Pragya gingerly glided her hand across the pictures littered around on the coffee table. The sun had fallen once again and the darkness loomed just outside their doorstep. The inside ignited with artificial lighting and a charade of perfection. She sank into the centre of it all, the smiles that barely went beyond their cheeks, fake reassurances, the warmth that being in a family supposedly provided.

Pragya had insisted she sees the past photo albums hoping that they would jog her memories back. Despite their protest against straining herself, the determined woman didn't budge and managed to get the albums out on the table from the housekeepers. This amnesia was a wall from the ground up to where her weakened sight could make out. She is aware that she has forgotten things, mostly because of all the inconsistencies.

She gazed tentatively at the pictures- moments that cannot return captured in paper films- as everybody else looked on in what she assumed was adoration but was really sadness masked. These were the moments she was supposed to have stored in her mind but these beautiful memories were the things she bore no recollection of- some doors of her mind forever blocked or never opened, she doesn't know. There was a cerebral buzz wherever she tried to follow a breadcrumb trail until it disappeared, brusquely ending on an empty road with multiple exits. In that moment she can't fathom what it is that is missing - time and opportunities to shower maternal love upon her youngest child.

She found herself staring at Riya standing beside Meera as she shifted uncomfortably under her scrutinizing look. The hesitancy she had overcome seemed to persist within her daughter- truncated sentences like their abrupt separation and reunion, half-hearted greetings like Riya's reluctance to indulge in this charade and lack of physical contact. The last wasn't Riya's love language. Not that Pragya would know seeing as she wasn't there for the last twenty years.

She ignored the pang of jealousy that flared within her when Meera sent her another reassuring glance. She wore an expression that said she had dealt with this before and a level of confidence that suggested she knew exactly what she needed to do next. Pragya on the other hand didn't know because she couldn't suppress the roadblock in her mind.

She moved over to inspect her middle child next. Fidgety, unsure and self-conscious. Is that normal? The same tentative interactions but somehow a little more daring than Riya's.

Prachi did everything she could to not look at her mother. Pragya had accepted that she was who Prachi introduced herself as. But she didn't know her, not in the way she would have given any other circumstances. That unacquainted spark in her eyes would take time to get used to.

Finally, she found Shahana standing close to her. What Pragya assumed was dauntlessness was simply her desperate attempt to stick close to her maternal aunt- the one who sheltered her from every storm as best she could. This place and people except Prachi were unfamiliar. Maasi, even if she can't remember me, is familiar. The only one who managed to overcome her reservations for the time being and indulge in this act.

Pragya smiled a little- Kiara- she could count on Kiara. She turned her attention back to looking at the pictures. The buzz only grew as realized, there weren't any pictures of Riya and herself or Abhishek and Prachi. Even Kiara has no pictures with us.

It was what it was supposed to be because this house of cards was faux. To Pragya, it was the family she always wanted and had, right in front of her. So it didn't make sense for them to have incomplete photo albums. She spun her eyes around the walls hoping the absence of them in the album could be due to a different placement. She was sorely mistaken. The walls like themselves were empty, barren of any decorations that made it completely home-like.

"Suniye," she called Abhishek. "Why aren't there pictures of us together as a family? Neither you and Prachi nor Riya and I have pictures together.'' She flipped through the last few pages to see if they were hidden from sight because of that. She sighed in disappointment when there were none. "This doesn't make sense. Prachi, Kiara and I don't have pictures as well."

"They are probably in the storeroom somewhere," Abhishek suggested, fumbling over his words.

"What are they doing there? Those are the moments we've spent together. They should be here. In the house with us."

They should have been but were not because none of them existed. The ones that did, the ones that held the memories of Kiara in them were in the storeroom. Abhishek wanted to burn and turn them to ash. He thought that it would turn his pain and sufferings into a pile of barely tangible single matter.

He couldn't muster up the courage to and only managed to send as far as the storeroom. He mulled over the thought of visiting that place one day. Probably when he was grey and old, needing to relive the happiest moments of his life so that he could pass on to the afterlife in peace.

Abhishek's face almost buckled like a toddler lost in a crowd but he held on to the Texas-sized ego of his, not letting the glistening tear slip past his eye sockets. "We will find them tomorrow. For now, let's all go to bed. I am sure you've had a long day, Pragya."

Pragya nodded suspiciously and kept the items in her hand back on the table. "Let's go."

As everyone stood up to leave the hall, Riya spotted Chandu walking out of the door. "Blueberry Smurfette!" She shouted, halting him in the tracks and everyone else present.

Prachi rolled her eyes shifting her weight onto one foot expecting Riya to create another ruckus.

"What do you think she is going to do?" Shahana who had come to stand beside her, whispered while Prachi squirmed at the tickling on her ear.

"She is going to Riya this up." Prachi shrugged, not bothered to interfere. Shahana snickered a little, thinking how Prachi had used Riya's name as a verb.

The youngest child of the family walked up to him and he turned around fully to face her. "Where are you going?"

"Home?" he offered meekly.

Before getting arrested, he roamed the streets and checked into small motels to stay in for a while. After he had scavenged enough resources for a couple of weeks, he skipped town and never returned. So he didn't actually have a place to go but was far too modest to ask her for help. He got a job and that was way more than he could have expected or wanted. He could figure it out on his own, he always did.

Riya raised an eyebrow at him. "Where is that exactly?"

"Probably a motel somewhere downtown. You don't need to worry. I've handled myself for so long before. remember?" he asked, indicating a conversation that had happened earlier- a conversation the rest of the occupants were not privy to.

"Chandu," she droned. "I know you can take care of yourself. I respect that about you. But I'll sleep better knowing that you are safe over here with us. So you can stay here. We've got so many rooms that are collecting dust anyways."

"I can't, Didi. You've done so much for me already. I can't ask that of you."

"You did not. I am offering...no, I am ordering you to stay here with us. Besides, we don't tell people to leave the house just because we can. Right, Dad?" Riya asked disingenuously as ever, popping the 'd' sound obnoxiously. She rounded on Abhishek who was standing there grumpily, not liking the idea in the slightest. Prove me wrong, Dad. For once, do the right thing.

He bit his lip and nodded stiffly. "I'll get the house help to settle your stuff in one of the rooms." With that he was gone, retreating into his room that hasn't been shared with anyone for the last twenty years with Pragya on his toes.

I stand corrected.

"It's decided then, Chandu is staying here," Riya all but dragged the boy down to one of the rooms to get him settled before he could protest.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," He said once she let go of his arm.

"What?"

"Let me stay here. I could have figured it out on my own."

"You are not alone anymore blueberry Smurfette. We are friends now and I wouldn't let my friend suffer out there when I can do something about it."

Some people like the person standing in front of him did not understand how much of a blessing having a pack was. To them, it was baggage undue, responsibilities -a burden always hanging off their backs waiting to trip them over so they could drive pleasure from the pain.

Chandu knew it was an incontestable mistake to deem that a fact. He understood that a pack was a family one chooses of their own free will. A group that was symbolic of companionship, family, love, care, warmth and most importantly, a home. The kind of sanctuary where he could express himself without the fear of being beaten to death on his better days.

It is human tendency to cherish things only when they are lost- Abhishek was a nonpareil bereaved individual. This nineteen-year-old destitute did not make that mistake. He treasured what he had, what was here with him in the now.

He didn't have the words to express himself so instead, he engulfed the older girl in a hug and whispered a "Thank you," into her shoulder. Riya ruffled his hair with a pat on the back.

Over in the hall, Prachi and Shahana stood dumbfounded.

Riya is being...nice? To someone that doesn't have any leverage or benefit, she could reap from it. "I... didn't see that one coming,'' Prachi admitted.

"I am so confused," Shahana muttered rubbing her temple. "Good night." she yawned, giving Prachi a quick hug. She made her way towards Kiara's old room, taking a deep breath before entering.

---Fading In The Sun---

Abhishek stood with arms crossed in front of his chest staring out at the sun setting. His sun had set a long time ago, the day Pragya left with his middle child. It didn't bother to appear in his desolate world again until today. It looks happier today, brighter.

"I think Chandu is a nice boy," Pragya said from behind him, adjusting their bed sheets. "You don't have to worry about Riya."

He hummed absentmindedly. He wasn't worried about Riya or Chandu- that was a common occurrence. He was reminiscing about the past, memories that formed the golden thread of his soul and ageing spine. Memories are often called upon by fragrance. For him, it was the smell of her black rose perfume that had ceased to linger in his nostrils after a decade-long absence.

The amnesic leaned her head on her husband's back and wrapped her slim arms around him, resting her palms on his chest. "She will be fine. I'll make sure of it."

The black rose fills his sense of smell again and he loses himself in them. The stolen moments together ring with a vivid hue and come dancing as if the wind was their favourite melody. Unaware, he rested his own palm atop her own- as warm and gentle as he remembered.

Pragya remembers those as clear as day. She clings to them and onto Abhishek. "I may not remember the last two decades but I remember us. I remember who were are and what we are."

Abhishek shouldn't be condoning this. He should be calmly handling the matter and maintaining his distance. With Pragya not having her memory, it is as though taking advantage of her. They weren't even married anymore.

He gently removed her hands and forced a smile on his ashen features before turning around. "I know she will be fine, with Meera around, we don't have to worry about her."

Pragya slapped his arm abruptly, causing him to squeak in surprise. "What was that for?"

"Don't mention that witch's name. And," Pragya scrunched her nose for a moment. "Why do we have a nanny for our twenty-year-old grown daughter?"

He fumbled around his brain for a reasonable explanation. "Riya insisted we keep her. That's why." He blurted, unsure of his own statement.

Pragya snarled irritably. "Of course she did." What is it about her that Riya likes so much?

Using this momentary distraction, he moved away from Pragya and into the bathroom.

Pragya smirked to herself as he exited the bathroom. "Suniye," she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at her ex-husband. "What are your plans for tonight?"

Abhishek managed to swallow the bile in his throat and went back to his side of the bed, pulling the covers over himself, and making sure to face away from Pragya. "Sleeping until the sun has risen."

"But it's still so early." She frowned.

"I have a headache." He lied.

Pragya sprung into action reaching for the drawer closest to her, expecting to find a bottle of axe oil she always kept there for emergencies. "Why didn't you tell me that earlier? Here, I'll give you a head massage."

Abhishek slapped his forehead. I am such an idiot. Of course, that would trigger her caring wife instincts. "It's fine Pragya. I just need to sleep it off." He pretended to doze off so that he wouldn't question him further.

Pragya didn't hear him and continued staring straight at the empty drawer. Why is my side of the bedside drawers empty? Where is all my stuff? Specs case, medicated oil, medicines, pens, sketch pads?

"Suni..." she trialled off seeing as Abhishek had dozed off. "Something doesn't feel right," she muttered to herself taking a seat on her side of the bed.

Abhishek opened his eyes and sighed to himself. How can I do this to the woman I loved? Maybe if it wasn't fair to her- denying the things she rightfully expects from her husband. But, she would agree with him when she got her memories back. Not that, he was the ideal husband anyone would want before but he did respect her as a person. They didn't share any relationship. This is just an act until her memory comes back.

Somewhere deep down, he couldn't help but wish that her memory never come back. He would have that family he longed for but tarnished with his own bare hands. This was the chance granted by the divine to fix what was broken and correct what was wronged.

---Fading In The Sun---

A hideaway from the emptiness outside, a sanctuary to simply exist, a safe haven to let go of the day's worry, a room to call her own,- but not hers alone anymore.

Her fortress of solitude has been invaded by the army of one hobbit. Her comrades have been cornered, resigned to drawers. All the shelves she has lost. The hobbit continues about its day, wreaking havoc, battling to adapt to her surroundings, failing miserably so. Prompting all her pent up emotions to release in but a snicker.

"Having fun there?"

"Shut up." Prachi hissed through gritted teeth. She did not have to so much as glance at the big oaf to imagine the smug expression on her face.

"I can do this for you. You just have to say the magic word." Riya offered amused, standing against the doorframe of her- their wardrobe.

"I. Can. Do. It. Myself." Each word is punctuated with a jump falling too short to reach the top component of the closet. She could feel a muscle pull on its way with the rate she was going at.

Amused, Riya watched her struggle for a bit, shortly becoming bored of the zero progress on Prachi's end. Shrugging her shoulder, Riya walked to her bed and took a seat at the edge. She inspected her nails, waiting smugly for Prachi's inevitable call for help.

"Why don't you have a damn stool in your lawn-sized room?" Prachi groaned, miffed by her lack of progress.

Riya tilted her head and chuckled at the view of Prachi bent down holding her knees in fatigue. "Because I didn't have a midget-sized elf in my room before this," Riya replied, smug as ever. "You know, the one who enjoys lecturing people and whose name coincidentally starts with the letter p."

Prachi didn't give her the satisfaction of a riposte, and Riya rolled her eyes. To pass time she felt her front pocket for her phone, and scowled when she discovered it to be the phantom weight of the device Prachi had obliterated in the hospital a week prior.

Riya's gone a week without her phone, her friends must have certainly presumed her dead, but keeping up appearances was the last thing on her mind after the consensus that turned her world upside down and inside out.

"Why do I have to share a room with this short-legged elf?" Asked Riya, seated on an uncomfortable wooden chair in the hospital canteen, helping herself to a blueberry muffin.

"I don't want to share a room with a big troll like you either," Prachi stated for the record, arms crossed, opposite Riya at the square table.

"Exactly, trolls are huge and require a lot of space so we can't share." Riya retorted without missing a beat.

"I think Ninnyhammer looks more like Santa." Shahana chimed in, resulting in a moment of confused silence between the twins.

Then Riya grasped, dramatically laying a hand over her heart. "Are you calling me fat?!"

"No, I'm calling you old, is that a grey hair I see?" Shahana squinted, pointing a finger at Riya's head.

"What, where?!" Riya innocently fell for it grabbing the metal tabletop napkin dispenser to check her reflection. Shahana snorted with laughter, and Prachi struggled to control her's as well.

"You-." Riya narrowed her eyes in exasperation and lunged for Shahana across the table, knocking over Abhishek's coffee in the process.

"Riya!" Abhishek shouted as the contents of the cup spilt on his hand.

"Sorry," Riya said, sheepishly shrinking back into her seat.

Abhishek dabbed his hand with some napkins, lecturing as he did so. "You're lucky that coffee wasn't scalding hot, it could've burned me! Why don't you think before you react?! First with the puppy, and now with this!-"

It was a low blow, and everyone knew. "Seriously?!" Riya screeched, bewildered that he could even think to make a comparison between the two. "I don't think before I react? That's rich coming from a man who threw his wife out in the middle of the night with a newborn-."

"What?" Prachi interrupted, hurt swirling in her eyes, this was the first time she had heard the details of their separation.

Riya fell silent, and it was then that Abhishek realised she knew more than she let on.

Abhishek awkwardly cleared his throat, as Shahana put a soothing hand on Prachi's arm and glared at him. "If we had stayed together- Pragya wanted the twins to share one room since the day they- you were born. It'll be a dead giveaway if you don't. If we want to make Pragya believe that her- family is the way it should be, you have to share one room. It's not up to debate."

He reverted the subject to the matter on hand to evade scrutiny. Looking solely at Riya as he spoke. As though to say, you're the reason we're in this mess, and so you have to deal with the consequences.

The consequences of her actions resulted in a scraping against the hardwood floor in present time. Riya tilted her head to find the source of the sound and scoffed to see Prachi drag a stool that seemed to spawn out of nowhere, to the cupboard. Dusting off her hands in victory when she, at last, succeeded in putting her empty suitcase on the top shelf.

Her victory though was short-lived, a grasp escaped from her lips as she felt the stool slip from underneath her feet, bracing herself for impact.

"Why are you so stubborn?" Prachi heard and opened her eyes confused because the impact never came, and she found herself in Riya's arms.

"What?"

"You could've asked for my help, but no you would rather crack your skull open on the floor," Riya said in exasperation.

"Yes, I would rather die than ask for your help and owe you any favour." Prachi spat.

Riya scowled. "Alright then, next time you fall don't expect me to save you."

"Trust me, I won't." Prachi retorted.

"Fine."

"Fine."

Prachi straightened out of Riya's arms, only to end up back in them a second after as her foot twisted.

"Quit falling into my arms."

"Quit catching me, I didn't ask you to."

"I have no interest in catching you, I am not your boyfriend."

"No, you're not, you're my sister."

Both of them fell silent at that, this was the first time Prachi had addressed Riya as her sister. Riya couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from curving into a smile as Prachi quickly left her arms and hurried toward the bathroom.

It was when they'd finished their individual night routines, and settled into their beds, after an hour of driving each other up the wall- that Prachi's suspicion began.

"What are those?" Prachi asked, watching Riya retrieve a bottle of pills from her bedside table and pop two in her mouth, washing it down with a glass of water.

"Drugs," Riya deadpanned with zero hesitation. "Want some? I reckon they will help you become a little less grouchy."

Prachi scowled. "Turn off the light, I want to sleep."

"Do it yourself."

"The lamp is right beside you." Prachi pointed out.

The main light was off but the lamp on Riya's bedside table was still illuminating the room in a warm hue.

"No, this stays on." Said Riya in a no-argument tone.

"Why are you afraid of the dark or something?" Prachi asked rhetorically.

"No, I'm not!" Riya suddenly yelled, defensive.

Prachi's eyes widened in realisation, Riya Mehra being afraid of the dark was the last thing Prachi expected to learn tonight. She could have some fun with this.

"Oh my gosh, you need a nightlight to sleep?" Prachi teased, chuckling.

"It's- a lamp, not a nightlight, stop laughing so loud, I'm trying to sleep." Riya turned on her side away from Prachi and retreated under the safety of her duvet to save herself from further embarrassment.

Prachi had a good laugh and then she too settled in, as she thought to herself how cutely childish Riya was and then chided herself for finding the person who destroyed life as she knew it, cute. Drifting off into an uneasy sleep in a new place.

---Fading In The Sun---

In the bible, zion is described as a holy place. Heavenly city, the kingdom of heaven, holy place. Whatever you want to call it. It was a place of safety where disasters could not happen. Shahana had found her equivalent of Zion in the form of her maternal aunt and adoptive sister- protection and care flooded her in abundance.

Noah's ark wasn't much different. God had built this vessel for Noah, his family and the world's animals to protect them from a natural disaster that he wanted to shower upon the world in the form of a global flood. Shahana didn't understand what was so special about these three groups of people. That was properly attributed to the fact that she wasn't of that faith and thus didn't read up on it.

She was much more well versed with the Sanskrit parallel of it- Manu's boat- that and her mother and Pragya had spoken about on multiple occasions.

Matsya Purana, one of the eighteen major Puranas in Sanskrit literature mentioned that the end of the mahayuga is marked by the great flood- a natural end of time followed by a new beginning. In contrast to the Hebrew Biblical narrative, it was not divine retribution.

Lord Vishnu had warned Manu about the impending doom, leading him to create a boat to carry his family and the Saptarishi to safety.

O Great one, for a hundred years from today, there shall be no rainfall on earth, which will result in a terrible drought and famine. Thereafter, at the end of the era, the seven scorching rays of the sun shall begin to destroy the living.

Shahana closed her eyes, remembering word for word what had been written and spoken between the hundred and three hundred Common eras.

When the entire earth is reduced to ashes, the sky will be filled with scorching heat and the entire universe with gods and heavenly bodies will be destroyed. The seven destructive clouds will arise from the fire and heat, dropping heavy rains, and uniting the seven oceans into one. I would lead you to safety. Thus, at the time when even the gods have been reduced to ashes, you shall be saved with my aid.

Although Shahana was more inclined to follow the story of Manu's boat, she was drawn to the Hebrew parallel of it. Divine retribution. Punishment for all sins committed, unintentional or purposely bore no meaning.

Maybe it was the lies spoken almost every time she spoke to Pragya. Maybe every time she falsely identifies herself as her dead daughter. Maybe when she chose to adopt this identity for the betterment of someone else.

But my intentions are virtuous, aren't they? To her and everyone maybe they were considered heroic. But maybe to the divine, it's sins that need punishment.

That is why she was here standing in front of a mirror. A reflection stared back at her but she was unable to recognize who the image her eyes captured was.

Shazia?

"So this means Shazia has to impersonate Kiara?" Riya asked, breaking the silence that had since befallen the waiting room where they were told to wait.

Pragya had gained consciousness and forgotten even more than they thought. Lost was the realisation of a dead child, a confrontation with the one she held responsible and the calling of truth.

Prachi rolls her eyes while Shahana and Abhishek stand there confused as to what Riya just said.

"Who the hell is this Shazia? Are you seriously going to ask one of your bimbo friends to pretend to be Kiara after Maasi has seen and indulged in her fantasy of me being her dead daughter?" Shahana shot Abhishek with a sharp look and slipped her hand into Prachi's, seeing her flinch from the corner of her eye.

The man cleared his throat uncomfortably. He opened his mouth to speak but Riya beat him to the chase.

"What no," Riya scoffed at her obvious lack of perception. "I'm talking about you."

Shahana stormed over to the girl sitting on one of the chairs and glared at her.

"Too can play that game, Shazia." The questioned party rolled her eyes at Shahana, standing to match her gaze. Although, her height gave her the added advantage to look slightly more intimidating.

"My name is not Shazia."

"Not now it isn't. From now on it's Kiara, remember?" Riya said as a matter of fact.

"That's not what I meant, ninnyhammer," she snarled. "My name is Shahana Aparna Mirza."

Riya shrugged her shoulders. "Yea that's what I said, Shanaya Andrea meatball."

Shahana made a move to lunge at the younger girl but Prachi managed to reach her in time. She wrapped her arms around the older girl's waist, hoisting her back to the other side of the room.

"Do something!" She yelled to her father. He stood there gaping unsure about what to do.

"Hostility isn't a good look on you, Shazia." Riya taunted, further aggravating her.

"I hate you!" Shahana shouted as Prachi dragged her kicking and screaming out of the room.

Riya sighed, dropping back onto the chair. That's when he noticed her father was still standing there, flopping his mouth uselessly like a fish. "Such a helpful person you are." She deadpanned, picking up her bag and heading out to the parking lot.

Shahana growled at her reflection and swiftly turned around. She was not Shazia. She was Kiara- Shahana. Shahana Aparna Mirza.

The little voice in the back of her head didn't get the message, however. It buzzed constantly, Kiara. Pragya's daughter.

Shahana grabbed her hair and sat pulling at the strands till her scalp began to ache. She dropped to the floor, the cold biting through her knees and bones. She skimmed her eyes around the bedsheets, pillows, sofas and everything that was covered in some sort of cloth. This place had no fraying ends- a perfect paradise. Only this wasn't her palace. It belonged to Kiara- she wasn't coming back and Shahana shouldn't be a replacement.

Whom Pragya loved, she found again. Yet, the one she raised, she lost in a sick game of disappearing silhouettes. Another daughter, gone like she never existed- her loss was nothing but passing moments.

The composed soul was Shahana. The steady heartbeat was Shahana's but the engaged brain found its way to Kiara or sometimes Shazia.

"Shahana!" she screamed, throat raw from the hysterical sobs leaving her mouth. "I am- going- going to- tell Massi. I- am Sh-Shahana. The girl she raised since she was ten."

She got onto shaky feet and wiped at her tears. "Fix this," she muttered, turning to the mirror to make her apparel presentable. The reflection in the mirror stopped her, once again causing her to speak and risk the twisting of the knaves of sophistry.

"Give her what she wants."

She sighed moving to the bed, lying on her back. Her tears mixed with the ocean of dried-up grief. She had to give the title of a mother to someone else. Pragya wasn't any less without that designation but actually calling her mom was different. It stirred a lot of uncomfortable feelings in her- feelings she wasn't ready to face, never was and probably never will be.

Just as she was about to drift off with her torturous thought making a snail's pit in her head, she felt something poking her back. She quickly jumped off the bed and proceeded to curse herself for forgetting to put away her clothes in the wardrobe. She had left them in her suitcase when she arrived. A silly ray of hope, telling her the need to unpack wouldn't arise. Hope breeds eternal misery indeed.

She gathered them in a pile, too drained to bother folding any article and walked to the cardboard. Balancing the pile in her right arm, she swung open the door and all but dumped the items inside.

Just as she was about to shut the door, something clambered onto the floor. Shahana frowned, reaching down to pick up what she assumed was a diary. Carefully flipping open the book that was barely holding itself together she read the contents.

Dear diary, today I met my father.

A/N: Don't forget to R&R!