"Why didn't you tell me sooner, Mama?"

"There was nothing to tell! All I had was a diagnosis, and a surgery date. What good would it have done to you or me? if I had told you sooner? Hmm?"

"I could have done SOMETHING!"

"Yeah. I forgot my daughter is an Oncologist specializing in breast cancer." She replied drily.

I could have prayed some more...

My hands tightened over the cellphone, eyes squeezed shut with worry.

Arguing with Mama is like, trying to reason with a brick wall. Zero emotion. Zero flexibility.

Honestly, sometimes I totally get why Dad left her.

"When are you coming home? Are you safe to travel?"

Silence.

"Mama?"

She hid a gasp of pain, and I tortured myself with an image of her lying alone in a London hospital, waiting for yet more post-op treatments, shots, more surgery preps...

"Laylee, I can't come home anytime soon." She said through gritted teeth. "I still have three more surgeries. This was just a lumpectomy. I am still waiting for the Radiotherapy appointment on the tenth."

"Mama, do you want me to fly over?" I asked desperately. And I felt desperate. So far away from her. Unable to see her with my own eyes. Dreading the changes that this disease will wreak on her body.

"Of course not, Layla. Don't be ridiculous. You just started that new brand with your friends, and I know you have a training conference coming up. Never compromise on your career, sweetheart. I think I have raised you to know this by now. Everything will pass. Husbands, looks, money, family even...all you really have to show for your life; is your work. If you're passionate about it, don't ever let anything come before it. Not even me." She exhaled tiredly before continuing, "There's one thing you can do for me though. Just keep an eye on Hayats. The Bridal Couture Week is coming up, and I know how much they need me there right now. Since I can't be there, I want you to fill in for me. Just drop in whenever you can...keep an eye on things...tell...tell Razi to walk you through my checklist 4 times. 4 times Laylee. Don't skimp on that."

"I won't skimp." I swallowed. "I'm praying so hard for you, Mama. Allah has to hear me now."

She laughed weakly.

"That's not how prayers work, sweetheart."

"Yes they do!" I replied fiercely.

"If you say so."

We were silent for a while, just listening to each other breathe.

"Maria is leaving for London in a couple of days. She couldn't stop crying, Mama. She is terrified for you." I informed her, knowing full well that she had specifically asked me to keep Maria busy with me, so she wouldn't panic. Obviously it didn't work out. Maria has the softest heart of us all. As soon as she heard about Mama's battle against cancer, she donned her armor, and flew out to save her mother.

"I see." Mama clipped, making me aware of her displeasure at this news.

"Zaif says you're not answering his calls. His Schengen Visa expired a while ago, and he can't apply again until next month"

"I know what he's going to say. And I know that it will just pain me more, to bother him." She sighed deeply, "It pains me to bother you too..."

Typical Sanam Hayat. She finds it impossible to comprehend, that sometimes, loved ones want to be bothered by her. She doesn't realize, that by keeping her sickness away from us, she isn't shielding us in any way; she'd just adding to the constant worry on our shoulders.

"Have you decided on surgery? Are they going to cut off...the whole...I mean-" I hesitated. How to ask her without reminding her of her impending loss...

"I will lose my left breast, and a few lumps from my right one. This will be followed by a Radiation therapy course. And then we'll see if I still have any remnants of Cancer left." She replied calmly.

"Ya Allah..." I choked, tears clogging throat. "I'm so sorry Mama!"

"They're just breasts, Layla. It could be much worse." She clipped curtly, likely hating my pity. "It's not like anyone other than I, is going to be seeing them anyways."

Maybe it's a good thing Dad isn't with her anymore. She'd have hated the constant reminder of her inadequacies as a wife. Mama never let it show, but I could always sense it; this hollowness in her soul, that comes from knowing that she wasn't enough for her husband.

"How are you coping Mama?" I asked her after a pause. "Is Nano staying with you?"

"Nano has her kidney issues, sweetie. I send her back after a few hours of her visits. I'm just fine, Layla. As fine as I can be. I even started watching TV here, can you imagine that? I finally have time for myself."

I find it ironic that a fatal disease led to her getting an actual vacation after decades.

"What are you watching ?"

"I'm on the second season of Downton Abbey. I swear this show is all these Brits talk about."

"Ahaan." A watery smile made its way to my face.

"I identify a lot with Violet Crawley for some reason. The Grandmother."

"I bet you do."

"Did you know that Maggie Smith is a cancer survivor?"

"I didn't know that...I loved her as Professor McGonagall in the Harry Potter movies."

"Well. She is a lovely woman. I met her a few days back. We have the same Radiologist. I had this curious urge to hug her. Can you imagine that?"

"No I really can't..."

"Very middle class of me, dear. I was horrified." She chuckled, making me smile at this Lady Crawley reference.

"Ah Mama. You couldn't be middle class, even if you started shopping at Chase."

"Don't say that name out loud in my company, Layla Hayat. Always refer to it, as The Retail Store That Must Not Be Named..."

Some things, like the light of the sun, and the snobbishness of Sanam Hayat are forever. And I don't think I want to live without either...

................

"We have a problem." Shay strode into my room, a grim look on her face.

I was in the middle of leaving for a visit to Hayat's. Ever since I came to know about Mama's condition, I have been working on Auto-pilot. Deal with Hiraeth paperwork in the morning. Give an hour to my girls, and their progress. Next; head over to Mama's Headquarters, and spend a couple of hours pretending to know about the Luxury Fashion world. Then head back to office, and work until night on launching our brand Hunar, while scrupulously avoiding intimate conversations with my business partner/ex-best friend.

I have lost weight in places I never thought it was possible to lose weight. My cheekbones are even more prominent than before, my collar-bones are sharp enough to cut stuff. Even my ear-lobes look peaked. Ruby has stopped looking at my face, because it makes her depressed. She has given up trying to force-feed me nutritious food, because I end up vomiting most of it.

Shay volunteered to take over my responsibilities, to give me rest, but I turned her offer down. The more I work, the less it gives me time to worry about my chaotic personal life.

Azaan wanted me to quit working on Hunar because he was worried about my health. Short of carrying me away in chains, he has tried everything to get me to start working from his own offices.

"My offices are closer to your mother's workplace, and I can take care of any extra load on you. Please let me help you." He had pleaded for hours, before finally giving up, and opting for daily visits to check up on me. 

He even asked his mother to arrange a Quran Khwani (Quran Prayer Group) to pray for my mother's health. I almost broke down when I saw that he invited our old friends too. It felt so good being among familiar faces, and nostalgic memories. 

Asad is working as a financial adviser for an investment bank. He is happily engaged to a distant cousin of his. Omer is married, and happens to be a doting father to an adorable toddler. He and Faris are accountants in the same Audit firm, and it is beyond strange to imagine them all as mature men with solid careers, and relationships. Daniyal was studying abroad for a post-graduate degree, so he was the only one missing from the group. Which is good, because Syra showed up for a little while with her husband, and it was still pretty awkward for the rest of us. 

We spoke about old stories, and new ones. Somehow, everything was the same, despite being entirely different. It felt good to be around so much positive energy, after my typically anxious week. 

Most of all, I was overwhelmed by the love and support I got from Azaan's family that day; Kulsoom Dadi, his gentle mother, his loving sisters, even his quiet, mild mannered Dad...

Never once did they make me feel guilty for never keeping in touch over the years. They treated me like I was a long lost family member. Treasured. Cared for. It felt good. What with Maria gone to visit Mama, I can barely stand to stay in our big, empty house, just wondering if today is the day my mother loses her battle...

The only awkward part was the knowing smiles and subtle conversations they deliberately started with me about Azaan.

"I am so worried about my baby boy! Ever since he got back from the US, he moved out to live on his own. All alone in that cold apartment, without a woman to warm his home up." Aliya Auntie pointedly lamented to me after the Dua (Prayer) was over. She slid a sidelong glance at me, when I just nodded politely. "Abeer got married last year, and Asma is engaged as well. Even his friend Faris got hitched years ago. About time he got married too, huh?"

"He's just 27. He still has plenty of time. Maybe focus on his career for a while." I coughed out, feeling trapped.

"Oh, his career can go to hell! What good is a career, if he hardly gets time to enjoy the money he makes? huh? you tell me!! A career will not give him love and warmth! A career will not give me grand--err--give Him any kids!" Auntie wailed exasperatedly, making me almost laugh out loud at her blatant attempt at matchmaking.

Azaan chose that moment to join us, making me flush with happiness. He has the strangest ability to make me happy, just by being himself (He was stuffing his face with the complimentary Gulab Jamun (Desi sweetmeats) that were set aside for the women in the prayer group). His eyes softened when they landed on me, and I helplessly smiled back. 

"Just look at my son! He looks positively starved, living alone without someone to feed him proper food..." 

Her son looked tall, and strong, and effortlessly appealing in his well groomed 'corporate Azaan' look of trimmed hair, and neat stubble. He also seemed to be extremely well-fed, despite his mother's typical desi worries.

How different she was from my own Mama! So much more complicated. But also, so much simpler at the same time. Her definition of success and happiness didn't involve an ambitious career, and an impressive bank balance. She wanted love, and wholesome relationships for her son. And a healthy home food diet. 

Somethings I can hardly give him.

Ever since Mama's condition became apparent, He has wanted nothing more than to support me in any way he can. He has been selfless, and kind-just as I remembered him from those old days. Azaan hasn't forced me to make a decision about him yet, and I appreciated that. Neither has he been distracting me with his romantic declarations, but I can feel it in every action of his-how much he cares for me. I should be falling back in his arms right about now...but something's holding me back.

No matter how much he insists that he isn't leaving; I am afraid that he will.

I'm afraid that once we get to know each other again, he'll realize how jaded, how cynical I've become in the past six years. I'm afraid that he'll realize that the only warmth in my life is my work, and that will bore his dynamic-fun-loving personality. He'll want attention I can't give him, and that will disillusion him away.

But more than that, I am afraid of my own self. 

I have a history of heartbreak for reference now, and I am afraid that the minute I let him back in; something bad will happen to us. 

I'm afraid that I'll hate being in a relationship that might somehow compromise my independence. After years of working solo, my lifestyle is hardly suited for domestic bliss. I am so, so afraid of the thousand and one reasons why I'm no longer the girl capable of loving and being loved by Azaan Malik.

"...he is so busy with his work most days, that he actually stays over in his office! If he had a wife, she'd make sure he wasn't working himself to death like this!"

"I guess you're right." I replied politely to Auntie. "I guess it is time that Azaan found himself a wife. He is passably average looking, with a decent career. It shouldn't be too hard to find someone..."

He choked. Cheeks bulging, as he spat out the gulab jamun in a nearby potted plant.

I pressed my lips together to stop myself from snorting with glee. Serves him right for unleashing persistent old ladies on me, to fight his battles for him. He may not be pestering me to forgive him, and love him anymore, but he sure has a way of roping in the female population to do his dirty work for him. 

"Do you know any suitable girls for him?" Auntie asks slyly, trying her best to look nonchalant.

Ha! Well. Two can play at this game. I though to myself.

"In fact I do. One of my really good friends is a lawyer. Really pretty girl, works with a UNO affiliate..."

He growled.

I smirked.

"...I could give you her mothers' number, if you want to arrange a meeting or something." I added helpfully, studiously avoiding the mutinous scowls Azaan was leveling at me.

"I don't like lawyers." He snapped. "I don't trust them."

"I think he likes girls who run their own social causes and NGOs. HAWHAWHAWHAW!" Kulsoom Dadi cackled from her place, some distance away in the living room.

I swear that lady has the hearing abilities of a wolf on steroids.

"I don't like 'girls'...." He began grumpily.

"ASTAGHFIRULLAH! WHAT DO YOU LIKE THEN? HUH? YOU LIKE BOYS? OR SHEEP? DO YOU LIKE SHEEP, BOY??" His grandmother thundered. I snorted with laughter. "This is why I told you to send him to a Co-Ed High school, Aliya! I will not tolerate Sheep lovers in this family!"

"Jeez. Dadi! I meant that there's no plural for me! No girls. Just one of them!" He jerked his head suggestively towards me, and I just about melted at his cuteness.

He'd just returned from the mosque after Friday prayers, and incidentally, was wearing a navy blue Kurta shalwar, sleeves folded back over muscled forearms. Just the way I loved it. I wonder if he knows how much he made my heart hurt, just looking at the messy perfection of him. 

After teasing him with the help of his mother for a good while, I felt lighter than I had in weeks. I was happier than I had been in years. 

What is it about him?

"If you don't want this one, then I'll set him up with my secretary, Sofia." Kulsoom Dadi warned me when I leaned to kiss her goodbye. "She is a rocket scientist or something..." 

"For the last time, Dadi. You don't have a secretary!" Azaan rolled his eyes exasperatedly. 

"And YOU don't have a chance with her either. HAWHAWHAWHAW!" His Dadi guffawed at his stunned face, "HAWHAWHAW! I think you have a better chance with sheep actually..."

"That's it! I need to see my adoption papers. I can't possibly be related to this family!" 

"HA! I wish we had proof that we're not actually related. You used to give me nightmares as a child, BOY! Aliya do you remember when he decided to be a lamp for a day? Hmmph! I was worried that perhaps you had taken one too many panadols during his time in the womb. Really can't explain how my genes could have produced such a cretin..." 

"I love you too Dadi." He grinned, leaning forward to hug her, and earning an affectionate ear twist from her, while I laughed breathlessly. Kulsoom Dadi somehow manages to lift my spirits from the deepest pits of despair! I am quite convinced that she secretly has superpowers of some sort, because she seems almost invincible in her greatness. 

"Take care of yourself, beta. Come over to our house every Friday, and we'll just sit down and pray together for your poor mother." Aliya Auntie instructed me when I was finally ready to leave (way after Shay, and others had gone home). "And if you ever need me, you just call Azaan, and ask him to drive me to your place. He...he really cares for you, dear. I haven't seen him so besotted with anyone else. Give him a chance, sweetie. Give him your trust, and he will give you the world, because that's how my Azaan is."

"I know." I blurted out, surprising even myself when I realized that I actually believed it.

Azaan never did things half-assed. He is the type who'd spend weeks working on a computer code, just so he could feel closer to his brother. He is the type who'd stay awake for hours listening to a girl describe her nightmares. He is the type who'd eat the whole cake; the type who'd order 1000 custom-printed balloons just to say sorry.

He is the type who'll love his girl once, and forever.

But am I that girl anymore?

.........

"LAYLA! WE HAVE A MOTHERCHUCKING PROBLEM, SWEETHEART! ARE YOU LISTENING??" Shay yelled at my distracted face, screwing up my attempt at losing myself in a mountain of paperwork. 

"I'm listening Shay. Go ahead and hit me with it. I'm sure this can't make my week shittier than it already is." I replied dully, snapping my laptop shut. I pressed my knuckles to my aching eyes, trying to soothe the roaring headache in my temples.

"That evil degenerated horse turd is campaigning against us." She switched open the flat-screen TV affixed to my office wall. "I swear this animal ought to be hung, after being horse-whipped..."

"...and our commitment to the values of Islam and Pakistan. In that spirit, I find it grievously offensive, that local, so-called-NGOs like Hiraeth are becoming a front for indecent activities. Just last month, Layla Hayat defended a well-known Prostitute in a case against one of our most respected Commissioners. Additionally, we have eye-witnesses who claim that Miss Hayat is also running an underground brothel, where the so-called domestic abuse, and honor killing survivors, are actively providing their services..."

My eyebrows had long since disappeared up my hairline. I turned to Shay in disbelief, and she just gestured at me to keep watching Musa Shah's press conference. He was reading from a paper in front of him, his classically handsome face, somber. His eyes were the same stormy gray, set against dark neatly trimmed curly hair, and a thick, close-shaved beard. His expensive traditional waistcoat, and kurta, was marred only by a conspicuous black sling for his useless right arm. He awkwardly flicked a page in his notes, and I felt bile rise up my throat when I saw his terrifyingly familiar left hand...the things those hands have done...

"...She supports the lifestyles of whores, homosexuals, and unfaithful women. As a community, it is high time we realize the sympathizers of evil dwelling among us. It is high time, that we raise our voices against women like Miss Hayat, who think they're helping society, by tearing domestic lives apart..."

Sympathizers of evil indeed. I just shook my head in stunned speechless horror.

"Me and members of my party would like to appeal on behalf of my employee, Ali Gul, whose wife still hasn't been released, in spite of threat of legal action. Layla Hayat, if you have even a shred of Pakistani dignity in you, then you will return that man's legal wife to him. She is being held at Hiraeth against her will, on humanitarian grounds. Since we all know what intentions Hayat really has for her Shelter, I urge the judiciary to take a suo moto notice against this shelter home, and others like it. We must do everything we can to protect these women from the horrors of sex-slavery that they're being subjected to..."

A hysterical bubble of laughter overcame me, and I shook with irrational giggles when I imagined Musa trying to "Protect women from sex-slavery". It's like an alcoholic vowing to watch over a bar. The hypocrite. If he think I will just hand over Chandi, like a piece of property, then he he's off his rocker...

"...It is understandable that Miss Hayat has personal issues. I mean, she comes from a broken home life, and her mother is affiliated with an industry that is notorious for less than savory activities. It is very clear that she and her siblings were raised to be liberal, privileged brats, who think that the norms of our religion, our culture and our laws are below them. In fact, I'd like to add that I will no longer hide one of the biggest secrets of my adult life." He paused for effect, "You see this injury of mine? Well, it was caused by Miss Hayat's older brother Zaif Khalid Hayat. He has been hiding in USA and Dubai for the past ten years, avoiding jail time for attempted murder..."

My heart seized at that. The skeletons of the Hayat Family closet were definitely getting some air today...

"Oh my God." Shay gaped open-mouthed at my stony face. "Is this...He is shitting us right?" 

"...I have camera footage, proving that Zaif Hayat ordered his employee to shoot me dead. It's a miracle that I'm still alive today, because this criminal-minded member of the "Respected" Hayat family did everything in his power to end my life."

My entire life flashed before my eyes at this point. 

My friends, my staff members, my girls...everyone will come to know about about this soon. How will I ever be able to look anyone in the eyes after this? I couldn't even bear to look Shay in the eyes! I was so afraid of what I'll find there...

"Of course, this isn't the first time that an elite class member has gotten away with grievous crimes in this country, just because they happen to have money, and influence; however, it is worse because Miss Hayat has been parading around for the past few years, as a person who wants to shatter the status quo. It is worse, because the media portray her as a veritable Messiah for women, while she is nothing but a privileged fraud, and a hypocrite!"

I imagined Azaan's face grimacing in disgust when he realizes what I am, what my family is. His sweet gentle mother, his blunt, no-nonsense grandmother, his honorable ex-soldier Dad...what will they think about me?

"This press conference is a statement of my party's position. I, as vice president of National League Party, on behalf of my father, ex-Prime Minister of this country, and acting president of the NLP, am announcing our vocal boycott of Miss Hayat's organization and its function. And by extension, the businesses, owned by members of her family. The full details of the boycott are provided in the dossiers we handed you in the orientation..." 

Oh my Allah, No!

He means to malign my mother's fashion line, and affiliated brands. 

This will kill her, if the cancer won't! 

I moaned silently at the horror of it.

Musa knows just how to hurt us, where it matters. His party is one of the largest, most active political groups in the country. They have enough influence to shut down the Parliament! let alone a few fashion houses...Their supporters are loyal, aggressive, and extremely volatile. By marking us as 'The enemy', he has effectively painted a bulls-eye on our heads, and told his supporters to go for the kill. 

I couldn't stop my hands from shaking with anger, despair, and humiliation. 

I'll have to fire Shay, of course. She has to be protected from my bad mojo. 

I'll have to shift the girls to another location, until I can figure out a way to fight back legally.

I'll have to tell Azaan to forget about our business deal. 

I'll have to tell him to leave my life, and never come back. 

I'll hurt him so bad, he'll have no choice, but to leave me alone. 

I refused to cry right now, though. I'll save it for after I tell him to fuck off. There'll be years, and years for me to cry my eyes out. 

I'm the one who got my entire family in this mess in the first place, and I'm the one who'll get us out. Somehow. Even if it means saying goodbye to the only man I ever loved...

"Stop, Layla. Whatever you're thinking. Just stop." Shay pleaded when she saw my numb expression. 

"You're fired Pareeshae. Take your laptop and get out. Now." I stated flatly. "I'll TCS your belongings tomorrow..." 

"ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS!?" She yelled at me, "You're reacting to what this slimeball said? You think I believe a word of it? Fuck him! and his boycott. I'm standing by you, no matter what. Fuckboy can go kiss a cobra." 

"You're creating a scene." I whispered dully. "I need you to get out please. You have no idea what kind of monster he just created. These people will tear me apart, and they will hurt you too, in the process. And I'm sick and tired of feeling responsible for bad things happening to people I love. I have suffered with Zaif enough." 

"What..what do you mean, Layls?" She demanded hesitantly, pointing at the TV, "He was lying! I know it! that schmuck. He can't possibly be right!" 

Time to say goodbye to my best friend. 

I squeezed my eyes shut, remembering the first time she spoke to me in class. I remembered her bubbly enthusiasm annoying me, and then eventually growing on me. The only girl who kept coming back to me. The one who always had my back-even when I didn't deserve it. The one who taught me how to have fun...

Can't be weak now. Must think of the girls. 

"Shay, he's telling the truth. Every word." My voice broke at the last word, and I turned my face away from hers. 

"He is a liar, and an oppressive, manipulative, sexual deviant, Layla! How can you believe that? He basically accused us of running a brothel! What would that make us? Pimps?" She snorted in disgust, "I ain't no pimp, girlie. He can go shove a cactus up his--" 

"For God's sake, Shay! I meant everything else! He is right about Zaif trying to kill him. This is why my brother hasn't set foot in Pakistan, for over 8 years. This is why we always spend Eid with him in Dubai. It's because he is liable to be prosecuted for his actions, if he comes home." 

"Oh my God, I hate your brother right now!" She fumed back, pacing back and forth across the office. 

"Please don't hate him. He just got carried away because of me. Musa was spreading some rumors about me, among their circle of acquaintances, and Zaif kinda lost it..." I ignored the usual stab of guilt that accompanied this statement. If I hadn't been stupid enough to keep quiet about my history with Musa, this wouldn't have happened. 

"I hate your brother, because he did a half-assed job, trying to off Mu-Schmuck." She replied acidly, moving threateningly towards me,"If I had a gunman on my command, I would have snatched the rifle away from him, and shot him straight through his black little heart. Pew pew pew." She cocked a finger-gun at my chest and mimed pulling the trigger.

Oh. 

Okay then...

"I love you so much for the support, Shay but-" I began. 

"Hold up, honey. let's just pause it right here. You love me for my support. Period. No buts!" She pinched my lips together with her fingers, for emphasis, her brown eyes shining with determination.

"But I need to--" I tried again as soon as she removed her hand.

"Nope. No buts." She muzzled my face again, and I huffed with exasperation. "We're in this together. You and I. Partners forever. You can't take away my Vice-presidency from me!"

"I didn't mean that you should go forever. I just wanted you to be safe temporarily, away from me." 

"You realize that you're doing exactly what you hate about your mother? Pushing me away, when you need me the most. You think I can enjoy this time, away from you, as a vacation or something? You think it won't worry me to distraction? imagining you fighting your demons alone? HA! silly Laylee. If you think I'll choose boredom and safety over a chance to take revenge on Mu-Schmuck, you're sorely mistaken. I'm here for approximately 7 more months, and then I want a month off for maternity leave, because I'll want to spend some quality time with your future niece or nephew, but then I am coming right back, you hear me?..." 

It took me a while to grasp what she'd just nonchalantly confessed to me. 

"Peeshay?" I whispered wide-eyed, "you're preggers?" 

She grinned happily, patting her non-existing tummy through the pretty beige blouse she was wearing. 

"Almost five weeks, honey. The bun is cooking, as we speak." 

I was incoherent with happiness, as I sobbed and squealed and hugged her. I was overwhelmed by her generosity, and bravery. She could have chosen anyone else at all as a best friend, yet she chose me. I have no idea what I ever did to deserve such unwavering loyalty and love, but I'm super thankful to Allah that I have her. 

"Shay. You have to let one of our guards drive home with you, from now on." I lovingly patted her stomach, "You're carrying precious cargo now, and we're not exactly the safest people in the country right now. Faris will literally string me from the ceiling if something happened to you." 

She nodded thoughtfully. "Okay. I can do that. But then you have to stop driving by yourself too. You've gotten really reckless about your own security after your Mama went out of town. Don't think I haven't noticed th--" 

CRASH! 

I screamed as the glass window of my office shattered noisily. A brick, the size of a shoe was lying on my scratched wooden desk. 

"What even...."

"WE NEED TO LEAVE RIGHT NOW! THEY'RE PROTESTING AT THE MAIN GATE!" Fahad burst inside the room, quickly yanking me and Shay towards the back entrance of the office. 

"NO! Not without my girls!" I screeched, trying to yank my arm away from Fahad's rough grasp. 

"The girls are safe in the basement of the house for now. We're the ones exposed in the office building. It is single story building, Ma'am-easier to attack with debris. We NEED to leave NOW! I have asked Khan to bring the car around." I noticed then, that a thin line of blood was snaking its way from Fahad's temple to his neck. 

"You're hurt, Fahad. How bad is it?" I gasped when he shuffled us towards the tiny back door, which old-fashionably opened towards the sewage street behind the office building. 

"Don't worry about me. Just a stray pebble hit me, and It looks worse than it is." He gritted expressionlessly, quietly opening the door to peek outside. "I have already called rangers, police and all of the armed forces except for the navy, because they're useless  on land." 

Of course he had. My efficient little Man-bot.

Shay laughed manically at this, and then proceeded to throw up near our feet as soon as the smell of open sewage hit her nose. I patted her back weakly as she heaved with nausea. 

We waited in agony for Khan to bring the car around, and I could hear the muffled sounds of glass breaking, angry insults and chants from the front of the building. My heart was beating double time, and it felt like I no longer had sensation in my fingers and toes.

"He's here. Let's go." Fahad supported Shay's weak body, as he shuffled her safely inside my armored vehicle. I was about to climb in behind her, when I heard a man and his companions yell expletives at me from the street's end. 

We were found.

"SHAME HAYAT! SHAME!" They hurled insults at me. 

"WHORE!" 

"HOMO-SYMPATHIZER!"

"YOU DESERVE TO LIVE WITH A BLACK FACE!" Another one scooped up sewage filth, and flung it at me. "WHORE!" 

And then it happened so quickly, but it's strange because I could see it happen in slow motion. 

One of them lit a hand-held fire cracker, and flung it at me. 

I saw it fly through the air. Fahad was still yanking at my left hand, and I tried shielding my face by twisting my right hand over my head. 

The cracker hit my right shoulder and arm.

And then all I knew was pain...Burning brands of agony attached to my arm and shoulder.

It was like my very own hellfire; like nothing I've ever experienced

I remember screaming a lot.

And I remember a blessed darkness afterwards. 

Author's Note: 

OMG this was intense for me!! 

I don't usually revel in blood and gore, but this story is definitely turning out to be a whole lot more than I expected from it. 

Let me know what you thought about this development!! I have chosen to update at leisure. The chapters will be pretty fat (as is evidenced), but I can't be super regular! Thank you for supporting me and my story the way you already have, and I hope you keep on keeping on! :D 

I HAVE THE BEST READERS EVER!!! NO COMPETITION!

One of our newest Layzy/Layzaan fans, haya-sh-z just made me the most awesomest bunch of covers ever!! including the one I just changed!  

I swear you guys are sooo talented it's not even funny! <3 :* 

So, this inspired me. For the next few weeks, I will change my covers into ones made by my lovely readers. (THIS IS A FIRST FOR ME, BECAUSE I AM EXTREMELY NITPICKY ABOUT MY COVERS!! SRSLY. THIS IS OUT OF MY OCD COMFORT ZONE YO. BUT I LOVE YOU FOR BEING ADORABLE LIL MUNCKINS, SO FOR ONE WEEK EACH, I'LL CHANGE MY COVER TO DISPLAY THE BEST ONES) 

HOW GORGEOUS IS THIS ^^??  :O 

AND THIS ONEE!!!

I can't even...that camera...and that drum....

and lastly, this beauts: 

*Sigh*

I'm in a cover art coma, I am so happy! 

You guys, you can follow me on Twitter: @ShutUpAndCoffee where I sometimes voice my unsolicited opinions about random happenings, and occasionally indulge in tweet-wars with buddies. :3 huehue. That's where you can send me any cover art you might have for me. 

EEEP! 

^Just excited because it is almost Iftaar time, and Food is my BFF. 

Happy Ramzan-ing folks!

Remember me in your prayers! 

(srsly, pray for my safety. Some readers get violent after reading my cliffhangers, idek why, haha). 

Love and Pakoras!! 

-E.