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*

Syra

It was like being in a montage, where everything and everyone else was moving rapidly around me, as if someone had played a fast forward button, while I remained still and seated, my head in my hands. 

"Syra!"

I looked up sharply and suddenly I was the young kid who got hurt at school and saw her father coming to pick her up. "Dad." I stood up, my lower lip trembling.

"What happened?!" He looked startled as he saw my state, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"My bag...my camera bag...all stolen." I whispered, sobbing against his chest. 

"What?" He frowned down at me.

"I dozed off. And when I woke up..." I tried to compose myself, but I couldn't.

"Look, don't stress. Let me speak to a security manager here." He reassured me, kissing the top of my head. "We'll get your things back."

"My camera. Dad, my camera..."

"Syra, let me handle it. Don't stress out, sweetheart. Do you want me to get you a bottle of water?"

I shook my head before I remembered why I was here in the first place. "Mum? How is she?"

"Your Rida Khalla and Hareem Khalla are with her right now. She's better now. The doctor has asked her to use an inhaler. X-ray and tests have been done. We're just waiting for the results to come through now." He ran a hand over my hand. "Were you cards in the bag?" When I nodded, he said, "Do me a favour and cancel the cards of your banking app. Let me go and find a security manager."

I nodded, sitting back down. As I unlocked the phone, I noticed the messages.

<Musa: Hey, I see your flight has landed. Cleared immigration and collected your bags yet?>

<Musa: Syra?>

<Musa: Is immigration really that busy? It shouldn't take long for you, considering that you can just access the e-gates.>

I pursed my lips together, wondering what to tell him. Should I tell him everything now or wait till later? 

<Syra: Landed and in the arrivals hall. Dad just got here, so will be heading home.>

I cancelled my bank cards and looked up to see Dad speaking to some manager-type people, with the airport lanyards around their neck. They all glanced towards me, before walking towards me.

"Hi there, your father explained what happened. I'm Derek, and I will do everything to ensure that we find your bags, okay?"

After a great amount of promises and reassurances, the managers took my details and told me that they'd be in touch with me. I was feeling tired and just wanted to go home, see my mother, and then sleep.

*

Musa

I arrived home at almost one at night from work, trying to be as silent as possible. I had stayed behind in my office, in the otherwise empty clinic, finishing up some work. I was trying to avoid going back home as long as possible because, honestly speaking, I wasn't looking forward to being greeted by my quiet and empty room. Syra's presence in my life and in my room had brought nothing but brightness and liveliness, Ma Sha Allah, and I did not wish to go back there and feel her absence.

"You're here." Dad's matter-of-fact voice came from the living room, making me wince.

But I made my way inside, a sheepish grin on my face. "Assalam Alaikum." 

He was sitting on the armchair, watching TV, and he looked up at me, disapprovingly. "Walaikum Assalam. Have you seen the time?" 

"I'm just going to wash my hands and come back." I headed down the hall, stalling the inevitable daant that I was going to face.

*Daant: scolding.

When I returned and sat down on the sofa, I tried to joke about it. "When I was old enough to be on my own at home, I remember you putting in extra hours at work to avoid this miserable face."

"I put in those extra hours to provide the best for that miserable face, you nashukri aulaad." He shook his head.

*"You ungrateful child."

I laughed, but a glare from him shut me up.

"The situation is so dangerous these days in the city. You shouldn't be out and about this late." 

"Dad, my clinic is just a short drive away. Stop worrying." I stood up. "I'm going to make coffee. Want some?" 

"Sure." 

"What happened to 'don't drink coffee at night'?" I grinned.

"You were in secondary school, and you ended staying up till three on school nights when you drank coffee!" 

I chuckled and headed towards the kitchen. I was just getting everything ready when Faris walked into the kitchen. "Hey, you. Still up?"

He stretched his arms out. "I was playing a video game. Shaila has a night duty at the hospital, so I could actually play in my room late into the night. Make me a cup too, Bhai."

I scoffed. "Make it yourself. You are the younger one."

"French toast?" He asked, getting some eggs.

"Sure." 

"Make them yourselves. You are an adult." He shot back.

I burst out laughing. "Kamina."

*"Wretched person."

We made the midnight coffee and French toast and took everything out to the living room, where Dad was watching the news with a serious expression on his face.

"You are blessed to have us." I told my father. "We got a midnight feast ready."

He glanced up at us, and for a brief second it was as if he had forgotten that he shared the house with other people. And that's when I realised that his focus really hadn't been on the news.

"Dad, if you are still thinking about your mother, this is the best decision you could have taken for her." I handed him his mug of coffee. "Her maid left abruptly, and she needed care. The place you chose for her is perfect. It's safe and secure, and they actually take care of the residents."

"Plus there's twenty-four/seven health care, so that makes things easier for you too." Faris added, taking a bite out of his French toast.

"She left me no choice." He muttered.

I exchanged a look with my younger brother, both of us feeling bad for our father. But seeing Mamma's reaction to her presence in our home, we knew that Dado couldn't come and live here. And since she needed a twenty-four hour care, sending her to an old age home was the right idea. In fact, it was a fancy place, and since family members paid a lot of money to have their elderly admitted there, it was actually a brilliant place. Unfortunately, in this world, the more money you spend, the better service you receive- and this was just the proof of that.

My phone rang and I took it out of my pocket. It was Syra. I answered. "Assalam Alaikum." I was a little surprised that she was calling me at this time actually. 

"Walaikum Assalam." She replied in an oddly quiet voice.

"How was the flight? How are your parents?" I got up, holding my mug of coffee.

"Musa, something happened." She replied.

I tensed up. "What happened? What's wrong?" I noticed the concerned looks from my father and brother.

She explained how her bag and camera bag got stolen, and she started crying as she narrated the incident. "My camera...my passport...everything."

I had sat back down as I listened, frowning. "Syra...look, I know you're worried, and I'm not going to act like it's not a big deal, but please don't panic and remain calm. Your things got stolen from the airport, and they have CCTV cameras everywhere. They'll trace your things down. As long as you're okay, that's all that matters." 

"My camera..."

"It's your entire world, I know that, Syra. But it's still an inanimate object. Don't overstress yourself and make yourself sick just worrying about it. Just be strong okay. Report your passport as stolen and reapply for it. I'm sure you must have cancelled your bank cards by now?" 

"I have."

"Good. Focus on your mother now. You spoke to the airport management, and I'm sure they'll get the police involved. Let them handle it."

"I can't breathe. My camera has so much..."

"Syra." My tone became firm. "I'm gonna be direct about this, okay? You matter. You're okay, and that's all that I care about. You're too strong to be bringing yourself down over a camera. Be strong and take care of your mother. Focus on your priorities right now, okay?" 

She paused briefly. "You're right. My mother's health is what matters right now."

"Exactly. Focus on that. If your things are found, great. But if not, you won't let it bring you down. Everything that you lost right now is replaceable, just remember that." When she didn't reply, I added. "Syra, you had a long flight. Get some rest, okay? I'll call you when I wake up tomorrow, In Sha Allah, and you better not be stressing about it then." I walked away from my father and brother and into the hallway.

"And what if I am?" 

"I'll tell you when you get back."

"I want to know now so that I'm mentally prepared." She said.

I smiled. "Take care, Syra." 

"No! Tell me. At least finish the threat!" 

I chuckled. "I love you. Give my Salaam to your parents. Allah Hafiz." I ended the call. But the moment I ended the call, my good humour melted away. Syra already had so much on her mind, worrying about her mother's health, and now this had to happen?

When I returned inside, I had to explain the scenario to Dad and Faris, since they'd overheard most of it anyway.

"Is she okay?" Dad asked, concerned.

"Her camera means too much to her. I think that's what she's mostly worried about." I sighed. "I know she's gonna give herself a hard time over this."

"It happens. It's easy to tell someone not to overreact over inanimate objects, but we are humans. We get attached to our things, especially things that are linked to our passion." My father took a sip of coffee. "For Syra, her camera is not just her career, but also something that is linked to something she loves with a passion: photography."

I sat back on the sofa, sighing. "And she lost her passport too."

"Are you upset that she'll be away for a bit longer now?" Faris teased me.

"Shut up, Faris." I muttered.

Both of them laughed.

*

Syra

I fell asleep beside Mum, with her stroking my hair as I drifted off. I couldn't bear to be away from her right now.

But, because of the time difference, I couldn't sleep after Fajr. I was still running on Islamabad time, so I was ready to get up and start my day.

At six thirty in the morning, I found myself sitting on the window seat of my former bedroom, cross-legged, having buttered toast with a cup of tea. Wearing thick black trousers and a long grey sweatshirt, I shivered slightly as the coolness of the air outside seem to seep in through the window glass.

My phone rang and thinking that it was Musa, I headed over to my bedside table and lifted it up. It was a call from an unsaved number. "Hello?" 

"Good morning, am I speaking to Miss Amir?" An unfamiliar voice spoke from the other end.

"Morning. Yes, this is she." I felt confused.

He introduced himself to me as a manager at the airport, before continuing. "We have found your camera bag, with your camera inside. It was found by a passenger on the ground, close to the terminal exit. Unfortunately, we haven't found your bag with your documents yet."

I sank down on the bed with relief...but then my blood seemed to turn icy cold. I had been panicking about my camera, when my real worry should have been my documents. It could take weeks for me to get my replacement passport. And, even worse, my overseas Pakistani card was in my bag, along with my passport. If I didn't find my documents, I'd have to wait for my passport, and then apply for an e-visa or a visa for Pakistan. If I had to reapply for my overseas card as well, I had no idea how long that would take! I was going to be stuck here, away from home and away from my new job for God knows how long.

"Syra?" Mum's voice came from the other side of the door, followed by a light knock.

"Come in, Mama." I replied. Musa had told me that his mother had said that 'Mum' had a lack of warmth. And I saw what she meant when I called my mother 'Mama'. Mama and Papa sounded better than Mum and Dad. I should pick up that habit.

She entered and smiled at me. "I see you've had breakfast already."

"I couldn't sleep, so I thought I might as well have breakfast." 

She came and sat down beside me, running her hand through my hair. "Are you okay?"

"The airport manager called. They found my camera bag, but not the bag with my documents."

"Oh, my sweetheart." She whispered. "Don't worry. Stressing out won't solve anything, my love."

"What am I meant to do, Mama?" 

"We'll reapply for your documents on an urgent request." She took my hand in hers and squeezed it. "Syra, your hands are so cold." Her worried gaze moved up to my face. "You always give me courage, so why are you not doing the same for yourself?" 

I sighed. "Mama, there might be another issue." 

"What is it?" 

I pursed my lips together. "I have been feeling nauseated a lot lately. I even threw up on the plane."

She blinked at me, stunned. "Syra..." 

I felt tears in my eyes.

"Oh my darling, are you upset about the possibility?" 

I hugged myself. "I wanted to do so much more, Mama. I wanted to travel. I wanted to climb up trees to take the perfect photos. I wanted to hike up hills and mountains for the perfect view..." My voice broke.

She sat silently for a while, warming my hands between both of hers. When she spoke, her voice was soft. "I was in the opposite situation, and when I broke down, my Mamma used to say that there are things that we want in our life, that we plan, but our lives don't always turn out like that. It's beyond our control. But we're Muslims first and foremost, and we have to trust that Allah is the Best Planner. He certainly knows what's best for us, and we need to believe that with full faith." She gave me a soft smile. "Look, I'm not going to dictate to you how you should or shouldn't feel. Your opinion, your wishes are very important, Syra. Just know, that knowing you, I can say honestly that if you are pregnant, your baby will not be a hindrance in your dreams. In fact, I can picture you in a beautiful countryside, with a baby in a sling over your chest." She laughed lightly.

I leaned against her and she wrapped her arm around me.

"When you were born, Syra, I thought my passion for art was over. I was worried that I wouldn't have time for it. And indeed, when you were a newborn, I often didn't get a chance to think about a shower, let alone painting. My whole focus was you, the most beautiful new part of my world. But as you grew, I took my art supplies and you to your Mamu's house, left you in the care of you Nano, Mumani or Khallas, and I took some time out to paint. I was fortunate enough to have that support system."

"It's not the same, Mama. Art can be done at home, but travelling?" 

"Sometimes parents have to make sacrifices for their children, and at other times they have to place their own life on hold for a while. Whatever happens, Syra, I trust that you'll manage everything well."

I closed my eyes and thought about being in Khwabpur, with Musa by my side and a baby in a sling over my chest- or his chest. I thought about how dramatically our lives would change.

I shook my head. "I'm not ready."

She kissed my forehead. "No matter what happens, I pray to Allah that it's in your best interest. Ameen."

"Ameen." I whispered.

*

Musa

I woke up to the sound of my message notification tone. Groaning, I reached for it and squinted at the brightness of the screen. "S**t. It's almost eleven thirty!" My appointments...

And then I saw the message from Syra.

<Syra: Tussi uthay nai halay tikar?>

*Aren't you awake yet?

A chuckle automatically escaped my mouth as I saw Syra's message in Punjabi. The girl was doing everything to fit in with our family, and I loved it. This was one reason I wanted to do everything to help her fit in.

But then I realised the time and raced to the bathroom. I only texted her back as I buttoned my shirt up. 

<Musa: Late. Will speak later, In Sha Allah.>

Scruffily tucking in my shirt into my trousers, I grabbed my wallet, car key and phone and raced downstairs and towards the kitchen. 

"Keya si na main? Hunni nassi awayga munda." Dad smirked in my direction, as he leaned against the counter, ready for work himself.

*"Didn't I tell you? The boy will come running any moment."

"Dair hogayi." I muttered, grabbing my flask for my coffee.

*"I'm late." 

Mamma held out a Tupperware container for me. "Nashta le ja saath. Jald se jald kha lena."

*"Take your breakfast with you. Eat it as son as possible."

I kissed her cheek. "Thank you." 

"Coffee is ready too. Just pour it in." Dad told me.

"Inna bigadh raye'o tussi loki menu. Khairiyat?" I raised both eyebrows, glancing at each of them in turn

*"You guys are spoiling me so much. All good?" 

"Tere barkhurdar donon raati dair tak jag raye si." Dad told her. "Taddi akh nai khuli donan di."

*"Both your sons were awake till late last night."
That's why neither of them woke up early."

"Tussi sadday nal si, Walid sahab." I reminded him.

*"You were with us, dear father."

I kissed my Mamma's cheek, and patted Dad on the shoulder before dashing out with my breakfast and coffee flask.

As I sat in my car, I saw the messages from Syra.

<Syra: 😲 Haw!>

<Syra: Did Baba tell you off for this? Please tell me he did.>

<Syra: 😝😏😘>

<Syra: ⏰ Invest in one of these. In fact, in 2023, it is automatically installed in a smartphone. Use it.>

I laughed. Clearly, she felt better. And then I realised that she'd called Dad 'Baba', and the grin on my face widened.

<Syra: Oh, forgot to tell you! My camera has been found! 💃🏽>

<Musa: Congratulations! 🎉🎉🎉>

<Syra: But my documents are still lost. I don't know when I'll come home now. 😟>

<Musa: I can come there and smuggle you in? Just get an emergency passport from there. 😉>

And then the time at the corner of the screen caught my eye. S**t.

<Musa: Syra, I have to go. Talk to you later, In Sha Allah. Remember, no stress! You got the love of your life back 📷, you'll get your documents too. In Sha Allah.>

<Musa: 🙂 Keep smiling!>

I placed my phone in the section underneath the display screen and started the car.

*

Aisha

"Main das rai aan thanu, biwi de baghair dil nai lagra oda." I said fondly, as I adjusted Farid's collar.

*"I'm telling you, he's missing his wife."

"Pagal munda! Sakoon pasand nai onhon lagda ay." He chuckled.

*"Crazy boy! He doesn't like peace."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Phair kalle sona aaj raat tussi. Laina sakoon da maza."

*"Then sleep alone tonight! Enjoy your peace."

"Main tenu kalle kaise chaddan. Zimaydari ain tu meri." He cheekily smiled as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

*"How can I leave you alone? You are my responsibility."

"Acha ji? Meri khatir tussi kalla nai sona chanday?" 

*"Oh, is that right? For me you don't want to sleep alone?"

"Haan. Ki karegi tu kalli mere baghair?" He teased, kissing the side of my head.

*"Yes. What will you do alone without me?"

"Tussi..." I stepped back and poked a finger against his chest. "Tussi ho o wajah jiddi wajah nal Musa apni biwi noun aina tang karda ay."

*"You..."
"You are the reason that Musa teases his wife so much."

"Ab beta baap jaisa hi hoga na..." 

*"The son will be like his father after all..."

I frowned. "Theek kardangi main tussi baap bete noun." 

*"I'll sort you father and son out."

He simply laughed.

*

Syra

After a heart-to-heart with my mother, I felt better. Whatever happens, it's  Allah's decision and I'll keep having faith in him.

I went to the airport to pick up my camera, driving my own car after a long time. Apparently, as per CCTV footage, it was dropped when the thief was running away. The police was still looking into finding the thief, which shouldn't be so hard with all the CCTV cameras located literally everywhere around the city.

It felt good to be a part of my old life, even if it was just temporarily.

Once I had collected the 'love of my life', as per Musa, I decided to drive around the city for a bit. My hometown. But it didn't feel the same anymore. It was just a concrete jungle to me now. There was no natural beauty, not like the one witnessed from my home in Islamabad. I wanted to go back, but I was stuck here for now. The thought made my heart sink. 

I stopped the car outside a row of shops and took my phone out. Clicking on the WhatsApp icon, I called Jannah.

"Sach hai ke dil to dukh hai, dost meri bewafa hai..." She sang out.

*"It's true that my heart has been broken, my friend is disloyal."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, blankly.

"You are in London, and you didn't even tell me!" She accused. "Like, what the hell man? Itna purana saath pal main todh diya?"

*"You broke such an old companionship?"

"Jannah, I had to come here. Mama isn't well."

"Did your phone lose my number that you couldn't even message me?!" 

"I'm sorry. Don't be mad."

"Fine. Whatever. I like British chocolate, just saying." She muttered, sulking.

I laughed. "Fine. I'll bring you some. Happy?" I paused briefly before adding. "Depending when I come."

"What do you mean?" 

So I told her everything that happened, and she listened with the right amount of gasps and 'Oh my God!'

"This world is a s***ty place with s***ty people, I swear." She said once I was done narrating.

"There's no doubt about that." 

"Oh well, whenever you're back, I expect a suitcase full of Snickers." 

"Whatever." I rolled my eyes.

"Don't forget, Missy. I introduced you to Khwabpur. The least I can get are a few chocolate bars." 

I smiled. "I'll think about it." 

"You are an epic-level cow."

"That's why we're friends." I giggled.

"Two suitcases of chocolate now. Add Twix." 

I laughed harder.

*

In the darkness of the night, I paced my bedroom. My whole life could change with just one test. One frickin' test. I'd done one of the hardest things of my life, and had bought a pregnancy test during my drive. It had remained hidden away until now.

I was waiting for the result, and the anxiety itself was making me nauseated. How much was my life going to change if it was positive? I imagined worrying about changing nappies while I was busy taking photos in different destinations. It wasn't like Musa could come with me each time! How was I supposed to take my baby along during my travels?

It's okay, Syra. Whatever happens, you can handle it.

But a baby?

The timer went off on my phone and I jumped. Oh Allah! It's time. 

If it's positive, I don't know whether I'll faint or have a panic attack. And if it's not positive, I won't get peace until a doctor confirms it.

I walked towards the bathroom, my heart pounding hard. Be cool, Syra. No matter what happens, be strong.

I looked at the test, taking shallow breaths. 

*

Musa

As I had my early morning exercise in our home gym, my wireless headphones on, I wondered why there was radio silence from Syra since yesterday. After she'd messaged me that she got her camera back, there was no other communication between us.

I set the dumbbell down and picked my phone up instead.

<Musa: I'm sure your reunion with your love 📷 was epic, but don't forget me.>

I didn't want to call her as it was still too early in London, but I was getting restless.

Faris walked into the gym then, and stepped onto the treadmill. 

"Good morning to you too." I called out to him.

He turned to look at me, startled. "Oh, Assalam Alaikum, Bhai."

"Walaikum Assalam." I picked up the dumbbell again. "You're up early."

"I have an early start, so I thought I might as well do some exercise before I go." He shrugged. 

We exercised silently for a while, and then he spoke again. "I was thinking something, Bhai. Tell me what you think of this idea." 

"What is it?" 

He stepped off the treadmill. "I want to organise a Valima dinner for myself and Shaila. You and Baba were not at the wedding, so this is the least I can do. It would be just us family, when Bhabi gets back of course, In Sha Allah."

"You know it could be a while before she gets back, right? Her bag with her documents has not been traced."

"Yeah I know, but she will come back eventually, In Sha Allah."

I smiled. "That sounds like a great idea, Faris. It would be an honour to attend your Valima dinner. In Sha Allah."

"Okay, I won't lie. I didn't think this. Shaila did." 

I chuckled. "Yeah, it definitely makes more sense."

"I've always heard that big brothers are jerks. Now I'm witnessing it live." 

"Oh, kid, I've not even started yet. I'm still getting used to being a big brother. Wait until I'm in my full on bada bhai mode." I smirked.

"I'm not a kid. There's not even a two-year gap between us." He muttered like a sulking kid.

I laughed. "This is fun. I'm certainly enjoying being a big brother."

He just made a face at me, making me laugh harder.

*

Syra

Again, I was up after Fajr. 

But this time, I had taken a throw and had spread it on the dew-covered grass of my parents' back garden, and was now lying on it with a light jacket on.

As the birds soared across the sky, ready to find food for their offspring, and as the rays of the sun started brightening the world around me, I lay with my eyes closed, feeling the coolness of the grass even through the throw.

I lay there for God knows how long, but when I opened my eyes, a sense of calmness descended over me. I inhaled deeply, breathing in the morning air. Sitting up, I grabbed my camera and lifted it up, raising it up to take a photo of the back of my parents' house. The brightness and warmth of it was emphasised with the rays of the rising sun. 

A part of me longed for the days before I had gone to Islamabad. The days when Jill Hawkes' sour attitude was my biggest issue.

But then I thought of the charming smile of the man who had worn me over in every way. I picked my phone up and lit up the screen to smile at the lock screen. Musa's photo was my wallpaper, and seeing him smile made me smile.

Plus, seeing messages from two of my favourite people in the world made made me feel that nothing in the universe could make me regret my experience in Khwabpur.

Jannah, of course, had sent her list of chocolates.

I opened the message thread with Musa, taking a deep breath.

<Syra: What say, let's set a date for an epic reunion with my actual love in Khwabpur? 😉>

<Musa: Who or what is that?>

I giggled, feeling like a schoolgirl who had just been messaged by her crush.

<Syra: The one who would be by my side in case I fall off any more trees.>

<Musa: Syra, you're going to give Tarzan a run for his money.>

A part of me felt guilty at the relief I felt at the negative result. But it wasn't what I wanted right now in my life, and I couldn't pretend to be happy, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself. Of course, I was educated enough to realise that it was best to have this confirmed by a doctor. False negatives were a thing.

<Syra: What do you say, Musa Duraid? I'll fly back to Islamabad, and I'll meet you in Khwabpur.>
<Syra: As soon as I received my replacement passport...>

<Musa: Done. In Sha Allah, we'll meet face-to-face in Khwabpur now.>

*

"There's an executive process that means that you can get your Pakistani origin card within one to two weeks." Dad explained to me. "That's sorted. As for the passport, there's a one week fast-track service. Since you're here in the UK, the process would be relatively smoother and easier."

"So, it shouldn't take more than three to four weeks?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No." He looked thoughtfully at his laptop screen, before turning to me. "Any other valuable in there apart from your documents and wallet?"

I shook my head. "Luckily, no. I didn't even have pounds, only Pakistani rupees, since I only use my bank cards here."

"Okay. That's good. Bank cards were frozen that day, so no worries regarding that. And your passport and Pakistani ID card has been reported as stolen, so you're safe there too."

Mama came into the room and took a seat on the sofa opposite us. "Syra, just be a bit more careful, sweetheart. I know you were tired, but that's no excuse not to guard your things."

"I know, Mama. You can imagine how tired I was, considering that my camera got stolen."

Mama looked at Dad, shaking her head. "Amir, I think she doesn't care about anything but her camera."

Dad just grinned. "Rumi, you know her. Her cameras are her family."

I smiled. "You can't blame me. It's who I am."

"Rumi, honey, admit it. You were pretty protective of your sketchpads and stuff too." Dad teased her. "She inherited it from you, her protectiveness of her passion."

My phone vibrated and I glanced down at it. Musa had sent a photo...and then another one. I unlocked the photo to see.

In one photo, he was holding up a white button-down shirt with a grey tie, and in the other he was holding a dark blue button-down shirt with a black tie. 

<Musa: Which one? I have to attend a formal dinner with colleagues.>

I bit back a smile.

<Syra: I choose the hottie. 🔥>
<Syra: 🤭>

<Musa: Stop being cheeky, and tell me.>

<Syra: Why? Late again? 🤨>

<Musa: Tell me or I will get Zoobia to choose.>

<Syra: Who's Zoobia?!>

<Musa:😏>

<Syra: Musa!>

<Musa: Which one, Sy?>

<Syra: White.>
<Syra: Who. Is. Zoobia?>
<Syra: Musa?!>

He wasn't replying and I wasn't impressed. I knew he was teasing me. But all I could picture was a glamourous, beautiful PA of his or something.

<Syra: Is Zoobia going to be at the dinner?>

I excused myself and left the room as I felt my face turning red.

<Syra: Musa! Answer me or I'll call Mamma or Baba!>

A few seconds later he replied.

<Musa: Did you really want me to answer while peeing?>

My eyes widened.

<Syra: What?>

<Musa: 🤣My God, what I wouldn't do to see the expression on your face right now.>

<Syra: I disown you. We are not friends anymore. Just husband and wife.>

I took a photo of myself, frowning, and I sent it to him.

<Syra: That's how mad I am at you right now. 😠>

<Musa: 😍 If you send me gorgeous (Ma Sha Allah) photos of me when you're mad, continue being furious at me, Sy.>

Why do all my actions backfire with this man?

<Musa: Aisa dekha nahin khoobsurat koi.>

*I have never seen anyone so beautiful.

<Syra: Musa🙄>

<Musa: Jism jaise Ajanta ki moorat koi.>

*Her body is like some statue of Ajanta.

<Syra: What's gotten into you?

<Musa: Jism jaise nigahon pe jaado koi.>

*Her body is like enchantment on the eyes.

<Syra: Musa, stop being cheesy, yaar...>

<Musa: Jism naghma koi, jism khusbhoo koi.>

*Her body is like some beautiful song, like fragrance.

<Musa: Jism jaise mehkti hui chandni.>

*Her body is like gleaming moonlight.

<Syra: **Syra has left the chat**>

<Musa: Husn-e-jaana ki tareef mumkin nahin. Husn-e-jaana ki tareef mumkin nahin. Afreen Afreen!>

*It's not even possible to praise the beauty of my beloved. Praise to the Creator! Praise to the Maker!

I was smiling.

<Musa: Hey. You still there? What shoes should I wear?>

I actually burst out laughing.

*

It was Sufi Music night. I was standing right in front of Musa on the stage, and he had a microphone in his hand. 

"Hmmm. Chehra ek phool ki tarhe shahdab hai. Chehra uska hai ya koi mataab hai. Chehra jaise ghazal, chehra jaan-e-ghazal. Chehra jaise kali, chehra jaise kanwal. Chehra jaise tasavur bhi tasveer bhi, chehra ik khwab bhi, chehra tabeer bhi..." He sang in his deeply s*xy voice.

*Her face is as fresh as a flower. Is it her face or the moon? 
Her face is like a ghazal (amatory poem or ode), her face is the life of a ghazal.
Her face is like a bud, her face is like a lotus flower.
Her face is like something out of imagination.
Her face is like a dream, and it's interpretation.

I felt the gentle breeze brush my cheeks, bringing the scent of Khwabpur.

"Husn-e-jaana ki taareef mumkin nahin. Afreen Afreen!"

I looked down and realised I was wearing my bridal gown. With a soft laugh, I whirled around, the lehenga flying around. He took my hand and we slowly danced to the beautiful song in the empty ground of the haveli. He twirled me around, and pulled me back towards himself.

His smile was adoring, the look in his eyes contained overflowing love.

*

I woke up with a smile on my face, yet I was disappointed that the dream had ended.

You know...maybe it wouldn't have been so bad had I been pregnant...

Mine and Musa's baby.

I couldn't stop grinning.

Whatever you will, Allah, I'll accept it wholeheartedly.

*

"Syra?" 

I looked up and grinned at my mother. "I made you guys breakfast today!" 

"You feeling okay?" She gave me a teasing smile. My mother had lost a significant amount of weight, and she looked pale. But since I'd been here, she had improved. Dad and I were pampering her seriously.

"Can't I make breakfast for my parents?" As I scooped scrambled eggs onto a plate for her, I confessed. "I took a test, Mama."

"You did? And?" Her eyes widened.

"It's a negative." I shrugged. "And I'm cool with it."

"Syra..."

"You know what? I'm fine either way. I've never back away from challenges, and if it was positive, I would have managed." 

"So, the baby would have been just another challenge for you?"

"No, the baby would be a reminder that I am capable of doing whatever I set my mind to. I can live out my career, while being a mother." 

"Good for you, Syra. I'm proud of you."

"And whenever I have children, I'll make them love travelling so much that Musa would have no choice but to take us everywhere we want." I giggled.

"You mean how you convinced your Dad to take you everywhere, or to let you go everywhere?" 

I gave her a cheeky smile.

"I pray that all your wishes come true, as long as they are beneficial for you, and not harmful. Ameen." 

"Ameen."

She placed her hands on my cheeks and kissed my forehead. "May Allah protect you and your family from evil eyes, and from all evil in general. Ameen."

I had no idea then how much that dua was needed by me. 

In this world we are surrounded by people who wish us nothing but harm, and we were no exceptions. Sometimes those people were obvious, sometimes they were within our closest circles.

It seemed that our family, the Duraid family, was not yet done with people who wished us harm.

*

For me Musa & Syra's interactions are fun to write. They are more than just a romantic couple, they are best friends, and I want to emphasise that.

A reunion in Khwabpur! You guys have a lot to look forward to!

At least Syra found her camera, bechari!

Thoughts and comments?

Thank you for reading and don't forget to vote!