"The best chance you have of protecting Chandi, is if you file an official rape case against Musa Shah. For that to happen, Chandi will be subjected to medical exams, multiple court visits, a whole lot of media publicity, possible death threats. There's no way her husband is going to hand over the divorce with a smile...." Juwariya "Juju"- my old play director, and recently appointed Civil Rights Attorney explained to me over a cup of strong tea in my office.

Juju has been a dedicated Human rights activist, from the moment she got her law-degree after graduation. Even though her job revolves around the toughest, meanest, darkest aspects of human nature, such as domestic abuse, oppression, and violence, Juju still manages to maintain the color popping headscarves, and neon eye-makeup. She has been Hiraeth's go-to legal adviser ever since I started. Even though I insisted on keeping her on a proper retainer, she doesn't accept a penny. There have been countless nights when I have woken her up, to help me with a particularly gruesome Honor killing case, or divorce petitions, or adoptive rights for separated kids, and she has never turned me and my girls down. If I can trust anyone to help protect Chandi, legally, it's her.

So this is why we-Pareeshae and I-are meeting her early on Monday morning.

Once Shay heard about Musa's legal threat, it was all I could do to stop her from marching up to his Karachi residence and ripping off his testicles to feed to starving dogs.

Since then, she has doubled security guards around the shelter. I even agreed with her insistence on installing CCTV cameras on rooftops and other previously neglected crevices of our building. The office building is right across the street from the residential block where the girls live, and it is often a difficult job to keep an eye on both at the same time. Our new security measures will hopefully cover a wider area, and ensure a good measure of protection.

"Are you trying to scare me off?" I laughed nervously.

Pareeshae scowled, ready to argue with Juju. The only reason these two get along is because I enforced a peace treaty between them, back when I first enlisted Juju as a lawyer. Both of them are too high strung, and opinionated to tolerate each other for longer stretches of time.

"Hell yeah, I'm trying to scare you. So that piece of fermented avocado doesn't do it for me." She bit into a Nutella puff, before warning me further, "This isn't like Shehrezade's case, Layla. You're dealing with a powerful political family here. Musa Shah's involvement can actually put you, and your employees at risk. And all this is if you actually have the guts to ask for justice. If you stay quiet, only Chandi gets hurt. I wish it weren't so, but the courts belong to the bigger douchenut in the stands. These people have enough money and power to annihilate you in court."

"Thanks Juju. I feel so much better now."

"No problem, girlfriend."

"It would be more helpful if you could tell us a plan B. We'd rather not wait around for them to make the first move, before we try to safeguard the child." Shay pointed out. "I want to make them pay for what they did to her. It goes without saying that we're never releasing her in their custody again. Who knows? what if they're trying to drag her back, just so they can choke her to death in her sleep or something?"

Honor killings are all too common an issue in tribal families. Even a hint of infidelity, or misplaced love, can become a noose around an innocent girl's neck...I have lost track of the number of stories I have collected over the years of honor killing victims. Articles, news reports, photographs, police reports of thousands of victims. They sit in neatly labeled files in my computer, as a daily reminder that I'm not doing enough. That my organization needs to be bigger, better, more efficient, if we wish to leave even a ripple in this ocean of oppression. Each new story is like a thorn in my side. I want to make Pakistan safe for women....somehow.

"I'm not worried about myself in court. My father happens to be an ex-senator, and my mother is more popular than Fawad Khan, if you ask the right people..." I patted Shay's hand reassuringly. "They have plenty of connections in the right places. This isn't the first time I'm fighting assholes in public court."

But this is the first time I'm fighting someone who wronged me, in public. I tamp down the shiver of old fears that threatened to paralyze me. Old habits die hard; and old fears die harder. For the hundredth time, I almost wish my brother had succeeded in killing him off all those years ago...almost.

"It's my job as your lawyer, to warn you of the enemy's possible moves. But realistically speaking, I'm willing to bet a sizable chunk of this Nutella puff, that the Shahs will try their best to keep this out of court. Which is good or bad, depending on what they have in mind."

Juju neatly outlines our legal defense for me, and we spend the next few hours searching for legal loopholes to avoid the kidnapping charge Musa's attorney threatened us with.

We're almost done when Fahad pops up to announce His Majesty, King of Douchebags' arrival.

"No need to announce me, Fahad. We're business partners. It is perfectly acceptable for Business partners to show up at each others' offices, for important business chats. " Azaan's voice floats inside my office, seconds before he whips open the door, and halts, taken aback at my glowering face, Shay's excited one and Juju's curious one.

"What's this?" Juwariya gestures gleefully at Azaan, "I thought he broke your heart to smithereens, and left the country to get away from you."

I have never regretted confiding in Pareeshae, and Juju before, but it's happening now. It's true when they say that women are terrible secret-keepers. In fact, if Fahad were here, he'd gift me with a factoid such as; "The average period of time that a woman can keep a secret is, 48 hours." or something like that.

My reddening face didn't bother Azaan in the slightest.

"Now, that's just harsh." He sighed, "I didn't break her heart, more like; I accidentally dropped it. And now she won't let me have it back."

"Ahaan. How's your head?" I smiled sweetly, fake.

"My head?"

"Yeah. Your head. How is it? After its six-year long vacation up your ass?" I taunted him.

He burst out laughing at that. Insult repellent rubber, this man...

He thinks he can play the martyr card on me and my friends, and I will forget the anguish he put me through. Nobody asked him to start pursuing me again. If he wants to keep on beating that particular dead cow, he's more than welcome to do so. But I'm not giving in. Because giving in means letting him win another free pass at breaking me...and I don't have the strength to hand out those passes anymore.

"You walked into this one, Majnun." Juju snorted loudly at that; gathering her huge patchwork tote, and leaning forward to kiss my cheek, "Anyways. Thanks for the Nutella Puffs, sweetheart. I'll mail you any progress reports in the case. You just relax. But also keep an eye out for random vandalism, or ruffians. Musa Shah probably keeps them on retainer. That piece of cockroach excrement..."

Azaan's eyes narrowed at me when he heard Juju's warning. "What's this about Musa Shah, then?"

"That's confidential." I sniffed.

He turned to Shay, without missing a beat, "What's this about Musa Shah, then?"

"Don't even bother, dude. I'm team Layla." Shay muttered to him, without looking up from her laptop where she was busy typing out the day's tasks for her assistant.

"Well that's cool. Because I'm team Layla too." He grinned at me, flashing his weapons; AKA dimples. In his snug white T-shirt, and black semi-formal jacket, Azaan Malik could have easily stepped off one of Mama's runways, if it weren't for his hair. The buzz was too untamed for current masculine fashion trends. I remembered him once saying that he hated hair products. The memory was saved in a secret folder in my brain; a folder filled with things I noted about him, random things that fascinated me about the boy I fell in love with...Like the fact that he hated porridge, or the fact that he loved Guitar Hero, or the fact that he was obsessed with Fight Club, or the fact that he had the cutest, quietest sneeze in the world, or the fact that his eye lashes were so thick, it seemed like he was wearing mascara all the time...

I wonder if he ever had a folder with my name on it, or if I was too unimportant for that.

I had an intense urge to kiss those dimples away from his face. An urge that I tamped down with an equally appealing vision of bashing his brains out.

I was mentally and physically exhausted after Juju's meeting. Knowing that I still had a full day of tasks ahead of me, made me anxious to kick him out. He distracted me. A lot.

"What do you want from me Azaan?" I asked irritably.

"Now there's a question." His voice deepened, filled with longing. His eyes darkening with humor and something else. I scowled at a Nutella Puff crumb clinging to the serving basket, situated on my wooden desk.

"I'm still here, Romeo." Shay chirped.

"I know. That's why I had your special project delivered to your own office just now, so you could leave us in peace." He winced when Shay let out a squeal of excitement. I watched confused as she slammed her laptop shut, and sprinted off to her own office.

"She wanted some old pictures of Faris printed, from my collection. She's probably making something special for him. His birthday is coming up." He explained without my asking him. I watched him in stony silence as he surveyed my office, his sharp eyes taking in the minimalist decor. His gaze drifted, and rested over my wall of inspiration, which is basically the only messy thing about my office; it is a wall-cum-giant corkboard plastered with thousands of ideas in post-it notes, posters of inspirational women, motivational quotes etc. Basically anything and everything that me and my staff find inspiring, it goes up on my wall.

He smiled when he saw the framed Kleenex mounted on the board, in the center. My Eminem autograph. It's a barely legible scrawl that my brother stood five hours in line for. I treasure it as a keepsake because I finally started talking to Zaif after this.

"You still have this? I remember when your brother sent it to you...You were so excited that you couldn't stop screaming in my ear over the phone..."

Then he leaned forward to snag a Picture collage from my desktop. It was a collection of photos of my family, friends. Even Chum Chum had her place there.

"I remember I took this one." He said quietly, as he pointed to a group photo from College. He wasn't in the photo, which is the only reason why I chose it in the first place. "I have a whole bunch of more artistic shots decorated around my office. You should come by sometime, pick out anything you'd like to take. I like knowing that you didn't cut off everyone else from the group, even if you hate my guts."

My stomach clenched guiltily at that. It has been years since I met with Daniyal, Syra, Asadomer...

"I don't hate you." I sighed finally. "I just want you to go away. I was getting very used to not having you around, and I want that feeling back. You...you mess me up. You are like a reminder of all things that were too good for me, if that makes sense. I hate reminders like that."

He was shaking his head before I even finished.

"That makes no sense whatsoever. Hayat, what do I have to do, to make you realize that you'll always be the one who's too good for me, but I'll still hope that you'll fall for me all over again? How many times do I tell you that I'm hopelessly in love with you, and that I won't rest until you can get it through your stubborn-ass skull that I'm NOT going anywhere. For better or for worse, I'm yours. And the funny part is, I don't even want myself back..."

My heart turned over at the sweetness of his words, and the soft, exasperated adoration in his eyes. He was telling the truth, that much was obvious.

"Well, excuse me while I swoon." I shot back mockingly, trying to hide my feelings.

"Well, don't swoon now, because I don't have the time to pick you up." He strode towards the doorway, looking back at me, with a smirk on his face, "I brought ammunition today."

An ominously familiar booming voice rang out from the hallway,

"...and who exactly told you to wear a coat and tie in this weather, BOY? If your boss has a dress code in June, then she is the daughter of Satan himself! And she used to be such a reasonable girl when I met her. Now you just wait here, while I have a word with her, you poor, suffocated man-butler. Hmmph! Such inhumanity going under the roof of humanitarian causes! FOR SHAME!"

Fahad's monotone rang out, slightly high pitched and hysterical than usual, which was unusual for him; "Madam, I assure you that Miss Hayat has the best dress codes. If there were a dress code competition for NGOs, Hiraeth would definitely win it."

My mouth dropped open at that.

"Is that...?"

"Kulsoom Dadi, if you're done harassing Fahad, I have someone else for you to pester-err-persuade on my behalf. Now, just stick to the plan we discussed on the way, okay? and remember to say only good things about your favorite grandchild. I need you to win her back for me..." Azaan's murmured voice confirmed my suspicions...

...and made me livid with anger.

That cowardly piece of schnitz!!

He thinks he can bring old relatives to my office, disturb my peace of mind, and annoy my employees, and I will fall back into his arms, screaming my undying love for him!! UGH! That infuriating little Custard!

I gritted my teeth, as I mentally scratched his face.

It was really hard, not unleashing my inner Catwoman on his ass. My face muscles strained as I schooled my face into one of warm, welcoming smile, and offered my salam to Kulsoom Dadi, AKA The Dragon who rules over Azaan's Khandaan (Family).

It's been a few years since we met, but the lady looks as healthy, regal and imposing as ever. Her snowy white hair is pristine under a crisp white cotton dupatta, and a lethal looking cane helps her to waddle her way into my office. Azaan is grasping her left elbow as he gently helps her into my own leather chair. I kissed her cheek, and gave her an awkward hug, while she berated me for letting Fahad wear a dress coat in June.

It took a while for me to calm her down and explain that Fahad is most likely weather proof, and that nobody at hiraeth is forced to wear stuff they're not comfortable in. After a few minutes of idle chatter (During which she informed me that I was getting too tanned), I stood up in the pretense of ordering some chai (tea) for her, and grabbed Azaan subtly by the collar, effectively dragging him out of his chair, and forcing him to follow me out of the room.

We rounded a corner into the pocket kitchen, and as soon as I was sure that we were out of earshot of Fahad and other staff members, I let loose my simmering temper.

"Explain." I hissed.

"Well. Desperate times call for desperate measures, sweetheart." He raised his eyebrows, when he saw my jaw ticking. He folded his muscular arms defensively over his chest. "I'm desperate to get you back. So instead of the usual flowers, chocolates, balloons, million dollar donations routine, I decided to bring in the big guns."

"GUNS? GUNS?" I exploded, "You want to see GUNS? As soon as your scary relative leaves, I'll show you GUNS!! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU BROUGHT YOUR DADI TO MY OFFICE!!"

His face broke into an amused smile as he chuckled, "You know you should really ugly yourself down, if you want me to stop infuriating you. You look so beautiful when you're angry, I think I'll spend a lot of time just thinking up ways to piss you off. You're like a volcano, when you go off, fiery. Breathtaking really."

What. The Actual. Flub.

I could only open and close my mouth like an imbecile at that. I was speechless at this man's nerve...

"...But then again, I think you look adorable when you're crying. And when you have the flu. And when you're rolling your eyes at me. And when you're blushing over something I said..."

My face and neck heated up promptly at that. Stupid hormones.

"...Just like that." He grinned, pleased with himself.

"Usually I'm just plotting ways to kill you, and dump your body in a garbage can." I muttered.

"You've already slayed me, Queen. Please be the Beyonce, to my Jay-Z?" he tentatively reached for my hand, threading our fingers together. I could sense the reassurance he was trying to convey through this move. It didn't stop me from trembling with nerves. He has no idea how much power he has over me.

"They broke up years ago. Idiot."

"Be the Layla to my Majnun?"

"They died tragic deaths."

"Fine then. Please be the Rachel to my Ross? The Chandler to my Joey?" He insisted, ignoring my attempts to yank my hands back. He overwhelmed me with his nearness. The intensity of his emotions, the sincerity of his words, the warmth of his strong hands, and the scent of him...Oh! how I loved that singular mix of soap, and after-shave, and pure Azaan!...It made me want to weep with longing, and despair.

Why did he have to have this effect on me?

"Why are you being like this? Torturing me like this? Haven't you hurt me enough for a lifetime? I can't take it anymore, Azaan. I can't risk giving you everything once again, only to have it shoved back in my face because you got cold feet, and a truckload of commitment issues at the last moment."

I found perverse satisfaction in his wince. He doesn't like reminders either...

"Letting you go was the hardest decision of my life Layla." He finally said after long moments, "I may have botched up the way I did it, but I'm really glad that I didn't commit to you when I had nothing to offer you. I'm glad that I didn't allow you to grow up as someone who's dependent on me emotionally. Whenever I realize how strong you've become, I'm really glad that I managed to let you go, when I wanted to hold onto you the most. It proved that we decided to do the right thing. We grew up to be strong, successful, independent people, who can choose to be together because they want to...not because they need to."

"No. WE didn't decide anything. You decided it for us. Just like you're trying to decide for us again. And I won't let you do that Azaan. I won't. Not this time." I was surprised at how my voice barely shook now.

I pried my hands away from his, mourning the loss of him. I couldn't explain the desolation in my heart when I imagined a life without him. A life without talking to him about anything and everything. A life without his smiles, and his ridiculous ideas...It hurt. Just like it had been hurting for six years.

But when I imagined living through that hellish night of heartbreak again; this desolation almost seemed bearable by comparison.

And that's why I can't be with him again. I can't fall for him again.

But I have to know...I have to know just one thing.

"Why did you come back now? you've stayed away so long. What changed?" I addressed the question to his feet, unable to look him in the eyes. I guess I was afraid that I might just give in if I find even a scrap of love in those dark eyes.

"Want to hear a story, Hayat?" He smiled sadly, and I was hit by a wave of nostalgia when I realized that it's been years since we played that particular game.

I nodded, but he stayed silent for so long, I thought he wasn't planning to answer. Eventually, he sighed, and started retelling the story.

"I met Jonah at the Nurse's office at Caltech. His relapse had gotten worse. He was throwing up blood all over his dorm room, and his roommate panicked..."

Apparently, Jonah Abbott was a senior at Caltech, the University where Azaan started as a research assistant. Jonah was diagnosed with Stage III Leukemia that same year. Jonah was dying.

He'd taken a liking to Azaan's accent, and this started their weird friendship. Both were tech geeks, PS4 fans, and football fiends. This friendship grew stronger during Jonah's many hospital stays. Through bouts of Radiation therapy, and Chemo; through excruciating pain, and hair loss, Azaan became a constant source of positivism for the poor boy, and his family and girlfriend.

"...then this one day he called me up. Asked me to wear something nice. I joked that I was straight, and I had a girl back home I was going to marry one day-the usual jokes....And he just laughed and told me that he was straight too, and that he wanted to marry his girl that day. That's why he was calling me up."

I swallowed against the lump in my throat, almost scared to hear the rest of it.

"Jonah was raised agnostic, but his girlfriend Alison was a catholic, so they compromised and got married by license inside the hospital church. It was the most beautiful wedding I've ever been to. Jonah's skeletal frame was sagging under his old jacket, and his face was pale, and scarred, but he couldn't stop smiling, and kissing his wife. And she looked at him, like he was the handsomest boy she'd ever seen, like she could spend her whole life supporting him, if it meant that they could be together...They were in their own little bubble. I was happy for him, of course, but I was scared for both of them. I couldn't imagine committing to someone, knowing that someone with a medical license had put an expiry date over my forehead. An expiry date of less than a year..."

Then he told me about his brother. How he had died, leaving his Shahnaz behind. Until this moment, I hadn't realized why he called me Shahnaz all those years ago. Until this moment, I hadn't quite grasped how much our mortality scared him, how much that fear must have led to the moment when he broke my heart, to keep me from breaking entirely.

I quelled the urge to comfort him, to tell him that his fears were silly. To worry about things like life and death, is as futile as trying to drink the entire ocean. As humans, we will die before our time if we attempt to count every hour, every second we can be with someone.

"You won't believe it, but I actually went ahead and spoke to Jonah about it. I told him that he was making a mistake marrying Alison. I almost accused him of playing with her feelings. I made him realize how much it could hurt her when he does leave. I was almost crying the whole time, and the bastard kept laughing at me." Azaan chuckles affectionately, "Jonah wasn't one to be afraid of death, and he told me something that stuck with me. He said; 'It'll hurt her more if I live my life for the briefest time, but still manage not to give her anything and everything I have. She deserves to own every breath in my body, even if those breaths are limited. She deserves my love in its entirety. She deserves my commitment to her, and she deserves to know that WE will always be my first choice. She prays to her God everyday, for a miracle, and even though I don't believe in it, I want her to know how much I believe in Her. Furthermore, I married her because I wanted to, so you can just fuck off dude. Haha.'"

I wiped away the tears streaming unheeded down my face.

"I like him." I croaked.

"I like him too. He just celebrated his fourth wedding Anniversary with Alison, at a Greek Island. Incidentally, it coincided with his second Year Anniversary as a Cancer Survivor." He smiled gently at me, wiping the tears away from my face, "They can't have children, because Jonah is effectively infertile after his treatment. So they have applied for adoption from Ghana. Jonah has already decided that they're naming the girl Layla. Apparently I used to talk about you a lot, and he always liked the name..."

I couldn't feel my face, I was smiling so big after hearing the unexpectedly happy ending of this story.

"It's a true story." I laughed.

We were sitting on the floor of the corridor by now. His long legs were stretched, easily reaching the opposite wall. I was sitting with mine tucked in, to avoid contact with him.

"Yep." He smiled at me. And I was content for a while, just sitting there sharing stories with him, like old times. But then his smile faded, and a guarded expression clouded his handsome face. "So. That's what inspired my head to end its vacation up my ass, as you eloquently put it. It made me realize that it was idiotic of me to try and keep you from getting hurt by something inevitable. I hurt you deliberately, while fearing about hurting you unintentionally. How dumb is that? It's not just cancer patients who have an expiration date on their heads. All of us do. It is beyond selfish, to not give you everything I have, while I still can. And it is beyond stupid to stay away from each other, knowing that we share something extraordinary. I know I made mistakes, and I botched up badly, but Nightlife, you should know that It's always been you, for me. I just knew, that even after fucking up like I did, we'll still be together, because I'll never be stupid enough to lose you again. I'll never be a coward twice, when it comes to you."

I was about to reply back when a loudly uttered "Hmmph!" made me jump away from him.

"I thought you two went to ORDER tea, not wait for it to grow in farms across Sri Lanka!" Kulsoom Dadi's beady eyes narrowed suspiciously at the two of us, and I scrambled away from Azaan, scrupulously avoiding his gaze. My heart was still trembling at his words. My feelings warring with each other.

He is genuinely sorry about hurting me...

If he did it once, he could do it again.

But I still have feelings for him!

WAKE UP WOMAN! His feelings are the ones that were always under question! Not yours!

He looks so heartbroken at my rejection...

Good. He knows now, how you felt. Poetic justice.

But I hate seeing him hurt. It's killing me.

He will be the death of you. Him and his damned dimples. He makes you weak...You need to be invincible. For you. For your girls. You don't need to start that whole cycle of needing him to distraction again...

Yeah he makes me weak-kneed. But I'm still me. I think I now know that I'm stronger, and more independent than he gave me credit for. He knows that too. He loves that about me. How many men would?

Ugh. Weak kneed, dimple-slave.

"BOY. I want to talk to this child alone, for now." Kulsoom Dadi's command promptly ended my inner monologue. Azaan bent to whisper something in her ear, in reply to which she deftly smacked his head. He left the room after shooting a rueful shrug in my direction. 'I have to try', It said.

"How is your health, Kulsoom Dadi?" I asked politely.

"My health? I am pushing 84 now my dear! How do you think my health would be? My knees ache, and my hip dislocated five years ago, so that causes some problem. My eyes are not what they used to be. I remember, I could thread a needle from a foot away. I could stand for hours, and terrorize my cook. Now that shameless old coot can get away with adding garlic to my Daal...even though he knows that I hate it..."

I blinked slowly at this information.

"But then again. I'm not the one lying dead in my grave yet! HA! that Razia woman from down the street, she used to taunt that I wouldn't live past 80. And now she's been dead a month, and I'm still here. HAWHAWHAW! That is Allah teaching her a lesson from beyond, I'm sure. Hmmph. Never liked her much. Always poking her nose in my business. She was never polite to me, after I rejected her offer to marry off her daughter to my son. That girl went on to marry a cement smuggler, my dear...imagine that. A CEMENT SMUGGLER! Hmmph. Even as a criminal, he chose such a boring commodity. As if I would ever have let that vacuous chit marry my handsome, smart boy..."

"I'm sure not." I suppressed a giggle. This lady always found a way to make me laugh, without trying. If I wasn't mad at Azaan for using her to get to me, I would have enjoyed hanging out with her for hours...

"Now, GIRL. This evil grandchild of mine is pestering me to ask you to accept his proposal. And all I can say is that, I think you two are terribly ill-suited for one another, and UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES, will I ever approve of you two together." She thumped her cane decisively at that, nodding her head knowingly.

I couldn't stop the hurt and anger from showing up on my face. I always knew this lady was mean, but this is just too much...damn Azaan!

"I see." I muttered sullenly. "Well, you can rest easy, because he and I aren't getting together anytime soon."

Her eyes widened for a millisecond before she narrowed them at me.

"Hmmph. And you shouldn't. I mean, you're too petite for him! Not to mention your profession..."

"And what's wrong with my profession?" I shot back angrily. Old or not, nobody gets to criticize my career choices. Especially if they're women themselves.

"You come in contact with all sorts of unruly characters my dear. Not to mention all sorts of scum of society. Just in yesterday's news, I saw your name in connection with the Shah family. Hmmph. I won't allow that type of negative publicity to be connected to my family in any way. Hmm...perhaps if you were to leave this career for my precious grandchild, then I might consider giving you my blessing." She twirled her cane menacingly, and I had a sudden vision of her being cast in one of the Godfather movies...she would have fit right in, with all the Italian mob bosses...

"Well, you don't need to worry about it. Because it'll be a cold day in hell, when I give up my work for anybody's precious grandson. My work is my life. It is my passion, my life blood, and it is everything that brings joy to my life. Men will come and go, but this place - my First Real Home, these women - who're like family to me, They will always be here, to welcome me, and add some much needed purpose to my life." I took a deep breath, "I respect you, because you're so much older than me, but I will never give up my work for you, or for Azaan, or for all the riches in the world."

She was smiling before I even finished. Wordlessly waddling to the door, she threw it open, and dragged a snooping Azaan inside, at cane-point. Then Kulsoom Dadi swiveled the end of her cane towards me.

"She is a diamond, BOY. She is a beautiful, incredibly rare diamond." Her cane remained ominously pointed at me, "You don't deserve to touch the ends of her dupatta, let alone marry her! Hmmph!"

"I know." He sighed, watching me miserably.

This day was leaving me speechless at every turn...

"Give me one good reason, why she would ever lower her standards to accept you?" The cane pressed at Azaan's chest.

"Because I have good hair, at least?" He quipped.

"Marry him if you can tolerate his bad humor, my dear." Kulsoom Dadi waddled forward to kiss my cheek affectionately, "He has done nothing in his life to deserve you. But I have a feeling that he will try to make up for it. HAWAWHAW. That will be fun to watch, I reckon!?"

I reddened at that, stammering out my goodbyes, as we escorted her to her fancy car parked at the gate.

"So, umm. I didn't mention it, but I think you should lower your standards for me, simply because you're every bit in love with me, as I am with you." Azaan slid a pair of dark shades over his eyes, a move that made his jaw look even more chiseled. He turned towards me, his hands resting in his pant pockets, a light breeze ruffling his dark hair.

I swallowed.

"Looking at you, is like staring at a mirror, Nightlife. And that's why, I still dare to hope that we might have a future together." He withdrew the keys to his sleek Lexus, preparing to leave me. "Don't say anything yet, if you're even a little bit scared of it. Just don't say no, right now. Please? I want to keep my hope alive, a little bit longer. I'll wait for you. I'll wait forever for you....you know... As long as forever is under three days, because after that, I'll probably just settle for someone else, maybe Scarlett Johansson."

"Idiot." I muttered, smiling too big.

"I could be your idiot."

"Or Scar Jo's idiot."

"I'd rather be yours."

"Too much, dude."

Standing at the wooden entryway to the office building, I kept watching his car get smaller and smaller, until he rounded the corner. Thinking about my life. How I now had everything I once wanted in my life. How I was too confused to do anything about it. How, six years later, even as an adult, I felt like a lost child right now...

"Ma'am." Fahad must have said my name thrice before he actually got my attention.

"Ma'am it's your mother. There's been an emergency...."

Author's Note:

WELL!

This took more than a minute! :D

To all my lovely readers. The older ones, and the newer ones. I wish you all a blessed Ramadan!

I really, really wanted to update early, but something or the other kept popping up, to ruin my plans. HMMPH!

I'll do my best to update quickly, even though I have A LOT on my plate AT ALL TIMES! I was mistakenly under the illusion that Summer vacations meant Free time...*Sigh* Adulting isn't fun guys. :(

AT this point, I know you'll do it without my asking, but anyhoo...How did you like this one?? I am constantly at war with myself, trying to keep it brief, and quick, but also wanting to add all the juicy details....

Let me know your thoughts on this. :)

Stay blessed. Stay happy.

With love and Rooh Afza,

PS: Thank you so much for the amazing cover art, sukoonseeker! I love it! 😘❤

-E.