*Ambar's dress is in the picture above*

___

The sky was dressed in frills of clouds, its sunlight specking out of places, like glitter spots on a dress. The sun hidden but not quite, allowed the breeze to collectively sway around Islamabad.

"Be careful," Eshaal nibbled her nails, watching Dawood take out the dress bag from the car bunk, she held it from him, taking the bag into a protective embrace.

They stood at the hospital's parking lot, the wild winds flapping over their clothes.

"I'm glad we've reached on time," Nani sighed, following Eshaal towards the glassy hospital doors. "A good nap taken back in the car was just what I needed."

"So did I," Eshaal nodded fondly.

Meanwhile, Dawood let out a sigh of relief, locking the car up.

Zara waited by the side, till he pocketed the car keys in his jeans' pocket, and walked over to her. Her eyes stared up at the whipping sky, her arms folded around her.

In moments when she had nothing but herself to collectively couple thoughts, and when words escape one's lips, staring at the sky for a sincere message up in the clouds is enough to console one's soul.

Ya Rabb. You are the One who created the sky and the earth with so much beauty and balance. Yet life seems so unbalanced right now, only You can help us, guide us, and allow us to see the wisdom behind Your doings, and let us be grateful and happy for the outcome of all of this.

Let us find the Truth and be satisfied like pure believers for Your Sake.

A concerned voice pulled her back to reality, and Zara snapped out of her dear daze, meeting her forest orbs with chocolatey ones.

"Is everything alright?" Dawood asked, peering over at her.

"I like to believe that..." Zara whispered.

Dawood did not saying anything at once, beckoning her to follow. They directed themselves to the hospital doors, their shoes simultaneously slapping the rough, grey pavement.

"But sometimes, it's tiring, right?" Dawood's head tilted thoughtfully.

Zara blinked on, wondering where he was getting at.

Dawood did not take long to answer her questioning eyes. "It's tiring to be both patient and in a good mood for those around you, when inside, you're worrying."

"Are you a mind-reader, or, what?" Zara wearily smiled, starting to walk beside Dawood after Nani and Eshaal. Two pairs had distance between each other, each lost in their own conversations.

"Married over three years with me, Zara. Bold of you to ask this question now." Dawood said, feigning disappointment.

"Well, you can be a good expression reader, too." Zara looped her arm with his, as they stepped inside the hospital, the smell of fresh mint reaching their nostrils.

She looked around, the smile sliding off her face at the sight of the patients. The doctors and nurses walked down the halls, all in a hustle and bustle, while the patients, sat aside, speechless, and patient of their pain.

A sincere prayer sped her heart.

Y'a Allah ease their pain and sorrows. Only from You do we ask for help.

______

"Baba," Ambar whispered for the tenth time. Her voice was suffocated, her eyes were reigned with dire patience. She held onto Rashid's hand with a tight grip. "Baba... they're here."

The constant frenzy of his brows, and sweating forehead, alerted Ambar's heart, she held onto his hand, and dare not imagine letting go.

She hoped to let Rashid know it was time. As she peered over the bed towards the three squad of ladies, three of whom she had never met.

Wonder tangled Ambar as wonder would, when it came to acknowledging the people that come and meet in one's toughest time.

One of the women was sure to be Musa's sister, and the old-by-wrinkles, but sharp-by-the-eyes woman can only be his grandmother.

The third woman, with a yellow scarf, and a dress bag folded neatly over her lap, was unbeknownst to Ambar- Ambar could not guess who could the third person be.

Ambar quickly looked away. She was not oblivious to the constant whispers on the other side of the room, her face sticky with pink splotches.

Even though, she would rather ease her own state at the moment, by whispering duas over Rashid, her ears could not help but perk every once and a while to catch their not-so-secretive talks.

"I think we should talk." The yellow scarved woman said, her eyes determined.

"Yea, sure. Go ahead, talk- with a person fighting between life and death in the middle of the room, chatter on. Have some shame, Eshaal." The oldest woman phrased, in clear cut sarcasm and genuine concern. Nani's grey brows furrowed, as her hands sped up the rosary beads. She too, glanced every once and a while towards Ambar, in wonder and affection.

It was like as soon as Nani's sight fell on Ambar- Ambar felt she was first being interrogated, but then, soon enough Nani's eyes glinted and she passed a small smile towards Ambar, washing away all the young woman's imsecurities, and opening up her heart towards the elder.

"I'm only worried about where could Musa be." The purple scarved woman hissed, her green eyes flashed over at the other two woman.

Ambar's ears perked up at the mention of 'Musa'. She somewhat felt glad that she had a meaning behind this approach.

"He's downstairs," Ambar straightened up on her chair, attracting their gazes towards herself. "He said that his cousin and imam are here. So he went to recieve them. You only just arrived."

Eshaal got to her feet, like an electric shock getting to her legs. "The imam is already here?"

"I think that's what I just said," Ambar responded, her eyes growing inquisitive. "Why does this bother you?"

"Bother me?" Eshaal coughed, a sweet filter of a smile curving her lips as she held the dress bag up for Ambar to see properly. "Nothing to be bothered about but just that you need to get ready as soon as possible!"

You know when you're just about to jut in a thought, or, refrain from another's on-the-spot suggestion to do something crazy like dressing up as a bride in the hospital's washroom- the only thing you can do, is bear. Bear the both delight and surprise.

"We have to get you ready," Eshaal pulled Ambar along, as Nani's and Zara's eyes trailed towards their retreating figures. The ward door flapping close behind them.

____

"You have no idea how hard it was to get this imam to come here," Bilal muttered sadistically.

The imam, a white clothed man, walked behind him at a a distance, with the nikkah papers in hand.

Musa's hands were tucked in his pockets, unable to keep the tension off his face.

He was oblivious of Bilal's sideways glances, and parting of lips as if to inform of something, but stayed quiet nonetheless.

"You're pretty nervous, aren't you?" Bilal finally spoke up, not doing well with the silence.

"Nervous?" Musa raised his head, his brows furrowed as he stared up front. "Been a long time since I felt that way."

"Seriously? You're not a bit nervous?" Bilal's brows arched, impressed. "You have no idea what you're supposed to feel when you're about to sign a life's deal with a woman, do you?"

Something glinted in Musa's eyes, as he turned to face Bilal. "No. Do you?"

Bilal blinked, not dead nor blind to Musa's hidden sarcasm. Make Musa a gentleman from a silly boy, but don't you dare strip him off his sarcasm.

"Okay, fine, I don't either. I have not met the right woman yet, to actually know how I am supposed to feel, otherwise, I would've given you a good deal of consolation."

"Thanks. But no thanks." Musa nodded politely. He stared upfront passing the doctors and nurses, with the imam following them thoughtfully.

They stopped at the lift lobby, and Musa called for the lift with the press of a button.

The imam was tensed, with his fingers stubbed around the readied, printed file.

Bilal's foot patted the floor not in impatience, but rather of news that he wanted to convey to Musa, but did not find the moment suitable.

Musa, on the other hand, was lost in his own world of thoughts something to do with the future, the past, and especially, the nikkah.

The ring of the lifting landing snapped them out of their dazes, and the steel doors pulled over to make entrance for them.

Musa would have just stepped inside without seeing the man in the cubicle, if it wasn't that the man himself called out jubilantly.

"Musa? Bilal? Oi, and Mr. Imam," Dawood pocketed his hands in his jeans, leaning back against the lift's wall, attracting their stunned gazes. "Asalamualaykum."

Three different reactions from three different people at this form of surprise in the grey-lit lift, casually spanning them with one of his grins.

Imam's expression: confused. Plain, and clear confusion.

Bilal's expression: clear indication on the questioning gaze. 'Sorry, since when were we this close? For you to just 'Oi' me?'

Musa's expression: realization dawning, flickering gaze, and a helpless peace revolving around the lips.

"Dawood Bhai," Musa took his embrace, feeling Dawood pat him on the back like an old brotherly bond that had its cuts and nuts at times. "When did you arrive? How come you didn't inform me?"

"I did," Dawood pulled back, pressing the third floor button, as the doors shut. Musa double-checked if he had pressed the right floor button, and assumed that Dawood and the others had checked in with receptionist before about the ward's whereabouts.

"You did? I didn't-" Musa stopped short, his brows shooting up once he figured. "I think I left my phone in my bag. I didn't bother checking it ever since morning."

"Well then, don't blame us, little man," Dawood raised his hands. "You've been at your mentor's bedside for Allah knows how long. Of course you wouldn't bother."

Silence fell like a lump in one's throat, as each of them revolved in their own thoughts once again.

Bilal stood quietly, observing Dawood closely. Something took over him when when his fingers snapped in the air. "Ah, yes! Now I remember. You're Zara Baji's husband."

"Long time no meet, chap," Dawood nodded, his arms folded. The lift stopped at the third floor, and the doors opened again.

The four men stepped out of the lift, the imam in bitter silence and acceptance of the situation despite his wife's promise of making him halwa once he would return home from the masjid.

There are days when you have to sacrifice sweet halwa for opportunities to bring two people together in the halal canopy of comfort.

Sacrifices. How beautiful they are.

"So, you're finally getting married, eh?" Dawood said, a small smile curving his lips as the party walked down the corridor with Musa in the lead.

"If you're planning on teasing me, Bhai, I am warning you. I'm not in the mood." Musa kept his pace fast.

Dawood glanced sideways at Bilal. "He's never in the mood. No ones ever in the mood to get teased in fact."

"That is a fact," Bilal blinked as if given a piece of confidential information. "I just realized. Thanks for the interesting information."

"No probs," Dawood winked.

Musa, despite his best efforts to ignore the casual exchange between the two most annoying beings in his life, called out randomly. "No partnering against me!"

Bilal grinned, meeting Dawood's gaze. "After this, we are def doing something bad."

"On Musa?" Dawood grinned as well. "Ah, no. Let the poor boy enjoy himself for today. Today is his day. Maybe, some other time."

"Alright. I'm leaving him for now only because you said so. But we have to prank him sometime and-"

"I said, no partnering against me!"

___

Rashid's ward room, in the absence of both the bride and the groom, had a joyous air coupled with tinges of emotions and sweet perfume of honey dew from what it was last night.

With the help of Nani Samira, Zara, and a couple of nurses was adjusted to help settle the little amount of guests.

Ambar was a full-fledged niqabi, she'd rather have a curtain screen set before her, segregated from the other side, separate from as to where the male companions would enter.

Eshaal hadn't known this, so bringing Ambar from the washroom + changing room, dressed in her golden and white dress, aided her with a piece of dupatta and covered the half of her face.

Other than that, the bride's eyes were showing no emotions of what battle she was going through inside.

Before Musa and the imam entered the room on the other side, Rashid had taken one longing peek at her daughter, and smiled relentlessly. His health was stronger than last night, but his eyes were red-rimmed as if seeing his daughter off was both a joy and a moment of truth, that he wouldn't be in this world long enough to see her through her life's line, but nevertheless, having this nikkah with himself alive, is as much reassuring.

Zara left Nani and Eshaal to cater with Ambar, stepping out of the women's sector, to the middle of the room that had Rashid laid on his whitewashed bed.

The door opened then, before her sight, and four men stepped inside one by one, in the flutter of Dawood's jokes and Bilal's hearty laughs that subsided.

The imam having recognized his long-lost mentor Rashid Murhani, dropped his jaw, and skidded to greet his mentor in affluent pleasure and supplications.

Meanwhile, Zara wrapped her arms around Musa, breathlessly taking him into a sisterly embrace, as if to compose her heart, and wish him good luck.

Musa felt his sister's support in the hands that ruffled his hair, even though Bilal had just told him to brush it since he was a groom, and the bride deserved to see him in his best state and not be horrified to have gotten married to a prickly hedgehog.

Musa smiled fondly at Zara, and Zara beamed back. Her cheeks were flushed, and for a while, her hand rubbed the side of his face, remembering the little Musa in the stories she wrote, the chapters untold, and the hearts that melted.

"You've grown so quick," she whispered.

Musa lowered his gaze in sheepishness. "So have you."

Zara lightly slapped his face. "Shut up." The next second, a small smile curved her lips. "You better be a good man. She's a gem of a person. Her father is leaving this world, but you will stay as long as Allah wills. Don't think yourself as a replacement, but as a protector and provider. There's a difference. You see that, don't you?"

Musa thought of her words, deeply swallowing them in. "Yes, I do."

"Even though, Dawood is the one who is supposed to be giving you advices- but I'm only worried about the next chapter of your life."

"Keep it in your mind," Musa shoved away her worries with a wink. "It's the next chapter that you have to write."

"Shall we begin?" The imam called out, settling on a chair besides an empty one.

Musa occupied it, with Dawood on one side, and Bilal standing against the wall. Rashid's bed in front of them, Rashid himself, gestured the imam to start.

In the words of the imam's soft speech, he asked the question.

Musa did not take long. "I accept."

The tie of the knot twisted once.

Imam asked again.

Answered once again. "I accept."

The tie of the knot twisted again.

With the hearts beating wildly, and the story changing its course, the weather outside freely and swiftly lifting the blinds of the hospital opened windows.

The third time, the imam asked, the finalization of a life-time settlement.

Musa breathed out. "I accept."

As the two young hearts joint for a lifetime, the old heart that brought them together by the will of Allah, lived again for a short while.

____

Duas were given to the both of them on either ends, Rashid having patted their heads fondly, kissing his daughter's forehead, before reaching out for Musa's hand, and squeezing it gently.

Zara held onto Dawood's arm, having gotten teary in the process, while the latter patted her head consolingly, trying to come up with random ideas to cheer her up, before resolving himself that handing a tissue paper to her running nose was the best option.

Zara... however, still cried ignoring the tissue and sobbing into his shirt.

Nani having ordered a box of mithai (sweet desi balls) in the last minute before everything was finalized, distributed it to everyone jovially.

Rashid however, excused himself and registered the thought of his daughter's nikkah, and felt at peace just over that. The idea was enough 'mithai' itself for him.

Eshaal took it upon herself, to make memories. Taking out selfies with Ambar, to help cheer up, although Ambar's face was half-hidden with the creamy white dupatta, Eshaal could imagine what her heart was going through.

Like the bid of sunshine warming the petals, and wanting to water the gorgeous flower, to prove to her that life still goes on.

Bilal, however, excused himself from the small gathering, and walked out of the ward, with a last, determined frown etched on his face.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Nani shot up, when it seemed neither Musa, nor Ambar were moving from their opposite positions. "Get out of here the both of you. Start talking. Get to know each other. Develop an understanding, hmm?"

Nani's directness was both wonderful, for it saved them the shyness to suggest that idea, and embarrassing, for everyone shared amused chuckles at Musa's lowered gaze habitual to his stance, and Ambar's shyly tied hands.

Musa inhaled sharply, understanding that it was now or, well, later on- which would be too late. His eyes met Rashid's fond ones, and he saw the moonlight of the man's eyes glow up his whole features- as if this was the first time in a long time his mentor felt fulfilled.

Feeling everyone's keen gazes on him, Musa got to his feet, his expression composed as he took a turn around Rashid's bed-end, and approached her hidden figure on the other side.

He didn't notice her before, she was seemingly only a bright light from the side of his eyes, for the tension had taken much of his observation away.

But as he stopped beside her, his eyes raised- it matched her dark gaze, and he felt a certain sprinkle of easiness, knowing she was just as familiar to him as he was familiar to her.

"Would you like to talk outside?" Musa asked, his tone polite and his eyes keen.

"I'd love that." She whispered. Her confidence took him aback for a few seconds, but he was not too surprised having remembered their first interaction.

Musa did wonder then on, that if he hadn't eaten the pancakes three years ago, who did?

____

The wind whipped at their faces, the sky a delving blue, their clothes flapping in the breeze, and their signaling thoughts increased.

Musa held the railing of the hospital balcony, feeling her presence in his midst harder than ever before.

Maybe, because he felt like they should start talking he parted his lips.

"You look beautiful," he whispered, feeling the ends of his lips lift.

She did. She had lowered her niqab, and allowed the light to fall on her face. And strangely, it set beautifully with her modesty, Musa had no words but that.

Ambar chuckled softly, shaking her head. Musa wondered what was so funny.

"I didnt know your sister's friend was quite a magician," Ambar commented, her lips widening into a grin.

Musa blinked. Sister's friend? She must mean Eshaal baji. "What makes you say that?"

"You don't think so?" Ambar remarked, quite amazed. "She's the one who magically whipped this dress off in the air, and gave it to me as a nikkah gift. No charges. How sweet is that? Can you imagine?"

Musa too, coupled the imagery together, and despite, the emotions that cradled from last night, and the world's edge under his feet, he found himself smiling a bit too widely at her words.

"I can," he whispered, thoughtfully, not pulling his gaze away from Ambar.

Ambar inhaled slowly, looking back at the world, from where they stood.

Her elbows touched the steel railing of the balcony. There was chitter-chatter and noise behind them, from inside the ward- their family tossing words at one another, but despite that, everything seemed at peace.

"It must be hard for you," Musa started off, the smile sliding off his face. He looked away, tapping the railing thoughtfully.

Ambar observed him closely from the corner of her eyes. "What is?"

Musa inhaled slowly, raising his head. "Marrying me, especially in the state that your father is-"

"Don't pity me, Musa," Ambar cut him off, slightly sharp.

Musa's eyes widened slightly. Her words had taken him by a firey surprise. "I did not mean it that way, Ambar-" he said, quickly, but she was faster.

"I've always liked you to be honest," Ambar shrugged, her response straight and direct, and her composure unmoved. There was something in her eyes, like a hard truth, and Musa wondered since when did he not ever realize that she was unlike him. So hard, and so factual, while he was a bit too soft.

This news broke through him like a pinnacle of an injection, and Musa's stance erected. He kept staring at her, as she continued, quite content with the delivery of this full information.

"First time we interacted, to now, you've gone through a 180 degrees turnover, and I, besides my father, had the liberty to notice that."

Ambar nodded, locking her gaze with his. Her cheeks were flushed, but her voice was ever so calm. Too calm, that Musa was unsure whether this woman would be his nightmare or, strength.

"But I kept my liking to myself for long," Ambar said, swaying back and forth on her feet. "Thought it was a random admiration, and so it was pocketed away, and not really given any notice. I had better things to do than dream about you. I studied, I helped Abu as much as I could, I tried to do what I could to better myself in the time being. But, secretly, I kept praying to Allah. That if you were best for me, let it be, and if you were not, then don't put my heart somewhere where I would end up breaking myself. That surely worked out, Alhumdullilah. See? We're standing here and grateful about it."

She flashed him a smile, and Musa was stunned. He was stunned for her amazing bluntness that which he could only admire, and the settlement of the point, that all this time... the two of them had been building themselves, least to notice the other, and now when the Rabb ul Alameen had decided them to be together.

"That came out as a surprise," Musa muttered, feeling the heat crawl to his cheeks. He lowered his gaze, afraid she might see through his eyes. "I never thought you'd ever like me."

"Surprise, surprise. I do," Ambar shrugged, looking back at him. "What about you? How do you feel about this?"

"This is new," Musa cleared his throat, raising his head once again. "Something I... really don't know how it'll start."

"We will learn," Ambar smiled encouragingly. "It's not like I am an expert at being a wife either."

"Or, I am at being a husband." Musa muttered.

Silence fell like a solemn agreement between the two souls. "We will try our best." Musa said at the end. "May Allah guide us."

"Ameen." Ambar whispered.

Musa still felt tension. Something unsettled within him. He decided to chip these thorns on the rose at once, before things started getting prickly.

"If you thought I was sympathetic in the beginning, I in no way meant it that way."

Musa started off, his voice gaining solidness. Something flashed across his eyes, and Ambar frowned.

"There isn't any need to be," Ambar said, stiffly.

She was holding onto the prickly rose.

"I know," Musa nodded. "But I was only saying that because I know what you're going through. You don't have to pretend everything is alright."

You don't have to pretend that there are no thorns on the rose you're holding.

Ambar shot a raised brow. "You know? Listen, Musa, I married you not because it's my need at the moment, because I wanted to even if it was not the situation were in."

Musa ironically smiled. "I don't disagree on that, Ambar. I completely trust that that is what would have happened even otherwise, even if Rashid Baba was not in the state he is in now. But... you shouldn't assume that that is what I'm assuming. Let me at least try to get onto what I'm trying to say, before jumping to any conclusions."

Ambar's eyes grazed on the floor, her cheeks reddening.

She did not like to be the object of vulnerability. She was certainly not too comfortable with all of this, but Musa's words made sense. She was holding her walls too high around her, when he had already climbed it, peeking over the roof, smiling down at her.

The walls that were cold, and gruesome hid her heart, and her emotions. The truly soft ones. The ones that squish and squirm, and give the other a sweet taste. The stone around it was a shield, a lock embedded with a key, and Musa was playfully tossing the key hand to hand, grimacing at how solid her walls were- when once upon a time he had pulled up walls around his heart, were harder than hers.

Didn't he know best about walls of emotions?

Didn't he know best about how stony one's fears could get?

Didn't he know best how to breakdown from all of that 'I am fine' facade, and show one's true colors to the appropriate companion?

Appa was the one, who had a key in her hand to his heart, and Musa had a key to Ambar's.

Ambar felt afraid, her hands sweating. Her solidness of expression cracked a bit, and Musa saw the hesitation in her eyes flicker.

"You don't have to hide," Musa whispered. "You don't have to pretend everything is fine. Some people don't care, I know, but I do care."

Ambar inhaled sharply, her lips quivering. Her shoulders slumped, and her voice was rasp like the hustle of the wind, picking up the fallen leaves from the charcoal road.

"I... am sorry," Ambar whispered. "I'm not good at expressing with words."

"Neither am I," Musa said, gently with a shrug. "But we can help each other. I used to be quite, it was hard for me to come in the open with others, but your Abu was the one, who brought me back. He was the one who taught me how to listen to my feelings and accept them. It might take time, but Ambar, we both can work on it. No?"

"We... can," Ambar nodded, his words allowing her expression to ease but not quite. There was still some crunched balls of tension. "Abu is always a love. I-"

She was raptured with coughs.

Musa's eyes widened slightly. She was crying. Her nose was red, her hands bled too much and she needed to let go of the thorns that choked her throat.

In a garden of dreary roses, a gush of waterfall crashed down her night sky eyes.

She cupped her hands on her face, and her shoulders shook terribly. Musa, had let go of the railing, and without a second of wonder, held her arm. His hands came into contact with hers, and they stood like that for a minute or, two, until her sobs lowered to sniffs.

Musa, feeling a shiver run down his arm, remained unmoved, helping her to sit down on the balcony chairs.

Ambar obliged, sitting down next to him, with her hand gripped to his tightly.

Their state was heavy on them, too heavy, that they didn't realize they were beginning to connect with one another.

A heart in pain with a heart in pain.

"You've kept that inside yourself for long," Musa whispered, knowingly. "Are you feeling better now?"

Ambar did not say anything, swiping her shiny sleeve to prevent her nose from running.

Musa stopped her, taking out a packet of tissues from his jacket's pocket.

"Here. Use this." He extended the packet to her, and Ambar raised her teary, red-rimmed eyes, pulling out a tissue with her weak hand.

"JazakAllahokhair," she mumbled, unable to say it louder, her heart pattering in sweeps of guilt. "I didn't mean to cry."

"But you needed it," Musa leaned back, after having put the tissue packet in front of her on the balcony table in case she needed more.

Ambar's lips pursed tightly, feeling the heat of his gaze on her. She blew into the tissue, before toying with it, in folds.

She did feel better, as if a weight inside her, lightened. She found herself relentlessly agreeing. "I did."

Musa's gaze softened, his fingers tapping his thigh. "I... lost my father when I was a boy."

This news hit her, and her head snapped up, meeting his gaze. Ambar was unable to say anything, her wide eyes enough reaction for Musa to know she didn't know this before.

Seems like Rashid Baba did not tell her anything about my past. Musa thought, brows furrowed. Maybe, he expects me to tell her.

"I was just nine, when he sent me to my Uncle's place, and my sister to Nani's," Musa continued, strangely comfortable after a long time voicing this story. "I've been raised with three cousins, not a loving father in sight, nor a sister whom I could go to in time of need- and no, this isn't a sob story, it's just reality." Musa smiled up at her. "I'm not trying to compare my loss with yours. I'm just saying, that in times like these, the biggest loss I ever had, was to think myself alone."

"Seems to you were alone," Ambar sniffed, her brows furrowed.

Musa shook his head. "Now if I felt alone, that's my fault. But I had a couple of people that did care, and it was my fault I failed to notice. Overshadowed with what and who I did not have in my life, I forgot the ones that were coming in to give me a ride."

Ambar, despite herself, chuckled tiredly. "Are you suggesting we should go on a ride?"

"Ai, wish we could. But I left my car down for check up." Musa smiled sheepishly. "I had to come here in my cousin's car."

Ambar nodded thoughtfully. Musa saw how her eyes were slowly drying up, she wasn't the type to cry on for hours, he guessed.

"Tell me, Ambar," Musa leaned forward on his seat. "If you were in my place, what would you be doing just now?"

Ambar smiled widely, despite her wet cheeks. "If I were in your place? I think I would go buy ice cream for this sobbing girl."

Musa blinked, his brows arched. He did not respond immediately, looking down at his watch.

"Not even an hour in since our nikkah, and we're already demanding, eh?" Musa muttered, a glint sparking his eyes.

Ambar shrugged, getting to her feet and drying her eyes with the back of her hand. She sniffed once more, and met Musa's gaze.

"I don't know what to say, Musa," Ambar continued, in depth of her tone. "But that maybe, we are here for a reason only He knows."

"Not maybe, Ambar." Musa too, stood up, holding out his hand to push the balcony door for her. "For sure."

____

"I'm going to go get ice cream," Musa announced in the ward room, as he took out his wallet and phone from his backpack. "Anyone else want something?"

No one else wanted ice cream but Zara and Ambar. Ambar having seated herself again next to Rashid's bedside, took to spending time with her father.

While Dawood, Eshaal, and Nani sat on the other side, a wild discussion including Rashid's soothing voice taking place.

Zara was the only one who heard Musa, and smiling thoughtfully got to stance and followed him out of the ward.

"Do you know where the ice cream is?" Zara asked, peering over at her brother.

"There's a small market opposite to the hospital," Musa shrugged- his brows furrowed. "I bet we will get ice cream from there."

"Let me guess. Ambar suggested it, huh?" Zara's voice swooned.

Musa's head snapped up. "How did you know?"

"She was desiring it for the past two hours, so I know," Zara elbowed him lightly, pride filtering her gaze. "I'm so happy for you, Musa."

Musa smiled, not saying anything. In a while they reached the ground floor, and sped out into the brisky wind. Musa's hair and Zara's hijab breezed over by the windy whirls.

"How's the Hashim community getting along?" Musa asked Zara.

"The kids miss their Uncle M," Zara responded, softly, pocketing her hands into her cardigan.

They walked down the rough pavement, passing along the aligned parkings, till Musa could see the banner of the market place.

Just before they took a turn, Musa's phone started to ring. He took out his phone, seeing the name Bilal flash back at him.

"Asalamualaykum, Bilal," Musa picked up. "Where are you? You've disappeared into thin-"

"Wa alaykumusalam, Musa." Bilal inhaled sharply on the other end. "It's about the scroll."

Musa had completely forgotten about the scroll in all of this nikkah hustle. He could feel the heat of Zara's gaze onto him.

"You got it?" Musa's voice was breathless.

Bilal's voice was hesitant. "Er- kinda? I mean, I got the man. Sorry, Baba. I mean, I got Baba over here... he has the scroll, and he wants to give it to you himself. He says he won't give it unless you take it."

Asalamualaykum,

This has been both the loveliest and pretty heart pattering chapter yet.

You're welcome Musber fans!

Now, I just am so happy that we have cascaded light upon Ambar in this chapter! She deserved it ✨

JazakAllahokhair for the support and patience. May Allah bless you and your families ❤️

- e . a