti ke sath khalipan badta jaa rha hai. Waqt guzarne ke sath bahaar aane ki ummeed to hai lekin dar bhi lagta hai, agar ye mosam kabhi nhi badla to?” Fayra furrowed and grimaced. 

(Autumn is going on, as far as I can see, there is a painful sight, with every falling leaf the emptiness is increasing. I am hoping for spring but I am also afraid, what if this weather never changes?)

What kind of weird weather description is he giving? Can't he make it simple and say it's autumn. Moreover, what's the difference between autumn and spring when you have to sit in an AC room? She asked herself but didn't voice her thoughts. 

“Umm… don't worry, spring comes after Autumn, it's a rule of nature.” She muttered without realising the point of his description.

“Hmm…” he hummed and then there was nothing to say. Silence occupied the space between them.

 “Say something, Fayra,” he demanded. Fayra felt he was sad. She couldn't see him in trouble at any cost. 

“Kese hain aap?” 

(How are you?)

“Main bohot bura hu, dhokebaaz bhi hu…” he repeated the labels given by Fayra before leaving India, her breath hitched. Both eyes turned wet and the phone call ended with two teardrops rolling down from both eyes. 

(I am very bad, a deceiver too…)

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Mohabbat ke andaaz bhi juda hain Faraz,

Kisi ne tut k chaha aur koi chah ke tut gya

_Ahmad Faraz

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