There are moments which mark your life.
Moments when you realize nothing will ever
be the same and time is divided into two parts -
before this, and after this.
                                               - 'Fallen'
                 ________________________________

When I drive into the driveway two figures have each other by the collar on the front yard. I hear shouts but nothing makes sense. Quickly I jump out of my car and see Ira struggling to separate the two boys. One is Maaz and the other is Harry. Maaz's shirt is ruined, his sleeves are folded up and I notice that one of his buttons have popped out.

'How dare you?' Maaz fumes.

'You've it completely wrong, it's nothing like that.' Harry argues back.

'That's my sister you are messing with.' I shudder at Maaz's tone. He has his hands around Harry's collar. Both are almost the same height, Harry is an inch taller. He grips Maaz's arms firmly and I'm afraid his back wounds would rip open under the strain. Five days have passed and the wounds are relatively healed but getting into a brawl would cost him.

Both glare at each other clamping down on the other. Ira looks helplessly between them but they pay no heed to her.

'Maaz!' I find my voice at last. Only when I reach him and touch him he notices my arrival. His grip on Harry loosens and Harry stumbles back.

None of us say a word for a while. Maaz and Harry continue to glare at each other from a distance. After waiting a few minutes I snap my fingers between them. They both turn towards me, I feel Ira behind me. Maaz looks at me with defeat, his eyes soften and I think I see a mini smile hidden on his face. Harry looks at me in pure boredom.

'Maaz's friend saw Harry with another girl.' Ira whispers to me.

The boys notice her whispering, Maaz sighs but I find Harry looking at me critically as if he wants to see how I would respond to the situation. His scrutiny unnerves me.

I look at Ira in sympathy, I pat her hand hoping to be reassuring.

'Maaz come on.' I tug on his arm.

'And leave my sister with this... this...' He refuses to budge. I tug harder on him.

'We will be watching from the window.' I turn to Harry.

Maaz doesn't take his eyes off Ira for a second, I place my hand on his shoulder running my hand through his hair. He sighs softly.

'Does your back hurt?' I ask him.

'No.' He doesn't take his eyes off the couple arguing on the yard.

I test him by poking his back, he yelps.

'Liar. Did you take the medicine?'

'No.'

I head to the kitchen to get his pill. When I return Harry has left and a forlorn Ira stands on the front yard. Her dark head hangs low, her hands hang limp at her sides and hair fall over her face, she looks devastated. Maaz is already at the door running to her. He sprints the short distance and she is in his arms, he holds her tightly and she clings to him. I stay inside afraid to intrude the private moment.

I feel a pang of pain shoot inside me. I realize it is envy. Maaz has been keeping his distance from me. I thought he'd be with me the day after Ziyan found out that Lisa's adoption wasn't in the records. Like a flame being doused my last sliver of hope had extinguished. I had wanted Maaz to hold me like he usually did, instead he was out the whole day and returned late at night.

The following days were the same. After his abrupt departure from dinner the other day I was afraid to speak to him lest I may say something even more stupid.

Unknowingly he has become my habit, he has weaseled into my heart and fought every day to stay in it. All the walls that I had built around me crumble around him. His love broke through my defenses penetrating deep into me. Each day is a testament of his love towards me. I say it is love because his selfless adoration cannot be anything else. We had long crossed the limits of friendship and we wobble uncertainly at a step after friendship and two steps before love. I do not know how else to define it.

I fail to put my emotions into words when he's around. He hasn't been vocal lately either and it scares me. He is the epitome of patience but the most patient too have their limits. Have I finally pushed him off the edge?

The door slams shut alerting me.

'Maaz!' I call him before he retreats inside.

'Your pill.' I hand him a glass of water which he drinks quietly. My eyes search him, tired lines have appeared around his eyes, his lips are set in a straight line, his eyes are emotionless. He places the glass aside and catches me staring. He raises his eyebrows.

Gingerly I lift my hands from my sides. They are limp and heavy. Slowly I take them up to his shoulders. The action feels foreign to me. I take a step closer to him reducing the space between us. My hands wind around his neck drawing him to me. He is frozen in shock. His hands stay at his sides.

As I begin to doubt my actions, his hands come up suddenly and crush me to him. My feet lift off the ground and the only thing holding me is him, my anchor. He lets out a sigh in contentment and I feel my eyes tear up. The pent-up emotion of the past five days leaking through.

He lowers his head to rest on my neck. I am tired of this, is what he seems to say.

I lay my head on top of his ever so slightly.

Me too, is what I want to whisper back.

'Let's go out for dinner.' I whisper.

Melodious tunes play in the background but our booth is silent. Maaz is pensive only responding when I talk to him. I itch to know his thoughts, to be able to read his mind. I fail to understand his words and he understands my silence. I yearn to listen to him talk.

The waiter places our food before us. Forks and knives tinkle and a low hubbub arise from the crowd of diners. Maaz chews on his food thoughtfully, he looks up at me and sees me watching him. He does the same, he keeps his eyes on me but I know that his mind is far away.

He has given me preference and kept me before himself now I wish to give him that priority because he deserved it much more. I do not want to be the weak Zara that he has to hold up. I want to be someone who shares his struggles equally. I want him to unburden himself to me. For once I want to be his strength.

We complete dinner in companionable silence. Once we leave the restaurant I break the silence.

'What's bothering you?'

'Nothing.' He tries to smile at me.

'Can you be honest with me for once?' I ask.

'I feel like punching a wall.' He says.

'There's a nice hard wall right here.' I say. To my shock he rams his fist into the wall. I gasp. He shakes his hand which is slowly turning red.

'Feels much better.' He says still shaking his hand in pain.

'Are you crazy? I didn't mean you should really punch it!' I exclaim.

'I know, you didn't. It was me who wanted to.' He removes keys from his pocket.

The car unlocks with a beep and a flash of orange lights. I reach his door, opening it for him. From the other side, I enter the car.

He sits stiffly, staring ahead. I gently free his right hand which is cradled in his left.

'Maaz.' A low whisper. I haven't seen him in such a mood, I don't know what to do. 'Please let me.'

Anguished eyes meet mine. He starts as if to say something but stops himself. I massage his hand slowly, 'Tell me if it hurts.'

'Of course it does.' The words burst out of him.

'I'm sorry. I'm trying to be gentle.'

'No, Dina, no, you have no idea.' My heart skips a beat when he uses my nickname.

'Did you hit your head as well ?' I'm perplexed.

'There's so much that you need to know. And I wish it isn't me who has to break it to you. Unfortunately, there's no choice. It's hurting me that I am going to be the one to hurt you.' Words pour out from him which make no sense.

'You are scaring me.'

'It's me who's scared. Scared to hurt you with the truth.'

'Truth about?'

'I don't know where to start Dina or how.' He exhales, I can see exhaustion on his face, redness around his tired eyes. I watch him think.

'We should go home.' I say.

'We need to talk.' I hear the decisiveness in his tone. 'Drive down to the beach.'

Wide deserted roads stretch out in front. It is late and people have retired to prepare for the next day. The wind sweeps in from the open windows and blows my hair onto my face. I should have tied them.

'Dina, do you trust me?' Maaz asks once again.

I had dodged his question the other day. Today I don't.

'Yes, I do.'

'Sure?'

'Absolutely.'

I easily find a spot to park the car. Maaz opens the door for me, he slips his warm, rough hand into mine. His actions scare me, my mind is clueless. I am afraid that once he talks there would be no going back. My thoughts flash to the picture had Harry had shown me. I had not told Maaz a word about Harry's allegations.

A little down on the beach, he spots an outcrop of rocks, he makes me sit on them. In the distance, huge waves crash onto the shore. White capped water emerging from the blanket of the dark water. The waves pound on the shore drowning the world behind us. Here it was the ocean, Maaz and I. Two insignificant young humans before the mighty ocean.

He kneels down in front of me placing his hands on either side of me on the rock. He looks at me intently for a long time. I wait for him to speak. Doubt flickers across his face. I don't understand what can be so difficult for him to say.

When the silence becomes overbearing I say 'What?'

The regret on his face makes me dread his answer. I place my hand on his shoulder urging him to speak. He captures my tiny hands in his warm callused ones.

'Dina...' He says softly. I hear him over the sound of the waves. No sound could drown his voice.

'I need you to know that I'm here, beside you on every step, I'm here to sacrifice all else for you if need be, I am here to give you my life if it comes to that.' His voice rings with honesty. He bends down and softly places a kiss on our joined hands. I find it difficult to breathe.

I lift my hand and run my fingers through his soft hair, pushing them away from his forehead. Leaning down I press a kiss to his forehead. He closes his eyes.

He lifts his head and his eyes lock with mine. He stares unblinkingly at me. Then grasping my hands tightly I feel him decide. He looks away towards the piles of sand, searching.

His gaze comes back to me and then his next words blow my world away,

'Numair's death wasn't an accident'.

On hearing his name I freeze. The combination of Numair and death in the same sentence still startling me. I fail to make sense of his words.

Of course it was an accident, the police had said so. Why would they lie? And how would Maaz know anything about Numair?

His eyes are focused on my face reading every passing thought like a book. In a gentle tone as if lowering his voice could make the news any less shocking he adds, 'He was murdered. A deliberately planned murder.'

***

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