Musa stepped out of the bedroom quietly, the corridor was dim-lit and the auras were silently subdued.

Running a hand through his hair, he silently made his way through the corridor, his eyes grazed to the wooden floor, he then heard it.

From the end of the corridor, when the walls opened to the adjoined kitchen and living room, where those whispers were subjected to his ears.

'Baba, you take too much upon yourself.'

It was Ambar. Her voice was low, tired, and pleading. It begged.

'I'm alright-'

Rashid, tried to reason with her helplessly.

But Ambar went on.

'You care too much about others, you forget about yourself.'

'Ambar beti, I am perfectly fine-'

'No, you're not. Stop saying you are. Stop deluding yourself. I'm the only one who knows what you go through, while the whole world thinks you're fine. And just because they see you smile, they think you have a lot to give, when really you have nothing in hand- Abu, please stop doing this to yourself. Rest, take a break- you'll tire yourself like this.'

Musa stopped in his steps, midway through the corridor. He did not dare take any further movements, afraid that they might hear him.

Surprisingly, after all that his daughter had said out of concern, Rashid chuckled.

'Oh, my Jaan, don't you realize that the fact that I am able to give as much as Allah has given me the ability to, is my energy boost to keep on going? To keep on living?'

'But... you're health-'

Ambar was cut off.

'I'm fine, Alhumdullilah. Now, it's getting late you should get to bed. Tomorrow you have college."

Musa could prick out the hint of forced pleasure from his teacher's words, and he knew why- it's just what anyone would do, to relieve others of the fear of an ugly truth.

Frowning a bit, he knew he shouldn't have eavesdropped on this exchange of words between father and daughter.

And as soon as this realization dawned on him, there was a pitfall in his stomach of guilt.

Maybe he was a burden on them.

Silence reigned as Musa did not sway, his thoughts travelling afar, but couldn't go North, for it was dropped back when he heard a row of coughs eject from a hoarse, tightening throat.

'Abu!'

Musa jumped to his steps, knocking with his fisted hand on the side of the wall. "May I come?" He raised his voice, which was stern.

It was only a second when Ambar allowed him to come, having taken her face veil, he stepped forward towards Rashid, his teacher's head dumped, and his chest was heaving up and down.

Musa stood steady, rubbing the back of Rashid's back- the coughs worsened, and Musa turned to Ambar.

"Get a glass of water, quick."

She broke out of her frozen worry, and skipped on her feet towards the kitchen. Musa looked back down at Rashid's face which had turned red, and he was choking terribly.

Musa didn't know any healing duas. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, his expression washed in worry, he did what he could think of and kept rubbing Rashid's back thoroughly.

The only thing that came to Musa's head, whispering on and on. "Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim."

"Abu, here take this," Ambar had returned, kneeling down on the floor before Rashid, and lifting a glass of water to his face.

Rashid's coughs had lessened, as Musa kept whispering duas rooted from the hope in his heart. Rashid's hand wavered towards the glass, he grabbed it from Ambar and took light sips of water, his expression easing.

Musa settled down on the couch beside Rashid once silence of relief spilled around them, and Ambar remained where she was, her hands on her father's knee, staring intently up at Rashid.

Rashid's color lightened on his face, and once his breathing normalized, he set the glass back down on the coffee table.

"Are you alright?" Ambar dared whisper.

Rashid pursed his lips, nodding- though that cough attack had drained him, and it was clearly noticeable- beads of sweat that Rashid wiped them away from his forehead.

Musa inhaled sharply, realizing what Ambar had meant in the earlier conversation.

"How many times do you get these attacks?" Musa asked.

"It's alright," Rashid croaked. "It only happens once and awhile-"

"Yes, but now it's happening more often than ever before," Ambar stated.

Musa frowned deeply, glancing over at his teacher. "Haven't you gotten this checked, sir?"

Rashid scowled. "I said I am fine. Don't you two understand? I don't need to get anything checked. Alhumdulillah, I'm fine. If there is anything wrong, and suppose the worries the two of you have come true-"

"I apologize, sir, but you're the man of this house. If this keeps going on, then not only will it affect you, but also, your daughter- I've seen people who let it go till the last day, and it doesn't work out for them. I do believe that even if you get sick, there are remedies, and antidotes created by Allah for a reason." Musa exhaled slowly, his gaze solid. "Please, sir, if not for yourself- then for the ones around you, let's settle down an appointment for you."

Rashid heard him right, and just when he was going to object- he looked into his daughter's eyes, and saw the plea that held in them. Inhaling sharply, he held Ambar's hand, tightly and nodded towards Musa. Silence was acceptance.

Ambar stood up to her feet, claiming it was late and she needed to go to sleep before tomorrow's busy day.

Soon enough, when it was only Musa and Rashid- Musa looked anywhere but back at his teacher's face.

Ambar's words were still ringing in his head, and the guilt did not subdue.

"I'm sorry," Musa muttered, his hands held tightly. "That I'm a burden on you..."

Rashid's gaze snapped towards Musa, taking in the shadow of remorse fallen on Musa.

"You're not a burden on me." Rashid said sternly.

"I- shouldn't have, but I heard Ambar from the corridor, what she had said to you... I-"

"Musa, look up at me," His voice was drastically low, and Musa looked up, meeting gazes with Rashid.

"It's not because of me you're here. It is His plan. His decision, and since it is a blessing, we should not be neglectful of it, that Alhumdulillah, He took you out of that mansion, and brought you somewhere better. Alhumdulillah, He decided that I would be a source of income, a source of safety, security, and a roof over your head- Musa, you do not have a father, and more than a teacher, I would like you to see me that way."

Musa was out of words then, for the beauty of sincerity in his words, had struck him again. Time and time again Rashid showed that there were beautiful people in this world, and the most beautiful ones were those closest to Allah.

"I- JazakAllah khair for so much," Musa replied, smiling lightly. "I'd like to make it upto you one day, what can I do?"

"Wa Iyyaki," Rashid smiled. "Whatever good you do, Musa, then how blessed would I be if I remind you of it, your good deeds would only multiply mine, Musa. And, that's what you can do for me that would benefit both my dunya and akhirah."

In this quiet serenity of a moment, Musa did not say anything- his gaze lowered. He understood what his teacher meant, and quietly made a hard promise to himself- that it was time, slowly he would, and as a human he was bound to make mistakes, but there was this 'one life chance' to accomplish it all, or, lose everything.

And he had his mind set on the first option.

"Is there something on your mind?" Rashid spoke up, snapping Musa out of his trail of thoughts.

"Er... yes, well," Musa cleared his throat, thinking it through how to begin this. "My sister... She called me just a while ago. And, we talked for a bit... and I decided I wanted to meet her. Tomorrow."

Musa glanced up to see what Rashid thought of this. Rashid had nothing but sheer pleasure crinkling the ends of his eyes, he patted Musa's hand.

"You're becoming braver and braver day by day," Rashid whispered. "How'd you decide that this is the right thing to do?"

"Because... it can't be possibly anything but right, can it? After all this time, the fact that she's here, and just when I thought she had left again, turns out she was still here. I was blind before- but now I understand, I've seen so many signs indicating to me that I should meet her, and there is nothing wrong in that."

Musa's voice lost accord, as his eyes watched the ceiling lamp litter out light around the room. "It's as if... no, not as if- but for certainty my Rabb has decided this meeting, and it is going to happen. I am going to meet her, InshaAllah."

"InshaAllah." Rashid soliloquized.

____

The sky tucked itself in pink, the color that one could describe as lovely, peaceful, worthful, and complete. It was strange how she felt, when the breeze tucked at her face, and yet here she sat on one side of the park bench, with him on the other end.

She observed him silently, they had only passed their salams, and having seen each other from afar- miraculous how they didn't need to have a double-take to know it was the other. He knew this was the moment, and she knew it, too.

So far, as much as they had seen of the other after twelve years of distance, they knew they were personality-wise complete opposites. He was fond of words that could come out unsaid, while she was fond of clarity and would rather, word them out.

He had his eyes grazed on the grass, of shame that littered his cheeks, while her eyes lifted to the skies of gratitude, for how could she shell herself from speaking after so long?

Peaceful weather, pleasant thoughts, and light notes, just the package for the conversation she had imagined for years.

"If you could change one thing of the past," Zara started off first, observing him from the corner of her eyes, pausing a bit when he lifted his head to look at her. "What would you change?"

She glanced his way with a straight look. Musa's brows creased together, his hands gripped together in thought.

"Maybe, a lot of things," Musa muttered. "I can't...really say."

"Go on... you're answering just fine," Zara urged lightly.

"It took me a while to realize, that if it changed, even a thing from the past," Musa cleared his throat, regaining confidence as he matched his eyes with hers. "Then maybe, I wouldn't be who I am today... maybe, we wouldn't be where we are now."

"That is true," Zara breathed out, turning her gaze to the playground not far from their bench, occupied by siblings, who held each other's hands, and ran around the slides and swings.

"We've come so far, Musa, in who we are today, that I think if it had been different- we wouldn't be happy right now."

Musa frowned a bit, staring intensely at his palms. "But there is one thing I can say... I want to change. To erase from it ever happening, actually."

He took her silence as an encouragement to go on. "I wished I had cut off my hand that day when I pulled your scarf."

It took him every bit of energy, consciousness to have said that- and when he would have thought she would say 'yes, you're right' or, bash at him- for he felt he deserved it, nothing as such came out of her mouth but reasonable words that had utterly stunned him to the fact that he didn't know what to say.

"What you did was wrong. It didn't comfort me in any way," Zara's voice stiffened. "I didn't know you were my brother then, but when I found out that evening that it was you- it was a shock for me as well. It took me every bit of strength, Musa, to come out of my insecurity, to tell myself that you probably were not thinking, to see who you have become then, yet I still loved you. I prayed for you, I prayed day and night, for Allah to bring you back to me... and see where it has led us? Perhaps, if I didn't see it all, I wouldn't have appreciated the struggle, patience, and gratitude to who I am with you today. Perhaps, I would not have even looked your way, or cared to say you were my brother. This was after all the perfect way to have met each other."

When he had been absent from her life all this time, and the first market meeting they had was anything but perfect to him, he watched how his sister had picked herself up from that horror incident, yet he wondered that after all he went through, what problems did she go through that he did not even know of throughout her life?

Musa passed her a forced nod- he was still not getting used to her presence, after all that had happened, he was trying so hard to kick the useless stones between them- because he wanted to. That if he looked at it straightly, on the other end of the road, his sister had already cleared the road, allowing him to talk, she did not let a rock of doubt, judgement, questions of what had happened to him, ever since his arrival at the park to come in the way of this conversation.

There were no rocks from her side, why should he keep rocks on his?

"I- I know this won't change anything because what is done is done," Musa squeezed his eyes shut. "I was lost... I wasn't so sure. I was dying inside, and I tried so hard to ignore it- to just be what others wanted me to be, that slowly, I had forgotten I had a heart that needed to live."

His voice grew hoarse as he said this, and if it was the sun that burnt down him, stuck at his eyelids, he knew he shouldn't cry there. Not now. No.

Zara noticed it immediately- the way his head dumped and his cheeks pinked in shame. His hands clenched on his thighs, as if he was holding himself from breaking down.

"Musa..." Zara whispered, leaning forward. "Musa, look at me."

Musa shook his head. "No..."

"I said, Musa, look at me," Zara urged.

Musa looked away, ardently. "I can't... I don't deserve this. After all that I said and did to you and your family-"

"Musa! We're a family!" Zara couldn't keep it inside anymore, taking a hold of his face between her hands, and her tear-spilt eyes ardently froze on his. "I'm your sister! We're of the same blood. The same heart. Don't- don't you see that? You, me, baba, mama, Nani, Dawood- all of us! We could be 'us' again. Don't you want that?"

Her heart urged.

Her voice cracked, and her chest heaved up and down as she had said that will all her heart's intensity. The shackles of all those years, relaid in between them, and Musa with the touch of her cold hands, felt strange... felt nearer, felt...

His heart gave in.

Musa dropped his head on her shoulder, his eyes shut as a trickle of tear fell on her abaya. Zara too, enveloped her brother, enclosing the distance of all these years, letting the hug speak for itself.

Sniffing slightly, as she rubbed her tears away, Musa leaned back- his lips cracking up a childish, innocent smile like the child inside him was.

"Are you happy now?" Zara asked, out of nowhere- smiling back.

Her question was so quick, he was almost taken aback. But as soon as it was directed, it sparked something... and he realized, listening to the twitter of the birds, the sun light cascading down on the grey, dew dropped grass, and the truth-fluttering word- that he was not happy.

"No," he smartly replied, trying to maintain his expression straight, eyeing her from the side.

Zara's eyes widened slightly. "That's rude."

Musa raised a brow, glancing her way. "Why is it rude? I'm being honest."

Zara shook her head. "You're not happy? How can we ever make you happy? Ya Allah! You're still that childish, ungrateful Musa... never happy, are you?"

Musa blinked a few times, before a wide grin took up his lips. "Nopes."

He popped the 'p'.

Zara was flustered at this brother of hers.

Before she could go on, he snapped her mouth shut with his answer.

"I'm content," he whispered.

Zara stopped short, now it was her turn to be taken aback by his words. She followed up her softening, touched gaze as to where he was looking, and saw across the grass of the park, the two of them were watching somewhat mini-versions of themselves.

An elder sister was helping her younger brother up the ladder steps of the colorful playhouse, till he reached the 'top of the world' and shouted 'hoorays' adorably and the elder sister, stepped to the side, careful that if her brother took the wrong step, she should be there to catch him.

"Was it you, or, Eshaal baji?" Musa broke the silence with curiosity dripping from his voice.

Zara knew what he was on about, yet surprised how he guessed it could be Eshaal.

"Eshaal. She's the one who gave you the diary."

Musa nodded lightly. "I knew it."

Zara exhaled slowly, understanding that maybe, it was after all Eshaal who had been the push button to Musa escaping, and coming back anew.

"You read it... then?" No matter how stupid it sounded, she asked it.

"...I did..."

Musa zipped his backpack open, and took out the flower-patterned journal, lifting it in the sunlight. Zara's eyes dropped on it, her heartbeat escalating seeing her writing in his hands, of the story she had written in memory of him, and he had read it already.

As any writer, but more than a writer, a sister, she sat forward, her eyes keen on the journal. "What... what do you think?"

Musa glanced down at the journal, lightly tapping it with his fingers. "A lot of things- can't bring them out in words."

"That's what happens to me most of the time," Zara's eyes softened. "I lose words along the way, when something big is asked of me."

"Exactly, that's the answer," Musa snapped his fingers, glancing up with lamp-lights in his eyes. "This story is 'big'."

Zara could not help the smile that crept up to her lips. "Yet it's incomplete."

"Can't ever be complete, when it's ongoing, huh?" Musa challenged, his gaze shifting uneasily, as if he was meant to say something.

"I want you to complete it." Musa whispered, shoving the diary towards her. "I- I tried continuing it, but it didn't work for me. I'm not a writer, and it's even harder if I have to write of all that I went through."

Zara's brows curved thoughtfully when she took the diary from him, flipping the pages till she reached his scrawly handwriting compared to her sweet style. (Yes, she can be slightly judgemental when it came to 'handwriting').

She had read the short post fast, her eyes opposing what he wanted.

"This is your story, Musa," Zara said finally, nodding her head, her eyes delving in emotions. "It's your story to write."

Musa's eyes squinted slightly, as an idea occurred to him. "How about we both work on it?"

Zara blinked. "Both? How?"

Musa shrugged. "You're the writer, right? And I am the main character? How about... we create a google docs, and you're the one who will write alright? I'll tell you everything of my life, and you'll write it down. I'll check it over and this is how we can write this story."

"That's... actually not a bad idea," Zara nodded feverishly. "My second purpose to have come here, after finding you- was to complete this story. Oh, Musa, this can actually happen."

Musa felt relieved- his eyes growing thoughtful on the diary, when a sudden question slipped into his mind.

He slid the diary aside for now.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Do you need to ask for permission in order to ask your Appa anything?" Zara shook her head, tut-tutting. "You have a long way to go, Musa Hashim- forgot the sibling code, haven't you?"

Musa could not help the chuckle that escaped his lips. "No! It's not that... yea, okay, never mind- I'll cut short to the question... um... you really remembered me after all this time, haven't you?"

"I have," Zara smiled lightly, pleased to answer him this. "I never forgot you- while everyone told me to forget, move on, whatever has happened has happened and there is nothing we can do about it, and even though, I fooled them all into thinking that I was moving on with life, quiet, simple- I kept reading your letters you sent to me in the beginning. And since, I couldn't experience those things with you, I wanted to keep your memory alive in me, and wanted to put it in writing. I did at first, start publishing, but took it off as soon as I realized it was incomplete, and I had no idea what to write further. I also kept imagining things of how it would be like, if I went to school with Musa, and I could help you with your homework, I could bake things for you. Remember you and baba used to love my baking?"

Musa's brows furrowed a bit, yet the awkward smile did not leave his lips- "Um... I guess I have a bad memory? But our stories seem similar, surprisingly."

"Why?" Zara turned to him fully, interested to know what he had to say.

"Well, first of all, with me, people around me said similar things, but I guess our responses to what people said were different," Musa lowered his gaze, letting a sigh escape his lips.
"While you kept your memory alive, I tried hard to shove my memory under my feet. I guess because as days passed by, I started to lose hope. I started to give into my environment, and that's when I stopped writing letters to you. I wondered if you would send me anything- but the problem was, we were shifting so often, Islamabad, Karachi, Faisalabad because of Uncle's business deals- and stayed at different places for months even. I couldn't receive anything, neither could you- and that was the game changer. I thought to myself, there was nothing to linger in the past for, and it was time to move on."

"From now on, Musa," Zara patted his hand comfortingly. "InshaAllah, we will not be apart. You and I both have so much to work towards."

People like her were needed more in this world- the type who would hold out their hands, and be ready to give you a roller coaster ride, yet seatbelt you, and let know everything will be alright.

"What else?" Musa questioned.

"What else?" Zara repeated, unsure of what he meant.

"I mean... What else have you done in these years of distance? School? Marriage? How did it all go?" Musa leaned back, shoving his cold hands in his jacket's hoodie.

The wind of Islamabad's morning brushed at their faces, and Zara who was distracted for a bit by a particular 'yellow dressed' someone who was at a distance behind them, was hand-signalling crazy.

Musa frowned deeply, wondering what Zara was staring at- when he followed her gaze, Zara dropped back to reality, and snapped her fingers in front of his eyes.

"Don't look there," Zara said quickly.

By then Eshaal had rushed away to hide behind a park tree.

Musa's brows arched- okay, this is awkward. "Why not? You were staring at something, what is it?"

"Uh.... you're going to have to wait," Zara cleared her throat, pulling up an awkward smile. But Musa knew better, and was feeling suspicious.

"What are you hiding from me?"

"Nothing. Okay, yes, something but you'll have to wait..."

Musa's suspicions increased- he wasn't feeling right.

"Is it- oh God, what on earth! Hey-" his eyes blackened, everything was out of sight.

He felt hands press down his eyes, and when he tried to break free, because he so badly wanted to see, the hands were stronger.

"Appa, what is this- where am I? I can't see!"

He felt a low, hot whisper close to his ears. "Shh. Little man, your Appa is getting the cake ready."

Musa was getting more and more confused now. "Cake? Little man- wait.... Is this Dawood bhai? Oi, dude- let me go!" Musa grunted, and he heard Dawood chuckle deeply at the back of his head.

"Alright, alright, Dawood beta, that's enough torturing him," an old lady's voice called out from the side.

"Yes, please!" Musa let out.

Soon the fabric was lifted from his gaze, and sunlight dropped on him- allowing the colors of life to spill around him, and a bit more blue-er than he imagined his surroundings to be.

He was still on the bench, but in just a few minutes, a blue-clothed table was set in front of him, and a cake decorated with blue frosting and yellow star sprinkles.

His eyes widened taking in this magical scene.

He felt the heat reach up to his neck, for he couldn't remember the last time he felt so gifted. Yet he was always blessed, but he presumed that now he was exercising his heart to notice the blessings.

His first response was. "Alhumdulillah."

He felt someone sit beside him and when he looked up it was Dawood, grinning ear to ear at him. Musa shook his head, wondering what factor of this crazy, human being Zara saw that led her to marry this man.

"Is he always like this?" Musa questioned, glancing over at Zara who was standing over the cake, taking out a knife.

"Yes." Zara muttered, her eyes glinting.

Dawood shot Musa a glare, before turning to Zara and gasping dramatically. "Dear, I am not always like this. This- this little man tempts me."

"Can you stop calling me a little- yea, you know what, I don't see that ever happening." Musa muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Alright, boys," Nani Samira coughed a bit, before taking her seat on the other side of Musa, and taking a hold of his youthful hand with her wrinkly one.

Musa felt the ends of his hair arch, when he felt her touch. With Zara's hand it was like comfort, but with Nani's it felt nearer to a.... Mother's.

And it was then he realized, this nani was his mother's mother. Double-level of motherhood.

Musa glanced down at her handhold, and did not object when he felt her gaze on him. He thought maybe, the soft smile meant she was going to say something nice... like Zara... but her idea of saying 'something nice' was different.

"You deserve so much, Musa, a hair brush would also do," she said, nodding her head.

Musa blinked, running a hand through his hair awkwardly.

"Nani- we can talk about that later," Zara relieved him of the situation where he felt he had to say something.

Zara gestured towards the cake, brightly. "This cake... well, it was Eshaal's idea-"

"-because I was like that Zara and her brother are meeting properly after so many years, and this journey was pretty tiring and yet worth it- why not bring in some... pizzazz to your beautiful meeting, no?" Eshaal took a plate of sliced cake from Zara, and sat down on the edge of the table.

"And by the definition of 'pizzazz' she meant cake," Zara sheepishly smiled, handing Musa over a plate of sliced cake, too.

Musa smiled softly, glancing down at the cake. At that moment he was enveloped with love, sincerity, and hope. He had nothing much to say but yet in this word it meant everything.

"JazakAllah o khair."

'-for not giving up on me.'

Asalamualaykum!
To celebrate this chapter go to whoever is nearest to you, go share out the kindest words to them.
Honestly, this chapter was all about healing. Physically, mentally, emotionally, and of course- the last chapter was spiritual healing which is the foremost one.

I don't have enough words to describe what I'm feeling right now, but you can be relieved toknow that this is not the last chapter though I could have ended on a cliff hanger

Oops. Maybe I did? Anyways, stay blessed, strong, and keep uplifting one another

- e . a