"We have to check up few tests," The doctor said. "It's expected that he still has few days- but as you know, life and death are in the hands of Allah."

Musa crossed his arms, his brows furrowed. He listened in on the doctor's say for more than twenty minutes and had to accept that the hospital did not want any nikkah ceremonies, not yet at least, until Rashid's tests were completed.

Tension loomed in the air, but it was different than the last time they were in the waiting lounge.

There was a signal of determination seeping through the rocks of those happenings that wanted you to fall.

Musa stopped by a window at the far-end of the corridor, leaning on his side. He stared out of the window, the darkness swaying with light arrays and the city of Islamabad livelier as ever, despite the ever swaying dimness of midnight thoughts.

As with any death toll, life goes on. No wind was going to stop just because the man inside was struggling to breathe.

Musa inhaled sharply- Appa would be asleep, then. He would have liked to call her, let her know there was still some time. Because it seemed there was by the Will of Allah; Musa would rather have this nikkah done with his sister and grandmother by his side.

He decided he would wait till morning. However, he did not delay calling Bilal- whose number kept going off, despite his efforts. Musa wondered what could Bilal be upto- but ended up texting him to bring an imam tomorrow in the morning. Musa didn't want to leave Rashid Murhani's side, in case anything else happened.

Sometimes, Musa felt weird- like a part of him was actually acknowledging these moments of that which he could never have imagined. He was going ahead with this nikkah. The other part of him felt like this was the right thing to do.

The next right thing.

_____

Papers were all over the desk. Jasmine-scented candles filled her nostrils with sweet, thoughtful dreams. She hand-scribbled over a few pages, while her other hand-edited the docs. Her eyes roved from the screen to the book. It has been like this for hours. Zara kept writing till her breathed heaved, solving the puzzles for the story.

______
The next morning

"And so I decided... that why not? Why shouldn't I be mama's designer for her dress at Ahmad bhai's wedding?" Eshaal said, enthusiastically over a plate of pancake.

Zara smiled. "Yes, why shouldn't you? I know for sure, you'll do great, Eshie. InshaAllah."

"InshaAllah." Eshaal's eyes sparked down on their table. It was early morning, the sun's peak light over them as they had seated themselves outside a cafe.

Eshaal's treat for winning the awards yesterday.

"Say, Zara, how's it going now? You're writing? Still coping with the same old story?"

"Same old story," Zara nodded, wringing her hands together around her hot chocolate. To her, hot chocolate didn't need a season, it just needed the taste buds. "I've just changed few things this time, Eshaal. I've changed the names, so the blame goes on no one... but it's still the story shared by me and Musa."

"Ah, yes. Musa... what's up with him nowadays?" Eshaal asked, casually.

Zara just remembered Nani's suggestion for Eshaal and Musa to get married, and that twisted her stomach. She met Eshaal's innocent gaze and wondered whether the girl knew what had been said behind her.

"Oh, he's... he is fine, Alhumdullilah." Zara smiled sheepishly. As she was about to take another sip of her hot chocolate, suddenly, her phone started to ring in her pocket.

She picked her phone out.

Zara looked down at the caller, and her brows arched. "Well, what do you know. Speaking of Musa. He's calling. Hold, Eshaal."

"Yea, sure." Eshaal focused on her pancake.

Zara picked up the call, lifting her phone to her ear. "Asalamualaykum, Musa. How are you? How is Rashid Murhani?"

"Wa Alaykum salam, Appa. I'm good Alhumdullilah." He cleared his throat. "About Rashid Baba, he's better- but..." Musa's voice faltered on the other end, and Zara could note the hesitation in his voice.

"Musa, is everything alright?" Zara lowered her voice- watching Eshaal topple her pancake with extra blueberry syrup.

"No. I mean, yes. But not quite." Musa inhaled sharply, and Zara could hear him praying under his breath- furthering the confusion she was feeling.

Until he finally, let it out. "I decided I want to get married." Musa said, slowly- "I know I told you my reasons that you shouldn't search for a girl yet. But Appa, I think now is the time. I even found the girl. So please, listen to me carefully."

Zara's eyes bulged wide at this news. This was not expected. She saw Eshaal taking snaps of her own pancake, but not was not clear herself if she could feel there was a pavement under her shoes, or, not.

"Y- yes...?" Zara chuckled randomly, balancing imperfectly between shock and joy.

However, Musa was serious.

"I want to marry Rashid baba's daughter, Ambar."

Zara could've sworn she was going to spill the hot chocolate all over Eshaal's face, but she was able to keep her mouth shut, and relentlessly swallow the warm drink down.

Eshaal stared at Zara as if Zara had just seen a ghost. "Is everything alright, starflower?"

Zara raised her hand to stop Eshaal from speaking. Her attention turned to Musa, who was quiet.

"Musa... you like her?" Zara said, slowly, trying to compose herself over this news.

A pause.

"Yes, yes I do. But that's not the only case," Musa said quickly, his voice firm. "You, Nani, and Dawood bhai must reach today at the hospital... if you can. I'll send the details over, but we don't have much time. Rashid Baba is not in the right condition, and he would like us to have this nikkah done as soon as possible while he is still alive."

"Musa, this sounds serious," Zara gasped, helplessly getting for her bag, before looking at her wristwatch. "I don't know if we would be able to reach on time-"

"You will. By evening at the most, you will. The doctors have estimated this much time, but you know, life and death are in the hands of Allah," Musa sounded breathless, his throat tightening. "We can only hope, Appa."

Zara's eyes flicked. "Let me call Dawood and Nani at once."

Musa sounded urgent. "Okay, then. Asalamualaykum-"

"Wait, wait, hold. Musa..." Zara's chest heaved up and down, as she paused for breath.

"Yes?"

"Are you... you alright?" Zara asked, making sure.

Zara could swear he was smiling, just then.

"Appa, I've long-gone accepted my life filled with surprises," Musa had answered. "Alhumdulillah."

And the call ended.

Zara lowered her phone, unsure of what had come over her. She was still in this shock- of all things at once. Islamabad. Rashid is dying. Nikkah. Ambar & Musa.

Eshaal had taken it upon herself to snap her fingers before Zara's eyes, and shake her out of this trauma.

"What?" Zara asked.

Eshaal was serious, already pulling up her purse over her shoulder. "Alright, listen. My boutique isn't far from here. You go call Dawood and Nani to come in the car and pick us up, I'll just pack this gorgeous wedding dress I have already set in mind- and let's do this thing for this Ambar."

Zara blinked, her mouth gagging open. "Did you... how did... you heard all of this?"

Eshaal waved her hand casually. "No phone calls escape my ears. Cmon, Zara, we're wasting time. We need to get to Islamabad!"

"Okay, okay," Zara nodded her head, feverishly- still trying to understand what was going on in this small world of hers.

"Zara, calm down. Take in deep breaths." Eshaal gestured with her hands, waving it from her chest to her head. "Inhale. Exhale. Good-good. That's how you do it. Oi, waiter! Can you pack this pancake up? Thank you! Yes, pack it up for takeaway!"

What happened next was when the packed pancake was retrieved because it seemed like Zara wasn't getting out of her shock and emotions too soon, Eshaal grabbed her best friend's arm, and pulled her along out of the cafe's premises.

Zara's chest tightened with a breathless ache to cope with the situation, Eshaal pulled her arm forward, till they spotted her boutique at the other end. With curvy, black writing over the yellow title board it said:

It was a small, but classy looking boutique- with yellow-colored boarders, and glass windows showing off the modest-clothed mannequins. Eshaal had worked on this project of hers ever since she was a child, from designing her first dress over a stick-like mannequin on paper, to how she ran her real-live store then.

One branch in Lahore was not much, but it was still something, for her father had coupled money for her, and encouraged this. Eshaal dragged Zara down the street, till they arrived at the glass entrance.

Pushing the door open, they were met with a stand, that had water petaled with roses in a bowl, and a towel hung to the side.

"Wash your hands," Eshaal said, smilingly as she dipped her hands in the fresh rose water, then dried it with the fresh towel stand. Zara did as said- this wasn't the first she arrived at Eshaal's boutique, but it certainly had improved from the last time she had been here.

There were clothing racks everywhere like every other boutique- an aesthetic glint on each stand, for her best friend's beautiful designs, showed. There were lady workers by the counters, wearing headscarves as part of the uniform and getting recognized for their values.

They smiled at Eshaal, giving her courtesy as she was the CEO before they past Zara a warm salam.

The boutique felt like Eshaal had put half her heart out in everything.

From the sunflower jug to the vibrantly painted counters with Eshaal's own hands. She had put her own dexterity to everything she created, decided; and not just having paid the workers to do everything. Eshaal gave her name to this business, and she kept it.

"Quratulain," Eshaal called one of her employees over to the side.

A plump-cheeked woman hobbled forward, pleased to be of assistance. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Remember when I came over with a dazzling dress yesterday? What were the words I used to describe the vibe that I felt in my heart, during the demo?" Eshaal asked, socially waving her hands.

Quratulain stood not needing to think for long. "Ah, yes, ma'am! I remember. You said to favor it with its name... Golden-Inked Princess."

"Ah, the name suits it doesn't it, Zara?" Eshaal turned to Zara who, having no clue of fashion talk, merely nodded.

"I suppose so... but Eshaal, this is a nikkah with the father dying-"

"Shh. It's first most a nikkah, Zara." Eshaal stopped Zara right there, a little sternly. "It's not a funeral. Quratulain- bring over that dress and pack it properly in a gift bag."

"Eshaal-" Zara tried butting in, thinking her friend could be too frivolous than needed.

Eshaal placed a hand over Zara's lips, her eyes solidifying. "Zara, listen to me. Don't you think... Ambar should be reminded of this day with something a bit happier? I mean, instead of mourning over her father being in the hospital. She's going to be starting a new chapter- shouldn't we lighten this occasion for her? By making it seem normal? Something she wouldn't have to miss out on later, as she remembers this day? Shouldn't her father have the pleasure, to see his daughter not only be a bride but dress like one, too? There's no shame in that, I hope."

Zara blinked. Eshaal's words were miraculously making sense to her. Ambar, a daughter to the man who advised Musa in his spiritual journey, was about to not only lose her father but also, knot her destiny with Musa at the cost of it. Ambar deserved as much as they could do for her. To bring her over, to a new beginning.

Eshaal, without a second to waste, selflessly thought of Ambar, even when she knew nothing about her- whilst Zara panged in anxiety over her brother's words. Zara felt so ashamed of herself, and in awe at her friend.

What is a world, without a sunflower, that proudly spread its petals, not for herself, but for others? What is a story without Eshaal?

Then, Quratulain brought an ankle-length flowy, creamy dress, with the dupatta (shawl) separate. It sure seemed like someone had dipped its ends in golden link while the rest remained cream white, as light as it was, it had a miraculous gentle vibe to it.

Zara was out of words for the dress, only whispering a 'MashaAllah,' when Dawood had picked up her call after much of her tries.

"Asalamualaykum, Zara. Isn't it a bit too early to pick you and Eshaal up? I thought you girls planned the whole day for yourselves till Asr, no?"

Zara stared at the two women before her, Quratulain helping about in packing Ambar's unrequested-for-wedding-dress in a hanger-bag, tying a ribbon over it to give it a presenting aesthetic.

"Dawood, this... pick me and Eshaal up, quick. It's urgent." Zara flew out of making sense of things.

"Is everything alright?"

"Just come over, pick us up. I'll discuss with you and Nani in the car." Zara said, rubbing her arms to compose herself. Her gaze trailed to the windows. "We're at Eshaal's boutique."

Dawood sounded firm. "Alright. Coming."

___

"These leads me back to three years ago. When we were setting out all of us together to find Musa." Nani commented, watching as Dawood had placed the wedding dress carefully in the back bunk of the car, then once he was done, came back forward to the driver's seat- and they set out, for Islamabad (if it was that easy as written.)

Zara was pink-cheeked and breathless. Eshaal was quiet, every once and a while looking back over her shoulder to make sure the dress was good, not spoilt. Her eyes were watery for her baby made of fabric.

Dawood's tousled hair was enough news he didn't even bother prepping himself up.

The day was Saturday. It was supposed to be a weekend off from work, a day where he could be casual, flimsy as he liked- a morning starting with coffee, an afternoon to be spent with Nani on exchanging their usual rants over the economy, and then once Zara would have been done with her girl time with Eshaal; a glossy evening with his wife as they both would crack jokes over their favorite series.

But- no. The last half of the day was not moving as desired, and his eyes twitched over the car's steering wheel as he made to drive for Islamabad.

"I'm sorry," Zara whispered, placing a hand on his arm.

Dawood was slightly taken aback by her sudden apology. He tried brushing it off. "Why are you sorry?" He said amidst a fake chuckle. "We're going to your brother's nikkah. Why should you be sorry?"

Zara observed him closely. How her husband pulled up the courage to lighten the mood, and yet she knew he deserved some rest and peace of mind on weekends- but even this had been so sudden for her.

Before she could respond to that, Nani had spoken up from behind her passenger's seat. "Yea, exactly, why should you be sorry, Zara my dear?" Her grandmother's voice was strange, unsettling. "If anyone should be sorry in this car, it is I!"

No one looked at each other, not entirely at each other. Dawood focused on his driving, delving in a mood that reflected the oncoming clouds.

Zara stared out of her window, getting lost in her own dreariness. Eshaal however, took the will to ask Nani what she meant by that.

"Why should you be sorry?" Eshaal's head tilted thoughtfully.

Nano glanced Eshaal's way, half-apologetically, and half-sweetly. "Oh, right. You should be sorry for yourself. In fact, both of us should be. I'm sorry dear... Musa is marrying Ambar now."

Dawood and Zara exchanged looks.

Eshaal on the other hand just smiled dumbly. "I don't think any of us should be sorry. Shouldn't we be happy for Musa? Supportive that he's taking a further step in his life. Isn't it a good thing? It's his nikkah today. Not the end of the world."

Despite it being not Nani's choice of girl, or, Zara's choice of timings, or, Dawood's choice of day, it was still Musa's nikkah.

Thus, as time passed further, the mood grew lighter, and Eshaal still not sure of why Nani said what she said, wanted to question her intentions, before Zara changed the topic abruptly- deciding it was better if they did not have this discussion.

She would not want Eshaal to die of a heart attack.

Asalamualaykum,
I had this written up for more than a week. Pfft. Couldn't get to writing nowadays, having a feverish vibe block.

That's why I guess I decided to upload the Cat Hotel, which is a less serious, more comical, in take of a story, but all the same worth it. May Allah bless you and your families ❤️

- e . a