Since Safa had left Asmara and Arham to themselves, they had tea together and then the lunch Asmara had readied in just an hour.

"Usually people have tea after the food," Arham piped in from where he was sprawled on the bar stool from across her, at the counter. His sleeves were rolled onto his elbows showcasing his veined arms, his exorbitant coat discarded on the couch.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I thought a cup of tea might relax you after a tiresome day." Tucking the strand of her hair behind her ear, she dug the fork into the contents of her plate with a meek smile.

"There's nothing to apologize for." He chuckled nervously. "And yes, it did help me. I feel fresh."

"Glad to be of service."

The next few minutes dragged by with heavy silence so thick he thought he could cut it with a knife. He threw furtive glances at her while she ate in content. He wasn't habitual to silence. So he broke it with a white lie.

"The food's really good. You could be a cook."

The fork fell from her hand, so did her jaws as she craned her head up with her face contorted into expressions worried about his mental health. Only a madman could appreciate her cooking skills because God knows she sucked... real bad.

"I don't think the tea actually worked to restart your brain. This is barely edible for me. Me; the person who cooked. Safa was right. You are a liar!" She convulsed her head, the corner of her lips curved up in disappointment.

"I was just appreciating you." He squeezed his shoulders as he struggled for words to revert what he had just said. "I mean appreciation encourages the person, you know." This woman was making him nervous.

"Appreciation does. Lies only turn you into a self obsessed fool."

He scratched the back of his head with a boyish grin. Soon Safa walked in, much to his rescue.

"Oh, look Afat (destruction) is back... with a full grown up kid," he added on seeing Mansha. "Oh, God, you abductor!"

Rolling her eyes at his theatrics, Safa gestured Mansha to sit.

"Who did you call Afat?" She arched her eyebrows up as she discarded the food boxes she had taken with herself, out of the bag.

"You. Just joined last three letters of your first name and the last of your second. Nice combination, no? Quite perfect!"

"You know some people only look good as long as they stay quiet." She pulled a plastic smile.

"So you think I'm good looking?" He jumped off the chair.

"What a narcissist you are!" She threw her hands up in air.

"You've finally found your match, Safa." Asmara decided to take part in the conversation, a smile flashing on Arham's lips. "Now who is this girl?" She sat beside Mansha as she cupped her chin.

"This is Mansha." She announced from over her shoulder as she washed the boxes. "Ayyan's sister. She'll be living with us for a week."

"Nice to meet you, you cutie!" Asmara chirped as she combed her hand through Mansha's thick and silky locks. "We'll have all the fun together. You like movies, right?"

She coyed as she gave her a nod.

"Guess, I'll leave you ladies alone, then. Don't wanna jinx the girls night with male presence, do I?

Asmara looked up, giving him a nervous smile.

"Even if you were a girl, I'm sure you'd still jinx everything," Safa jibed as she left the open-kitchen island.

"You just jelly, Safa baby!"

"Don't baby me." She hollered. "And get the hell out of my house!"

"Alright alright, Jeez, Laraka Aurat! (fighting woman)."

"I can see Asmara's effect on you already." She had even forgotten the count of how many times she had called her that.

Before he could pose another question, she literally shoved him out of the house herself.

******

The architect had arrived, map for the building had been carved out and the construction had started. They were working at quick pace. The quicker the school readied, the better.

Just three days and it was as if Mansha had learned to live. She loved studying, learning new things. Her mind was always searching for the answers to different questions that'd conjure up in different lessons, or the intellectual conversations she would have with her batchmates. And she didn't even need anyone to answer her. She had succumbed to library as her only resort. Her safe home. Her haven.

But for Safa, these three days were no less than a torture as they felt more like three decades. She hadn't heard anything back from Azlan since the day he informed her that the tests had been run and that reports would be out in two days.

Now, it was the third and he still hadn't told her anything even after she left him umpteen texts. Arham knew nothing as well and this was driving her bonkers. She needed answers dammit. She needed to know he was fine even though she had mentally prepared herself to expect anything. But the back of her mind was still praying with a lost hope. She wanted nothing more than him to be healthy.

Tossing and turning around in her bed, she finally propped up, the swirls of worry flickering in her somber and hopeless doe eyes. It wasn't because of the nightmares that were her fate. No. That had become her routine. This time, it was Ayyan.

She turned over to retrieve her phone from the side table with tad bit of hope that he had left her a message. But no. There was nothing. A ball of ire rose up in her throat, stiffening her jaws. She had never been more mad at him than she was right now. That man loved torturing her and this was his new technique... she thought. And it was killing her.

Not being able to hold it in anymore, she grabbed her cashmere and tiptoed out of the annex.

"Open up, you sleeping beauty!" She knocked continuously at Arham's door. He was staying at Azlan's place.

The door opened, revealing a yawning Arham, rubbing his hands on his half-drooping eyes. "I know I'm irresistible, Hayat, but you have to control. What will people say?"

"Astaghfriullah! She elbowed him right in stomach before barging in the room. To her surprise, it was all cleaned without any clutter. Didn't look like if a man ever lived in it.

"Here!" She threw his jackets toward him. "Come on, we're leaving," she announced nonchalantly as she strode outside.

"God, Haraam sis! I'm not running away with you," he shrieked back.

"You're more pain in the ass than your friend. At least, he doesn't blabber all the time like you do." She huffed in annoyance. "You're dropping me off to the hospital. Now, wear that already or does the sleeping beauty need chittars (kicks) from her mommy?"

"Why? What's wrong?" His umber eyes ignited at the word 'hospital.' "Are Asmara and Mansha alright?" He was actually concerned this time.

"No. Nothing is fine. That douche friend of yours hasn't returned any of my calls and texts." She deadpanned. "And if you don't take me to Ayyan right now, I swear you'll end up in a hospital yourself."

"Okay okay, first of all, just breath, alright?" He said as he becokned her inside and gave her a glass of cold water.

"Thank you!" She smiled. This time, genuinely. "Shall we go now?"

"Yeah, come on."

******

The entire ride to the hospital was spent in utter worry with her ominous thoughts adding more to it. She was scared to death, red signals not leaving her. Was he even okay?

Arham tried his best to cheer her up with his lame jokes or just by poking her with his derisive remarks but she didn't retreat and it worried him. He hadn't seen her like this ever since he met her. Something was really bothering her and he hated himself for not being able to help her. He'd never felt more helpless.

Finally, the longest ride of her life came to a halt as she steered out of the car. An eerie silence had prevailed over the premises as she swerved her way inside. It was 4 o'clock in the morning.

Getting the information about Ayyan's room number, Arham guided Safa through the labyrinth until their eyes fell on Azlan spralwed in one of the many chairs, pristine white sleeves rolled upto elbows, coat mercilessly thrown in the adjacent chair, and tie hanging loosely around his neck with top two buttons undone.

As if he had sensed their arrival as he craned his head up. He suddenly shot up on his feet as if electrocuted, despair perceptible in the pool of his black deserted doleful orbs. Dishevelled hair, a whirlpool of anguish.

"Ms. Hayat!" The words barely left his mouth like the hardest and most painful eulogy. As if he had been carrying the weight of entire universe on his fragile shoulders, too near to scatter into fragments. His condition terrified Safa as she froze to the ground, her back ramrod straight.

It can't be.

******