He had almost regretted asking Tasneem to stay behind at the hotel.

He waited on a chair across the ward, his knee bouncing nervously as he watched her walk into the room on the arm of a man not much younger than him. From where he sat, he could make out her weathered face and the wrinkles that lined her skin as if it were a map marking the journey of her entire life. Her eyes were rimmed with dark circles and her cheeks were dotted with age spots but he could still see his father in this woman.

There was no doubt that she was his grandmother.

His fingers itched, inching towards his pocket where he kept his lighter but he couldn't leave just yet. He needed to see her. He needed to know her and he was sure if he took a step out, he would miss her entirely. The man she had walked in with had stepped out of the room, leaning against the wall as he waited for her. Riaz could only assume that he was her grandson but he wasn't quite ready to admit that he was related to him as well.

It was too much for him.

He had never thought that he could have cousins or uncles or a family. The only family he had ever known was his parents, his sister and Tasneem.

He wasn't ready for anyone else just yet.

Riaz watched him, assessing him. He was tall and muscular and if he looked closely enough, they might have had a similar nose but he didn't want to look too closely. He was dressed well enough. He could make out distinct logos smattered along his clothes and he wondered if they were doing well. While he was living with his father, he had dressed just as well- if not better- but that had seemed like nothing more than a distant memory to him. His father always bought their clothes. There was never any doubt that one shirt of his cost over R500 but he didn't seem to care much about it. For him, they were just clothes that he wore.

He had never even thought it a strange thing that his clothes were bought for him. It was only after he moved that he realised that it was very, very abnormal and it was just one more thing that Zaheer had taken away from him.

He suddenly wondered if the man across from him was married. He wondered if he was texting his wife or his girlfriend. He had been glued to his phone ever since he had left the room and his fingers had moved furiously over the keypad as he replied to whatever messages it was on his screen. He wondered what his name was and what he had done for a living. If he was his cousin, were they at all similar or were they on opposite ends of the spectrum.

Riaz didn't even know where the flood of thoughts in his mind had streamed in from. He wanted to know if that was his only cousin or were there more? He wanted to know how many uncles he had and he wanted to know their names. He wanted to know who they had married and he wanted to know their wives' family's.

He had never realised just how truly alone he had felt for all those years until this seemingly unaware stranger stood before him. He was never in need of a family until one was presented to him and now that it was there in front of him, he didn't know what to do about it.

After all these years, he had an actual connection to this world. He was rooted to this world even if he didn't recognise the soil around him. He suddenly didn't want her to come out. He didn't want her and the idea of a family to become a reality.

As a dream and as a thought, it brought peace to him but he didn't want the reality of it at all.

They had been married for two years already. Neither knew where the time went but he was happy with her. She was always his peace and his comfort and nothing would take that away from them.

It was late. The sky was almost black and the crescent of the moon had disappeared behind the dark clouds above them. The electricity in their building was gone once again and the only source of light they had was from a small lantern on her pedestal that seemed to be on the verge of dying. The flame within it flickered higher and higher as if living its last few moments in spectacular fashion.

The lantern cast a soft glow over her naked back and he always thought she looked ethereal in its warm lighting. Her fingers were clasped through his, lifted above their sheets as she studied his hand. "Do you ever wonder if your mum had a family?" she asked, the late hour unlocking questions within her mind that she had never even known to exist.

"Sometimes." He confessed, gripping her fingers between his own before they crossed and uncrossed them, watching the shadows it made on the wall behind. "I don't think she ever knew them."

"She grew up in an orphanage, right?"

"Yeah." Their shadows made shapeless patterns on the walls but still it fascinated him. "When she was 5, her parents died and she had nowhere else to go. She always wanted a family and when she met my dad, she thought her dreams became a reality."

She looked up at him, watching the myriad of emotions passing through his face. "My dad is 18 years older than her but she didn't care. She just wanted somebody to call her own and he was that for her."

He looked sad as he spoke about her.

"By the time he started to hurt her, she was too dependent on him to leave. He made her dependent on him and without him, she doesn't know how to live."

She brought their joined hands to her, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "You're my family, Riaz."

He turned to her, brushing his lips over her shoulder. "You're my family too."

Then he kissed her, forgetting that the lantern beside them had died out, casting them in darkness and shadow once again...

She walked out the door, wiping her eyes with a white embroidered handkerchief. Riaz watched as the man held her by her arm, bending down to whisper something into her ear. She looked up at him before she turned around, casting her warm gaze over him, catching his eye immediately. He stayed rooted to his spot, unable to move or think or breathe as he watched her walk slowly towards her. She had waved her grandson away, insisting on holding on to the railing along the walls to support herself instead. Her eyes were kind and her smile was small and demure on her face but something about her comforted him. He didn't know what it was but she had a presence about her that softened his heartbeat to its normal state. He looked at her, still frozen-only able to look until she had finally settled down into the chair beside him.

"Hello." Her voice was soft and it had deepened with age but he liked the sound of it all the same.

"Hello." He looked down at her, aware of how small she really was. Even sitting, she had to crane her head to look up at him.

"Are you the one who phoned me?" she asked, her eyes roving over his every feature, trying to memorise his face as if she would never see him again.

"Yes."

"I'm very happy to meet you." She smiled up at him, wary, hesitant and elated all at the same time.

"I-" was he happy to see her?

"It's okay, you don't really have to say anything to that."

He looked down at her, truly looked at her.

Her face was weathered and it spoke of having lived a hard life. She had frown lines between her eyebrows and her eyes were surrounded by crow's feet, causing her blue eyes to look smaller than it really was. She wore a long dress and sensible brown shoes and the scarf on her head was knotted beneath her chin to hold it together. The material she wore was expensive and the broach near her collar was fitted with pearls and diamonds but her face still looked sad and withdrawn.

"You're a very handsome boy." She smiled up at him, reaching up hesitantly to cup his cheek in her palm. "I'm sure you look just like your mother."

He nodded his head, not yet trusting his voice to speak.

"You're taller than your father, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"How old are you?" she asked, brushing through their awkward silences.

"I'm 27."

She nodded, looking down at his hand. "For how long have you been married?" she gestured towards the plain silver band on his finger.

"Five years."

"Does she make you happy?" she asked, curious to know every single thing about his life.

"Yes." He answered, truthfully. "She makes me very happy."

"Good." She smiled softly up at him, "I'm happy then."

"Why?"

"Because, you're my grandson. I don't have much else besides family anymore."

"Oh." 

"Was you dad..." she paused, unsure if she wanted to hear the truth about her son, "Was your dad a good father?"

Riaz inhaled sharply, looking away from her, choosing to look down at his lap instead.

I raised you to be a man, Riaz. Not some rubbish off the street.

"My father-" he said softly, "My father taught me how to be a man."

He couldn't tell her the truth, not yet. But he didn't like his father enough to lie for him at all.