I know the tenses are different, you'll soon learn why.

[ily, ehe]

—  H A M Z A  —

I know every Pakistani father is strict, but there's something called love.

Does that lack in every?

And if it does, why do they even give birth?

To make their children suffer?

That's sadistic.

I laugh at the nasty word and choose another one. Barbarous, bestial.

Today, on my birthday, I landed here at 5AM this morning and reached home at 7AM. I had breakfast at home and to show that he's Pakistani, my father didn't even think of how tired I must be after an eighteen-hour flight. He just handed me a manual car's keys and told me to go to office and get him some files because he wasn't going today.

Ammi tried telling him that my face showed I hadn't slept well but he didn't even let her speak.

And I knew at that very moment that it wasn't about the files. It was about the pleasure he'd get from seeing me in pain. If it were about the files, he'd have sent the driver or called any errand boy.

Not to mention how he made me go back to learn about the new project after I had reached home and handed him the files.

It's an inhuman act that shows that my father, apart of getting sadistic pleasure from torturing me, doesn't even think of me as a human being.

It's not like I was expecting this birthday to be good. I knew since Monday that this was going to happen. Pakistan is just not my place.

But I am not as angry at abbu as I am at the motherfucker toddler who kept crying in the plane and didn't even let me sleep.

Moral of the whole day: NEVER, EVER, EVER HAVE CHILDREN.

Anyway, I spent the whole day sleeping on the couch in my office, which was definitely a better idea, and I must thank abbu for giving me a good excuse to keep phuppo and her daughter away from me.

The whole house was busy attending guests and I'm sure I could not have gotten this kind of sleep there.

I drive home at 12AM and I know I slept for a little too much - I blame the jet lag - but it was worth it. I feel fresh.

My hand quickly reaches and pulls the handbrake three houses away from home.

A breathtaking tanned skinny girl wearing punch pink flared pants with a simple white golden-button-up blouse is stretching her arms while getting out of a car. I snort when I trail my eyes down and see blue sneakers beneath those flared pants.

If that weirdness isn't enough to tell me that that is Zaira, her huge corkscrew brunette hair (that look barely manageable by someone so small) shining under the street light certainly are.

I look next to her and see what looks like Sahil's car. Sahil was supposed to go and pick them up.

I spot the whole family getting out of the car and just standing outside the house. Plainly staring at the brickwork painted in white, and the roof, and the whole house.

Very slowly, I drive ahead.

And since she's the nearest to it, Zaira is the first one to spot my car.

The no-shock makes me believe that she's not wearing contact lenses.

She looks at me and makes a horizontal U in the air, most probably telling me to go back, then redirects her gaze inside, looking for someone with worry in her posture. Most definitely, looking for me.

I keep driving at the slowest speed this broken old manual can manage.

While the ones that are inside the house come out and meet the ones waiting outside, she stares at the closed gate door for a while, then turns it and hits it with her fist, checking it's solidity, only to pull her fist back and blow on it while making constipated faces.

Nida's nudging her when Zaira hears my laughter and stops to look at me.

Her frown from the pain turns into a wide smile.

The closer she nicely walks to me with a fake broad grin, the better I can see the gorgeous features on her face.

She. Is. Beautiful.

Her oval face shape, the slightly upturned formation of her nose that defines her big eyes' prominent appearance. Her lips aren't as big as a Victorian Model, but she looks no less beautiful than one. This small mouth suits her better than plumped lips.

And I am awestruck.

Her face snaps back into seriousness when she bangs her hand on the car's hood and gestures me to turn my car.

I pull the handbrake.

"Hassi control karna seekhein. Punjabi family hai. Dair lage gi yahaan." She keeps speaking in her dulce little voice, explaining and pointing that there's no space to even walk, let alone a car go by.

When I notice that the brightness of her sapphire eyes isn't because of the streetlights, but because of their own magic, I regret hurting her ever.

Maybe we could make out right now if we were on good terms. I flick my arm. 11:59PM. Maybe it'd make my birthday better.

She rolls her eyes, groaning while looking upwards and walks near my door.

I look in her eyes to confirm if that's my favourite colour and sans-dubte, this is the one.

—  Z A I R A  —

My breath hitched and my posture loosened as I looked into the window.

That's...

Mister...

Promise-breaker.

WHY THE BEEP DID I EVER TAKE MY GLASSES OFF!

I felt heat wrapping around me as I caught the sight of his dimples slowly digging in his cheeks and his brown melting eyes smiling.

Eyelock.

He smirked at me.

HE. IS. SMIRKING AT YOU, ZAIRA.

Move your beeping eyes away, asshole.

Who am I saying this to?

Who am I saying this to?

YOU, ZAIRA BLEEPING ASSHOLE, YOU NEED TO MOVE YOUR EYES AWAY.

"I love the way you're dressed." He took the keys out of the car and I stepped away when he opened the door.

I fluttered my eyelids, dumbfounded, then focused on his words and looked down at my outfit.

I LOVE FLARED PANTS AND SNEAKERS TOGETHER AND NO ONE CAN MOCK ME FOR THIS.

I shot my eyes up at him, ready to splutter my anger but the way he smirked at me made me externally fluster and internally frown.

He leaned in and I silenced my breath as he whispered, "And you have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

I watched him go away and hug Alina, who jumped up on him and kissed his cheek.

I quickly looked away and bounced my hair, breathing in and out, feeling my cheeks getting red.

"Zaira?" I heard from inside when almost everyone was gone.

Mr. Promise-breaker and Alina needed some time to make a long gup-shup so I had to go by their sides as he watched me.

Bismillah, everything's fine.

Bismillah, everything's fine.

I stumbled as I walked inside and I cursed the pebbles below my shoe, under my breath.

After I got through the gate trying to act as normal as I can, I rushed inside and breathed loud and deep.

Zaroorat kyaa thi? Kyun tum ne jaa ke baat karni thi? Kisi ka koyi accident-shaccident nahin ho raha tha naa? Tum ne kyun mahaan bann'na tha phir?

I got pulled in hugs all around and I only got to see clearly when Maya pulled me aside with her.

We stood behind the sofas while the elders sat down and prayed for daadi ammi's soul to rest in peace.

I looked around and took my phone out to make a quick description of the house in my diary.

There's a gate for the cars to enter and they all are parked in front of the house. Before the house's big front-and-main door that goes above fifteen foot, there's a small garden. Or let's just describe it like a bunch of plants and flower pots around a yard of grass.

Then there are three or four steps that lead to the house. After you open the main door, you see a big living room. The whole house has a white marble flooring.

Although the living room has a solar paneling (because there's basically nothing above it except the panels), the lounge that comes right after the living room has an enormous and beautiful traditional, Devdas-type chandelier.

There are around six rooms in the ground floor, papa, and taaya abbu have a room in the living room, phuppo and chaachu's room is in the lounge, then there are two extra guestrooms, one on each piece of the first floor.

We do not have a dining room, but we have a big dining table in the dining area right in front of the huge kitchen.

A few steps away from the dining table are the visually pleasing-and symetrical to the lines of the front-main door-white stairs with a brown railing that has an old Pakistani design.

I got nostalgic as I remembered how we, the gang of four, as chaachu called our group, used to sit on them and eat ice cream every evening at 7PM.

Our group. Hamza, Zain, Nida and me.

Before I could describe anything else, the house started chattering and I turned my head from the lounge to the living room to see phuppo looking at me.

"Aeddi kaali te nai si Zaira." She almost pronounced my name like Zera, and I didn't want to hate her accent because I love Punjabi, but it bugged me to think that she'll call me in that manner whenever she'll come to visit us in these three months.

In the beginning I hated how everyone's eyes were on me.

But then I realised that I wouldn't mind anyone looking at me but Mr. Promise-breaker. He was making me nervous.

I thought I came well-prepared.

Papa moved the attention to himself after dismissing phuppo with, "Tanning-shanning da fashion ae."

Thank you waqeel sahab, I love you.

When the elders forgot that we all had just come and should be sent to our rooms to get freshened up, I glared at Nida.

Nida didn't have the guts to say anything so I glared at almost every cousin of mine, except Mr. Promise-breaker, of course. Nevertheless, no one was brave enough.

I breathed in, and cleared my throat. "Taayi ammi?" I said out loud, cutting taaya abbu and making the whole house go silent.

Ya Allah, taaya abbu's eyes are dangerous.

I heard the night owls in that silence.

And I hate silence.

"Hum thake hue hain." I tried not to whine, but it did sound like a whine.

Mr. Promise-breaker snorted and caught taaya abbu's attention. He quickly hid his grin and straightened but taaya abbu started asking him about the work he... was supposed to do today? I suppose.

But I thought he reached home today?

Anyway, taayi ammi told Nida and Maya to show us the rooms and tell us about the breakfast timing, which, to me, sounded horrible.

Is this a hotel? What does no breakfast after 8AM mean? I wake up at 1PM, taayi ammi. What the heck?

Maryam, the youngest of all cousins, and the sister of Zain, Mahira and Ayan, came running in excitement to show me my room and spring my curls.

We walked up the white stairs that lead to a big lobby, which is completely visible from the lounge and would be visible from the living room as well if there wasn't a thick round arch between the living room and the lounge.

Maya, Nida, Maryam, my siblings and I were all inside the living room on the third floor, and the rest came in after making excuses.

I looked around the small living room. The couch was pushed to the side and there was a huge empty space for us all to sit in a circle.

In the middle of our circle was a bunch of junk food and cold drinks.

And there was no water.

I groaned and told myself that I'll go and get some water later.

I looked around and saw that nothing was going as we planned.

Everyone was engaged in small groups.

Maryam, Mahira, Alina, Nooreh and Nida were in one, and I could hear gossiping.

Ayan and Haroon were definitely discussing videogames.

Sahil, Zain and Mr. Promise-breaker were arguing on something.

Maya was on her phone reading a book like the bookworm she is.

And I, I was all lonely.

"I want to get married." I said out loud and everyone went mum, looking at me.

"To?" Zain asked.

"Someone who can cook and sing," I said, "because I can't cook anything except anda ghottaala and I do sing really good but what's a man without a good voice? He better have one."

Everyone just rolled their eyes and groaned and got back to their groups.

"AEE??" I shouted to quiet everyone, and succeeded. "I feel lonely."

"There's a poster stuck outside on a wall next to our house that has a Love Guru's number. It says Akelapan Door Karne Ke Nuskhe, Shaadi-Shudaa Zindagi ke Chaskay." Haroon spoke and everyone laughed out loud. "I swear there is one."

"I'm talking about you all. We decided to have a cousins reunion. What is this? Everyone's just chatting with their best friends. What do I do?" I asked.

Allah knows why, but my mind was subconsciously just waiting for Mr. Promise-breaker's taunt or ill-comment.

Maybe because I had used the words best friends? And there was a time when he was my best friend?

But it didn't come. I sheepishly looked to my left at him and he was just looking at my hands that were resting on the floor behind me, supporting my whole body up. He looked kind of lost.

All of them rolled back to their small circles again and I felt like I was being left out.

I felt a bit sad, but scurried my thoughts aside. They all were too excited to look at me and understand what I was saying.

Maybe that was good. I hadn't slept in two days. I yawned and slowly slid out of the place until a warm hand held me.

My heart stopped at the vibes I got. I turned around and confirmed to the vibes. Mr. Promise-breaker.

"You all are ditching the plan. First reunion in twelve years. Don't be so unfair." I heard the New York accent in his English and wondered what was wrong with my thumping heart.

Dil, sambhal ja zara.

I quickly pulled my hand back from his without sparing him any glance, but I noticed his eyes on me that slowly shifted towards the rest of the group.

Everyone started discussing how true that was and got back in the circle.

"Haan. Bas mujhe ignore karna hai. Koyi aur woh hi baat bole tou maan lo ge." I complained. "Truth or Dare. Beech mein bottle ke liye jagaah nahin hai, side pe shift ho saare." Even though I didn't intend on making it, my voice showed that I was rather upset.

I pushed my hands further behind and swept the floor with my ass, moving to a side. Everyone did the same.

Zain did the action more quickly and sat by my side, between me and Mr. ?

Grown Up...?

Zain is not much of a verbal person. I knew he was indirectly apologising by putting a protective hand on the floor behind me. And I put a hand on his arm and smiled, telling him, I'm okay, just acting a bit soft because I'm tired after the long flight.

The bottle was spinned and it landed on Nooreh.

"Describe your first kiss." Nida said and I gasped, looking at Nooreh, whose blush said she had kissed.

How do I not know about it but Nida does?

"Three years ago?" Sahil asked and I gasped even deeper.

My first assumption had been that Nooreh had kissed someone in her childhood, maybe accidentally or because she didn't have much consciousness to decide what's wrong and what's right.

What is this!?

She kissed Sahil? Three years ago? She's four years older than me. She kissed someone at the age of twenty? With all consciousness?

I wouldn't think much if it were somebody else, but my sister, the one with whom I share all the morals and ethics and house disciplines and is older than me and has more knowledge of the wrong has done something I would never even imagine to do...?

"You guys...?" Mr. Promise-breaker asked the question, as if having read my mind.

"Yeah. I don't get what's wrong with it. Don't you hold hands? You're just touching but with your lips. It's okay." Nooreh defended.

"It is not okay, Nooreh." Alina argued, my eyes shined with delight at my little sister as she explained. "There are more nerve endings in the lips than in any other body part. It is a sin to even touch. Kisses lead to more sinning-"

"-Alina. I'm much older than you, and responsible for my own acts. You're not my mum." Nooreh strictly said what I had predicted her to say. This exact prediction had stopped me from correcting her. "Nida, why did you ask this in front of the kids?"

"Sorry. It was a cheek kiss, y'all." Nida clarified but I could see in Nooreh's eyes that Nida was lying.

I looked at Mr. Promise-breaker who was innocently gulping down Coca Cola.

I wondered what he must be thinking.

You guys are making such a big deal out of it. It's not that bad. I lost my virginity at fourteen. At twenty you should already have had three hundred girlfriends like me but you boring idiots are making a small kiss look so bad?

Allah, I swear it's the jet lag. I did not judge him on my own will.

THIS IS NOT WHAT HE WAS THINKING. OKAY ZAIRA? You act like you know everything, stupid.

"I think the party's boring. And I think we all are tired right now. We'll organise one this week, kay?" Mahira pointed to Maryam with her eyes and we all got what she was saying.

We all got up after agreeing and everyone left to their rooms.

I took the chance to freshen up.

There's a good thing about houses, especially the ones in Pakistan. Every room has attached bathrooms.

♡♡♡

"Show us your one girl three voices." Maya said when the bottle's cap stared at me and I chose Dare.

All us senior cousins had sneaked back in after the juniors went to sleep. Alina and Ayan had been allowed to choose because they are almost seniors.

"Aankhein band karo." I said and my eyes took a panorama of everyone doing it, except Mr. Promise-breaker.

And our eyes locked.

Until he darted his gaze to a wall and closed them. I kept looking for a while.

"Quratulain:" I said and sang Humsafar using the deep voice I've practiced for so long in my singing classes. "Neha Kakkar:" I hummed a few lines of Mile Ho Tum Humko in a deep nasal voice that ended with raspiness here and there. "Mine: And I'm still working on mine." I said and attached a disclaimer before singing Aadee's Jeena Jeena.

Everyone applauded and I screamed a "Ssssh!" so everyone -except the obvious- started appreciating me in whispers. I did the adab, wholeheartedly receiving everyone's appreciation.

I got up and grabbed three pillows from the sofa before the game resumed. I piled the pillows behind my back before lying back to relieve my back pain. I had to cover my mouth with the back of my hand to supress the moan I couldn't help but expel.

Alhamdulillah, I didn't make much sound except heaving a sigh.

"Kiss Zaira." I heard Sahil and quickly got up to see him smirking at Mr. Promise-breaker.

Mr. Promise-breaker sighed, "Everyone has their own boundries set, if she's okay with it then I have no problem." He shrugged.

"Change the dare." I exclaim.

"I hope it's because of your relationship with Hamza and not because you think there's something wrong w-"

"-Nooreh." I was almost hyperventilating when I cut Nooreh. "I said change the dare. I don't want to hear you defending yourself when I haven't even given my opinion on what you did. Nor am I willing to." I quickly added the last sentence after a pause. I hate how bad my voice shook. Mr. Promise-breaker was probably calling me a crybaby.

After a heated but small argument, which is a must if you're talking to Nooreh, Maya calmed the atmosphere.

"Change the topic, please. Change the whole game."

"I just want to say that we only pecked." Nooreh defended herself but in an accusing tone.

I have always been annoyed and extremely irritated by Nooreh and this is one of the reasons. Even when she's the guilty one, she explains herself making the other person feel bad and at mistake.

"We didn't smooch. Aur tum toh baat hi naa karo, paanchh waqt ki namaazi." She taunted.

"I never mentioned Islam but that's one big point as well." I laughed.

"I get why you hate her, Hamza." Nooreh left after cursing me and taunting that I may inform about this to mama if I want to take Nooreh's place in mama's eyes.

I clenched my jaw, trying not to get angry. Allah really had to give me the most irritating sister, didn't He?

"Yaar, jet lag se banda paagal ho sakta hai." I told Maya while putting my head on her lap.

"That's a really nice ring." Maya complimented, taking my hand.

"Hai naa? First salary." I said and she narrowed her eyes at me.

"You work?"

That was more surprising to her than Nooreh and Sahil's kiss. Peck! I must correct myself.

And I know why.

This house condemns working women. It's against our principles.

Kissing is, too. But this youth is unpredictable. Nooreh prays a lot and reads the Quraan often. I could have never thought of her kissing someone before marriage.

"Kinda. I run small errands for waqeel sahab." I said. "I mean, papa." I quickly told her, realising that she doesn't know papa's studying law. "Pocket money ke ilaawa aise hi chhotte motte kaamon ke paison se."

Everyone got back to their small groups.

I spotted a decoration piece on a shelf above the TV and frowned when nostalgia dragged me into a whole other era.

The ceramic piece portraying a green and blue bird in a yellow cage.

"Yeh hum sab ne tab khareeda tha jab chaachu hummain shopping pe le ke gaye the. Hum se sheesha ttootta tha aur sab ko maar parri thi aur- behlaane ke liye, chaachu- Yaad hai?" I looked up at Maya and my eyes formed tears.

I heard a laughter, "Someone's already crying."

Although his voice was really clear in the silence, I didn't react to it. I kept my eyes lowered like they were and turned my head in Maya's lap to look at Zain who hit Mr. Smirker's arm.

"Do you guys have old albums?" Alina asked and there came and went Ayan, holding five video cassettes with himself.

Allah, I hate this. Stop this. Stop this. Please.

I heard footsteps from the other side and paused. I hit Maya and Zain, gesturing them, and slowly, everyone shut up.

Then the footsteps got closer and we all rushed to hide.

Maya and I were already hidden behind the curtains when I saw all the junk food mess on the floor and rushed to push it beneath the table and into some cabinets while Alina pushed the sofa in the center. She didn't manage to get it exactly where it should have ideally been, but it looked better than before.

Someone turned the lights off and I practically screamed and put a hand on my own mouth to erase the scream that had just echoed in the room, if that were possible. But in a series of nanoseconds I was spinned on my feet till a confined place with a hand over my hand on my mouth, muffling any bit of noise.

I opened my eyes and I could see bits of stubble and feel the exact height I saw near the black car in front of the house, today.

I didn't need to see him clearly to know who that was. The vibes he transmits all the time are more than enough.

He looked behind and I saw phuppo's silhouette, but my heart was beating so fast, I could barely understand anything.

I didn't realise I was clutching his shirt until he touched my hand and unfolded my fingers from his black button up.

I could feel the tears streaming down my eyes and stopping over my hands, then rolling over to his hands and I hated myself.

For the first time in so many years of teaching myself self-love, I hated myself.

Again.

Because of him. Again.

Shit, let me redo this in urdu.

Phirse.

Uss ki wajaah se. Phirse.

My hand fell down when he took his back and I breathed in sharply before turning around and wiping my tears.

My heart was still beating fast. I took his hand in mine and wiped my tears from it with my sleeves before the lights turned on.

And I couldn't look at him.

He just walked past me. His body language? Indifferent.

Everyone was laughing while clutching their stomachs. Stopping, then laughing again.

They were laughing at me.

At the way I call him a promise-breaker but broke my own promise of not showing my tears to anyone.

Or at the way I had just cried because I'm scared of the dark.

Or because they had realised that he's right and I am a crybaby.

The door opened and the room went silent as if the door were the mute button.

Papa came in.

Everyone went "uh," "hum to bas," "hum jaa rahe the sone" but papa just laughed at them and told them that it's okay.

He gave me my inhaler and my bottle of water before bidding bye like a princess, waving his hand and throwing kisses.

I chuckled at it and Alina rushed to me.

"You okay?" She asked, taking Haroon's place. Haroon is caring and Alina's not but whenever Haroon's not there, she wears his caring spirit.

"Yea. Why was everyone laughing?" I asked and her grin took over the worry on her face.

"Phuppo came in and farted all the gas out of her stomach." The way she explained it between vibrating cackles that made it difficult for her to breathe made me giggle.

I looked around and didn't see Mr. Promise-breaker.

I rushed out of the room stubbing my feet everywhere.

[ily even more now !!]