"She always had that look about her,
That look of otherness,
of eyes that see things
Much too far, and of thoughts
that wander off the edge
Of the world."
-Joanne Harris

_________________________________________________________
It is a pleasant January evening. The plants are dancing and swaying to the wind. I'm pacing in the lawn beneath the date palm's scanty shade angrily plucking the flowers of the lower shrubbery. Swirls of purple petals float down to my feet.

Today is the day I will be meeting him after years. It seems ages and ages ago like another lifetime as if that little girl who had played with that boy isn't me.

I feel him enter and close the French windows close behind him and I still.

Every part of me freezes. I wish I had the powers to become invisible. I shred the pretty pink flower which I am holding into bits which the wind carries away. I feel him stop a few steps behind me.

I don't turn.

'Zara?' says a deep taut voice cautiously. The voice of a man. I'd been expecting the tremulous call of a boy. I slowly turn around.

The first thing I see is shoes. Shiny black shoes. Just keep looking at his shoes he will get fed up and leave.

'Yeah' I mumble.

Maaz shifts and stretches his hand to me. My gaze travels upwards, I stare at his hand then slowly I lift my eyes to that face which had once been as familiar as mine. Deep blue eyes the colour so dark that they seem nearly black, a straight nose and lips turned up in a smile.

I reach my hand out and immediately he pulls his away and brings his index finger to my face to touch the tip of my nose.

Such an old habit yet so new.

I'm surprised he remembered our way of greeting. He stops abruptly and pulls his hand away as if he suddenly remembered that we are not kids anymore.

Time has played its part on him. He's much taller than me. I can see his well-built muscles underneath his light yellow tee. His stance speaks confidence and surety, gone were the hints of childhood which I'd been accustomed to. He is now a man.

We stand awkwardly. I am back to staring at his shoes.

'I'm sorry.' He says breaking the silence. I look up inquiringly at him.

'For your loss.' he responds genuinely, I knew my parents have updated him on my past I didn't expect him to be forthcoming about it.

I don't respond. I don't know how to.

'Would you like to sit?' He asks.

'No' I begin to walk with slow steps, taking the cue he walks with me, a step behind.

'How are you?' An expected question.

'Fine.' I say automatically. I look behind me to see he has stopped walking. He is looking at me intently as if he thinks that there is more to it.

'What?'

'Nothing.'

I continue walking and he joins me after a pause. An orange butterfly flits down on one of the bright red hibiscus dancing in the wind. Maaz bends and clicks a picture just before the butterfly flies away. He extends his hand to show me the picture.

'It's beautiful!'  I say. He smiles at me.

'I've taken to nature photography. It is beautiful and full of surprises.' He says.

'So you are back permanently now?' I ask after a few minutes.

'Yes, this time I'm here to stay.'

'Have you settled in ?'

'I am looking for a place for myself. Currently, dad, Ira and I live in the same villa. Dad says it is pleasant to have us around. He would be lonely if we move out. He doesn't want me to leave.'

'No wonder he is dad's friend. My father says the same. He didn't let me continue living at our flat after...' I stop awkwardly.

We both look up as the gate at the far end opens and Ziyan's car comes into view. He stops when he sees us. He waves at us and jumps out of the car which he stops in the middle of the driveway.

'I didn't know you were coming over today.' He says as he approaches us. 'I would have stayed home.'

'Someone has to be at the office. We couldn't all be here.'  Maaz responds.

'Ah...work work work.'  Ziyan sighs dramatically. 'What we all need is a break from work.'

'I'll park your car.' I tell Ziyan taking the keys from his hand use it as an excuse to walk away.

Maaz is seated with my family when I return from the garage. Mama is setting up the table for lunch. Ziyan is talking to Maaz and Eliza with Ira.

'Tell dad the table is set.' Mama tells me.

I find Uncle Adam and dad in the study.

'Hello Zara. It is great to see you. How have you been?' Uncle Adam inquires.

'I'm good. Nice to see you too. Let us have lunch. Mama is waiting for us.'

Conversation flows around the dining table. It is a merry reunion of long ago friends catching up on years and years of separation, getting to know each other anew. With one person missing. I glance at Maaz thinking about his mother. How different would things have been had she been here?

Maaz and Ziyan are engrossed in a serious discussion or so my brother's face tells me. My gaze wanders to Maaz and at that instant, he looks up catching me staring at him. I mentally facepalm myself. He merely offers me a smile and continues his discussion with Ziyan.

Eliza who is seated beside me is making plans to go shopping with Ira. They both excitedly discuss dress patterns, shops and trends. I am not interested to be a part of that conversation.

A silent observer is what I am.

'Dad, we were thinking we should go on a trip.'  Ziyan begins.

'Sure take a trip if you like.' Dad says.

'Not just us, we as in all of us.' Maaz explains. 'Like we used to before. As a family.'

Dad and uncle Adam share a look while Ziyan impatiently taps his fingers on the table. Eliza and Ira too stop their conversation and wait for dad to respond.

'Yes, I think that is a great idea.' Dad replies but his eyes aren't on Ziyan or Maaz or Eliza.

They are on me.

'You boys decide. Plan it out and let us know.' Uncle Adam says.

'Sure dad, we will get working on it.' Maaz says. I look up to see his eyes on me then flickering to dad.

Something tells me he didn't miss the look dad was giving me.

'Yay!! A trip.' Eliza yells and I have to put my finger in my ear at the sudden rise in decibel.

I glare at her but she ignores me. As usual. She enthusiastically gives a hi-fi to Ira.

'That means we also need to shop for the trip!' Ira exclaims. And once again they indulge in shopping plans.

After dinner, Eliza and Ira retire to the lawn to continue their discussion. I help mama clear the table.

I pick up the ceramic bowl of pasta in one hand and the plate of chicken in the other.

'Do you need help ?' Says a voice behind me. I turn around to find Maaz extending his hand towards the bowl.

'It's alright I can manage.' I say.

The bowl wobbles as I attempt to balance both and walk away. Maaz hides a smile.

'Allow me.' He picks the bowl from my hand and saunters off to the kitchen, smiling all the way.

***

I sift through the clothes hanging inside my wardrobe making a mental catalog of what I can take for the trip. My eyes land on a cream net dress which lay abandoned beneath my hangers bringing back a flood of memories that I had long tried to block.

The Friday night gathering this weekend is at the residence of Dr. Arriana, our colleague. She is celebrating her 25 th marriage anniversary. A grand celebration to which half the hospital staff is invited.

I had selected a cream dress for myself and a matching cream shirt for Numair to wear under his tux days before the event.

I braid my hair into a delicate bun leaving a few strands, curled hanging from the sides. I reach out for the pearl necklace and earrings that I had chosen. Picking up my liner I give my eyes a thin outline making them seem bigger than they already are.

Numair walks into the room, half dressed. His collar button is open and his tie hangs around his neck. I approach him and pull him to me using the two ends of the tie. Deftly I twist the two ends turn in it into a knot and fix his tie.

His eyes scan me from top to bottom. I relish on the feeling of his eyes on me expecting a sweet compliment any moment. I had after all taken extra efforts to get dressed today. And his compliment is the one that would brighten my night.

' You are wearing this at the party ?' He asks. The coldness of his tone makes me shiver.

'Yes. '

'Wear something else.'  I look up startled not believing my ears. My husband has never commanded me this way. I look for a hint of a smile or an indication that he is not serious only trying to annoy me.

I find none. Hard brown eyes stare at me with no trace of mirth.

'But I am already dressed up. And I know I look good.' Irritation filters into my voice.

'Yes, you look too good.' He replies, his gaze fixed on me, never wavering.

'You really want me to change ?' I ask confused. I can make neither head nor tail of his demand.

'Yes.' He says too calmly.

'Because I look too good ?' I ask confirming if I'm hearing right.

'Yes.' Again that calm deliberate tone.

My confusion turns into anger, ' What has gotten into you Numair? We were doing just fine a few weeks ago. Now you pick up fights over the most insignificant matters.' I yell.

'It is called marriage, Zara.' He responds nonchalantly.

My temper is now fully unleashed. I take a step towards him. ' Oh really, I didn't know marriage is a competition for who can pick up the most fights in a day.'

He stands a few feet away from, an expressionless statue. This time he doesn't stare back at me, he stands before me with his head bowed, eyes downcast.

'I'm not going to change. I don't care what you think.' I say firmly walking past him into the hallway.

'Your wish, honey.' He replies. The routine endearment and his normal tone make me stop. I turn around to look at him.

He picks up his coat and walks up to me, 'Lets us go.' He says taking me along with him.

I pick up the dress now lying in my wardrobe. I had gotten a lot of compliments that day. I never understood why Numair had not liked it. Thinking back to those days I recall that he didn't like most things I did. He used to find something or the other wrong in what I was doing.

I put in extra efforts to make things better, all in vain. I did everything I could to stop our marriage from falling apart. But my husband did not seem like the man I had married. He seemed unwilling to work towards our relationship.

There were moments when I'd catch glimpses of the Numair I had fallen in love with, roses placed on the bedside when I wake up, my dress ironed and hung before I am up, breakfast placed on the dining table. But these moments disappeared as quickly as they came. As days passed I grew more and more confused by his attitude.

Many times I tried to talk things through but the minute I brought up the topic he would change it. Our perfect marriage was becoming a disaster.

***

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