What constitutes a perfect plan?

One: it is simple.

Mahrosh completely awoke when she splashed a handful of freezing water on her face. Her reflection stared back at her through the mirror and it gave her a determined nod.

Two: it is specific.

She got dressed once she was done praying. The sun had not completely risen outside and the pin drop silence in the house was proof enough that everyone else was asleep.

Three: it is realistic.

In mere seconds, she had wrapped the shawl around her head and had stealthily sneaked her way downstairs. The walls of the house remained the only witnesses as Mahrosh carefully made her way outside through the side door. They watched — as they always had: the only ones who had been there to witness each one of her adventures and were there to both welcome her home and bid her goodbye when she went on them.

These very walls had witnessed the tension in the house the night after Aleena and Walid had left. They had listened to the concerning discussions between the grown-ups over Walid's sudden declaration and then had peeked in on the girl who seemed entirely unbothered by that and sat instead — coming up with a plan for a matter that concerned her more.

To the world this girl was the strange one but the walls that bid her good luck understood.

Mahrosh stopped when the familiar door came into sight. It was a house she knew perhaps just as much as she knew her own — and it was perhaps the only door that would have welcomed her at this time of the day if she had walked over to it and knocked. But she did not.

She stepped, instead, into the gali* beside the house.

Mahrosh prided herself in her perfect calculations when she saw the bicycle boy only minutes later. He cycled across the bumpy road, reaching for the newspapers rolled up in his basket and skillfully threw them at the doors of each house.

Mahrosh remained hidden only till he had disappeared. He cycled away and the street was once again quiet and empty — perfect for her to tip toe towards the familiar doors and slowly pick up the newspaper.

She checked the content once and found the article on page eleven — it was still being printed. This time, her heart did not sink when her gaze dropped to the name under her article and she did not feel any dread overtake her.

The ends of her lips tilted into a smile as she rolled up the newspaper and tucked it under her arm.

Mahrosh practically skipped her way back home.

Four: it is complete.

"He's not a boy, Irfan. If he has made up his mind then the only thing we can do is support him."

"Still — Samreen! I promised Ibrahim that I will fund his son's education in England. The last thing he asked of me on his deathbed was that I care for his children. The least Walid could have done was ask for my advice."

"He's old enough to make his own decisions now! And he's not our son —"

"Is a son-in-law any different?"

It was truly a wonder how Dadi could maintain her concentration with the discussion that was loud enough to be heard through the open door of the lounge. She seemed hardly phased with her castle off the board and simply moved her bishop.

Mahrosh lay on her stomach. Her narrowed eyes followed every bit of Dadi's moves. Ah. She grinned to herself when she killed another one of Dadi's pawns. Her queen was totally on fire —

And then it was off the board.

She sat up, her eyes widening. "Not my queen!"

Dadi grinned slyly as she removed the black queen and put it to the side. "And... check."

Mahrosh gasped. Not again! She had to win at least once against Dadi.

Her legs crossed now, she chewed on her lips, trying to think of the perfect move —

"Mahrosh, take this over to Aleena's place."

She had to save her king first, obviously. Was it even possible for her to win now with the queen gone?

"Mahrosh!"

Her head snapped up. Her vision took a second to balance on Ammi who stood by the charpai, a clothed package in her hand.

Dadi waved a hand. "We're in the middle of a game."

Mahrosh nodded solemnly till another thought hit her; if she were to leave now she wouldn't have to lose. She immediately got to her feet — "Sure!"

Dadi's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Hey! Finish this with me first —"

"Let her deliver the dinner first, Amma. It will get dark in an hour or two."

Mahrosh feigned innocence as she put on her shoes and grabbed her chaddar*.

Dadi was not pleased. She huffed to herself as she leaned back, her gaze flickering to the chess board. "Why don't you send someone else, Samreen? It was different when Aleena was alone — now that Walid is back, do you think it's appropriate for her to run over to their place for such tasks?"

"What's not appropriate when it's all halal?" Ammi shook her head as she handed the clothed package over to Mahrosh, "The times have changed, Amma. Oh and Mahrosh — tell Walid if he's there that your father wants to talk to him."

Dadi still seemed unsure — albeit definitely more upset about the chess game as she watched her competitor smugly walk out the front door.

Mahrosh was only glad to have escaped the humiliation of another loss as she walked down the well-rehearsed pathway. While this was the first time that she was officially going over to that place in the last week, her morning adventures had now become a routine and she reached the familiar door in mere minutes.

She knocked on the door first and when no one came for at least two minutes, Mahrosh released a relieved breath.

Thank God. Walid wasn't at home.

She couldn't help but be grateful over how things seemed to be going her way these days as she put the package on the side of the road.

"Aleena! Do you want me to jump in if it's too hard for you to open the door?" She called out, already rolling up her sleeves. Her hands wrapped around the steel bars of the gate and she carefully balanced herself on the lowest bar —

And then the door swung open.

And she swung along with it.

She blinked stupidly up at Walid as he took her position in. Almost hidden behind the door with her hands still gripping onto the gate bars like a monkey. Or a thief about to break in.

Mahrosh blushed as she jumped off.

Walid's hair was wet and his sleeves were rolled up to above his elbows. He muttered his salam as she picked up the package.

"Ammi sent food —" she said, peeking into the house, "Where is Aleena?"

Walid turned his back on her as he walked inside. "She is taking a nap. You can wake her up if you want to."

Mahrosh slowly followed behind. She placed the food on the table, her hesitant gaze following Walid as he sat down on the low stool and turned on the tap, proceeding to do wudu.

"And..." she cleared her throat, stalling near the table, "Abbu wants to talk to you."

Walid paused momentarily. If his face had been towards her she would have seen the flicker in his eyes. "Mhmm. I'll drop by Insha'Allah."

Mahrosh was about to sneak off to Aleena's room when she noticed an open notebook on the table. Her brows drew together as she read the hand-written verse and recognized the poet's name.

Iqbal?

پرے ہے چرخِ نیلی فام سے منزل مُسلماں کی

ستارے جس کی گردِ راہ ہوں وہ کارواں تُو ہے

ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴏᴀʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴜꜱʟɪᴍ ʟɪᴇꜱ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴜᴇ ꜱᴋʏ;

ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʀᴀᴠᴀɴ, ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʀꜱ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ᴀꜱ ᴅᴜꜱᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴀᴅ.

Her brows drew together as she read the words over again. She could not fully understand what they meant and yet, she felt the weight of the words inside her chest. Can your heart fasten for something that you do not understand?

"... Mahrosh?"

Her head snapped up and it took her a second to realize that Walid was talking to her. He was still sitting on the stool but had turned to face her. He glanced her way as he rolled up his sleeves, "The chocolates. Did you like them?"

A lot of things happened within the span of the next minute. Mahrosh reddened. Fumbled over her words even before she had opened her mouth. Stood like an idiot who was incapable of speaking — and then eventually shrugged nonchalantly, "Mhmm. A little. Thank you."

Walid's brow arched. "A little? I thought you liked sweets..."

"I do," Mahrosh nodded feverishly, "I love Dadi's sewiyan and halwa and ras malai and —" she cut off when she realized that she had spoken too much.

The ends of Walid's lips tugged upwards but he did not comment as he put on his shoes.

"Please let Uncle know that I'll visit his office tomorrow morning, In shaa Allah, and if Aleena asks — I'm going to the masjid."

Her gaze followed him till the door closed and she could no longer hear his footsteps.

The masjid? She frowned. It wasn't even Friday...

"Well well well... if it isn't the girl who has not shown her face since the day Bhai returned."

Mahrosh turned around, blinking at Aleena who stood leaning against the door, her crutch under her arms. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes and Mahrosh wondered if she had watched her exchange with Walid.

"Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh," Mahrosh passed by Aleena and made herself comfortable on the bed, "That is how you greet people, Lina dearest."

Aleena replied to her salam as she limped over to the sofa. Her eyes narrowed as she observed Mahrosh from where she sat. "You've been acting weird Mahru..."

Mahrosh blinked. "Me? Weird? The one who is acting weird is your brother."

Aleena could not argue with that. She glanced at the door he had walked out of and a sigh escaped her lips. "He has... and he won't say much either. He has made up his mind though; that he is not going back."

Mahrosh did not understand why. She had always thought that Walid liked being in England — and she certainly remembered the happiness on his face when he was leaving. And not only Walid — everyone seemed happy and proud. She had often overheard the pride in the elders' voices whenever they talked about Walid: Such a good opportunity. He will return as a refined young man. This will open so many doors for him here in India.

Mahrosh never had anything that her family could be proud of, but if she did — she imagined she would treasure it more than anything else. And yet — a strange restlessness within her heart told her that it had something to do with the words written on the notebook.

What was that goal beyond the blue skies? 

gali - street 

chaddar - shawl

assalamolaiakum

did any of you expect walid and mahrosh to be nikahofied? hehe (okay i'm pretty sure half of you guessed it already xD) 

things are revealing themselves- slowly but surely. would love to hear your thoughts about this chapter and the characters :))

have a lovely day!