Salman Bashir was staring at the Fayyad mansion with a glazed-over look in his eyes.

The scraping of feet against the grainy driveway caught his attention. He glanced at the white door of the house, his eyes focusing on the man emerging from it.

Navy blue button-up shirt ironed to a crisp, black dress pants and well-polished shoes. His beard appeared to have been trimmed this morning and his shortly cropped hair was as neat as always.

It was seven in the morning on a weekend and Kaveh still looked like he dressed for a business meeting.

"Why are you rolling your eyes at me?" Kaveh asked with a raised brow as he slid in through the passenger door.

"Cause you're a pretentious prick," Salman retorted, placing both his hands on the steering wheel.

"Still not a morning person, I assume," Kaveh responded.

Salman grumbled under his breath as he zoomed his car out of their street and onto the path of their main road, just a little out of their residential area.

Friday mornings were typically quiet and peaceful, as the city prepared for jumu'ah. Many households began the day with Surah Kahf, the roads were mostly free of traffic, the only people seen were those out to buy their weekly groceries or for a morning jog.

However, that morning, the cars had been lining at least thirty minutes before the two best friends joined in. Brutal horns were all they could hear.

"I think the Pope is visiting to meet the refugees or something." Salman sighed, defeatedly slumping an arm over the steering wheel.

There was a deep crease between Kaveh's forehead, as he stared at the scene in front with annoyance.

Salman flashed him his infamous sideways smile. "Are you regretting your decision to come back yet?"

He threw him an exhausted look. "What's your point, Salman?"

"Still insist on claiming daddy Fayyad had nothing to do with your return?" He hoisted a brow.

Kaveh ignored him and looked out window, still frowning at pedestrians crossing the street rashly.

"Hey, cheer up," Salman said, lightly hitting Kaveh's shoulder with the back of his hand. "When's the last time we went out for breakfast, huh? he asked. "We haven't done this in forever. Let's have some fun."

"If you wanted me to have fun why are you taking me to breakfast amongst my father's polo-wearing golf buddies?"

"Because they're the 'it' crowd now, didn't you know?" Salman joked, raising his brows playfully.

Kaveh's unclenched his scowl at this, shaking his head fondly at his friend's silliness.

The mosque was packed with heavy crowd.

Salman and Kaveh weaved their way towards the building. They spotted his father at the courtyard, just feet away from the entrance of the building. The duo headed towards him.

Salman left his side and went to talk to some of the uncles, or to put it more accurately, to annoy them.

Kaveh darted his glance along the faces, and spotted his mother and sister on the other end of the courtyard.

The women's side was less bustling than theirs, but it was still more in numbers than Kaveh's last memory of the place.

He was confused when his mother and sister told them they would be joining the men this afternoon. It was unusual for women in their culture to pray jumu'ah.

"Since when do you pray jumu'ah?" He had asked his sister.

Since when did she pray at all? Was what he thought to himself.

"A couple years now," Layla replied.

"Is it from the influence of your friendship with the Ahmad sisters?"

"Why do I have to have a reason to pray?" Layla shrugged. "It's just something I do."

He had never seen his sister pray the obligatory prayers, neither did he - at least regularly. They were raised muslims, but with very secular mentality. So to see this practice in his house, also that his mother started wearing hijab, was bizarre to say the least.

As his mind diverted to the Ahmad's, his eyes searched for the sisters. One in particular. The last conversation he had with Dahlia Ahmad was still fresh in his mind.

The hijabi was nowhere to be found. He removed his gaze, and soon saw Ibrahim Ahmad's smiling face amongst the sea of people. The cousins looked strikingly similar, they had the same eyes, nose, smile and jaw line. Yet, from their brief encounters, Kaveh realized their personalities were nothing alike.

Salman soon moved back to his side. He was smiling at every person passing by, greeting, smiling and throwing jokes at everyone he knew. He followed Kaveh's gaze.

"You seemed very friendly with Ibrahim at the barbecue," Salman prompted curiously. Kaveh didn't just befriend anyone. He was very picky about who he associated with. "You two attending secret cult meetings I don't know about?"

"He is a decent bloke."

"Are you starting to like him more than me?"

Kaveh rolled his eyes tiredly. "Don't be ridiculous, Salman."

Farrah Hussain quietly observed the birds outside her window. A sparrow fluttered its fragile wings and circled overhead before landing on a tree branch. The mother bird had build her nest there, and was guarding it with all her life.

She carefully raised her camera and snapped a few photos. Farrah did so from inside her window and was careful to keep her flash off. She didn't want to disturb the little family.

Photography was definitely becoming one of the purest sources of joy in her life. It was funny to think even a few months ago Farrah wouldn't even have considered buying a camera for herself.

Dahlia gave it to her as a gift one day - almost forced it on her would be a more accurate description. Her reasoning was that she thought Farrah was always chasing the big picture and Dahlia wanted her to take a moment to pay attention to the small details in life.

Farrah wasn't keen on trying it at first, but after spending a few days with the camera - she fell in love. She took it everywhere and captured everyone and everything. She also realized Dahlia was right - she was always too busy worrying about the future to just stop and take in her surroundings.

Rani Hussain's voice carried into her room and snippets of conversation entered her ears. Something about their neighbour and a girl was being discussed.

Farrah rolled her eyes. Her mother had such a loud voice... and goodness, did the woman like to talk!

Rani Hussain was the biggest gossip in town. Her own mother. Farrah never had to fear other aunties to ask prying questions and spread rumours growing up - because her mother did all that by herself.

As a child, it was brutal for her to bear. It was better as an adult, however, the walls of her own house now gave her anxiety.

Farrah stayed cooped up on her bed snuggling her cozy blanket for most of her day, where she felt the most safe, reading the climax of the book written by the notorious Ted Bundy's girlfriend. It was around noon when she begrudgingly left the comfort of her nest and went to their lavish dining room. The housekeeper was still laying down food in their twelve-seater mahagony table.

Farrah took a seat and Rani joined her in a couple minutes. They quietly munched their foods, the only sound that could be heard were the tinkling from the kitchen.

The older woman straightened in her seat and cleared her throat. "Mehreen's daughter is getting married. She called to break the news today."

Farrah's throat seized up. "Pass my good wishes to them," she replied in a stoic manner.

"And Hamida's youngest girl is pregnant."

"That's nice," she said curtly, hoping her mother would get the gist that she wasn't interested in discussing this matter.

Rani pushed her plate away from her and looked directly at her daughter. "I think it's time we start looking for you too."

And there it was, the sentence Farrah had been dreading. Farrah looked up with a sigh, appetite already lost. With everything that was going on, this was the last thing she needed.

"Not now, Mom," she said. "I'm just not ready."

Like a glaring rebellion to her reasonable tone, her mother threw her hands in the air dramatically. "What do you mean you're not ready?" she cried incredulously. "It's not like you have anything going on right now."

The words offended Farrah deeply. "I just graduated," she retaliated. "And it's not like I'm sitting around doing nothing! I have a job interview next week."

Rani let out an exasperated sigh. "It won't hurt to start looking. You don't have to get married right now."

Farrah took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. She tried to remind herself of uncle Haroon's teachings about respecting parents - like she often had to around Rani.

"There's this guy,"  she continued. "Your Fawad Uncle's son. Just returned from America-"

"Mom, listen," Farrah started with a calmer voice. "I have a plan of my own, and I want to move according to my timing. Please," she added.

Farrah had the details of her life sketched out since as early as high school. She was going to get an internship with one of the three firms she had selected and then land a permanent job with them after three months. After a year into her job, she would take a break to pursue a higher degree.

Farrah had every aspect of her career sketched. But when it came to the topic of marriage, even the word made her want to run for the hills.

"And the timing for couldn't be more perfect than now!" Rani persisted. "You are young and beautiful now, but you won't be forever. It will become much more difficult to find a decent husband later, trust me. And you have lost so much weight, what if it all comes back?"

Blood was rushing to her ears, that's the only way Farrah could describe her feelings towards her mother's outrageous claims. She gritted her teeth to stop from spewing the venom that was bubbling on her tongue. She sprout up from her seat, knowing if she stayed here one second longer there would be war between mother and daughter.

"I don't want to have this discussion anymore." Farrah stood. "I stick to my decision and nothing you say will change my mind," she finished firmly.

"Every girl your age is getting married. Soon enough you'll be the only old hag in a pool of beautiful ripe cherries. Who will marry you then?"

Farrah quickly walked away, seething with anger. Her half-eaten food lay forgotten. She had long ago known there was no reasoning with Rani - her mother was an unreasonable woman, but this was ridiculous. Dread settling in her chest, she re-entered her room.