ولکن لا یمکنک ان تعلق قلبک فلا تشعر
But you can't close your heart to the things you don't want to feel

Monday - 5:55pm

"Ibrahim."

A small whisper left her lips as she eyed the man who stood before her with all his glory, her pupils dilating for a moment at the sight of him that seemed to be such a natural part of the evening with his towering frame, lean figure and confused expressions - but only for a moment.

A second passed and Hemayal Khakwani had recovered herself, years of dealing with surprises first hand herself and treating patients who brought with them a share of astonishment as well finally paying off. Shaking her head inwardly, she ridded herself of the mist that had clouded her mind for a moment and now only one face seemed to hover over it - Dadu's.

"Hemayal." Ibrahim repeated her name, making her heart miss a broken beat, his eyes squinting in hundred different emotions and Hemayal saw the movement of his Adam's apple with sheer delight - Ibrahim Yazdani was confused, terrified and everything in between, "It's nice to meet you."

Hemayal didn't resist the single eyebrow that shot upwards, giving her an air of taunting mockery and stunned surprise. The guts of this man were beyond her, totally and utterly. After a week he showed up in front of her and the first thing that left his lips were such refined words that she had to remind herself of the atrocities he had committed. Sudden loathing filled her out of nowhere and she didn't even make an attempt to hinder the roll of her eyes.

"I wish I could repeat such fine words." Hemayal punctured her words with all the last bits of venom she had in herself, head held high as she eyed him but he was still a good few inches taller than her despite the heels that added to her height.

Hemayal saw for a second as colors left his face but he recovered, much too quickly to leave any bud of triumph blossoming in her heart. Oh, he was good. He knew how to compose himself, in time and place and although this was a quality she had always appreciated and encouraged in people, Ibrahim Yazdani possessing this attribute filled her with unknown repugnance.

Allah, she could hate even the air that this man breathes.

"Hemayal, I understand you're angry and hurt and..." Ibrahim said, half expecting her to cut him short but when Hemayal didn't interrupt and continued regarding him with a steady glare, he continued, "Can...can we sit somewhere down and talk?"

"One time wasn't enough for you, Mr. Yazdani?" Hemayal could see the way his eyes snapped towards her at the mention of his surname, the movement of his throat an indication of his inner turmoil, "Oh, I forgot. You don't listen to people when they're talking. Yeah, pardon me."

Hemayal's obvious taunt had an effect as Ibrahim's shoulders slumped a little, his lips tightening as he regarded her with a stare that had shards but he blinked, and all the pieces vanished as the gloss in his eyes returned and he begun.

"I didn't know..." Hemayal could see he was at loss of words but she had no intention of making it easy for him, a familiar aged and wrinkled face flashing before her eyes and a known sadness suddenly filled her.

"You didn't know?" Hemayal leaned her head towards him a little as she asked, a smile that bordered a smirk coming to rest on her face but one had to know her too well to understand the hurt that resided in that curve of lips.

"I didn't, I swear I didn't. If I did, I wouldn't have harmed even a single hair of your head..." Ibrahim's voice trailed off and Hemayal immediately straightened in her place.

However, the sudden action caused her to stumble on her step, her stilettos bending, and she could see through her peripheral vision as the man took a hurried step towards her but she took a step back with equal swiftness, out of his hold, and steadied herself on time. Even the thought of Ibrahim Yazdani touching her reminded her of that cursed night she had so desperately tried to rid her mind of - by Allah, she didn't want to stumble back in those catastrophic memories.

"You wouldn't have harmed if you knew? That's your defence?" Hemayal after recovering gracefully from her stumble uttered, her eyes glaring at him with intensity nobody wished to be at the receiving end of.

The sound of a woman calling her name suddenly filled the air, effectively shutting Ibrahim's mouth who obviously had an answer ready, forcing him to purse his lips as his jaw tightened. Both of them turned their head sideways together, the sight of Arsala entering in their direct vision who jogged towards them with scarlet face. However, at the sight of a man, her steps faltered as a confused expression migrated to her face and she stopped a good few steps away from them.

"Hami." Arsala mouthed, recovering her breath as she panted heavily, "Thank God you didn't go yet."

"What's the matter, Arsala?" Hemayal asked, turning towards her before catching a glimpse of the man who eyed the two ladies with slight apprehension in his brown eyes.

"That man... the one you had a row with last month...is here. He is asking to meet you." Arsala said timidly, all the while eyeing Hemayal's face cautiously whose eyebrow rose first in confusion, as if trying to remember the man and then in understanding before finally an annoyed expression rested on her face.

The incident hadn't been much serious to occupy the large portions of her mind and besides, it happened well over a month ago - too large a time for her. What started off as a polite and sympathetic conversation between a doctor and husband of the patient turned into a heated argument when the man reduced himself to threats and physical manhandle after Hemayal refused to disclose any information about his wife who had asked her not to.

Although he was detained by the security before causing any real trouble, he was all curses and threats when he left. Hemayal, however, went to Abbottabad a few days later and the incidents there brushed this one under the carpet, making her almost forget it ever happened.

"What does he want?" Hemayal questioned, aware of Ibrahim Yazdani's penetrating gaze on her but she kept her façade of nonchalance high as she conversed with Arsala.

"He wants to apologize." Arsala uttered as she cast a quick, unsure glance in Ibrahim's direction who made no attempt at concealing the fact that he was listening to their conversation, his eyes moving between the two ladies.

After all, when Hemayal had made no attempt to privatize the exchange, what was the need to act up as a gentleman and leave the two ladies as they chatted?

"Apologize?" Hemayal repeated, eyebrows furrowing as her face crumpled into deep thoughts.

"Yeah, he'd been visiting for the past few days but I forgot to tell you." Arsala nodded again, conscious that a complete stranger was listening to their conversation and that too intently.

Suddenly, a small smile broke across Hemayal's face that was all the shades of broken but still had hues of triumph dancing in them before she slowly turned to Ibrahim, a strange glint in her eyes that could make a shiver run down anyone's spine. Glancing in his direction for a moment, she took a step forward, stopping only a few inches away from him such that she could make out the image of her own scarlet face in the browns of his eyes, such that his cologne invaded her senses, clouding it for a few seconds.

"Tell him, Arsala, that I don't forgive intentional mistakes." Hemayal said, her voice ice as she looked at Ibrahim, her eyes not blinking, her lungs not breathing, "Tell him that I don't forgive physical manhandling and tell him that I never forget mistakes that ruin families."

Hemayal saw the effect her words had, noticed the way Ibrahim Yazdani froze in his place, his irises stilled and his breath caught. His eyes that were crowded with lashes that cast a shadow over his refined cheekbones were staring at her with glass in them, his dark and rough stubble adding to his aristocratic features, all stunning.

Allah, this man was exquisite.

And as her reflex thoughts synapsed to the higher centers of her brain, she shook inwardly and slowly cursed herself. And after a moment, finally realizing her close proximity with the man who messed with her heart and mind with such poise and ease that sometimes rendered her speechless, she took a step back, her expressions however remained passive throughout.

With her heart beating erratically in her chest from the previous encounter, she cast a quick glance in Arsala's direction who was beyond stunned as she witnessed the mysterious exchange between her friend and that handsome man. Mouthing a quick goodbye, Hemayal turned around and walked away, trying to maintain a steady and poised pace for she knew that his eyes traveled with her everywhere she went.

Reaching the car, she slipped in the backseat swiftly and just as the world around her vanished and the man's eyes left her, a lone tear left her eyes and kissed her cheek all the way down to the chin.

She did not deserve this.

|¤¤¤|

9:31pm

"Why did you call me here?" Mustafa's voice rang from behind, momentarily stilling him but he had resumed his previous activities not a second afterwards - that being staring out at the night sky with tilted head while a cigarette pressed between his thin lips caused the light smoke that was very much part of the starry night.

"You invited yourself here." Ibrahim replied tiredly with hint of nonchalance, his eyes intense as they stared far ahead, hoping to find some comfort after such a taxing day.

Ibrahim was still dressed in the white dress shirt and blue jeans he had selected for himself in the morning in Abbottabad; he just had no time and energy to change into some comfortable clothes. Although the shirt was creased with its top buttons open, it gave him a rough attire and rough had always been in his favor, giving him an aura of exquisiteness and splendor like it always had.

Ibrahim saw through his peripheral vision as Mustafa came to stand beside him, both men standing behind the railing that adorned the balcony of Ibrahim's apartment. With lights of the city, providing a stunning scene, blushing before them, the apartment building which was located at a height provided many such exquisite sights.

"Excuse me," Mustafa's annoyed voice rang his ear drums, making him chuckle a little before dropping the cigarette on the floor and pressing the sole of his shoes on it, effectively silencing the small flame, "You told me to come here so you can tell me what the hell has gotten into you."

"Hemayal Khakwani has gotten into me." Ibrahim muttered after a long pause, voice troubled and coming from the deepest pit Mustafa could imagine.

"It's okay if she has, she's your wife, she has all the rights." Mustafa had begun with a grin and an artful remark but when Ibrahim had cast him a look he knew too well, he had grown serious, realizing that his younger brother here was all the shades of grave and thoughtful, "When did you meet her, though? Didn't she refuse when you asked at her home?"

"Oh, I've met her alright." Ibrahim sighed in response, shaking his head as he still stared ahead, "We've met quite a few times."

"What are you playing at, Abi? You yourself told me that she refused to meet you." Mustafa's voice lingered in the air for a second, all confused and annoyed, and began after a second when Ibrahim remained silent, "When did you meet her for the first time?"

"We had an accident." Ibrahim replied, heart faltering as the memories of that Sunday afternoon flashed behind his hooded lids.

"Accident?" Mustafa's stunned question made Ibrahim turn towards him and after flashing him a crooked smile, he walked inside the apartment - the wind was getting cooler and he had no jacket adorning his frame right now that could prevent the air from slicing through him.

"Yeah, about two weeks ago." Ibrahim elaborated as he heard Mustafa's steps behind him, the lounge of his apartment suddenly filling him with warmth, a sharp contrast to the outside where clouds will pour water any minute from now.

The lounge of his unflawed apartment covered an extensive area and was a sight to behold for all the right reasons. With its wooden flooring that provided a dark appearance to the room, it had a fireplace by the east wall with an outsized television towards its right wall, all painted in white and brown. Two sets of sofas were placed diagonally in the lounge which was right now illuminated only by the faint streaks of lamps and fire, intensifying the mystery that was already high at the moment.

"Two weeks?" Mustafa muttered thoughtfully before his eyes widened and Ibrahim could see without looking that he had halted in his place before his sharp voice rang, "The woman you gave my jacket to?"

Ibrahim could see that Mustafa had reached there and now he was left with no option other than to explain to him everything that had happened to him, that he had done and the aftermaths he had endured. Previously, small hope was blossoming his heart that he would be saved from narrating the incidents to his elder brother but right now, at this moment, he saw the hope vanishing and he finally took a seat beside the fire, dropping his head and motioning Mustafa to take a seat too.

"That woman was Hemayal?" Mustafa's voice still had a great deal of stun and daze in it and Ibrahim nodded before Mustafa continued with the same tone, a slight apprehension coming to rest between his brows.

"A part of me is telling that you didn't know it back then. Please tell me it's wrong." Mustafa sounded horrified at the mere thought and Ibrahim gulped, head bowing a little more - in shame or regret, he didn't know.

"No, it's right. I didn't realize who the woman was until much later." Ibrahim replied before casting his brother a quick glance and his lips pressed in a thin line at the amount of perplex and baffle that resided there.

"God damn, Abi. God damn." Mustafa's bewildered voice sliced through the room and Ibrahim heaved a deep breath before straightening in his place, eyes, however, fixed at the fireplace where flames rose and coal cracked, where he could see a perfect depiction of his life at the moment.

"How can you not recognize her? She's your wife, for Allah's sake." The mere thought that Ibrahim hadn't recognized his wife wasn't settling well with Mustafa at all; Allah knows what he'll do when Ibrahim had told him everything.

He'd pass out, for all he knew.

"That's just the beginning, Mustafa." Ibrahim sighed and Mustafa only shook his head before running his hands over his face.

"I can tell from your state." Mustafa had replied and Ibrahim was glad that it was Mustafa he was narrating the whole story to - an understanding man who strived for the silver linings.

"Wait, wait, wait..." Mustafa suddenly exclaimed, silencing Ibrahim who was just beginning to speak up, "She was the one you were so impressed by in the workshop, right? Humna was actually Hemayal?"

The grin on Mustafa's face was unmistakable and Ibrahim swore his heart missed a beat, not having thought of this particular notion beforehand. Hemayal Khakwani was the woman who had tilted him a little when he had seen her in the workshop, who had been in his mind unconsciously ever since that mesmeric encounter, who had impressed a man as difficult as Ibrahim in a matter of few seconds and who had dared to make Ibrahim Yazdani halt whenever her thoughts crashed on him.

Oh, man.

It was her all along and he had remained oblivious. What was he going to do now? What is one supposed to do in such circumstances?

"Yes, yes. I think it was her." Ibrahim had replied quickly, nodding his head more to himself than to the man sitting in front of him with perplexed features.

"What are the chances of that?" Mustafa chuckled and Ibrahim could do nothing but glare for Mustafa was, in this situation, actually right.

"That's not important, Mustafa. The fact that the woman I had an accident with was Hemayal or that the person who impressed me so much was her just isn't important." Ibrahim paused for a second before beginning, "There are greater things that have happened, far worse than these trivial things and by Allah, I don't know a way out."

The desperation that resided in Ibrahim's voice made Mustafa halt, his limbs stilling as he eyed his brother with concern sprawling his features. Never in his life had he heard such remorse, pain and terror in his Ibrahim's voice and such emotions filled Mustafa Yazdani with foreign and unsettling feelings.

"Do me a favor, Abi, and walk me through everything." Mustafa replied and saw as Ibrahim inhaled a deep breath before dropping not only his eyes but his head too.

"It all started with that damned car..." Ibrahim had begun slowly, his voice picking emotion, velocity and intensity with each uttered word.

It had taken him a good ten to fifteen minutes to walk Mustafa through every tiny detail. Mustafa had not interrupted during the time Ibrahim Yazdani bared his soul in front of another, his expressions, however, had changed considerably. Turning confused once, they had bordered terrified and even sympathetic at one time but he never interrupted.

And Ibrahim was glad.

"Oh, Abi. What have you done?" It was all Mustafa said, well after a few seconds after Ibrahim had finished, his eyes sympathetic and concerned as he eyed his younger brother who was all the colors of broken at the moment.

"I know, I know." Ibrahim had sighed, "The mess is deep and abysmal and I feel like I'm at the bottom of a pit. And Allah, there's no way out."

"There's always a way out, Abi. You just have to search for answers in the right place." Mustafa nodded his head towards Ibrahim and he only sighed, a little glad nevertheless that Mustafa wasn't judging or reprimanding him like he had expected; that he wasn't treading the path of scolding when he was already at the verge of an emotional breakdown.

Oh, no, Hemayal was enough.

"I don't know, I went to talk to her and she was so cold and..." Ibrahim was, however, silenced by Mustafa's stunned question which cut him short.

"You went to see her?" Mustafa's bewildered reaction painted a frown between his brows which was followed by a stroke of confusion.

"Umm...yeah. Why?" Ibrahim narrowed his eyes in apprehension as he asked and Mustafa only dropped his head with a sigh.

"You shouldn't have gone like this." Mustafa said, shaking his head and Ibrahim only rolled his eyes.

"How should I have gone? With a whole procession?" His remark bordered sarcasm but Mustafa had always been pro at them, not paying any heed to them now, only glaring at his younger brother who was now leaning against the seat by the fireplace that stood opposite to the floor-to-ceiling window.

"No, I meant that you should have approached her and solved this whole thing more tactfully." Mustafa remarked thoughtfully and a wretched smile touched Ibrahim's face.

"This whole thing is nowhere near being solved, I assure you that." His voice held remorse but even more than that, it contained such sadness as Mustafa had never witnessed before.

Ibrahim was never the cheerful one in the family, that position was occupied by Mustafa, but he was never the depressed one either. He was just reserved and shy who liked to mind his own business and kept his emotions to himself. Although he had dealt with his share of problems in life too, nothing had ever vanquished him as much as this incident did, not even Ammu's accident.

"How did she react when she saw you?" Mustafa asked after a moment, thinking finally of the woman whose family was shattered by his brother, whose life was hit by a storm just because of this young man sitting in front of him.

But Mustafa couldn't reprimand Ibrahim, even if he wanted to, mainly because he understood the reason behind his actions, knew the things Ibrahim had been dealing with at the time of Ammu's accident, knew that he didn't expect any of the aftermaths of the incident. Also, the people concerned in the incident were all adults and he was sure they could solve the concerned matter through dialogue and conversation, just like every other matter of personal or national importance on this land.

"She was...unusually composed. Cold, distant, yes. But she was composed, like she almost expected to see me there." Ibrahim said, confusion lacing his words, voice and eyes.

"Maybe she found out that you'd come to know and expected that you'd come to meet her." Mustafa guessed and Ibrahim shook his head, negating the proposition without a second thought.

"Other than the possibility that she possesses mystic powers, which she clearly doesn't, there's no way she can know about this." Ibrahim smiled with pressed lips, eyes thinking as the irises danced with the flames in the fire.

"Did you tell anyone about it?" Mustafa asked.

"Oh, yeah. I went to Mehmal this morning and told her everything. Maybe she told her." Ibrahim suddenly remembered before a frown adorned his handsome features, "But she promised me she wouldn't."

"Come on, Abi. Of course she'd tell Hemayal that you found out." Mustafa shrugged his shoulder, as if breaking a promise wasn't such a big deal in his eyes, "In one place, there's her cousin whom she will obviously be close with and have spent all her life with and on the other side, there's you, the person who caused the death of her grandfather, kidnapped her cousin and have caused great deal of trouble for her family. Who do you think she'd choose?"

"Yeah, you're right." Ibrahim mumbled, hating the fact that Mustafa was right.

The wood crackled and he closed his eyes slightly before leaning back in the chair, all the stress and remorse since the last night of revelation crashing over him with a wave as large as he hadn't fathomed in a million years. The clouds have opened their gates outside and inside, a torrent of emotions was a similar sight for the sore eyes. The sound of the rain hitting the glass window behind him only caused the loosening of another shackle of grief and tiredness and Wallah, he had never felt this tired in his entire life.

"Okay, Abi, don't lose heart. We'll figure something out, okay?" Mustafa spoke up, obviously disturbed by his brother's emotional state, "I'll go talk to her, we'll talk to her family and explain everything too. Everything will be fine, okay?"

Ibrahim doubted that but he chose not to respond for a second, listening closely to the sound of wind rattling the glass windows, the enigmatic darkness around him only pulling him in in the downward spiral of self-loathing, grief and fatigue. Allah, when will he be able to breathe again?

"You didn't see her, Mustafa." Ibrahim sighed as a woman flashed her aristocratic face before his dropped lids, wearing all the shades of brown on her head like a royalty but such venom in her eyes that edged her towards a predator, "You didn't see her."

A dense silence filled the room, thick and laced with emotions that seemed to run all the way to his sealed heart before he continued, his encounter with her only a few hours ago coming back to him in waves and he well knew who the moon was in this particular scenario.

And it wasn't him.

"She was...she had such hatred and loathing in her eyes that words are an understatement. Her words, her actions, her eyes...there's no forgiveness for me, at least not anytime soon." Ibrahim finished with a sigh, eyes still closed as their encounters played before his eyes like a movie he wasn't the hero of.

"Stop with all this negativity, okay? I'll talk to her; I'll talk to Hadeed if necessary." Mustafa reprimanded, "You're married to her and it's not some child's play. We'll figure a way out of this."

Mustafa was hopeful and Ibrahim could only chuckle. Mustafa could blossom all the hopes in his heart, he could all right because he hadn't seen in Hemayal Khakwani's eyes as of yet. One look and Wallah, he would never talk of hope again.

"But for now, we have to clear a few things. You need to have a defence for yourself, Abi, other than that god damned reason that you didn't know it was her." Mustafa's voice still held a great deal of horror in them when he uttered the last sentence, finding it hard to come to terms with it, "And why on earth didn't you recognize her, anyway? How can a man forget how his wife looks?"

And for that one question, words always failed Ibrahim Yazdani. Oh, he did have answers ready, more than one, for that question but courage never waved at him and remorse never left him for him to provide a satisfactory answer to anyone who asked.

"I didn't forget how she looked, I just didn't recognize her." Ibrahim began with a small voice which mounted with each strike of the rain against the window, "The image I had in mind of her was of an immature girl in her seventeenth spring with a high ponytail, too much make up for her own good and a college uniform. The woman I had an accident with and saw in the workshop, however, was all the layers of sophistication and poise. Anyone could be misunderstood."

"You weren't supposed to; you had no right to be misunderstood." Mustafa added solemnly and a small curve lifted Ibrahim's lips, wondering how much agony he could have been saved from if he had just exercised that simple right.

If he hadn't been misunderstood.

"You're right but I have other reasons too and you know the biggest one?" Ibrahim asked as he raised an eyebrow in the dark, "I didn't expect life to play such games with me; I never expected that I'd meet her like this after all these years. At that moment, I was so sure of myself that even if she had told me that she was Hemayal, I wouldn't have believed her because I just couldn't imagine the thought of my wife being the woman I kidnapped. Even the thought sounds so absurd, Mustafa, and you know I wasn't functioning well at that time."

"But you're right, I shouldn't have...but it's not my fault...she didn't recognize me either when we first met two weeks ago. I don't know what happened afterwards that reminded her of me but she was lucky, I wasn't." Ibrahim said, finally finding some defence in this catastrophic scenario, "And you know me, Mustafa, you know what I thought about her and our relationship."

"Yeah, you wanted to end it." Mustafa snapped and Ibrahim only chuckled slightly at his expressions.

"Yeah, and that is why the thought of keeping tabs on her, showing any interest in her life, or just being connected to her in anyway never came to me. I was just so sure of the fact that this marriage will end just like it begun. I never, not even once thought otherwise and that's why I never showed any interest when Safaa stalked her social media accounts or showed me her pictures. I never bothered to look at them." Ibrahim was brutally honest as he conversed and there was no stopping him once the torrent of honesty unleashed.

"Yes, I was instinctively worried about her sometimes like when Hadeed called me in the hospital or when I was told that she injured her foot but they were natural. I would feel that way even towards a stranger; she still happened to be my wife and whatever our emotional standing might be, it was natural. She was my wife, her emotional well-being might not have interested me but her safety could get my attention any time of the day." Ibrahim whispered the last words more to himself than to his brother before taking a small pause.

"You still feel the same way?" Mustafa asked when the pause stretched and Ibrahim sighed heavily before a troubled chuckle left his lips.

"I don't think I do but ironically, she feels this way now." Ibrahim said with a stretched smile, "Oh, I think fate doesn't want us together."

"Stop blaming fate and man up, young man. You need to find a way out of this and it has to be quick. The more you delay this thing, the more she'll distant herself from you." Mustafa said, leaning over the sofa he was almost lying on and turning on the other lamps.

The lounge suddenly flamed with different lights and Ibrahim squeezed his eyes, shaking his head as pain shot through his brain. After a second it was gone and once he had acquainted himself to the bright lights, he sat up in the seat. The browns, blacks and whites of the room entered his vision and he, for the hundredth time, appreciated the interior designing of his apartment.

The browns on the wall and the wooden floor complemented the dull white couches placed before the television while the black seats placed before the fire only added to the royal aura spread in the room. The walls hung with abstract paintings, all mystic and dark colored which only made known the aesthetic sense its owner possessed. The floor-to-window ceiling overlooked the city and was a sight to behold at nights when darkness in the house was a refuge for him. He had lost count of the nights he had spent behind the window, gazing ahead at the city lights, engrossed in his thoughts.

"And tell me how was Hemayal kidnapped instead of Humna? The men that you hired didn't receive the correct information or what?" Mustafa asked the question Ibrahim hadn't mentioned when he explained everything.

"Ahh, that." Ibrahim sighed before beginning, "When I asked for Humna's information from Ali, I didn't know what got into me and I asked for Hemayal's information as well. Randomly, with no string attached. I just thought that when I'll be done with Ammu's mess, I'll look into her and probably talk to her about our marriage. But looks like fate had some other plans."

Ibrahim had had his eye narrowed as he gazed at the centre table placed between the two brothers, thoughts swirling in his brain without any halt.

"I never personally met the guys I hired; I just got their number, contacted them, sent them money and got things done. And the information that Ali sent to me, of Humna, I forwarded it to them." Ibrahim paused and Mustafa could very well guess what might have followed after Ibrahim had pressed the sent button.

"And let me guess, you forwarded Hemayal's information instead of Humna's." Mustafa finished for him and Ibrahim dropped his head after a slight shake.

"I am officially an asshole, I know that." Ibrahim said with an eye roll, making Mustafa shake his head before leaning back in his seat.

"Well, that I've always told you." The elder brother laughed while the younger only glared.

After that, a thoughtful silence fell between them which was broken by the elder brother who finally realized that the younger one was more fatigued than what met the eye and he needed sleep, a deep, dreamless sleep where no Hemayal Khakwani could rob his breath.

"Go to sleep, Abi." Mustafa said with a tired smile, "We'll solve this mess and I'll make sure life treats you well."

And Ibrahim Yazdani could only nod his head in hope for at the end of the day, it was all he had.

|¤¤¤|

Hello guys,

I'm so sorry for the delay, hoping that the long chapter made up for it, but I told you guys that I don't have anything pre-written. I will only update when I get something written down and I really hope that you people will understand!

Does Ibrahim deserve forgiveness? Do tell me what you feel!

Till next time,
Salam!