Whatever happens to you has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time.

— Marcus Aurelius

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"Glory be to You, O Allah (SWT), and all praises are due unto You, and blessed is Your name and high is Your majesty and none is worthy of worship but You."

Your brother has a history of chronic smoking, Dr. Humayun.

Her heart wails in agony at afflicting memories but she continues despite the pain embedded like an arrow in her bosom.

"In the name of Allah, The Most Gracious and The Most Merciful."

Her lips move, her eyes remain downcast fixed on the prayer mat, and she replays the translation of the Arabic prayer in her mind which she has memorized as she recites in a lowered voice.

"[All] praise is [due] to Allah, Lord of the worlds. The Most Gracious, the Most Merciful. Sovereign of the Day of Recompense. It is You we worship and You we ask for help. Guide us to the straight path. The path of those upon whom You have bestowed favor, not of those who have evoked [Your] anger or of those who are astray."

She had asked Parisha to teach her to pray. Her sister was the only reliable person to help her with this. And just like Zoraiz had asked her, she was trying to find God, start again, here with His remembrance, hoping He would hear her out and help her out of her suffering.

"Say: He is Allah, the One and the Only God, the Eternal, the Absolute. He begets not. Nor is He begotten. And there is none like Him."

Six years ago, he was treated for mild liver cirrhosis due to chronic alcoholism.

She bows down, placing her hands on her knees. "Glory be to my Lord, the Almighty." She stands back straight. "Allah hears those who praise Him. Oh our Lord, all praise is to You."

When you run to your Lord, He never denies you.

She blinks and the first tear slowly creeps down her cheek. Zoraiz words stay with her.

Here. This is where you start searching for Him. Qalb (heart). This is where you Find Him if you're devoted.

She feels her heart beating under her hands like a galloping horse. She tries to find God there, and more tears follows. She falls into prostration.

"Glory be to my Lord, the Most High."

She stays in prostration a long time, finding solace there from the events of the past few days.

Doctor, Mr. Zoraiz Humayun has past medical history of lung cancer, that too being treated for six years back. It was diagnosed in earlier stages so the prognosis was good. But he was given strict instructions to quit smoking for his well being. His follow ups showed improving results. He recovered fine.

She sits up from her prostration and continues the prayer to its end. When she finishes it, she keeps sitting on the prayer mat, not knowing how to put her anguish into words and ask God for its relief. There has only been a very few rare occasions she has raised her hands in supplication. It feels foreign to her.

But we're afraid he gave into his addiction again and his cancer has relapsed. We'll run some investigations and perform his lung biopsy before giving you a confirmed diagnosis.

She raises her hands to her face for prayer, her tears never stopping to flow. "I don't think You need my words to know what I feel. I know You already know and I'm glad that You do, because I've no words for what I'm feeling right now." She sniffs and closes her eyes. "Yesterday when I came back home, I was broken, in every way. But I think I always have been-- emotionally and spiritually. And Lord, dear Lord, how much more lost could I've been than how I've spend my whole life? Without You. Because I thought I had everything, just not peace. And I've realized now that the peace I never had is actually everything. And I'm so poor-- I've nothing."

She takes a shuddering breath as her vision blurs and she covers her face with her hands.

"What have I done all my life to face You now? How much more unfortunate can I get than this with how far away I've been from You? Despite You always being so close to me, how could I not see You-- remember You?" She slowly lowers her hands. "And today, when even with everything I have I still cannot save my brother or be with the man my heart has turned towards, I'm here begging for Your help. Because I'm not hopeless of Your Mercy. I know even when I don't have a way out, You'll make a way out for me. Because You've never needed me, my Lord, it was always I in need of You. Because I know You're the ever forgiving of those who repent. So forgive me, my Lord. I've benefited nothing from the hollowness of my deeds. Forgive me please."

She doesn't know how long she keeps sitting on the prayer mat, seeking God's forgiveness, His closure, His help, His guidance. She seeks solace in Him. Until eventually she hears someone knock on the door.

"Come in."

Parisha opens the door and steps inside. She smiles at her and Banafsha wearily smiles back. She comes to kneel beside her prayer mat and lovingly caresses her cheek.

"Zaar, you've been crying out your eyes ever since you came back. Talk to me if something is bothering you. Is it about your marriage?"

Don't tell anyone about my illness at home, Afsha. I'll be fine in no time and they'll worry for nothing. Just focus on solving your problem, okay?

Before she can stop herself, she throws her arms around Parisha and buries her face in her shoulder, sobbing loudly. Parisha rubs her back comfortingly.

"Afsha, jaan, don't cry please," her sister consoles her. "I didn't know your nikah to Aurang will upset you so much, I would never have agreed to it."

"I'm hurting in my heart." Banafsha hiccups. "It won't go away, Pari. It will kill me."

"No, no, of course not. You've nothing to worry about. Shhhh, calm down now." She pulls away and wipes away her tears gently. "I'll talk to Mughis. No one can force you, okay? I'll ask Nufail to talk to baba too. We'll do something together."

She doesn't know how to explain things to Parisha-- it's not just her marriage, it's their brother. She bites her lip to help herself from breaking down again.

"Afsha, look at me."

Banafsha does so reluctantly.

"Mughis told me there's someone else you like," she says quietly. "I know I insisted for your nikah with Aurang because we thought of him as a good man, and I had no idea you'd fall for another one. But if it upsets you so much, then I won't insist anymore."

"I'm sorry," she murmurs and Parisha squeezes her hands in assurance.

"What for?"

"For everything, Pari. I've never been a good sister to you. I've always envied you."

"Hush now, there's nothing to be sorry for." She smiles at her kindly and kisses her forehead. "You're my darling sister, and I love you."

Banafsha sniffs again, smiling against her tears. "I love you too, Pari. So much."

"Afsha?" Ferozeh walks into her room with a food tray. "I've brought you dinner here. You haven't been eating well."

"Thank you."

Ferozeh places the tray on her bed and Banafsha stands up, picking up the prayer mat and folding it before putting it aside.

"You know, Abeer has been missing you so much, she would ask me about you every day."

Ferozeh comes to sit with her on her bed and Banafsha smiles at her. "I missed her too."

"Do you need anything more, Afsha?" Parisha asks. "I'm going to the kitchen. I'll get it for you."

"No, this is enough."

Another knock comes at the door and she looks behind Parisha to find Mughis standing at her threshold. Her heart sinks at the sight of him. Those eyes, they're speaking bad news-- it troubles her.

"Mughis?" Parisha turns to him. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes. I just came here to talk to Banafsha."

Parisha glances at her before back at their brother. "What about?"

His gaze zooms on her as he replies, "Aurang is here."

Her airway constricts and she nearly chokes on nothing. Banafsha clutches the bedsheet in her hands as she waits for him to say more.

"Aurang is here?" Parisha asks in surprise. "Why?"

"He wants to meet Banafsha," Mughis replies. "He says he'll accept all our conditions if Banafsha decides to meet him only once."

"But what for?" Parisha shakes her head. "She doesn't want to keep this relationship, you know it."

"I'm not buying any of it, Pari." Mughis glares at her. "Don't you try debating me over this."

"You'll force your sister to be with a man she doesn't want to be with?" Parisha dares. "Your shame will allow it?"

"Yes, because that man is her husband. And I won't allow her to put a stain upon our honor."

Banafsha fists her hands and stands up, the last of her patience dissolving into inexplicable rage. She glowers at her brother.

"What honor, lala?" she asks challengingy, impudently, lifting up her chin. "The honor you yourself has stained so much it has blackened into coal?"

"Afsha," Ferozeh frantically shush her but she ignores her.

"The honor of Pashtuns you boast about but carry not of it?" Banafsha scoffs. "No, lala, I cannot dishonor it being a woman since our men have already done it before me. You're the one to disrespect our blood-- to bring shame to our name."

"Banafsha," Ferozeh hurries to her side, "what are you doing?"

"Speaking the truth."

"Go to your room, Ferozeh," Mughis directs to his wife. She looks at him helplessly and he half growls half advices as he asks her again, "Go. The stress is not good for you."

Ferozeh knows better than arguing with her husband and leaves without another word. Mughis holds his hands behind his back and walks closer towards Banafsha.

"Did we raise you and educated you to see this day? For you to be showing eyes to us and standing up against us?"

"Mughis." Parisha tries to intervene between them, coming to place a hand over his chest. "She's under a lot of stress too. Understand her."

"What do you want me to do? Break the nikah?" He stares daggers at Banafsha but she doesn't cower away in fear. "Allow everyone to say that the daughter of Humayun has left her husband before her wedding in the love of another one? So that we've to spend the rest of our lives answering people and hiding our faces in shame?" he roars, his fury sizzling the air too much to breathe.

"Why, lala?" Banafsha takes a step closer too. "Is cheating my husband okay for the sake of people? Tell me how do I cheat God because He already knows what in my heart?" She applauds mockingly. "People are okay with our men going to brothels leaving behind their wives, but they're not okay with me wanting to marry a person of my choice? They're okay with you drinking and gambling, but not me who hasn't even touched that man for the protection of my modesty? Yet you undignify me, lala. Why?"

Mughis pants heavily, a thunderstorm ranging in his orbs. Banafsha feels scared for a moment he might leap at her and shred her to pieces any instance for baring the reality in front of him like that. But she keeps standing her ground, letting her murder her with his eyes.

Parisha quickly come to stand between them, gently pushing Mughis away from her.

"Afsha, that's enough, shush now," she lightly scolds her.

Mughis raises his finger at her. "Alright, Banafsha," he rasps, "you've tested my patience too much. By God, one more word and you won't find me any more forgiving than the tolerance I've shown you so far. You've crossed your limits."

Banafsha swallows and wires her jaw shut, but doesn't waver her gaze from him.

"Aurang will meet you on the rooftop in fifteen minutes," Mughis tells her through clenched teeth and Parisha protests instantly.

"Mughis, let's talk about it calmly first--"

"I'll meet him," Banafsha cuts in, recalling Zoraiz's request of meeting Aurang at least once before divorcing him. For his sake, she agrees to meet him.

"I'm warning you, don't you say anything to severe this relationship." Mughis pats her cheek. "Don't make it difficult for us, Afsha, or baba might make a hell out of it which even you'll be burning in."

She doesn't respond to his threat-- it falls on deaf ears. Mughis exits her room and she quickly goes to get a stole from her wardrobe, wrapping it around herself.

"Afsha, please be careful with what you say to him," Parisha advices.

"When have you ever known me to give up upon my heart's desire?" She smirks. "Hasn't I always won before? I won't lose now either. Just watch me crumble everyone's fake pride and ego to dust and ash."

She hurries towards the rooftop, ignoring Parisha's call after her. Anything. She'll do anything to keep her promise to Mikael. Has Zoraiz not found his freedom? He struggled but he found it. She'll set herself free from the cage too.

She walks out into the open on the rooftop. After her nikah night, it's her first time coming here again. But unlike before, tonight the sky is clear and the stars shine brilliant with a cool breeze blowing around mildly. The half moon hangs low and beautiful. She goes to stand by the handrail, looking down and finding the gardens empty. Last time, during her nikah celebration, she remembers watching the men dancing around the fire while it rained in a frenzy, berserk like a wild animal. That night, her wrath was unchained too. She regrets ever acting the way she did with Aurang. He never deserved it.

Someone climbs up to the rooftop. She hears footsteps behind her but doesn't turn around, waiting until they stop. She awaits him to say something but he doesn't speak. Silence. She lets it fill the space between them.

Then after a moment too long, she finally turns towards him, but finds him hidden in the shadows. Banafsha crooks her neck to one side and smiles.

"A lot has happened in too little time," she begins and takes a step forward. "You're still a shy man, but I don't mind shy men anymore." Another step forward and she stops. "I apologize for not letting you speak last time. But I'll listen to what you've to say now. Because I too have to tell you something important."

The wind picks up, stronger this time, and her stole flutters in it. She wraps her arms around herself, staring into the dark.

"Step out of the shadows, Aurang. I want to see you."

Slowly, she hears him move towards her until he comes out into the light. The single bulb lit in a corner gives out a golden glow that strikes his eyes, floats into them and sinks there, so does she drown into the midnight blue of his ocean orbs. Her lips part and quiver and her breath hitches in her throat as the light fully illuminates him, that magnificent figure standing before her like the 'Angel of Death' rather than mercy. Banafsha finds her heart dead still in her ribcage.

Silence.

She cannot even hear her heartbeat anymore, her gaze colliding with those familiar features but her brain refusing to register the reality. She feels lightheaded, dizzy, and her legs grow weaker, ready to give away. She feels being stabbed in the chest. Sheer agony clamps her heart once more and she feels like passing out.

"Mikael?" she gasps.

He comes to stand only inches away from her, hesitant, seemingly nervous, before raising his hand to her face. She cannot move, unable to, and he grazes her cheekbone with his fingertips, the touch igniting her skin like a blaze, before he cups her cheek into the warmth of his palm, his thumb stroking it in affection. He gazes at her with fondness that is both a healing to her pain yet a knife at her throat.

"Banafsha," he says her name for the first time and it enmeshes her sanity right away. "My beautiful wife."

And her cosmos explodes at his words.

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So, what's gonna be Banafsha's reaction?

What would be your reaction if you were in her shoes? Just wondering ;)

The last third of the book is started. We're more than half done.
Keep loving and supporting.

The translation for Muslim prayer used in this chapter is taken from multiple sites on Google. (PS: it's not complete).

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