"The melody of life is composed of the mundane notes, creating a symphony of resilience"

~ Unknown

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

As the next day settled, Ali was in confusion on how to deal with this. He was feeling responsible to search for her but at the same time he was having his doubts. His brothers, aware of Amira's demisal, were pretty calm and so was his father, adding up to his doubts. Descending the stairs, he saw everyone gathered at the dining table.

"Ali, when did you come home last night? I did not see you," Sam stated with a long hint of confusion and a small vibe of teasing. He was aware of his younger brother and Sam also did know how to trigger which part of Ali. Ayesha wasn't the only one who witnessed his late arrival. Samad and Jasmine did too. "Do you need some lemonade? Casually Amira makes it for you and gives it to you before you step down, but now since she's not here, I am sure you must be having a terrible headache!" Samad did not step back from almost attacking Ali with his words carrying a hint of playful banter, a reminder of the routine gestures that had become a silent part of Ali's mornings. The absence of those small moments now reverberated in the quiet spaces.

"Samad, Stop it! Ali, come and have breakfast," Ayesha intervened before their conversation escalated in any sense. Be it Ali retorting back to Samad or Ali just losing control of his temper. The scene in the dining hall tensed up with Ali's gaze shifting between Sam and his mother. Sighing inwardly, Ali decided to sidestep the provocative comments. He pulled out a chair and took a seat at the table, attempting to focus on the breakfast spread before him. The clatter of cutlery against plates filled the room, but the silence that underscored the meal spoke volumes about the underlying turmoil.

As Ali tried to focus on his meal, the conflicting currents of responsibility and doubt surged within him. His thoughts were not giving him a break. The unresolved questions about Amira's whereabouts echoed in the corners of his mind. His wish to go back in the past and stop that day from happening was growing with every new thought about her where about reaching him. Ali struggled with the realization that decisions once made could shape destinies in ways unforeseen. The morning continued with everyone's routine. Ali wished to ask his brothers or father but his mind was stopping him. Halfthrough the breakfast, he excused himself from the table, the unresolved tension pulling him away from the semblance of normalcy.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The night brought a lot of shadows, and Ali returned, weary and burdened by the weight of failed attempts. As he entered the living room, he found Zain, Raiyyan, and Samad engaged in a hushed conversation. The low murmur of their voices faded as Ali stepped into the room, his presence a silent inquiry into their shared concerns.

"Ali, where have you been? I haven't seen you in the office since afternoon?!" Zain pointed out after his entrance.

"I was trying to search for Amira."

"What's the use now, Ali? You should be happy. She's off your hook now!" Aggressiveness and some rage were evident in Raiyyan's voice. Ali felt weird towards his choice of tune, when they were on a pretty decent note earlier.

"I know, I wanted her responsibility not assigned to me, as you all pushed. But that does not mean I wanted her to go missing! She could be in some damn trouble. We should try getting the police involved. It's been days now."

Samad intervened without considering his depth of emotions while pointing his reasons. "Ali, involving the police, might bring unwanted attention. Our family's and mostly her reputation is at stake. We need to handle this discreetly." Ali, growing increasingly frustrated, added, "Bhai, we can't just sit here and wait. It's been days. Amira's safety is the priority.

Raiyyan, his anger not subsiding, retorted, "Ali, you need to face the consequences of your decisions. If she's truly missing, it's her choice. We can't keep cleaning up the mess you create for her."

"What if she was going home and got abducted or something? Where else could she be? I checked every place for her!" Ali's frustration boiled beneath the surface, torn between the responsibility he felt towards Amira and the potential damage to everyone's reputation. As a matter of fact, she was legally his wife and the blame would rise upon him and his family primarily for reporting so late. The room hung in a tense silence as conflicting emotions waged a battle within him.

"Did you check with her friends? Do you even know them?" Samad interrupted with a calmness in his voice and Ali got silent. He was unknown about any private details in her life.

"Listen," Zain spoke, his tone softer now, "we understand your concern for Amira. Let's try a more discreet approach. We can't involve the police directly."

Ali, although hesitant, acknowledged the compromise. "Fine, I'll find a way. But we can't delay this any longer. We need to know where she is."

"This situation wouldn't have arised at the first place if you had some control on your useless mouth and your even more useless anger." Raiyyan stated just as Ali was about to leave. He turned back, making Raiyyan continue. "So we need to do nothing. It's YOU who needs to find her now. Your wife, your responsibility, your problem!"

Ali sighed inwardly before getting to his room. As the night wore on, Ali embarked on a quest for a solution that balanced the urgency of finding Amira with the need for discretion. The shadows deepened, casting an enigmatic shroud over the unfolding events, and the journey into the unknown continued.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Diary Entry - [09.09.23]

Dear Diary,

Another day has passed in the rhythm of life's boredom. The corridors of the university echoed with the footsteps of eager students, and the weight of textbooks pressed against my back as I navigated through the sea of knowledge. The classes were fun to be at again. But what I loved the most were the 42 minutes in the corner seat of the library, finally holding my books again the way it's supposed to be. After the last lecture, my footsteps led me to the familiar territory of my part-time job at the restaurant. The comforting aroma of food surrounded me as I changed into the uniform and prepared to serve tables. It was a routine that provided a semblance of normalcy, a thin veil over the complexities of life. I am familiar with the owners of that restaurant. I used to work there before my marriage to pay up for my expenses. Sometimes as the cook and other times I used to serve, as per how the situation was.

The restaurant buzzed with activity, and I moved between tables, balancing trays and taking orders. The rhythm of the job was soothing and without changes. It's always the same. Taking the orders, informing the chef, serving the guests and getting their bills. There wasn't much room for changes. A mechanical dance that momentarily distracted me from the uncertainties that awaited every day beyond the restaurant's walls. However, as fate would have it, the monotony was shattered by an encounter that left a bitter taste.

A rich, spoiled brat graced the restaurant with his entitlement, his demeanor dripping with arrogance. He treated the staff as if we were invisible, and his remarks were bitter, making him look cool in front of his friends but pathetic to sane humans. In those moments, my detest for the privileged few, who believed the world revolved around them, lit up again.

I couldn't help but draw parallels to my own brothers. Their behavior wasn't probably different from the customer's. Their privileged lives shielded them from the harsh realities that colored the lives of those less fortunate.

As the encounter with the spoiled brat unfolded, I stood my ground, refusing to give in to his behavior. It was a silent rebellion against a world that often favored the privileged at the expense of the humble. In those challenging moments, my resolve strengthened, a quiet determination to carve my path despite the obstacles.

The day, marked by the dual roles of a student and a waitress, ended with a mix of exhaustion and a subtle sense of accomplishment. The restaurant emptied, and I found solace in the silent aftermath, the clattering dishes replaced by a quiet that mirrored the thoughts swirling within. As soon as I was done, I left from there to the place I was sheltered to.

Now, as I pen down these reflections in the dim light of my room, I can't escape the irony of it all. My brothers work in lavish offices, enjoying their student lives, having huge rooms with everything that could exist. And then there's me - struggling to make the ends meet, living in a place I never belonged to, taking people's crap at work. All because I am a girl - A weak, fragile, unwanted and unnecessary GIRL.