"Pakistan has 40 runs to make in 30 balls. Will they be able to pull it off? We will find out in the next couple of overs." The commentator excitedly summarized.

It was that time of the year when cricket fever was very high. In most cricket loving countries it had become a necessity to breathe, eat, drink and live cricket. This was evident at the stadium of one of the World Cup matches. The cricket stadium was loud with excited fans and spectators, the high pitch of the commentator's voice was carrying the nerve-racking position of the match. It could in anyone's game at this stage.

Eyes glued to the television screen and seated at the edge of the couch seat, Saad had his hands folded in front of his face. The anticipation had accelerated his heart beat. The bowler started running forward for the ball, his hand arm swung and the ball delivered but before Saad could watch the outcome of the ball, Leena screeched and ran toward him pulling at his t-shirt collar.

Saad yelped in pain as the toddler dug her nails in his throat. He muttered profanity which was too mature for the child's innocent ear, but he didn't care at that moment he was struggling to detangle himself from his younger child and shouted at the top of his lungs, "SANA!!!"

Within seconds, his wife Sana appeared in the living room, exasperated she eyed the scene in front of her. This was nothing new at all. The little one wanted her daddy's attention but it was wrong timing. Saad was busy watching the cricket match.

"Leena, what did I tell you? Not to disturb Daddy."

But her voice fell on deaf ears as the child whimpered and tightened her hold on her Daddy.

"Just get her out of here." He finally managed to untangle her arms from his neck.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he jumped up and moved closer to the television. "What the hell! You made me miss the last couple of balls. Can you not just take care of her for a few minutes?"

Sana paused in the act of pulling Leena in her arms, her eyes slid to her husband's rigid back. He was still rubbing the back of his neck. His barbs had become a daily occurrence. There were times she ignored them but there were times that it hurt too much.

She gritted her teeth, "Stop insulting me in front of Leena."

Instead of responding to her, he cheered when the last ball of the over went up in the air and across the field for a six. "YESS!!" He punched in the air.

Oblivious to any of the hurt he had caused or even Sana's remark, he turned around, "Keep her with you for a while." Dismissing her, he seated again on the couch and demanded, "Can you make me another cup of tea?"

She blinked, did he not hear her? Did he not see what he had just uttered a few minutes ago? Not wanting to create a scene, Sana lifted the toddler in her arms and carried her out of the room, that's when her eyes clashed with her mother in law, Saira Bano. Her smug look gave away that she had been eavesdropping as usual.

"And bring in some cookies. My son would want something to munch on with tea," Saira called out. She smiled sweetly sitting beside her favourite son, "Wouldn't you dear?"

Nodding absently, "Ya Ma," Saad still was engrossed in the cricket match.

Lost in the match, Saad never realized the turmoil of emotions going through his wife. He wasn't aware of her watery eyes. Over the years, when living with your partner one gets comfortable. Way too comfortable. Saad had become careless and many times was incognizant to her emotions which mattered the most.

****

Every night Sana had to put the girls to bed. Nida, the older one was now 4 years old and in the last one year had become far more responsible and independent. She didn't need to be cuddled to go to sleep. But Leena, she was a completely different story. The girl was only a year and a half younger than Nida but she acted far younger. She wanted her mother's arm around her when going to sleep and it always took ages for Sana to put her to bed. Many nights Sana would end up dozing off with Leena and Saad would have to go to the girl's room and wake his wife to come to her own bed. Tonight was no exception, browsing the social media for the reaction of Pakistan's great win, Saad patiently waited for his wife.

He glanced at the watch and frowned, it was getting late. The house was quiet indicating everyone must be asleep now. It was about time Sana come back. If not, he made up his mind he will have to go find her. Just when he was locking his phone, she walked in.

Relaxing back against the plush pillows Saad casually spoke, "dinner was good. Your biryani is the best."

Sana was pulling out her nightdress from the wardrobe. Hearing his voice, she stiffened and that didn't go unnoticed. Now, his frown re-emerged. What was up with her now?

He was oblivious but he wasn't blind. She had been unnervingly silent during dinner and wouldn't meet his eyes. A clear indication she was upset or was just being moody.

Without any response, Sana walked in the ensuite and shut the door a tad bit louder than necessary. It seemed it was going to be a long night. Now even the funny memes of the cricketers and the cricket match didn't amuse him. He carelessly dropped his phone on the bedside drawer, closing his eyes, he sighed deeply. Why can't they live in peace?

Even before the mattress depressed, he could feel her presence. He didn't need to see her to know she was near him. They had been married for nearly 6 years now. He was so attuned to her. Her fragrance, her warmth and just... her. He could feel her always.

He opened his eyes in the darkened room and glanced at her side of the bed. She had her back towards him. His hand hesitated for a few seconds before touching her shoulder tentatively.

"Don't!" she whispered.

He ignored her warning and turned her so she was on her back and facing him.

"What happened now?"

Even in the dark, he could see her eyes seething, "The fact you don't know or care makes it worse."

"Of course I care."

She shrugged his hand off her shoulder, "I am tired. Go to sleep."

"You are always tired."

"Perhaps, if you will actually help me instead of demanding I will not be tired."

His jaw tightened, "All you do is nag."

"And you have forgotten how to love."

He moved back and settled on his side of the bed, "After two kids you still suspect my love?"

"Having kids doesn't mean love."

"Women!!! No one can keep you happy." He muttered under his breath.

He turned to his side. He wasn't going to argue further. He was tired himself. He was about to go to sleep when he heard, "I am going to Abou's tomorrow."

Typical. Very typical. This is how their arguments end. She goes to her father's place, stays there a day or two. Once she is calmer she comes back. They never resolved anything. It seemed they now lived in one endless clashing relationship.

****

Noor Jahan, a classic female Pakistani, melodious voice filled the articulately decorated living room. By the grand window, Jahangeer Baig rocked on a vintage rocking chair. The heavy brocade gold curtains were pulled back and the floral blinds were up. He gazed out the sunny front garden, a smile touching his lips.

"Humaari saanson mein ajj tak who henna ki khushbu mahek rahi hai,"

Even today I can still breathe in her henna's fragrance.

"Lambon mein naghme machal rahe, Lambon mein naghme machal rahe, nazar se masti jhalak rahi hai"

"Melodious rhythm are dancing on thy lips, Melodious rhythm are dancing on thy lips and a glint of naughtiness is in her eyes."

On the intricate craved armrest of the rocking chair, his fingers tapped with the strokes of the sitar. He had a faraway look. Listening to this song, he had traveled thirty-five years back in time. As the ghazal played on the retro record player, he envisioned the happier times of yesteryears. Her dark brown eyes as the molten chocolate, her laughter, and her warmth...the illusion disappeared abruptly as the ghazal died in mid-sentence. His feet touched the floor and his eyebrows rose inquisitively at the untimely interruption.

His wrinkled eyes met brown eyes so similar to those he missed. The tension eased from his shoulders. There was only one who had the audacity to interrupt him when he was lost in a ghazal.

Standing by the record player, arms folded in front of her chest, Amal huffed, "You have been here too long."

His younger daughter was the spitting image of her late mother. The creased forehead and the impatient tap of her foot was nothing compared to his wife. Perhaps, this is where the similarities end. His wife was an epitome of a loving woman, always ready to give others a piece of her heart. But Amal knew what is right or wrong. She would fight the world for her beliefs. However, there were times where he did glimpse a pure heart like her mother's. Perhaps, this was the reason why she stood alone except for an elderly father to look after.

Belatedly, realising she was waiting for his response. He sighed and sat up straighter, "You don't let me indulge, do you?"

"Abou, it's not good you spend so much time in this room." Gazing at the bright sunlight filtering through the window, her eyes danced with pleasure, "Look it's such a beautiful day. Let's go out."

"Your old man is too tired to go out." Even though listening to ghazal brought tranquillity thinking of his beloved wife Mumtaz but when he came back to reality it always left him desolate and old. Very old.

Her eyes scanned him, taking steps closer to him, she could see how as days passed by he looked far advance than his years and was always worn-out as if he was losing hope to live.

She lowered to her hunches so she was at his eye level, "Why don't you sit in the back garden. I had some plants to change pots. Fresh air will do you good."

His eyes warmed and he nodded. He tentatively touched her head and whispered a prayer, "Allah naseeb achai karei" (May Allah bless you with a prosperous destiny)

***

The Baig backyard was a flower and fruit garden. It was an average size Irish urban backyard but in that space, the father and daughter duo had created one of the most breathtaking gardens. In the middle, there was a large lush green grass lawn and lavender hedge surrounding it. There were fruit trees lining at the back wall. In the summertime, fruits such as apples, pears, oranges, and cherries all grew. Against the right wall, the roses grew. There were all kinds of roses, some were as large as one's hand and others were delicate small ones. By the backyard door were ceramic and terracotta pots all with summer flowers and some even had tomatoes, strawberries and green chilies growing in them.

This was Amal's most favourite place. She could spend hours in the garden. On a sunny day, she was always found in the garden, pulling out weeds, potting plants or just spending time sitting in the sun. Sun is rare in Ireland which is why during spring and summer months she tried her best to make good use of the brighter and warmer weather. Her love for plants was clearly reflected in the exquisite garden. She had inherited this passion from her parents. Many afternoons when Amal would be working in the garden Jahangeer would join her and help.

This afternoon was no different, even though Jahangeer had been melancholy after listening to old ghazals, it had taken him only a few minutes before he had followed Amal in potting flowers in the hanging baskets.

"These will be blooming soon," Jahangeer murmured, with gloved hands, he pressed the compost in the basket.

"I was thinking to get new hanging baskets for the front yard. We don't have many plants there." Amal suggested, clearing the remnants of the plant packaging from the garden table.

She walked up to the bins at the front yard, when she heard familiar voices. Turning away from the bins, she smiled delightfully watching a car pull up in the driveway.

"Ammie," Nida called from the opened car window.

"Aaaahhmmieehh" Leena echoed her older sister.

Without hesitation, Amal hastened to greet her older sister and nieces. Unbuckling the seat belt, she pulled Leena out of the confines of the car seat and held the toddler in her arms. "How's Amy's munchkin doing?"

"Goodd." The little girl gave a toothy grin.

"I am your munchie," Nida pouted, she ran around the car to hug her only khala (mother's sister).

"Of course you are sweetie." She wrapped her arm around Nida and side hugged her, "You both are." Leena laid her head on Amal's shoulder and curled her arms around her neck.

"Give her some breathing space, girls. We just arrived." Sana called out, watching the emotional reunion of aunt and nieces.

Leena wiggled out of Amal's arms and fled to the house instead, Nida on her heels, "Let's get the dolls out Leena."

Sana and Amal still had their childhood toys. After the birth of Nida, Amal had set up a playroom where the young girls could play with their mother's and aunt's vintage toys.

Sana shook her head, "They are not here 2 minutes and already they are planning to wreck the place."

Amal chuckled, "That's okay Api. I am sure they will help in cleaning up as well."

"It's never that easy to make them clean, Amal." Sana took out the trolley bag from the boot.

Amal's forehead creased, "Are you here to stay over?"

"Well, I can't let you spend all your time with Abou. I need to be there to take care of him as well." Sana gave a cheeky smile.

"Of course. Of course," she murmured stepping out of the way for Sana to wheel the small suitcase in the house.

Upon hearing noises from the house, Jahangeer had hung the flower hanging basket, took off his gardening gloves and stepped in the house. The first thing he noticed was his elder daughter with a suitcase. His eyebrows knotted, "Sana?"

"Abou", she smiled brightly, abandoning the suitcase she went to greet him, "I missed you," she whispered, hugging him. No matter how old one gets, one always need their parents. And this is how Sana felt. She may be a married woman with her own family but she always felt safe in her father's arms.

Jahanger pulled back and eyed his daughter, scrutinising her, "Is everything okay?"

The bright smile was back, "Why wouldn't it be? Can I not come over to stay with my father?"

He nodded thoughtfully but didn't answer. Something wasn't right.

Just then, they heard the girls scream from across the room. Sana rolled her eyes, "Let me go and see what they are up to this time."

The girls loved each other a lot but at the same time loved to argue and would always fight over the same toys.

"I will start preparing for dinner. What do you say to chicken pulao (chicken and rice dish)? The children always love to eat that." Jahangeer mused out loud.

"I will help as well," Amal said.

"No need," he shook his head. "Go spend time with your sister and your nieces. Besides, you are in the kitchen all the time as it is."

In the last year, Amal had started her own business. She was baking from home. At first, it was a big struggle to get her name out there. But once people started getting to know her and love her scrumptious desserts, she had become a hit. People near and far would order different kinds of cakes and specialty desserts for all occasions.

Amal always had a sweet tooth but to be able to make her passion into a career was like a dream come true. With each day, the number of orders had increased. She was now baking 5-6 hours daily and on weekends she would be even busier.

Looking at how much time Amal spent on baking, Jahangeer had taken over the cooking. Since the death of his wife, he had always cooked for his daughters. But over the years, he had become laid back when his daughters grew older and started helping in house chores. Now, however, he enjoyed cooking for both of them and whenever Sana came over with her kids it always meant special meals to be made which Jahangeer enjoyed preparing even more.

Recently, it seemed Sana was spending more and more time here than at her own home, this again creased Jahangeer's forehead as he grabbed onions to start cooking.

****

"Dinner was great, Abou as always," Sana sighed, leaning back against the cushioned dining chair. "I can never cook like you."

Jahangeer chuckled, "Silly girl you are far better in cooking than me."

"That's why you are the best. You know how to make us happy," Sana beamed.

Amal had gone to put the girls to bed for the night so that Sana could enjoy dinner peacefully. But Jahangeer wasn't happy as to what he was seeing. Sana had eaten half of her portion, "If you like it this much, why didn't you finish it all?"

Closing her eyes, Sana mumbled sleepily, "I don't know recently I have just lost appetite to eat."

Sana's revelation paused Jahangeer in the act of clearing the table, "Did you get it checked?"

"Naah, it's all good. Probably because I just stopped nursing Leena and my body is getting used to it."

"I would still want you to get it checked." He stressed.

"Hmmm," she mumbled again.

Shaking his head at her carelessness, "Go, sweetheart, go to bed."

Sana opened her eyes and blinked, "Sorry I wanted to spend some time with you." She yawned again and covered her mouth with the back of her hand, "But you are right I better get some sleep. Good night Abou."

"Night night." He watched her retreating back. He wasn't happy at all as to how much she neglected herself. He will need to have a word with his son in law, he should be taking care of his wife.

Sana dragged herself upstairs and went to the bathroom to change for the night.

She stood in front of the toilet mirror and looked at her reflection. Touching her skin, she flinched she really looked tired. Her skin was so pale now.

"Urgh!!" Annoyed, she turned the tap and splashed cold water on her face. This should bring some colour back to her cheeks.

Sana pulled up her kameez and again her eyes roved at her reflection. No colour on her cheeks yet. She then unclipped her bra and shrugged it off her shoulders. This time when she looked up in the mirror, her eyebrows scrunched as she closely looked. She touched the side of her left breast. She could feel a lump. That was odd. What was it?

--------------------------------

So finally we have a new chapter. I never liked how this story was going. I have now a different story line.... inshaa Allah updates coming as frequently as I can. 

Drop in your love by commenting and liking. 

The newer version of the song mentioned in the chapter link is shared at the start. 

Until next time,

Assalam u alaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuhu.